The Butterfly Effect.

[kou]

Aww, Mordecai doesn't know what Tom and Jerry is..

 

[Angst]

Aww, Mordecai doesn't know what Tom and Jerry is..

The man lived in a basement until he was eighteen. xD He had an excuse for being uncultured.

 

[kou]

The man lived in a basement until he was eighteen. xD He had an excuse for being uncultured.

Heellll to the no, I fucking hate his parents.


Pieces of shit.


No.


We're watching cartoons...

 

[kou]

I'm sorry.


It was the first thing which popped up into Iris's mind. She had said that word quite a lot, would it ever mean as much as she truly wanted it to? She had forgotten, forgotten that this distinguished man sitting beside her had been locked away from the world like some kind of feral animal. She had forgotten and now that she remember, the emotions came flooding back. Dammit. Why couldn't they have one normal night? Iris choked slightly, covering up the sound of her sniffling with a cough before turning away in order to prevent Mordecai from seeing the mixture of anger and sadness plastered onto her face. His stupid fucking parents, if you could even call them that. She would have harmed them if given the chance, she would have tried her best to rid that little boy from the corruption of the world. Stop. Iris cleared her throat, willing herself to stop thinking of the negatives when Mordecai had not intended for her to take it so seriously. She moved away, smiling meekly as she did so before standing. She would have to get the DVD if she wanted to explain what was occurring.

Moving towards the television, Iris immediately opened the compartment directly underneath the TV before leaning in and coughing quietly as she was met with a slight onslaught of dust. She hadn't been able to watch the show in quite a long time although she still recalled the episodes, Iris quietly clicked her teeth in triumph as she pulled out one in particular. She had bought the DVD at a thrift shop, oddly enough, it had been the only cartoon her mother allowed her to watch on a frequent basis. Blowing off the dust clinging to the cover, Iris opened it before removing the disc and fiddling with the DVD player. Soon enough she had inserted the disc and had gotten everything set up by randomly pressing buttons, she quietly padded over towards the couch before sliding in beside Mordecai and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Tom and Jerry is this very old cartoon featuring a mouse named Jerry and a cat named Tom. Basically, Tom tries to catch Jerry and eat him although Jerry finds some way to torture the cat relentlessly. I always felt bad for Tom, he had no chance." Iris stared intently at the screen, ignoring the slight crack in her voice as she spoke before feeling relieved as Tom ran onto the screen with Jerry gripped in his paws. She laughed as Jerry stuck the confident cat with a pen and nearly busted out into laughter as Tom yowled loudly. She paused to glance at Mordecai in order to gauge his reaction. It was somewhat better to have someone here with her to watch these but she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable doing so.

​

 

[Angst]

My.


Mother.


Fucking.


Heart.


THE IRIS-Y-NESS IS KILLING ME HERE.


She is adorable as fuck though.


And I agree with her, Jerry is a bitch.


And you did the color thing and it is fucking beautiful.

 

[kou]

My.
Mother.


Fucking.


Heart.


THE IRIS-Y-NESS IS KILLING ME HERE.


She is adorable as fuck though.


And I agree with her, Jerry is a bitch.


And you did the color thing and it is fucking beautiful.

IT.


WASN'T.


THAT.


BAD.


IT IS THE MORDECAI-Y NESS WHICH IS GETTING TO ME.


Awww..thanks.


He really fucking was and thank you, honey.

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester

*The Butterfly*

It had been meant as a simple question, an attempt to direct the conversation to a more lighthearted topic, one in which he knew she was interested, but somehow, Mordecai sensed, by the manner in which Iris turned away once he had finished asking it, that his words had produced the opposite of the desired effect. How was it that no matter what he did or said, he always managed to cause her pain? His chest grew heavy once more with the increasingly familiar feeling of guilt. He could have slapped himself. Perhaps it would have been of benefit to the both of them if he just sewed his mouth shut.


Mordecai watched Iris as she rose from the couch to work with - well, her actions more accurately resembled manhandling, if he was to be completely honest - the DVD player, the faltering smile on her face and the crack in her voice as she began to explain the show's basic plot more than enough to prove his earlier assumptions and increase his guilt tenfold. It calmed him some to feel her head resting upon his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as the screen lit up with the image of a gray and white cat, a little brown mouse held tightly in his grasp. He watched with a form of masked interest as the scene began to play out - the mouse was a clever one, he had to give him that - though he was unable to shake the leaden feeling that had settled in his stomach. To Mordecai's astonishment, though, all negative feelings vanished completely as soon as Iris started to laugh.


Truthfully, it was a sound that he would never get tired to hearing. It was like the chiming of silver bells, music to his ears. The image of a little girl, no more than five years old, watching this very same cartoon with the very same smile stretched wide across her face, formed itself in Mordecai's mind. Iris's childhood, from what he knew of it, had been far from easy or ideal, but maybe this simple little thing had been akin to a ray of sunshine for the young girl. He sincerely hoped that it had.


In all honesty, while Mordecai did understand the comedic value of the show, it did not exactly fit in with his particular sense of humor. However, it appeared that Iris's laughter was not only breathtaking, but contagious as well, and he found himself laughing right along with her. He rested his head on top of her own, flashing her a wide grin as she turned to look at him. It was peculiar, the entire situation. Never before would Mordecai Lester have been able to see himself in the company of another person, spending the night drinking hot chocolate and laughing at children's cartoons from decades prior, but here he was doing just that, and it felt amazing. His mind wandered back to Iris's earlier statement about feeling sorry for the cat due to his inability to best the mouse. He wondered if such a pattern of thinking was characteristic to her person, rooting for the "bad guy" who just couldn't seem to catch a break.


If this was the case, he thought as he pulled her gently closer to his side, then he was infinitely grateful for it.

 

[kou]

MY FUCKING HEART.

 

[Angst]

MY FUCKING HEART.

I-


I DID NOT MEAN TO DO IT.


I AM SORRY.

 

[kou]

I-
I DID NOT MEAN TO DO IT.


I AM SORRY.

I'll get you back once I finish Dylan's post.

 

[Angst]

I'll get you back once I finish Dylan's post.

NO.


STAHP.


DON'T DO IT.


I'M WARNING YOU.

 

[kou]

So show me where you fit. James Blake

She watched him for as long as she could, a smile on her face as she did so. She wondered if there was still something almost childlike lurking beneath the surface of Mordecai Lester, she wondered if he missed his parents despite how horrid they had been, it was still his mother and father and Iris wouldn't blame him if he said he did. Iris stored those thoughts before feeling herself doze off to the sound of Mordecai's laughter, she wasn't one to fall asleep so easily however Mordecai made her feel comfortable in ways others did not. It was something she still had yet to familiarize herself with and she thought back to the first time she had had him over, letting him with no qualms about the situation and setting her guard down momentarily. If she hadn't been intriguing to Mordecai, would he have killed he--

Stop. She really needed to think of something else, it was as if her brain was conjuring up concern where there would be none otherwise and she couldn't help but think about everything. Iris focused back on the television, her thoughts being replaced by the overwhelming pull of sleep and she could feel herself drifting off, she did not want to fall asleep on the man however it appeared that that was exactly what she was doing at the moment. Iris murmured a quiet apology. She would have to continue this tomorrow when she wasn't exhausted although sleeping on the couch was possibly not the best idea. Then again, Iris had procured a fair amount of questionable ideas in her life and this was no different. The smile slowly faded before being replaced with that of one who was sleeping.


{I have no idea what the fuck I just wrote but I will be introducing the new character soon.

​

 

[Angst]

"If she hadn't been intriguing to Mordecai, would he have killed he--"


This line broke my heart, you fucking jerk.

 

[kou]

"If she hadn't been intriguing to Mordecai, would he have killed he--"
This line broke my heart, you fucking jerk.

Ily bb.

 

[Angst]

Ily bb.

No.


Stay away.


I wish to preserve my heart, thank you very much.


I have the urge to make him do something entirely stupid now, but instead I think I'll do that post for Rosaline that I promised earlier.


Two can play at the game of angst.

 

[kou]

No.
Stay away.


I wish to preserve my heart, thank you very much.


I have the urge to make him do something entirely stupid now, but instead I think I'll do that post for Rosaline that I promised earlier.


Two can play at the game of angst.

*Hugs you*


Love me.


YES..


I MEAN--


Sure.


NOO, STOP. STOP.

 

[Angst]

Rosaline Lester


{The Dragonfly}

Spoiler

I am not sure why I am putting this here being as it is just us, but:​

Take care. This post contains mentions of attempted suicide. Thank you.

Spoiler

She had been staring at her reflection in the mirror for what seemed like hours now - or, rather, what should have been her reflection. The young woman was still not entirely convinced that it was her own face that peered back at her from that dread-filled pane of glass. The countenance of the figure with which she locked eyes was riddled with scrapes and bruises, its left eye rimmed with an ugly, swollen black where one well-aimed blow had fallen. A stain of dried blood stood out prominently upon its upper lip, the coppery-red of the substance a reminder of how the one who wore it had lost even the motivation to wash it away. Tears rolled down the length of the figure's face, a telltale sign of the sorrow that consumed its heart. Yes, it was her. Rosaline Lester, the woman who had lost everything of importance to her all in the span of a single afternoon.


Of course she had denied the detective's offer to press charges. What would have been the point? To provide her brother with yet another reason to despise her very being? No, he already had plenty of those. Where there had once been confidence and pride in her assumed ability to win over the man's affections, there now was only emptiness and a sense of unshakeable defeat. She should have known that there would be no getting through to him. No, he was much to greatly enamored with that psychiatrist. Such a violent, dangerous woman, Iris Mason was. What did she have to offer that Rosaline did not? Could he not see by the storm brewing deep in her eyes the danger that she posed him? Perhaps love had blinded him. But that was just as well. She was through with trying to protect a man who obviously did not realize his need to be saved. She had tried to give him everything - her affection, a home, anything that he could ever want, essentially - and he had refused it all. He had thrown it all right back into her face and laughed as she was left to mourn the loss of him. Granted, the methods that she had employed may not have been the most agreeable, but could he not see that she had only his best interests at heart?


Tired. She was so tired.


As another teardrop fell from her eye, Rosaline glanced down at the butcher's knife that lay on the counter before her and the sealed envelope that sat beside it, his name clearly printed on the front in careful lettering. Even now, after he had left her soul in utter shambles, she could not help but offer her brother one final piece of the puzzle that he was obviously so desperately trying to complete. All the note contained was a simple name, but Mordecai would understand its meaning. Oh, he definitely would, and the look of sheer terror that it would bring to his face made her heart hurt all the more. But he had to know. And in all honesty, he deserved to feel at least the most minute fraction of her pain, if not at her death, then at something else.


With this being said, her job was done. In a hand that shook with the throes of determined uncertainty, Rosaline Lester gripped the knife tightly in her hand and moved slowly, with deliberate, calculated steps, over to the bathtub, which was filled to the brim with warm, clean water. Lowering herself into the water's embrace, she felt a comfort of sorts. Yes, this was what she needed to do. All forms of apprehension dispersed from her being as she closed her eyes and drew a final, deep breath. Opening her eyes once more, she offered up a brief prayer of regret to make her peace with God in heaven before raising the knife and going about the business of slitting her wrists, drawing blade across skin and watching the line of red that quickly became a steady stream, staining the water a deep burgundy.


It was time for her to sleep.

 

[kou]

Act 4: The Divine Notion of the Mantis.

Oh, this was not good. Not good at all. The man leaned back onto the doorframe, one hand gripping the wood while the other grasped a cigarette that was on the verge of burning out, there was a calculative expression on his face as he surveyed the sight before him. There were two options available to him at the moment, finish the job he had been asked and take what he needed or..assist the young woman and have her safely hospitalized until he could slowly charm his way in; these two choices were his only escape route at the moment seeing as he had already left his fingerprints upon the doorway and there was bound to be the question of homicide sooner or later. Lukas sighed before begrudgingly making his way towards the body which was sitting in the top, blood staining the clear water as the girl's head lolled about, she was undoubtedly stupid if she thought killing herself was a way out. The truth was, there was no way out. People died but that didn't mean they forgot and if she believed in a Heaven, she certainly wouldn't be forgetting any time soon.


Leaning down and unplugging the drain, Lukas bent over the unconscious body before rolling his eyes in severe annoyance. "You are honestly illiterate to believe that no one would find you in such circumstances, if you wanted to die then you would have stepped into oncoming traffic, my dear. Please think again the next time you decide to do such blasphemous things." Removing his coat, the older man gripped the girl gently by her waist before bringing her in to his chest, swooping a hand around her torso while the other quickly flicked the cigarette before abandoning it altogether. Lukas managed to carry the girl into the hallway before setting her down on the wooden floor and pulling out a mobile phone that was unassuming in appearances, he dialed 911 before placing in a report of an unconscious girl and a failed suicide attempt. The authorities and the paramedics would be arriving soon, Lukas bent down before placing a warm hand against the girl's forehead. She was lukewarm which was as good as it would get.


Now all they had to do was wait, perching next to the woman Lukas faced the bathroom door before pondering over how he had somehow managed to get himself in this situation. "You know, if you had waited just a little while longer then perhaps we could have talked about it. I'm not a counselor but there are much better things to live for." Lukas had no idea what he was talking of, keeping his mouth shut as the sound of distant sirens began to cut through the silence.


Maybe she would live. He hoped so.

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester

Mordecai was just able to pick up Iris's whispered apology over the noise of the television before the telltale sound of her steady breathing served as an indication that she had fallen asleep against his shoulder. Fondly, he looked down at her features - peaceful in sleep, the contours of her face highlighted by the light emitted by the television screen - and brushed a lock of hair out of her face before placing a gentle kiss upon her forehead. In that moment, he couldn't help but wonder if she knew how beautiful she was, that she took his breath away every time that he looked at her. He hoped that she did.





Taking great care not to move too terribly much, lest he wake her from her restful slumber, he reached for the remote that sat nestled in her lap and switched the television off before making himself comfortable against the arm of the couch. If she was going to be sleeping on the couch, then he would be as well, seeing that he was basically trapped. Not that he minded. With the stillness of the night and Iris's melodic breathing to act as a lullabye, he was just on the brink of peaceful unconsciousness when the blaring sound of a ringing phone jolted him back into wakefulness. Irritated, to say the least, he muttered a curse under his breath before checking to see if Iris had been awakened by either the sound or his sudden movement. Surprisingly, she hadn't.


Initially, he opted to just ignore it and let whoever it was just leave a message, but when after nearly five full minutes it became apparent that whoever was calling had no intention of giving up until someone answered the phone, Mordecai begrudgingly accepted his fate before ever-so-slowly sliding off of the couch and making his way over to the small end table where the telephone sat, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.


"Do you have any idea what hour it is?" he asked in a hushed, yet surprisingly even tone as he picked up the receiver and brought it to his ear.





"Mr. Lester?" the woman on the other end inquired, choosing, it seemed, to ignore his petty quip. This was when Mordecai first suspected that something was wrong. Her tone was formal, yet too compassionate to have belonged to a salesperson of any sort, and for reasons he could not explain, upon hearing it, a sense of foreboding washed over him like a gray cloud before the onset of a storm.


"Yes, this is he. What is it that you want? And do speak quickly, love. I would very much like to be getting some sleep." How did she even know of his location in the first place? News truly did spread fast in small towns, faster than he truly was comfortable with.


"I apologize, Mr. Lester, but I'm calling from the Westbank General Hospital. Now, I want you to remain calm, she's going to be alright, but your sister was admitted earlier this evening..."


What? Rosaline was what? The rest of the woman's words blended together like the slurred speech of a drunkard as his head began to throb with the unmistakeable beginnings of another migraine. Out of the unintelligible babble of words, he was able to pick out something about a "suicide attempt," and a request for him to make his presence known as quickly as possible, to which he curtly responded before slamming the receiver back down and letting his head sink into his hands as he rubbed at his temples in a feeble attempt to calm the pounding in his head. That evil, vulgar, spineless...


No, he needed to calm down. She was not doing this to him. She wasn't. She was not going to ruin this night for him with her obscene dramatics. But the sad fact of the matter was, she already had. He knew what she was trying to do; of course he did. She was trying to guilt him, to arouse some form of sympathy from the depths of his cruel and hardened heart. And, damn her, damn her to hell. Why was it working? After every vile thing that she had done since she had soiled Iris's doorstep with her first appearance, every sickening action she had taken to win him over, after she had practically assaulted him in his very own home, which she had taken from him through the most underhanded means possible, why did he still feel guilt at the notion that she could die under a fault of his own? Him of all people? Was it because she was his sister? The thought was laughable. Familial ties meant nothing to him, if the demise of his parents gave any indication to that.


It's because for all those years, she was the only one who ever loved you.





The thought that echoed through his mind along with a sudden wave of nausea was quickly and brutally obliterated. No, she had merely gotten into his head. He hadn't been careful enough, and she had gotten to him. Nevertheless, he knew what he had to do. Seeking out a pen and paper, which he found lying neatly on the kitchen counter, he wrote a note with shaking hands for Iris, who was, miraculously, still asleep.


"Gone to the hospital. If you wake before I return, just wait for me. Everything is alright. - Mordecai"





Setting the note onto the coffee table, he swiftly made his exit, opening and closing the door gently behind him. He would walk there. It wasn't too entirely far, and he needed some time to clear his head.

 

[kou]

But I just can't wait for love to destroy us.

When Iris awoke it was to utter silence and the lack of one Mordecai Lester, her hand had reached for something that wasn't there and the woman felt a shiver run throughout her spine. Despite how much she reassured herself, there was no pushing away the tiny flicker of doubt which had manifested in her mind and the woman shook her head in order to rid herself of the unwelcome remnants of sleep, there was no sense in falling back asleep at the moment and Iris felt strange without Mordecai's presence. As if things were no longer safe. The woman stretched lazily before standing, deciding that he had possibly retired to the bathroom before making her way into the kitchen, the refrigerator revealed none of its secrets and Iris discreetly added "go grocery shopping" to the mental list stored in her mind; returning to the living room, the woman almost missed the paper from where she stood and instantly back-tracked. It was dark but it had been moved from its original position, Iris walked towards it before hesitantly picking it up.


A frown graced her features as she read over the slightly jagged script of Mordecai's handwriting:

"Gone to the hospital. If you wake before I return, just wait for me. Everything is alright. - Mordecai"

He had..gone to the hospital. Iris carefully placed the note back on the counter before turning around slowly, crossing the room and grabbing her shoes before solemnly slipping them on, the fact that Mordecai still believed she would just..let him go was appalling, she was going to support him whether he wanted it or not and that was the end of it. The psychologist soon found herself stood in front of the door, keys clutched in hand and a coat draped over her arm as she stepped out and into the cold air. The man hadn't even taken the car, he must have been insane to think that Iris would allow him to walk to the place let alone return and something told Iris that Mordecai did not visit hospitals often. So who had been harmed? Did Mordecai have more relatives? No, that didn't seem likely seeing as his wretched parents made sure no one took notice of him. Perhaps a friend? No, that didn't seem right at all although Iris wouldn't put it pass the man..perhaps he did and did not wish to let on to it. In that case, Iris was confused as to why that would be but Mordecai was a complicated man with his own motives for things.


Iris shut the door behind her, setting off into the night and feeling herself become even more confused as she slid into the car and revved it up, pulling out of the driveway and casually following the directions embedded into her brain. It had been quite a long time since she had been to the hospital and she didn't quite like the smell of antiseptic and death however wherever Mordecai was going, Iris was sure to follow. The woman paid close attention to anything that looked remotely close to human, hoping she could somehow catch the man before he caught his death due to how cold it was. It was pathetic, to be so motherly over someone but the woman could not help it, she wanted to be there for him and this was just..all wrong. Gently pressing down on the gas pedal, Iris sighed softly. "It's going to be quite a long evening."

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester

The night air was brisk and cold, and Mordecai embraced it with open arms, breathing it in hungrily and relishing in the goosebumps that it left on his skin. It helped, somewhat, to relieve the searing pain in his skull, reducing it to no more than a dull ache. Admittedly, though, not even the chill of the air could do much rid his heavily laden mind of the whirlwind of troubled thoughts which tore through it with every breath that he took. Why had she done it? How could a woman who claimed to love him so put such an unimaginable deal of effort into making him suffer? Or, maybe - the horror of all horrors - this had not been an attempt to harm him at all. Maybe his indifference had hurt her in so profound a way that she had just...given up. But even if that was the case, why did care as much as he did? The fact that he was even thinking so far into it made him want to scream.


At so early an hour, he was relieved to find that hardly anyone was out and about, and those few that were seemed intent on avoiding any form of social interaction. There were no doubt plenty of people who would have loved to have his head on a stick after the incident with St. Peter's; that he didn't happen to run into any of them he considered a blessing. However, upon his arrival, he found the hospital to be a great deal more...populated. Mordecai Lester was no stranger to being scrutinized, that was certainly true, but never before had so many pairs of eyes been trained on him at once, each and every person in the room knowing exactly who he was, what he was, and what he had done. While it was a bit disconcerting, to say the least, it was also slightly freeing; he no longer had to put on a show for them, and so he smiled and waved at each of them in passing.


Insolent, hypocritical fools. As if they were all completely stainless.





He approached the woman at the desk with this same exaggerated charm, hardened eyes studying her face as he drew near. She was young, with straight blond hair and the greenest eyes that he had ever seen. A pretty face.


"Hello, love. I am here to see Rosaline Lester," he stated plainly, letting the smile casually fade from his face as anxiety overtook him once more. It was uncanny, the effect that just hearing her name could have on him, even when spoken from his own lips.


"Oh, yes, the doctor has been expecting you, Mr. Lester," she responded in a voice that he recognized as belonging to the woman to whom he spoken over the phone, offering him a sympathetic smile. Although obviously frightened by his less than amiable aura, she had to have been one of the only ones in town who either hadn't heard of what he had done, or simply didn't care. "Room 209. Down on your left."


The conversation with the doctor was fairly uneventful. Truthfully, Mordecai didn't pay much attention to him anyways, distracted by renewed force of the pounding in his head and the nausea that overtook him once more. Despite this, he was able to uphold a halfway decent conversation, though most of what was said he already either knew or was able to suspect from what little information the woman had given him.


Afterwards, he found himself sitting in a decidedly uncomfortable wooden chair by Rosaline's bed, gazing down upon what appeared to be but a shell of the formerly vivacious young women, the beeping of a heart monitor resounding in his ears. Her skin, usually pale enough as it were, was white as a sheet. Thick bandages were wrapped tightly around her wrists, an IV running underneath the one on the left.


"Slit your wrists, did you love?" he whispered to no one in particular, as his sister remained unconscious and deaf to his words. "I personally would have preferred a nice fire. Much more effective."


Why did he feel so guilty? What would he say to her when she awoke? Why was he even here?


The truth. He was here for the truth. If he only had that, then maybe, just maybe he could get rid of the sickness that was building inside him, the sickness called remorse that he despised so greatly. He simply wanted the truth, and when his sister returned to the world of the living, he was determined to get it.