#teser

Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery | Official Teaser | Netflix

“DO IT WHEN YOU’RE DEAD” PROMPT

Teaser

Jax (M Wasp man) & Cerise (F Human)

Her calves screamed in indignation at not having proper rest before she pushed the cart of food for the lunches to the fighters in their cages. The hunters managed to take down a behemoth of a bear and now there was meat for days and the Drider king felt generous enough to allow the fighters to have meat in their meals today and the weight of the food filled cart was almost enough to kill her. Even after unloading a quarter of the meals, it was ridiculously heavy. Had she had proper rest or managed to eat something before bringing the fighters their food she wouldn’t feel the fatigue as greatly. However, as she reached the top of the hill and locked the brakes in place, her back ached and cracked loudly when she put her hands in the small of her back and bent backwards.

A worried rumble came from the cage on her left and Cerise looked up to see Jax gripping the bars of his cell with all four hands and his yellow dotted brows drawn together. His eyes were solely on her and his antennae quivered nervously. “Are you all right?” Cerise asked as she rolled her shoulders back and moved slowly to pick up his plate of food.

He frowned as she approached and looked her over as she came over to his cell. “I should ask you that, I thought you got hurt with the cracking sound I heard. You look terrible, sweet cherry.”

“That’s not very nice.” She clicked her tongue as she stood before him in his cell and held up the bowl of food enticingly. “Especially when I’ve brought you a real treat today.”

Jax didn’t even look at the food, his brow was pinched in concern, his just clenched and the mandibles under his jaw wavering slightly as he stared at Cerise. Jax’s face was pressed against the bars as close as he could to peer down at her and she could see her reflection in his eyes. She had dark and heavy bags under her eyes, her thin frame was even more slight, and her hair even in a bun needed a desperate brushing. She knew she didn’t look very good; she didn’t feel particularly well either. Only two days had passed since the two Driders had managed to escape and so far, no one had noticed their absence, but Cerise was doing most of their work in addition to her own. She’d only managed to get a few minutes of rest in before she had to bring out breakfast and jump back into the full swing of work.

“The real treat is seeing you, cherry.” Jax tried to smile, but it was tight and frustrated as he reached hand between the bars and gently touched the bags under her eyes. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as his leathery fingers brushed under her eyes. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest she felt a little lightheaded and tipped forward. Jax immediately noticed and two of his hands gently grabbed her by the elbows with an unhappy buzz. “You’re working too hard.”

“I – I’m fine.” Her face burned as she deflected and tried to pull away, but Jax held her firmly. “Jax, you need to let go.”

“No.” He frowned and shook his head as he looked at her. “Not when you’re like this.”

“I still have a lot of work to do, so please let me go.” She gently pleaded and again tried to step away, but his grip tightened slightly. “I told you I’m fine, Jax.”

“But you’re not.” His grunted stubbornly as mandibles flinched and his wings twitched nervously. “Have you even seen yourself?”

“I have –”

“Then you should know you’re doing too much.”

“I don’t have a choice, Jax.”

“You do, Cerise.”

“No, I don’t.” She said more firmly. “I’m just like you in having to fight for my life here, Jax.”

“You are nothing like me.” He growled lowly and shook his head at her.

“It may not be in the coliseum like you, but I still have to fight for my life every day.” She tugged herself away from him and Jax relented and let her go. “Even with the small protection of being Lady Drusilla’s lady in waiting, I still have to work to stay alive or the king will kill me.”

“You still keep that title?” His hands clenched into fists and he looked at her incredulously. “You still keep that title when you’ve not waited on a lady when she’s been gone for two years and have been forced to feed prisoners like me? What kind of life is that worth living, cherry?”

His words were a heavy whip of cold truth and she felt the prickling sting of them as she turned her face away from him so he would see the tears building in her eyes. She’d been here waiting loyally, praying every day that Lady Drusilla and the prince would return, but with each passing day of their extended absence made her feel that much more brittle. If she truly looked hard at herself in the mirror, she would see the husk of the woman she was two years ago and how she was nothing and treated as nothing in this darker part of the world. The title was her last grasp of light, of hope, and she clung to it as tightly as she dared without forcing the light to go out. Her words were softer than a whisper as she bent and pushed the bowl of food to him and moved away quickly from the bars.

“It is all I have left.”

“It is not all you have left.” Jax pressed himself against the bars and gave her a pleading look. Some strange sense of desperation and a thin line of fear rested within his gaze, but Cerise could not meet it.

“It is all I have left, because without it terrible things would have befallen me long before now.” She laughed under her breath and wiped at her eyes. “I’ve lingered too long. . .”

She turned her back on him, intent on moving on quickly to finish her work so she might rest a little when he caught her hand.  “You can’t do it when you’re dead.”

“What?”

“If you keep working like this, you’ll die before you get to see her again.” He squeezed her hand tightly in his hand, his other hand gently drawing her closer to him. “You can’t be a lady in waiting to the lady if you’re dead.”

“Then what would you propose I do, hm?” She sniffled as the hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “I can’t stop working, Jax!”

“It will be all right, sweet cherry.” He shushed her and smoothed his leathery fingers across her forehead. “I know you can’t stop working but take a few moments to rest here.” He gestured to a spot near his cell and she couldn’t help but look at him strangely. “Rest here and I’ll watch over you to make sure nothing happens.”

“I can’t just –”

“Just until I finish eating.” He pleaded, desperation in his eyes and his wings shivering nervously. “I will wake you when I finish, just rest here for a little while. You need your strength.”

I'm making a who killed markiplier fanfic and I don't know if I should post it, the DA is of my own creation/ a self insert and I don't know if anyone would want to read that. I'll post a teaser below this and is it gets reposts or liked enough I'll post it! Thank you for talking the time to read this trash, enjoy. ( this is still a work in progress so maybe this will change before I post it )

- You Don't Know What its like ( WKM FF ) - 

Summary: A shattered mirror, a faded manor, and a forgotten soul. Left to rot in a void of darkness and tormented souls. Anger and betrayal faded with time, but the tears stayed. The victim forgives, but can the culprits forgive themselves when they're circled by sharp edges of something they broke

Chapter 1: in the light of the moon

A manor its walls taken over by nature and dust is lit by the light of the full moon. Inside the once white walls have yellowed with time, windows dirty and broken, dust coating every fixture in a thick layer of dust. The house empty and devoid of the life it once held, One thing that truly stood out, a mirror large and extravagant, not a single bit of dust on it, the glass still bright and smug free. Was shattered, broken, and useless for its original function, it was what behind the object what was odd. It was not the yellowed walls or the wooden frames behind that, It was behind the shattered glass itself.

Behind the sharp, broken pieces of the mirror sat a young woman. She was average in every sense of the word. short, tanned skin, short black hair, clad in a white cotton button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up, black slacks, a silver pendant of a crescent moon on its side and simply black low-heeled loafers. Well... she WOULD be if not for the strang features she has. Tan skin having cracks like the mirror on her hands, forearms, neck, and face. The white top having a gunshot wound with a still ever vibrant red on the fabric like it only happened seconds ago, mouth rimmed with blood, and her eyes. Oh god, her eyes white with no color what so ever and cascading endlessly with tears. There she sat in the light of the moonlight where the mirror let it in like a window as it reflected the foyer, she looked with eyes crinkled with sorrow.

Oh, how she wished she was free. Alas, she had given, tricked was a more appropriate term, her physical form up for her dear friend after she was shot. She remembered the sharp pain of the bullet ripping through her tender flesh, her breaking skull, and neck from the fall. The face full of regret and tears that looked at her form as she fell, when she opened up her eyes to see nothing but black then red and blue. Her opening her eyes to see the man that shot her jump up to try to explain himself before he lost his mind. The utter HURT and RAGE of being pushed out her own body and seeing the form it took was that of her friend.

Oh, she remembered how she ran to her only, albeit broken, window to the outside world. The scream of her beloved friend's name left her mouth as she banged her fists on the glass and looked him the eye, and he looked back with sadness before rage took over and he stormed out without a thought. The years she kept on screaming and hitting the glass until she could no longer. And she was left with the whispers of the dammed souls used by the manor for even longer than when she was making a racket, the rage deep inside her talking root like a weed and how it infected her then died as the sands of time passed.