guess who’s back bitches

nah just kidding you dont get paid for being tumblr famous so i moved to ig

2018 mood

by ivvnwong

Time Square

nickatnightwalker:

Daisy loves her bear. That barely feels like a prank gift, it truly is lovingly constructed. The distribution of limbs. The weight of the heads. She makes sure to go back to Nick’s room and take a single extra polaroid: Daisy and the Bear, grinning brightly and childishly into the camera. She christens the bear in purple glitter pen: Sir Lil Nicky of the Leg Estate.

Daisy tucks the picture in Nick’s favourite book.

She doesn’t open the dummy: Instead, she charms it to walk, disturbingly puppet-like, behind her as she makes her way out or Ra. Dummy-Nick with his bright red slit-throat and bright red sharpie eyes (courtesy of Daisy’s artistic skills) wobbles and wavers in an upsettingly uncanney valley manner, managing to disturb a good number of students in a school already jaded to the strange and unusual.

Daisy reenacts several scenes from The Notebook in several crowded hallways. Who said she wasn’t a good actress.

And it is only in her last class, Dummy-Nick kneeling under her for Daisy to prop up her legs that it hits her. She is so stupid.

She lets go of everything and runs as fast as her legs will take her, in no particular direction, Dummy-Nick struggling to keep up with his heavy fiberglass chasis. Half a mile in her lungs give up: Daisy gasps for air and clutches at nothing.

The golden thread tucked between her second and third rib, the one that connects them from her heart to his heart, ritual gone wrong turned tender amber curse, sparks up like an electrical wire.

Daisy rolls on her back. Grins at the sky.

Got him.

This.  Massive. Bitch. Nick can feel the phantom tug of their connection stretch and grow thin as she runs, but by the time he realizes what it is she’s doing it’s too late and he’s doubled over, wheezing on the ground as pain wracks his body. “Great job, bitch,” he says between labored breaths as he claws his way out of his classroom.  “You’ll kill us both.  How’m I supposed to get to you if neither of us can walk?”  He yells the last few words into an impartial, empty hallway.  

By the time he gets out of the building the pain has lessened enough for him to stagger to his feet.  He tests out his range carefully, then curses when he realizes there’s not enough give in their magical tether for him to go get his creepy Valentine’s Day serial killer mask, which he picked out months in advance, because Daisy is a massive bitch who never lets him do anything fun like fake his own death and pretend to murder her.

Then he realizes that he has magic, so with great effort, he creates the illusion of his carefully selected horrible mask.  It’s hard to cast illusions on living things, and even more difficult to cast them on himself, so it’s flickering in and out of existence, but Nick likes to think that adds to the general look rather than detracts from it. He approaches at a dead sprint; there’s no point trying to sneak up on someone who magically always knows where you are, so his only chance is to take her by surprise.  So he hauls ass directly at her, jumps in the air and lands on her.  You can almost hear the clattering of bone on bone. 

nickatnightwalker:

Daisy doesn’t quite startle – it’s Valentine’s day, motto: Be Ready Bitch– but when the dummy drops right before her she yanks her dagger from her thigh-holster and stabs the dummy right on the heart, act first, regret second.

Then she realizes what is truly happening.

Every other plan she has for the rest of the day is thrown out of the window: So what if she spent weeks before the darned 14th planning her strategy, so what if she thought she had this in the bag, Nick is playing a different game now, and Nick is going to get the playmate he deserves.

She grabs the dagger and vivisects her Poolboy Lover, Charlie. Inside she finds nothing of interest: just a fiberglass chassis and some fluff. 

“Boring, Walker!” She yells, as people carefully walk around her.

;;

Nick will find that, wherever he is, the next time he is completely alone a single, lonely red balloon will travel down the hallway, slowly slowly.

Hanging from the shimmering plastic strings he hung Charlie from is a beating, plastic dummy heart bleeding red dummy blood.

The balloon POPS! Nick is covered in blood and guts. They taste like cherry syrup and revenge.

;;

New text:

FROM: Nice Legs Daisy Dukes. TO: Bitch King.

Picture me: I’m a girl in love, Turned woman scorned. There’s no ingenue left in me. You have been warned. 🔪

Nick’s phone is cursed to display all text in an obnoxious, barely legible heart-shaped font.

;;

When he next walks into his room, Nick will find:

1) A battlefield of kamikaze stuffed animal, sacrificed so Daisy could make sure his room was safe to walk into.

2) A collage of all the polaroids he’s taken of Daisy, littering all of his wall, arranged in such a way that when he takes a step back they all come together to form the all-seeing, ever-present eyes of Daisy Leblanc.

Nick is furious.  He’s covered in cherry-flavored guts--he doesn’t even like cherry flavor--his phone is annoying, Wow I Can Get Sexual Too is still playing in his room, and Daisy won’t play his stupid murder game.  Well, fine, he can throw that plan out the window, he guesses, but he’s still got three fake corpses and nothing to do with them now, so he takes the one he’s spray painted paper-white and dressed in his clothes and drags it down the hall to her room, where he tucks it into her bed and, in red sharpie, draws on a slit throat.  The note shoved in its mouth says “Fine.  Have it your way.”   If Daisy cuts open this dummy, glitter will absolutely pour into her bed.  Then he works the more Classique angle: he’s improvising now, but he’s had this particular gift in mind for a while, so he pulls out a teddy bear made from six teddy bears, five of them headless and stitched together to form one bear with 24 legs.  He leaves it lovingly on her dresser.   For good measure, he perfume-bombs her room until it smells like a department store perfume department.

The first strike occurs just after midnight on February 14th, 2018.   There’s a piercing shriek from the third floor of Ra.  When Daisy opens her door to investigate, she will see a very, very fake crash test dummy, dressed up in a shitty suit stained red with very, very fake looking acrylic paint.  A plastic halloween store knife is sticking out of its chest, and it’s laying sprawled in the middle of the hallway, outlined in chalk.  13 roses are scattered around it, and there’s a pink, frilly card that says “To Daisy: My love for you is as immortal as I am not. Love: Crash Test Man”.  On the back, in blood (red crayon), it says “roses are red, violets are blue, can you catch me before i catch you?” with a sinister little >:) emoji. Nick is nowhere to be found.

Daisy sticks her index and thumb in the keyhole, widens it.

She darts a pen through the keyhole and it falls wetly on the pool of fake blood, the violet pom-pom atop it turning black with blood.  She waits. Throws some more stationary. Once she has deemed her Valentine’s Gift safe, she opens the door.

Motherfucker.

She throws herself on Crash Test Man and pretends, loudly, to mourn his loss. She keeps the knife.

;;

In a sea of pink and red outfits, Daisy stands out in a revealing, little black dress and a short, shaggy black furcoat, black lipstick, fishnets. If asked, she will pretend to choke up inconsolably.

;;

Upon waking up, Nick will find an inconspicuous, cute little card on his dresser. It will ring like a 90s landline, and ring and ring until Nick picks it up and opens it, and–

IF I DIE AND GO TO TELL REAL SOON IT WILL APPEAR TO ME AS THIS ROOM

–it will play Say Anything’s 2004 hit, Wow I Can Get Sexual Too, impossibly loud, for the next three hours, disgruntling his entire floor – Daisy knows her way around Nick’s soundproofing spells, of course she does. There’s an annoying, slightly too-long pause between plays, so that every time the song ends Nick will think it’s done for good, just to go through the rage of having it start again.

I CALLED HER ON THE PHONE AND SHE TOUCHED HERSELF–

“To a handsome guy, Swoon-worthy, so fine, Bammin’ slammin’ bootylicious, Who deserves all the love in the world, For he is so ambitious. –DL.”

SHE TOUCHED HERSELF. SHE TOUCHED HERSELF.

When he tries to rip open, smash, or otherwise damage the card to make it stop, it will poof at him a thick cloud of bright, microscopic, soft glitter by the pounds, pouring and pouring until Nick is slightly submerged in it.  The glitter is laced with a light, innocent love potion – as long as there’s glitter on him, girls and boys alike will left and right swoon at the sight of him (and, because Daisy is not cruel, as a safe fail curse anyone who touches Nick without him initiating it will get shocked, like they’ve dragged their feet through the carpet.)

I CALLED HER ON THE PHONE AND SHE TOUCHED HERSELF.

I LAUGHED! MYSELF! TO SLEEP!

He’s zapped three people by lunch.  It’s like being back in Misha’s body, but worse, because he’s trying to keep a fucking low profile while he plans his next murder.  The card he leaves in his room--let the rest of his dorm suffer.  He has other things to do. Daisy will find the next body in her third class.  Thanks to a minor ward sigil slightly tweaked to recognize only her, when she passes through the door, another crash test dummy will suddenly drop in front of her, dangling by the neck from the kind of shimmery plastic string balloons are strung on.  This one is dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt that has a little embroidered patch reading Marsh’s Pools, and under that, Charlie.   A little pink ruffled card is pinned to its chest.  Inside it says “First your husband, now your lover.  Time is running out! <3″

Masterpiece.