sparkle tone sugar/ webs of pink salt
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Listing Series
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Pink feather coats and jumbo jewellery--Gonna be a hoop phenomenon (I miss him, don't you blame me) by orphan_account
Fandoms: SheZow
14 Mar 2023
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Summary
Agnes Monroe’s autopsy was never released to her family. Her cause of death, time, and location, all unknown. The clothes they took from her body, unrelated to the scene at hand. Her plain jewelry that rested upon her fingers and neck; now tucked away in a cardboard box, sealed with police evidence tape--missing nothing but one sole rose-colored ring.
Agnes Monroe’s will, on the other hand, released much. Her house (clean and sparsely furnished, as though she hadn't been there often enough to live in it.), her clothes (some worn, older, but others bought only for show. To wear as a disguise, as armor), and her prized possessions. Her jewelry. Elaborate rings, sparkling necklaces. Shining gold, and deep silver. Emeralds, sapphires, rubies. (These luxury, and cared for. These weren’t armor, those were her. She loved them.
She loved them because she could never wear them in the field.)OR:
Guy struggles with the weight of being Shezow, has a bit of a mental crisis in his car, and argues with his supercomputer about it while he almost bleeds out. Hope you enjoy!Series
- Part 1 of sparkle tone sugar/ webs of pink salt
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Bye-bye, baby blue (I wish you could see the wicked truth) by orphan_account
Fandoms: SheZow
16 Jul 2024
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Summary
He leans over the sink, bathed in the shadow, hunched, still smelling of smoke. His left hand clutches tight at his right wrist, to still the violent trembling. Guy chokes down a groan, fighting the rolling, burning pain emanating from the entirety of his right hand. He breathes shallowly, forcing himself through calming breaths, before twisting his palm to face him.
Even in the dark, he can see it. The deep slash that tears his palm, across the entirety of his fingers. At their bases, the dark blood gathers in the creases, no longer bleeding but a dark stain against his pale skin.
And then, he focuses on the ring, and the deep divot torn into the pink steel, following the exact curve of the cut against his skin. The ring glows faintly, pulsing, and his hand burns in agonizing pain. He's shaking so badly, just praying the pain will end soon, leaning all his weight against his bathroom sink, and he mutters to himself again, soothing.
Then the glowing pink of the ring begins to bleed. Like the blood of a snapped pink glowstick, staining the hands of whatever kids had touched it, leaving its brightly colored poison on their delicate skin. Plastic cracked, uncaringly.
Series
- Part 2 of sparkle tone sugar/ webs of pink salt