#writey writey writey

see you in another six months👍

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i hope you like ALL STATS 10 ROULETTE FIC that i actually finished

Vivian could not breathe. But it wasn’t so bad.

The world was cozy, hearth-fired, and it warmed her to her very core. Every time she tried to inhale something caught in her throat, so she stopped bothering. She let the heat consume her, focused on the flickering light behind her eyelids.

Distantly, she heard a shout. She couldn’t make it out properly over the crackling sound, though. Didn’t matter. It was soothing.

“Vivian!”

Was that her name? She couldn’t quite remember. Things were starting to get quite uncomfortably hot now, her body covering in a sticky sheen of sweat in a futile attempt to cool down.

“Vivi! C’mon, get up—“

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, their clothes smooth and cool, and she forced her eyes open, taking her first, gasping breath. Her senses were struck with the pungent smell of ash and petrol.

“Irmie?” She couldn’t hold herself up, the heat worming into her every muscle and bone, sapping her energy. But Irma was more than glad to take her weight, as they pat her down, checking for injury. She liked their touch. It was far more comforting than the blistering heat.

As their careful fingers brushed over her hand, she let out a soft cry. The skin was raw and painful, and she hadn’t even noticed.

Then she was being pulled closer, Irma swamping her with their arms, bringing her into a tight hug. She buried herself in their chest, home.

“No more playing with fire, Viv. You scared the fuck out of me.” They sighed breathlessly into her hair.

Vivian blinked fuzzily, trying to clear the blurriness from her vision, and then finally brought her gaze to something other than Irma. They were stood in a house - or, what remained of a house. The entire place was an inferno, fire licking up wooden beams that she’d meticulously treated with gasoline she’d pilfered from the gas station hours before. Her deft hands were now covered in burns, her quick brain numbed by the heat. The light of the flames danced in her eyes.

She reached out a red, shiny hand to the nearest flame, entranced by the colour, the rhythm, the life, but Irma took her gently by the wrist and pulled it away. They then took her by the chin, with a gloved hand, turning her to focus on them.

“We’re going home, okay?” Their tone was stern, decisive. Vivian couldn’t help but nod. Anything to make them happy; they had a crease in their brow from worrying so much, and she wanted to kiss it away.

It wasn’t long until Vivian noticed the way Irma eyed the chemicals on the counter with anxious eyes. Their hands were balled to their chest, recoiled, afraid of what was laid before them.

“Oh, my dearest, you don’t have to be so complex.” She promised. She pressed herself to Irma’s back, and reached a slender hand over their shoulder. “It’s good to start simple. It doesn’t take much to kill a man.” She giggled gleefully, breath ticking their ear, sending a wash of goosebumps down their neck. “Not physically, anyway. Psychologically? Well, that’s a little more up for debate.”

She pulled back, took them by the hands, and twirled them around to face her. Her manic grin softened when she saw the worry on Irma’s face. “Don’t be scared, darling.” She cooed, so soft, so sweet. She cupped their cheek with a warm hand, and they leant instinctively into the touch, intoxicated. “It isn’t so hard. Just a little rat poison, in his evening scotch. Run upstairs and lock the doors.“ As she whispered the instructions so tender, she continued to caress their cheek. “Remember to cover your ears to block out the screaming, okay?”

For the rest of the evening, Irma remained slumped against Vivian’s shoulder. They watched through half-lidded eyes as she continued delicately stirring together the bottles of cleaning liquid she had laid out on the kitchen counter, until she proudly held up a beaker of a thin, green solutions. She winked conspiratorially at Irma, before dunking it into a bottle of beer.

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He coughs.


And chokes.


And starts to collapse to the floor.

Irma can’t look away. He’s trying to take breaths, to cling to his final lifelines - to no avail. Every breath is cut short before it can begin, and he just ends up making these pathetic, choked sounds. With every breath, something hoarse starts to form in the back of his throat. And with a few more, blood begins to spurt feebly out of his mouth.

The colour is hypnotising. It’s a stark crimson against the ghostly white hue his face has turned. They take a few, tentative steps closer, feeling Vivian’s dark gaze on their back, appraising. As they near him, he slumps onto his hands and knees, and hacks a thick glob of blood onto the hardwood floor.

Far away, Vivian tuts disapprovingly. “I’m going to have to scrub that off later, you know.” Her voice fills every inch of Irma’s skull, enveloping their entire world. “You’re a guest in this house.”

Irma continues to stare down at him. He raises his head, staring at them with bulging eyes. They’re raw and red from lack of oxygen, and specks of blood fleck in the corners. Blood trickles from his mouth to his chin in a neat little line. He gasps, tries to gasp, his chest heaving with the movement.

From here, Irma could snap his neck. Make things quick. But they don’t. He doesn’t deserve an easy departure.

He’s turning blue, now, and his eyes are starting to go glassy. He glares past Irma, to some light at the end of the tunnel, maybe. Or maybe his eyes can’t focus anymore. One of the two.

And, before they know it, he drops. His arms give out, unable to sustain his weight anymore. He hits the ground with a rather anticlimactic thwack!

The sound makes Irma chuckle. It’s soft at first, but it makes Vivian laugh too. Vivian’s laughter is always infectious, so it makes Irma laugh more.

And then they can’t remember why they’re laughing.


And then they start crying.

Somewhere along the way, in the haze of gasping tears and hysterical cackling, Vivian loops her arms around their waist, cuddles up to them on the floor - when did they end up on the floor? - and laughs along with them.