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Claridryl Dreams - Part 3: Zane Kingsley III's From Outer Space
Author Message
#MemeQueen Luca Torchwick Offline
Waves don't die.



XWF FanBase:
Women and gay men

(physically attractive male on every level; can seduce you; that disarming smile; those bedroom eyes)


#1
01-28-2016, 08:24 PM


Like two parts, face to face.

December 21st, 2015

Zane Kingsley III hated New York.

The wind stung his face as he made his way down the sparsely populated sidewalk, guided only by the faint glow of the moon in the witching hour and his vague knowledge of the city's layout from previous visits. He winced as a gust of wind cut through his windbreaker and made the hair on his forearms stand at attention. A wild-eyed man in tattered clothing even flimsier than Zane's eyed him as he passed by the alley the man was squatting in. He could feel the man's eyes on him as he walked by, not giving the vagrant any attention.

"They're in my head!" screamed the madman as he frantically glanced around; hands shaking, body trembling.

Zane chuckled, his breath visible in the air until he walked through it and it dissipated under the watchful glow of the moon.

He thought back to the relatively warm glow of Oakland that he'd left just hours before. How he wished to be back, or at the very least, anywhere that wasn't New York. But, he did have a job to do, and what a job it was.

He remembered the last conversation he had before leaving for the plane. He remembered every conversation; he needed to. You never knew when you'd need something someone said. A word, a string of them maybe, that you could use to twist someone to doing what you need them to. Blackmail was such an ugly word, but sometimes it was the most efficient course of action. After all, it wasn't his fault the world worked the way it did.

He didn't often linger on past conversations when he didn't need to extract anything from them, but his most recent had been running through his head since he boarded the plane.

Her name was Jennifer. She'd only just recently became his client; despite his persistent encouragement, she'd spent ten months out of the last year actively avoiding him though as usual, he won out in the end. She wasn't an athlete, which made her a first for him. No, she was an actress. Small time, but acclaimed in what she had done. He didn't care much about that. It didn't matter to him whether she was any good, it wasn't about her.

It was about him.

She was his launching pad. How he'd branch out.

Still, it didn't hurt to be friendly with those who were, unwitting as they may be, helping you advance your own career.

Though friendly wasn't exactly the word he'd use to describe their relationship.

She was a wreck. Dependent on others, she used him more as a therapist than an agent or a friend. Not that he minded, after all, it just made gathering leverage all the easier.

She'd been in his office when he was about to leave. She poked and prodded about where he was going, when he'd be back, all standard stuff. Right up until she was halfway out the door and she'd muttered under her breath.

"You're strange."

He remembered smiling at her and parting his lips before biting his tongue and shaking his head.

You don't know the half of it, he thought as she made her way out of his office.

You don't know the half of it.


"The aliens are in my head!" shouted the same raving mad lunatic, bringing Zane back to reality. He spun around on his heel to find the ragged man staring right at him.

"Can I help you?" he asked, trademark empty smile on his face.

"Help me!"

Zane cocked his head and reached for his wallet. Sliding out a bill, he tossed the paper at the man, watching as he chased after the bill as the wind blew it away.

"Help yourself," he muttered under his breath, scornfully.

Zane shook his head and returned to his mission. Only a few more blocks, he silently prayed as he pounded the pavement in search of the very elusive object of his desires.

His appeal was granted through what felt like direct divine intervention.

As he passed by a particularly run down dive, a man barreled through the doors and collided with him, taking both men off their feet. Zane didn't realize it at first, but this man was precisely who he was looking for.

He'd seen better days for sure. His clothes were dirty; hair disheveled; pupils big as silver dollars-- wait no that was the norm for him.

Zane pushed himself off the ground and offered the man a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Arzegotti."

Y'know, as the week keeps on going I find myself repeatedly asking myself what the fuck Robbie and Pest are going on about but as I keep thinking about it, I have to concede that I have no fucking idea. Congratulations guys, your absolutely fucking inane, weak sauce trash talk has literally got me throwing up my hands and saying "fuck it". I'm not even firing on all cylinders, still working off the rust and shit, and I'm gunning you fuccbois down without breaking a sweat.

I got Robbie bending over backwards trying to disprove some hypothetical bullshit story I threw together like it fuckin' mattered. Newsflash, since I can reveal my methods and you two still wouldn't be able to counter it; I was clutching at straws. I was! Just seeing if I could poke and prod you into releasing some more of that good ol' fashioned nerd rage. All I had to do was take a couple pieces of straw away and you hopped to your feet, faster than you've ever been before (save for when you hit up that buffet #fatboyz), round up the rest of the straw, and try your damnedest to build a house with that shit so that you can hide when the big bad bully Luca Arzegotti sets his sights on you again.

I got Pest too scared and shook to even say anything about me. Maybe he's saving it for the very end. Last second. Just to get that last word in because it's the only way he feels he'll have the slightest chance in hell of getting one over on me but even then because Pest is such a worthless fuccboi he's gonna shit the bed there. Way to go in advance Pest, even with no chance for me to fire back, all you're gonna do is make me look good.

Please, prove me wrong.

Hit me with your special brand of fire that sounds like a fucking weeaboo with a loli waifu going on a spastic MRA rant.

"Maybe if I say enough multi-syllabic words people will mistake me for being smart!:

Oh shit did you guys catch that? The guy writing the transcripts for what I'm saying just accidentally put a colon in place of a quotation mark! You know what Pest is going to do now don't you? Well, that is if he ever stops being too afraid to talk shit to me that is. He's gonna come at me for it because he's a fucking moron and thinks that pointing out grammatical errors made by people transcribing shit for those deaf mofos is equivalent to the hot fire.

Here's something I'm almost certain you didn't know, Pest. There, they're, and their are homophones. Does the Pest know what homophones are? Apparently not so let me explain it slowly so your fuckin' hearing aid can catch it.

Homophones.

Are.

Words.

That.

Sound.

Exactly.

The.

Same.

Shit, does this guy think he's the second coming of Jessie fuckin' Diaz or something? Newsflash homie, you aren't. No matter how much fuckin' make up you wanna slather on yourself or how insufferably smug and bitchy you become, you're not gonna magically become her.

Maybe I shouldn't mention that bitch because Pest will make some stupid claim like we're basically the same person because the best Pest trash talk is the exceptionally terrible Frodo trash talk from months ago and Frodes did that shit. Shit man, the absolute worst person to bite your shit from. Gilly would be a better fit to unwittingly ghostwrite your greatest hits because he's slightly smarter.

What's next Pest?

"Durrrrrrr you should be spelling fuccboi as f-u-c-k-b-o-y. This is irrelevant because you're saying the words but I'm going to say it anyway because I have literally nothing else to say. FEEL BAD FOR ME."

Because everything Pest does reeks of his desire for people to feel so bad for his bad upbringing. Something he won't call me on saying because he knows it's true and as we've already mentioned, he's scared of me. Laugh at the completely evil but utterly cowardly fuccboi who thinks he's on some intellectual high ground despite the fact that he sounds like your typical r/jailbait frequenter who just won't let that subreddit die.

It's also really funny that Pest of all people is getting on another dude's nuts for "odd dialogue" (which, first off the fuck?) when he can't even consistently refer to himself in either the third or first person. When the little glimpses of his life we do see give us such great and oh so very human (not barely functioning robot at all nosiree) bits of conversation as:

Erica:And what’s to stop me from alerting authorities?

Spoken like a real teenage girl that's for true.

Donald:Erica, he records all of these. They were uploaded on the internet. Someone at work watched, and sent the videos to me. My coworkers watched you get raped repeatedly. One of them described it as hot.

Can't you just feel the anger and disgust spilling from the mouth of a horrified parent confronting his daughter's rapist? Heartbreaking, isn't it?

Donald:I am starving. Yes, I would appreciate some food.

Why yes I am a human being thank you for asking.

Need I go on? I mean sure, we've already determined that all these so-called glimpses into Pest's life are nothing more than his pathetic rape fantasies, written by him so maybe that's why he's critiquing Austin's "odd dialogue". Because he wouldn't know reality if it bent him over the couch and ravaged his asshole, he thinks everything is some kind of story.

It ain't.

Speaking of stories, nice web of bullshit Pest. You're raising an eleven year old. You're respected in the neighborhood. You're actually capable of having a conversation that isn't about how evil and twisted you are. Funny joke, friend. No one notices that you do awful things to children. It's not like, as has been established by you in of your dragging, Hostel meets RedTube screenplays that the videos of you performing unspeakable acts are on the internet or something. I bet that makes for some awkward dinner conversation while you desperately flop like a fish trying to get out the words "Wait no it's all an act".

Oh and also

>Pest talks about disguises
>Not even a few seconds later he says he's transparent and has nothing to hide
>Make up your mind Nancy
>Pest:wtf Luca where'd you get Nancy from this whole shot is irrelevant because I am not nor will I ever go by Nancy
>killyourself.exe

Hey Pest!

The only thing you're crushing is your own credibility you fucking yokel. Not that you had a lot to begin with.

"Tell me about the day you died."

Luca's eyes snapped open and he catapulted to a seated position, drenched with sweat. He took a deep breath and let it out slow, wiping sweat off his face in vain. His heart beat like a snare drum in his chest (More Luca fascination with heartbeats? Hey Pest here's something else you call me on with the rest of your irrelevant shit) and as he swung his freezing, damp legs over the edge of the bed, he felt like he was going to vomit.

He swallowed a mouthful of spit to keep the bile down and hopped off the bed and rubbed his eyes (Run-on sentences? SHIELD YOUR EYES!).

As he looked around the room it became apparent he had no idea where he was.

"Of course," he muttered under his breath.

"You're awake."

He heard Amy's voice and then her footsteps as she shuffled from the bathroom towards him. His eyes widened and he stepped back as he saw her.

She wore a latex mask resembling Zane Kingsley's face. Her naked body was as thoroughly soaked with blood as his was with sweat. The corners of the mask were forced into a perpetual smile.

"Inquiring minds want to know, Luca. Tell us about the day you died."

"Tell us Luca," began a chorus of voices, their owners invisible but each voice was distinct.

Theo Pryce.

John Madison.

Shane Sr.

Zane Kingsley III.

Austin Fernando.

Amy.

Victoria.

Everyone.

"Come on Luca," the chorus continued in a distorted chant.

"Show us how much more there is to you than punchlines and catchphrases.

"Make us care.

"Tell us about the day you died."

[Image: giphy.gif]
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