dies irae [stella hines]

[PASCAL FISCHER]

» He wasn't very sure of anything, anymore. Even his own name seemed faraway in that moment; and rightfully so, because in that moment he was no longer Pascal Fischer. He deserved no name of such honor, not in that moment. In that moment, an everlasting moment doused with darkness and encrusted with sin, conscience was halted, rational thought was blurred. He acted not with his heart; he acted not with his wits; he acted only with raw, insurmountable impulse, moving though he did not move himself, shuffling his feet though he willed them not to shuffle, clenching his large hands around the quarry of his desires though he desperately willed them to unclench. However willful his will, Pascal's grip only tightened, Pascal's feet shuffled on. There was no stopping him, no stopping the monster he had become. He couldn't stop himself.

» Pascal didn't even particularly like volleyball, a sport that emphasized on the horrendous idea of a whole being greater than the sum of its parts. (Ridiculous, really, in the event that Pascal was one of said parts– add him to any sum, and he could bring it right up to that sideways eight thing. Er, infinity, was it.) Pascal didn't even particularly like volleyball, and there he was, slinking between the carts of bats and balls and shoes and shit compiled in Dick's Sporting Goods, volleyball tucked cleverly under his sweatshirt.

» What the actual fuck was he doing? Aiming a lopsided smile and a disheartened shrug to the pretty little thing manning the counter (mutely misinforming her that he had in fact not found what he was looking for), Pascal departed through the clean glass doors, cradling the volleyball against his belly in such a way that he looked only to be on the chubby side. A volleyball. He had stolen a volleyball, of all things, something that would surely do little more than collect dust in his dorm. He had stolen it not for its worth, not for the pleasure it could bring him in the future. He had stolen it just to steal it, he had stolen it because he was insane. He had stolen it because stealing it, stealing anything derived the greatest feeling in the world. It was fun, that was all. More fun than video games, more fun than sports, more fun than sex. Pascal had enough games, enough sports, enough sex, even (not that it ought to surprise anyone, for Pascal was the pinnacle of beauty.) But he could never have enough of that feeling, the indescribable thrill of thievery. No feeling compared to the spike of adrenaline that met him as he left Dick's Sporting Goods.

» The doors closed behind him, and he let his treasure, useless as it was, slip from his sweatshirt and onto the polished ground. It bounced once. Was it worth it? It bounced a second time. Was the fleeting thrill worth the overall torture of knowing that he was evil? It bounced a third time. Knowing that, eventually, his sins would consume him from the inside out, until his peculiar addiction had completely destroyed him? The volleyball bounced a fourth and final time before rolling to a stop against the wall, lifeless as then were Pascal's thoughts.

» Because he didn't know what to think. In the end, it would not matter if he believed it to be "worth it" or not. In the end, he would merely do it again, and again, and again, and each time be flooded with fiery remorse afterwards. Pascal bent to retrieve the fallen ball, eyes briefly meeting those of his reflection in the doors. He was so beautiful. So deceivingly beautiful, wearing a gross facade of elegance that veiled his evil, veiled his sin, veiled the immortal monster that existed within. Pascal was fooling everyone with his beauty.

↳ words six eighty six
↳ notes for dani, with stella. hurrah tl;dr uninspired crap posts!
the scallywagon steals a volleyball from dick's sporting goods, and now stands just outside the store, contemplating his evil with the ball in tow.

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[STELLA HINES]

For someone who couldn’t stay on a sports team for more than a month, Stella sure did enjoy this store. She didn’t even need any of this stuff. Like, all she ever needed to worry about was great running shoes. Not footballs or baseball bats or knee padding. (Even if she did need to wear something on her knees and elbows during a sport, she wouldn’t. Because they just looked dumb. And what kind of fun was fun if there wasn’t the possibility of getting hurt from it? EXACTLY.)

Anyway. She liked Dick’s Sporting Goods because it was a huge place and there was lots of stuff to look at and she really just wanted to play hide and seek with someone in here. Was that so bad? There was nothing wrong with a fifteen year old wanting to play hide and seek in a sporting goods store. Chewing on a strand of hair, Stella continued her aimless wandering through the aisles and rows, waiting for something to catch her interest. She was absolutely bored out of her mind. The only reason she was here was because she’d caught a bus right after school had let out. Then, she’d just ridden it until she felt like getting off.

If only she’d gotten off at a different stop because this place was not helping with her boredom. Sighing loudly, Stella ignored the glare sent her way by one of the employees. It was obvious that she wasn’t there to shop. They probably thought she was going to try stealing something. Yeah right. If she wanted to steal something, she would dress less outrageously. Sure, she was dressed not so brightly today but it was still definitely more noticeable than a standard thief outfit (whatever that looked like).

It was probably because she’d actually been thinking about theft that led Stella to believing the kid walking out of the store right now had really stolen something. For a second, her eyes were wide as saucers. Whoa, whoa, whoa! Did she even have, like, proof that he’d taken anything? No, not really. It wasn’t even that that mattered. If he had, he totally rocked at it. None of the employees suspected a thing. In fact, the girl at the cashier looked right at him and he just shrugged like it was no big deal. She would have been FREAKING OUT.

Deeming this boy officially interesting, she maneuvered her way through the store, trying to get out as if the building were on fire. The girl at the counter gave her a funny look and Stella shot a glare towards her, not at all appreciating being stared at. How rude. Half expecting the kid to be long gone by now, Stella was surprised to find him just outside the doors. She very nearly ran into him. Dancing out of the way, Stella noticed the volleyball in his hands and her eyebrows rose. He’d stolen… a volleyball…? What kind of thing was that to steal? It was so… obvious. “Did you steal that?” It probably wasn’t the best question to ask but it was all she could think to say despite her growing curiosity. (What a weirdo, being all interested in a thief. Wow, Stella).

outfit

[PASCAL FISCHER]

» Did you steal that? Did he... what? Crap, was she a cop?! Aw, FUCK.

» Wait a second. She couldn't possibly be a day past ten years old! Crap, was she one of those undercover midget cops? Pascal reckoned he had seen them on TV somewhere. Damn it, he should have been paying attention for those bastards! Dammit, dammit, why couldn't he ever get the job done right! What kind of sorry excuse for a klepto was he?!

» Pascal wondered how much time he could get for volleyball theft. It sounded pretty damn intense– probably as bad as rape! So like, the death sentence! Pascal didn't want to die!

» Or maybe it was like, 25 to life or something. Did they still do the death sentence? Pretty medieval, wasn't it? Balls, he couldn't spend 25 years in prison, let alone more than that! He was SO the type to get attacked in the showers. Pascal certainly had the face, not to mention the well-carved glutes.

» Wait, being a klepto meant he was crazy, right? Hey, being in a mental institution wasn't half as bad as jail! Hell, Pascal's life was practically a whack house already, what with kids like Freddie Foster prancing around eating glue and stuff.

» Plus, mental institutions had hot crazy girls! Like in that one movie! With the hot crazy girl! And some other stuff that Pascal didn't bother paying attention to because look there was a hot crazy girl! (Those things are the best, dude.) FIguring his chances of getting some mental ass to be quite good, Pascal let his hands shoot up in surrender as he turned to face the midget cop.

» "Shit, fine, but man, I didn't mean to! Please don't arrest me, seriously, I'll do anything! I mean, maybe you can arrest me... but fuck it, I'm crazy, man! Seriously crazy! Just look at my eyes!" Crazy hot, at least. But Pascal was an A-list actor– he could so pass off as a nutjob!

» He blinked, taking in the midget's features in a panic. " 'Ay, wait a fuckin' second, I know you! You're that chick! That one chick at Baum! Freshman, right? Boy, you sure take that undercover stuff to the next level if you even bother going to high school just to pass off as the real thing! Nice one, man!" Color Pascal purple (or something like that, he wasn't big on sayings– they were pretentious), she was almost as good an actor as him!

» At this point, the volleyball was rolling away with the sea of people coming in and out of the store, far too preoccupied with their shopping experience to care for a pair of dumb teenage kids playing cop and robber. "Dude, me and my friends voted you second hottest freshman at Baum! All that red hair, shit! Like a fiery goddess!– if you'll pardon the expression, I mean."

» "Wow, so you're not really a freshman, then? So I'm not really, like, a pedophile if we have sex? Shit, man, I'm Pascal." He held out a hand, still sweaty from the anxiety of his earlier robbery. "So guess I'm not going to jail, huh?! 'Cos I confessed and all, and since we have such great chemistry." He flashed her a winning smile to seal the deal.

↳ words six twenty one
↳ notes for dani, with stella.
hehehehehe no shame

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[STELLA HINES]

Stella stared at him as if he were crazy. What the hell was he going on about? She’d asked a simple question. All she’d needed was a simple answer. (He swore a lot, she noticed. Nothing wrong with swearing. If it upset her mom, it was a good thing.) She almost laughed. Stella wouldn’t have even had to look at his eyes to know he was crazy. Stealing a volleyball was proof enough. (Seriously, who stole a volleyball? That was so obvious).

Her smile turned sort of smug when he finally started to calm down. Wait, did he know her? Did she know him? Tilting her head just a little and staring up at him (Jesus, he was like a foot taller than her) with narrowed eyes, Stella tried to remember all the people she knew at Baum. He was definitely not familiar. Stella didn’t like when people knew her, but she didn’t know them. That was annoying. She could hardly get a word in edgewise. He just kept talking and talking and talking… THAT WAS HER JOB. Now positively scowling at him, Stella waited for the end of his rant.

Once he had finished, she held up at her hand and began to count off on her fingers as she answered him. “I’m not going to arrest you. Yes, I’m a freshman at Baum. I’m not undercover.” At this point, she actually properly stomped her foot and swore. “SECOND? Who the hell was first?!” Stella was calling bullshit. At least until she knew what stupid girl had been first. How the hell could you beat fiery goddess?! Except she realized then it was still a compliment, and so she smiled and said, “thank you,” before continuing.

Her eyes only widened a tiny bit and she only blushed just very lightly (she will deny both, though, if ever asked). “It would certainly make you a pedophile. I’m fifteen, you creep.” The people going in and coming out of the store were being very rude indeed and she glared at them all before grabbing the kid by his shirt and pulling him off to the side. (Not an easy feat, he was a foot taller than her and she wasn’t that strong). “You? Go to jail?” She laughed this time, loudly, surprised he even thought that was possible. “Are you kidding me? You’re a damn professional at this.”

It was at that point that she really realized he was a professional at stealing things. Obviously. He must have been to have gotten away with stealing a freaking volleyball so easily. “Wait.” She said suddenly, looking at him with big eager eyes. “Can you, like, teach me?” Shit, seriously, how cool would it be if she knew how to steal things? She’d never have to ask her parents for anything ever again! (And God knows she hated doing that. Her stupid mom always bribed her into dresses if she requested something as simple as a new pair of shoes). “Like, how to steal stuff. Or whatever.” Clearly, she was already doing a very poor job at it as she wasn’t exactly keeping her voice down.

[PASCAL FISCHER]

» So Pascal wasn't exactly the brightest light in the chandelier. He was the best looking, if that counted for anything at all.

» The little ginger was like a red panda with her twisted little smile and beady eyes. (Red pandas are cool.) It was nice to watch the smile disappear, washed away by Pascal's never-ending wave of words; her expression contorted in front of him, the clearest sign of success. Pascal was a master of reading expressions (but should anyone be surprised that he be a master at anything and everything?)– and hers read, in the brightest of neon letters, that he had gotten her.

» He was the very first to make the connection, to connect all the pieces of the puzzle that was her fairy tale life, the first to determine the truth about Stella Hines, second hottest freshman at Baum Academy, fiery goddess midget cop. She hadn't expected it; you could see it on her face, like a bemused sort of acceptance that for the first time someone had seen right through her like she was Casper the friendly ghost.

» Of course, the midget cop had surely never met anyone like Pascal. He was a modern day Sherlock Holmes, the king of the scene with a magnifying glass and a long black pipe; nothing got past him, especially nothing as bluntly obvious as the ginger's secret identity. Who the hell had she really thought she was fooling? Honestly, who the fuck was so dumb as to believe that this hot piece of shit was just another average freshman at Baum Academy.

» Not Pascal! NOT PASCAL!! He could feel his own success sinking in, could feel the familiar thrill of victory rattling his bones. "Don't worry, don't worry, you wouldn't've been second but we all thought you were a little manly; you know, just another day in the life of a midget cop." Eyes cool as stone locked onto hers, glowing with a confidence that Pascal was rarely without. "Don't worry, don't worry, I won't tell anyone! I know you aren't used to people finding out... I'm not people, though." Like the icing on the cake, he threw her a trademark wink to seal the deal.

» Good God, she was still going on and on. "Look, Gingey, you don't have to keep the act going anymore! I got you, fair and square– there's no point trying to hide the truth from me, girl." He was like a fucking ninja. Nothing got past him. Nothing. "You know, Gingey, you're not a very good cop; usually they don't condone shit like this, eh?"

» Well, that wasn't true– Pascal had seen on an episode of Law & Order (Special Victims Unit, of course, the one with the hot lead detective) that one of the cops had been involved in a crime syndicate... He wondered if this ginger midget wanted to be involved in a crime syndicate with him. Damn, they could make such a good team.

» God, but this midget was a sweetheart if there ever was one– she certainly wasn't lacking compliments out the ass. She was like Pascal's own personal groupie, like his number one fan– could he just have one of her to put in his pocket?! "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! Of course I'll teach you, baby cakes!"

↳ words six sixteen
↳ notes for dani, with stella.
hehehehehe no shame

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