17 Works by Metaphorically
Listing Works
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Summary
A deep unease settled within Sam’s core, breaths of moistened air gasped and stolen more than they were indulged and savored. He sauntered, hands shoved deep in his pockets, on grass lined pavement, where blades lay sharp and overgrown. They then peeked out of their confines and joined him there, out on the sidewalk, bringing company to early morning solitude.
Perhaps that is why he enjoyed the manor’s outskirts, he mused, bottom lip worried between his teeth. These areas, so raw and unfiltered, thrived free from attentive staff and uniformity and pesky shears. Mr. Lamb would have a fit about it, no doubt, but it was during those very fleeting, stolen moments that Sam truly came to life.
In which Sam Bourbon thinks. That's never good.
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The collision occurred on an exceptionally brisk winter evening, the sun long fallen and the wet eager to take its place. Up in the sky was a deep blue gradient, the clouds painted out from their canvas in a faded black. Florian stood before a desolate cabin, the rays of warmth shining through frosted windows and onto a shaded face. In one hand, a rosary, hidden snug within his pocket. The other, a letter, addressed to his home directly.
‘Holy Mary, Mother of God,’
Florian’s hand raised, a tightened grip crinkling the letter, ghosting the wood of the door. His breath came out in slowed, visible puffs.
‘Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.’
Then, he knocked. A gentle, rhythmic rap of reddened knuckles.
‘Amen.’
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Series
- Part 1 of Drabbles/Writing Exercise
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Series
- Part 2 of Drabbles/Writing Exercise
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“Mr. Diruse.”
The call of his name rang out as a siren’s song. The sickly sweet of it seeped under the door and wrapped circles around Luchino’s mind in thick rivulets.
“Won’t you let me in?”
Frankly, he was inclined to do anything but.
Series
- Part 5 of Drabbles/Writing Exercise
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The lazy trudge of work boots earned creaks from aged planks, a biting contrast to the quaint jingle that initially welcomed Jose in. The sharp shift from swaying floors to the solidness of land made every step wary, careful.
He was sure he couldn’t be a pretty sight. Wind blown hair, smoothed into something half-way presentable, then haphazardly finger-combed back. His uniform, wrinkled and rumpled in a shape no respectable officers should be, though “respectable” was a word not used to describe Jose for quite a while now. Salt clung to his body in unsavory ways, and he's sure he reeks of the sea.
Thankfully he wasn’t here for appearances, or else he’d have quite some trouble.
Cautiously did he maneuver around wooden beams with long strides, the movement spotlighted by golden light and its copper fixtures. On his path, obscured in shadow, patrons stared. Some faces lit up in recognition, while others scrunched in disgust, but nothing of the latter could be found on the familiar faces he met behind the bar.
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The Bourbons Bar is home to an elusive officer.
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The hum of fluorescent lighting rang throughout the billiard arena, a pleasant soundtrack for the roaring applause of tipsy, noble attendants. It reeked of cigar smoke and a vague air of alcohol, the perfect backdrop for any Friday night.
“Quite impressive. Wouldn’t you say, Sam?” Orpheus hummed into his drink of choice. The words sent vibrations down into the liquid, ripples cascading across the finest of aged wines. With it, he sent a glance toward his companion—a colleague, of whom one could mistake for someone in a hostage scenario, given how blatant his distaste.
“I find impressive the lengths you go to slack off, Mr. Orpheus.” He scoffed, hands buried and jutting out of the pockets of his lab coat sloppily. “There’s work to be done, important work. I cannot fathom what’s so dire that you drag me to this- this basement.”
“It’s not a basement, Sam. Don’t be crude.” Orpheus chastised lightly, the verbal slapping of the hand. “Come on. Where else could you get views like this?” He brought his drink to a swirl with a few masterful twists of the wrist, a whirlpool forming in the center. “Certainly not stuck up in our lab.”
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Orpheus drags Sam out to the billiard's hall.
Series
- Part 4 of Drabbles/Writing Exercise
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The role of a knight was one Richard thought fit himself quite well. Afterall, he was everything one needed to be: strong, dependable, unshaken in the face of fear. Providing aid to those he deemed weak by way of polished shields, sharpened swords, and the finest of armor. Biting remarks towards foes with the kind of fairytale charm found only in storybooks.
His, on the other hand, manifested in the form of two quiet knocks.
The face he met noticeably lacked any of the grandeur he’d come to associate with a savior, trading slick swords and armor for a rusted shovel and clothes that hung limp and drab. Pale skin and hair a steep contrast to dark attire, offering only the lingering scent of petrichor and tired eyes in silent request to be let in. The approach surpassed bare bones, it was down-right skeletal.
Yet, it was this wordless arrangement Richard found himself indebted to.
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Richard has a habit of making messes. Andrew is skilled at cleaning them.
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Through a sliver of curtain, warmth blanketed Orpheus’ exhausted face, cutting through the blue-grey of night like a gilded blade.
There was nothing out of the ordinary: elegantly dressed guests conversing, some coupled in an array of spins and twirls on the dance floor, while others indulged in lavish hors d'oeuvres being served by staff not unlike himself. The view was picturesque, not a piece out of place.
And yet, to Orpheus, it reduced to a mere blur against the true center of his attention.
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Orpheus is a doorman, working for the socialite Mesmer couple, while trying to get his dreams as an aspiring novelist off the ground. One fateful, windy night, he ends up getting more than he bargained for with the man he can't pry his eyes off of.
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A sweet melody rang throughout the manor, seeping out of the living room and into the hallway, where an unexpected visitor lingered.
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The Face of Fear (Has Never Looked so Beautiful) by Metaphorically
Fandoms: 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game)
16 Jun 2025
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Matthias’ heel hit the gravel, the force of each step sending dust and debris flying upon impact. His chest heaved with exertion, legs aching down to the marrow, but his survival instincts overweighed the exhaustion. Even when he thought a step would be his last, a foreign sense of self-preservation sent the other hurdling after it.
His surroundings were reduced to a blur due to the speed at which he was running, only reappearing in his memories as one-second flashes. A run down cottage, freshly cut logs, and a swing he very narrowly avoided a collision with. It reeked of lumber, dust, and a distinct lack of familiarity. Where the hell was he?!
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A fateful forest encounter and a dining room rest.
Series
- Part 3 of Entanglement
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Evelyn chuckled, concealing a sly smile behind the cards splayed out in his hand.
He was one of a couple companions circled around a table, teetering hour three of a rather intense poker game. The champagne was flowing, as was the money, and laughter provided a pleasant soundtrack for the evening. For all intents and purposes: it was an average end to the work week for Evelyn.
That was, with the exception of the incessant bother hidden underneath the table, currently tugging on his leg.
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Evelyn partakes in weekly poker nights with a group of companions. A certain someone aches to tag along.
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Where There's Loss, There's Opportunity by Metaphorically
Fandoms: 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game)
28 May 2025
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“Mr. Sterling?”
The call brought Richard pause before the manor’s library.
His first instinct, of course, was to run. It was long past the designated curfew, and Richard’s plans for this manor were much too early in development to be foiled by a couple of nosy staff.
However, something about the voice rang of vague familiarity, too emotion-filled to be that of a servant. It called to him like a siren, luring him in, lowering his inhibitions. And against his better judgement, he soon found himself thinking: It couldn’t hurt to see this out.
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A fateful, late night meeting between a knight and novelist.
Series
- Part 3 of Drabbles/Writing Exercise
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When Matthias found Orpheus, it was with another man’s coat draped over his shoulders.
“Mr. DeRoss.” Matthias called shakily, an awkward hand hovered the male’s frame. He contemplated giving him a gentle shake, as physical touch was anything but foreign between the two, but the blaring red of the coat read as a silent warning to keep off.
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Matthias has a fear of abandonment, behaving irrationally at any perceived sign of it. Orpheus knows that quite well.
Series
- Part 1 of Entanglement
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“I don’t need anything more than this.”
“Norton, you’re exhausted, please sit on the bed.”
“Please, let me hold you.”
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A little sweetness can make a desperate man lose his damn mind.
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“Forgive me, it..it’s an old habit.” He continued, eyes fixated on the lines Orpheus ghosted on his skin.
“Mm, some do die hard, don’t they?” Exhaustion weighed heavy on the reply, as if referring to something deeper than Matthias’ little mispeak. But it wouldn't matter, as Orpheus would quickly straighten, opting to whisper something more…provocative against the shell of Matthias’ ear. “However, I do find it interesting how they falter in the throes of pleasure.”
Matthias stilled, his entire face going aflame as the memories washed over him in waves.
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An evening wasted and words gone unspoken.
Series
- Part 2 of Entanglement