#((Sorry this is so late!)) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukunasun · 1 year

Note

Halloween is over but what are your thoughts on ghostface jjk man x chubby reader? 👀

tw dub-con / knifeplay

its more than just being the final girl—watching you behind a cheap mask he's bought. for hours, for days, over the course of long, long, months. hiding in dark corners, and hidden spaces—the things he's planned aren't to be wasted on some brutal, violent death. stabbing and slashing. because as you lay on soft pillows and pressed sheets, curves and folds on display, so oblivious, so unassuming...he's dying to sink more than just a knife into all that flesh.

not to hurt you of course, but what is he to do when he's got killer instinct and your body was made to be held, fondled....claimed. there's only so much a man can resist.

------------------------------------------------------

when geto asks "what are you wearing?" over the phone, his words hold some amusement to them, mocking. almost like he knows you're scared. yet somewhat ...mellow, trusting...and so hot it flays you, a heat traveling low and dipping in your stomach, fear and arousal jumbled up in one, searing in your belly.

your breath hitches at the sound of his muffled laugh crackling through the speaker. you could just indulge yourself in this little game he plays, no harm would ever come to you. this way, you could ignore the insecurities and the nerves. relish in anonymity. and every second you keep him waiting to expose you for the depraved thing that you are, getting wet and drooly over a stranger, a dark, mysterious, and very sexy stranger, you realize how pathetic, how cliched you're being. "i can hear how turned on you are..." he's so right it's embarrassing.

when he's looming above you the next day, there's no time wasted. he angles your toy against a sensitive spot and you feel it nudge and grind deep inside, keeps sliding it up and down your folds, "that's it, feel that? you should see how wet you are," your shaky thighs spread open, pussy sticky and gleaming with cum, so slick, so slippery, every pass of the toy on your slit jolting you closer to release.

"you don't want to kill me..." you say in a daze. turning your head to the side, you moan into the sheets, it's too much, your ghost caller watching you, playing with you, withholding and keeping you from reaching your peak. you know the things he could do...there's no need to see his face or learn his name to realise he's a little bit of a bully like that. teasing you, edging you, that you'd only come by his hand. beautiful gloved hands that are larger than two of yours put together.

"and why is that?" geto coos, wanting to wrap a fist around your exposed neck, untouched and unmarred, just waiting to be marked. you wish to tell him that you'd do anything, pleading for your life, but that coil in your stomach twists, adrenaline egging you on, allowing you to be a little bolder, "you need me...don't you? you need me to be yours," you whimper out the challenge. fingers reaching up to hook in between his mask and face, bringing him closer to you, before you press a kiss to where his mouth would be. feeling only hard plastic and his hot, sighing breaths underneath.

you see his shoulders tense, your toy dropping to the side of the bed, forgotten and whirring. he's left so stunned. and it's this that you earn—his lips barely forming a reply, no sly smirks or subtle jabs to your pride, just the sound of his ragged breaths that fill the room and the slick, measured pumps of his fist over his cock, thumb spreading the fluid that leaks, drools, literally pools over your stomach—"you have no fucking idea..." he groans, his resolve vanishing, his smugness stripped away the more you moan for him, why do you tease him so. these hairline cracks you'd spotted and split right down the middle with merely a gentle touch at where he's the weakest...geto's only so strong, frustrated at his own need for your willingness, your eager soft hands that trail up and down his biceps. who dares to pet a wild animal, reaching out without fear of getting trapped in sharp jaws.

------------------------------------------------------

sukuna's not as weak. he's been on the hunt for years, trying to curb his appetite for murder with whatever nameless faces he deemed uninteresting, had them piled up and ready to be disposed of without so much as another glance. he's bored...terribly so, and starving, salivating, for the perfect kill. only now he thinks otherwise when a newfound purpose reveals itself in the shape of you.

if only you'd been careful, if only you'd been cautious. maybe then, you wouldn't be pinned below the stranger in a mask, the cold edge of his knife perched against the jugular as your jaw starts to bruise from his tight grasp. "im keeping you," he merely states, "you're gonna be mine forever, you hear me?" he start kissing the side of your face, sloppily, messily. you don't see his face but you imagine he'd look like a monster, with sharp teeth and a hundred eyes, maybe four or six hands the way he's gripping and touching you everywhere, trying to get his fill of you. his cock thick and large and splitting you in half, almost as if he had two.

"you don't have to do this," you sob, feeling another orgasm rock through you. you squeeze down on him, your slick coating everywhere. oh you smell like sweat and fear and he doesn't care one bit that tears stream down your face, swollen lips trembling. a face pressed into the pillows that bear a muddled expression.

under the weight of his hulking body from above, you know there's no way of escaping his clutches, your moans turn guttural, "i can't, it's too much..." you whine, hands coming up to push him away, to clutch at his chest behind you, tapping out from the overstimulation. he's rubbing against a spot so sensitive, pounding right into it. you think you'd go crazy, "please...i've been good..." you whine, voice pitching into a drawn-out moan, "been so good for you," pleading and pleading. you don't think it was the best choice of words, but in the haze of pleasure, you could only persuade him with obedience. with submission.

it does nothing to deter him from his ministrations, chuckling at the way your voice breaks, the way you look a mess, coming undone and staining your sheets, the thin line of blood dribbling from your neck. "just one more yeah?" he coos, "i know...i know it feels good, you're starting to fall in love with it aren't you?" he starts going faster, building to his climax, and you gasp in surprise when he shifts his position to collapse onto your back. his arms hugging you around the middle as he continues to jerk his hips erratically.

you don't say anything in return, but you do give in...teeth biting down on your pillow the moment your orgasm hits you, legs shaking and his spurting dick lodged deep inside you.

------------------------------------------------------

gojo's completely obsessed. and you don't notice it at first because his personality covers up most of his hidden intentions, concealing that part of him that's been following your every move, trailing after you and waiting for a moment to strike...he gets personal because satoru's always been like that, needy, clingy, and he knows there's no need for the mask, you'd know it was him, but he likes it that way. relishes the moment you grapple with feeling betrayed by a man you trusted. says it's your fault really for being way too closed-minded. "what was it you said? that i wouldn't be into big girls?" he laughs, sounding crazed, frenzied.

"i thought you knew me better..." he tuts, keeps his hands busy in the meantime by wrapping rope around your wrists, weaving it across your tits, crisscrossing down your stomach, and circling around your thick thighs. his fingers knot and loop the bright red rope with practiced ease, making a pattern across your body with just the right amount of tension, just enough that it wouldn't cut into your skin...but he makes no promises.

stepping back, he tugs at the base of his rig above you, just for precaution, but he knows you'll stay right where you are for however long he wants. no, you're not gonna fall, he knows that's what you're thinking about despite it having to be the last of your priorities.

"look at you..." he marvels at his handiwork. your legs spread for him, feet dangling and having no leverage. with arms tied behind your back, he gets to see how lovely your tits look when spilling from beneath the rope, although...he'd say the best part is seeing his blindfold tied around your mouth as a makeshift gag.

------------------------------------------------------

and choso's just...sweet isn't he..so keen, so restless. he promises he won't hurt you, he just wants a taste, to know what it feels like. and you'd dare him to but he's not made to kill and he knows it. it's why his knife stays loose and forgotten in his hand when he greets the sight of you behind a door left ajar.

the creaking hinge, his heavy boots, and the harsh pull of his breaths are all enough to send goosebumps rising. slow and measured, his feet come to a halt at the foot of your bed. he thinks you did it on purpose. doors and windows left unlocked and your curtains so sheer it's no wonder he's made to be an audience to your little peep shows every night. "you knew i've been watching you..." he whispers, realization hits—and surprisingly, you think you hear the petulance in his voice, like he was pouting. actually pouting.

and you see it first when he takes off the mask. face awestruck from watching you lay back, your eyes meeting his stare from between the swell of your breasts, your tummy, suddenly his face has a lot more life in it, dark circles meeting the reddening edge of his blushing cheek, pale lips wet and drooling, his tongue slipping past, inching closer. "please....please," is such a lovely sound when it slips past them, frenzied and feverish, words he can barely get a hold of before you feel it curling around your bones, wheedling its way into your heart, and squeezing tight. wanting to give in to the man who creeps from afar, who can't stop following and tracing your every move.

your eyes roll back when your folds part under the wet muscle, warm and slick. and it's not a secret by now that you're not as shy as you seem to be. he's mesmerized, transfixed. is this the same woman he's been spying on...always keeping to herself, getting her life together, with prim and proper clothing and a nine-to-five job...now wrapped in nothing but moonlight and presenting yourself to him, legs spreading to reveal the wet that sticks to your folds, hardening nub that twitches at your touch, at the circles and gentle flicks against your clit. your eyes stay fixed on his, wordlessly giving him permission almost as if you've been waiting for him. he wonders if it's just as long as he's been wanting you.

963 notes · View notes

liam-summers · 8 months

Text

1.02 | 2.01

Responding after the other has already left

↳ Requested by @oveliagirlhaditright

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #bangeledit #bangel #buffy x angel #buffy summers #angel btvs #*gif #zanisummers #dailybtvs #otp: how's forever?#parallels #sorry this is so late!#hope you like it :)#The first scene is so ahh because at this point we don't even know that Angel is a vampire #so him wishing her good luck almost seems like he's saying a little prayer that she stays safe #but he can't bring himself to say it to her because he's still trying to keep his distance as he's worried about revealing he's a vampire #out of fear of getting killed and out of shame and loathing #but he still wants to help her as much as he can #and then the second scene....she can't help but say it back to him even though she's pushing him away due to her trauma from dying #and this just makes the last scene where she collapses in his arms so much sweeter because even here her walls start to crack around him #I love these angsty bitches so much

294 notes · View notes

dewitty1 · 20 days

Text

Fic Recs Wrap Up March 2024♡(੭ˊ͈ ꒵ˋ͈)੭*･:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

tissue of silver by fearlessdiva

A love story concerning possessed furniture, black silk pyjamas, courtroom drama, premonitions of doom, assassination attempts, Death Eater yoga, absinthe, bare feet and a sensible werewolf. Rec Post

The Piano by shushu_yaoi_lj @orange-peony

He arrives on a boat during a particularly stormy day. Harry knew Astoria Greengrass had sent for a husband, someone to keep her company on the particularly dreary and dark winter days on this remote island. Harry didn’t know who it was she had arranged to be sent here. All he knew was that the weather was horrid today, and the Portkeys had never properly worked in this remote corner of the North Sea. The island was special, its magic working in odd and surprising ways. Rec Post

Turn From Stone by harryromper @harryromper

Something happened in the hours after the final battle, after the evacuation of the living and the dead. As the last of the survivors left the castle, and as the castle itself turned its wounded back on them all. The loss of Hogwarts has been felt by their entire community. And it’s something that needs to be put right. Harry knows there’s nothing he can do to stop Hermione (war hero, historian, author of the reissued “Hogwarts: A History”) once she sets her mind to something. Even an extremely risky last-ditch effort to restore the ancient castle and lay its newest ghosts to rest. What he wasn’t counting on was her insistence that Draco Malfoy be part of the plan. Rec Post

With and Without You by Shewhxmustnxtbenamed @shewhomustnotbenamed

Harry and Draco realize that they’ve been living in the same building for the past five years, hiding from the Wizarding world in Muggle London for a variety of reasons. They grow unexpectedly close and Harry realizes that Draco’s relationship with his boyfriend is abusive, spiraling as he tries and fails to figure out how to help. In Harry’s rejection of the Wizarding world in general, he has fallen out of touch with his friends and his magical abilities, but has to reconnect with both in order to find himself again. Rec Post

Inevitable [Drarry] by violenttulips @violenttulips

After the war, Harry Potter becomes a talented Senior Auror with a penchant for injury in defense of his colleagues. Draco Malfoy leaves the country for five years and becomes an accomplished Specialty Healer. He comes back after he accepts a job at St. Mungo’s Hospital. When they meet again, it’s clear that Draco has changed significantly in the years since they attended Hogwarts together, and Harry finds himself strangely attracted to his former rival. But things never come easy for the Boy-Who-Lived, and that’s not about to change now. Rec Post

Learn To Fly by Ladderofyears @ladderofyears

January 2004: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are two of the finest Seekers in England, deadly rivals and secret lovers. As far as Draco is concerned, that’s how it’ll stay forever. He is betrothed to beautiful heiress Astoria Greengrass, and they are due to have a big summer wedding. Everything changes during a hotly fought Arrows versus Wimbourne game when Draco falls from his broom. To his huge shock, when Draco awakes in St Mungo’s, he discovers he is pregnant. What will Draco do, now everything in his tidily compartmentalised life has to change? Rec Post

He Comes Like a Thunderstorm by korlaena @korlaena

Draco is doing his best to balance the life he wants to live and the life he’s forced to live. He’s nearing the tail-end of a long, post-war probation when Harry Potter crashes back into his life with all the grace of a charging Erumpent, breaking through his carefully constructed rules and routine. Caught up in a whirlwind of sex and lust, Potter unwittingly shows Draco that his life as an Incubus doesn’t have to be as lonely and unfulfilling as he thought, but how long can it last? Rec Post

Denouement by the_never_was

Pale face in paler hands, he is devoid of color. He is only the moonlight. And he wonders if he’ll find the sun. A story about Draco entering a period of change that will either shatter him or enfold him into Harry Potter’s world. Rec Post

Here are a few more fics I've read recently that y'all might like to check out as well!(ノﾟ∀ﾟ)ノ━☆ﾟ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･.*･｡ﾟ*:・ﾟ✧

Stalking Harry by orphan_account

Harry Potter is the most eligible bachelor in the Wizarding world. Draco Malfoy is a disgraced ex-Death Eater with emotional baggage and a bit of a crush.

Through His Eyes (I Am Set Free) by Shewhxmustnxtbenamed @shewhomustnotbenamed

Harry and Draco have a telepathic connection that remains unexplained in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Draco is assigned a mission by Voldemort to locate and capture the Boy Who Lived-- the trouble is that they don't know anything about him. While Draco struggles to gather information on this mysteriously absent hero, he and Harry start communicating again for the first time since they were kids. Harry continues life as normal until he discovers information which compels him to abandon his ordinary Muggle life with the endeavor to rescue and emancipate his only friend-- even if that means bartering with his own life.

A Private Reason for This by Femme (femmequixotic) @femmequixotic

When the wife of a star politician in the Scottish Ministry turns up dead just outside Hogsmeade, Draco Malfoy and his murder investigation team are called in from the Edinburgh Auror force to find her killer. What DCI Malfoy doesn't expect, however, is to have an ex from two decades past end up in his murder room, endangering not only his case, but also his heart.

Consequences of Redemption by bobbirose @ominousflags

When Draco makes an impromptu decision to rescue Harry Potter from Malfoy Manor, the two find themselves completely alone and facing the looming climax of the war against Voldemort. Harry must start from the beginning with Draco--and starting over has more consequences than either of them anticipated.

( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡ I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I have! Happy reading, y’all! xoxo Carey (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*💜💙💚💛❤💗💕💖

32 notes · View notes

thsc-confessions · 7 months

Text

"I know that Dusty sees everyone on the Toppat Clan as a child."

"And everyone sees him as their grandpa ^^" submitted by anon

#sorry this is so late!#that's wholesome tho <3 #found family toppats further proved by more headcanons #mod dave #thsc #thsc confession #thsc confessions #thsc dusty #anon

59 notes · View notes

sunnydayroleplay · 2 months

Note

Do you think Jean is a yandere, or a tsundere, or a prick?

Personally, I think he's all three.

(More so tsundere and prick)

I feel like given what I've spoken about his personality, I don't think he has the balls to kill someone even if it's for someone he loves/ kill the person he loves if they say no.

I feel like once he is in deep romantic love for Sunshine, he acts like how a young boy would when they have an admirer.

Hit them and run away, push them around as a way to get closer, then out of nowhere shower you with postive attention and gifts.

(Of course he wouldn't actually hit you, just make jokes about you, and call you names occasionally.)

I do think he'd be discreet with it though. Such as sending flowers to your house or have them delivered while on the set of the show, with a note saying something stupid like:

"For my dear, as pretty and fragile as a flower, and as thick as a thorn."

"Wishing I was yours,"

"For you, from your secret admirer."

That's really about it, but to answer your question further, his personality is just being a prick to put it somewhat mildly, but he "warms" up the cactus skin attached go his body, and he sprouts out a beautiful flower or fruit for his lover :)

#sdj jack #sdj joseph #jacktor #sdj jacktor #sunny day jack #somethings wrong with sunny day jack #swwsdj #sunny day jack joseph #sdj shaun #sunny day jack fanfic #sdj opinion #sdj jean #sorry this is so late!

31 notes · View notes

kaijukebox · 1 year

Text

What if your brain just made god torment you every day?

Today’s Reference

#what’s the opposite of an emotional support animal?#she’s that #anyway #the original corrupt file was unsalvagable #so I had to dig around for the only save file I had and restored it that way #started from mainly scratch so this is far messier than the first 😩#oh well at least it’s done and I didn’t have to do a dinky sketch!#sorry this is so late!#100hugs2023 #disco elysium #dolores dei #harrier du bois #harry du bois #disco elysium fanart #hug 14/100

131 notes · View notes

superchlorine · 8 months

Text

i was tagged by @boobzi to grab a receipt over at receiptify! 💖

tagging (this is, ofc, completely optional!) - @go-out-of-wonderland @rienziera @lastendconductor78 @madhattersez @halalhyungwon and maybe you, dear reader?

my receipt under the cut

i was in a 90s/00s throwback mood for a big chunk of this summer 😅

#tag games #miha 💜#sorry this is so late!#i am catching up now 😅🫶💖

26 notes · View notes

bowie-starss · 3 months

Note

mungrove prompt. eddie and billy cuddling on a rainy night in the munson trailer watching a horror movie <3 🥺

Billy is just a wet cat of a man. A cat left in the rain and Eddie has the towels for him

Lately, Eddie found himself staying up later and later into the night with no sign of sleep. His record was 5 am before promptly passing out for an hour until his alarm went off.

It seemed Eddie wasn’t the only one struggling this way.

The rain had started early that evening and only got worse as the night went on. It was pouring, drowning out the sound of a car pulling up to the Munson trailer. Eddie was startled out of his half-asleep daze on the couch by rapid knocking on the front door. Apparently, he was taking too long to answer because the knocking just would not let up.

Eddie clicked off the TV- he hadn’t been watching it anyway- and peaked out of the blinds for a hint at whoever could be at the door at this hour.

A deep blue Chevy Camaro sat just in front of Eddie’s trailer, and there was only one person in Hawkins who owned a Camaro that color. There was only one person who owned a Camaro at all.

Oh, Billy.

Billy was no stranger to showing up at Eddie’s unannounced as they didn’t have a good way to communicate yet, but he typically didn’t do it at- what was it now? 2 a.m? Whatever it was, Billy was not the type to show up then.

Eddie opened the front door to exactly what he expected at this point: Billy drenched in rain water. How long had he been standing there while Eddie fought for sleep on the couch?

“You look ridiculous,” Eddie blurted as he pulled Billy inside. The blonde stayed uncharacteristically quiet. “Stay here.” As if Billy had any plans of moving. “I’ll get some towels. And clothes.” Eddie was gone for a blink, returning with an excessive amount of towels and a set of pajamas he knew Billy liked.

All of the items were set aside except for one towel Eddie wrapped around Billy. “Bad day, huh?” Eddie asked, smiling sadly. Billy didn’t need to respond verbally. He sighed and buried his face into the towel, and that was enough to describe his day. Eddie nodded. “Yeah, me too,” he said.

After being aggressively rubbed dry and changing in the living room, leaving him looking more or less like a stray cat, Billy was left to sort through Eddie’s movie collection while Eddie hung up the wet clothes in the bathroom. “Cool stuff, huh?” Eddie said as he returned to join Billy on the floor.

Billy wordlessly held up a tape. The Rats Are Coming! The Werewolves Are Here! Point taken. Billy set it aside. “Where do you even find these?”

Eddie shrugged. “When Family Video decides to clean out their shelves they sell all the old and weird stuff no one’s rented for dirt cheap. The other half of the collection is stuff my uncle picked up.” As Billy popped in a horror movie, Eddie asked, “I thought we were trying to sleep?”

“You can.” Billy backed off to the couch. “I’m not.”

That bad of a day that just going to bed was off the table.

Eddie decided not to argue with it. He found himself falling asleep to the weirdest things, so a slasher on screen didn’t matter. He joined Billy on the couch and opened his arms, letting Billy crawl into his spot in them. He dropped his full weight onto Eddie, making the other squeak, before tucking his head in just under Eddie’s chin. Eddie didn’t think the blonde could actually see the screen, but maybe that’s not what he wanted. Maybe he wanted the background noise. Weird choice, but Eddie couldn’t really judge, when he understood it.

Eddie’s hands combed through Billy’s still damp hair and tugged gently at the drier curls. “I guess you’re staying the whole night then, huh?” There was only a ‘mpfh’ from Eddie’s chest, and Eddie chuckled as if it meant something. It did, of course. “Alright, then. You know you’re welcome.”

#sorry this is so late!#and maybe I strayed a little too much but I hope it's still enjoyable :]#mungrove #eddie munson #billy hargrove #prompt answer

15 notes · View notes

bejeweleds · 2 years

Photo

VERNON + SILVER/BLUE 💎 for @carat-cakes

287 notes · View notes

felidaeng · 11 months

Text

one more art trade. this time for @loki-ioki

#pokemon #giratina #pokemon dppt #sinnoh #meepmorps #sorry this is so late!

53 notes · View notes

bluecoba · 6 months

Note

trick or treat! 🔮✨

Happy Halloween <333

#coba answers #trigun #vash the stampede #sorry this is so late!#my guests arrived just as i had started on yours ;-;#doing this right before bed so that it's not TOO late lol #hope you had a fantastic halloween :3

10 notes · View notes

comicbookddr · 6 months

Text

RORY WEEK DAY 2: PRE-VAMPIRE

Summary: When Rory woke, he didn’t recognize anything surrounding him. Not only was it not his house, but everything was extremely blurry. As he staggered to his knees and squinted through his glasses to try and understand where he was, a tall man in all black stood in from of him.

Word count: 1,505

read on ao3! or click read more to read under the cut!

When Rory woke, he didn’t recognize anything surrounding him. Not only was it not his house, but everything was extremely blurry. As he staggered to his knees and squinted through his glasses to try and understand where he was, a tall man in all black stood in front of him.

“Wow, you’re not dead?” He said, smirking at the trembling kid beneath him. All Rory could do was shake his head and try to stop his bottom lip from quivering. The man helped Rory up and ripped the pair of glasses right off his face.

“You won’t be needing these, okay?” He laughed, crushing them on the ground with his boot. Rory jolted back with how much better he could see now, and looked forwards at the stark pale man in front of him. His teeth were long and sharp, his hair jet black and sticking straight up. He grabbed Rory’s shoulder and gripped it hard in case he tried to run away.

“Jesse! Are you done cleaning up?” A voice shouted from outside. A guy in a skull t-shirt and curly hair appeared from behind him.

“Almost,” He said, turning around to face the other guy, flinging Rory in the same direction with his arm still attached to his shoulder.

“We got one more!”

“So… he was bit twice?” Gord, who Rory now knew the name of, asked.

“Seems like it!” Jesse responded. Rory was staring at the two of them in awe as they tried to figure out exactly what happened.

“So Erica didn’t drink all his blood? How odd…” Gord said.

“Where is she?!” Rory shouted. He could believe it! He had fangs just like Jesse did, and they were so sharp that he poked his lip after he finished talking. He could feel he had drawn blood, but when he reached up to wipe it away, it was already gone, and his lip felt like it hadn’t been cut at all.

“Yeah, you’re gonna need to learn how to control that,” Jesse told him.

“You’ll stop poking yourself eventually.”

“Look, like this,” Gord said as two sharp fangs shot out of his normal row of teeth. He gave Rory a ghoulish smile to demonstrate. The two workshopped with Rory and eventually he could control his fangs.

Eventually Jesse and Gord took Rory out of the house and walked him to the front gates. The two stepped aside to talk.

“You really wanna keep this one? Can’t we just fly him across the border and drop him off in Michigan?” Jesse said. Even though they were far away, he could hear everything they were saying, which scared the crap out of him.

“No! You can’t keep doing that!”

“Why not? Michigan is nice!”

“I don’t think I’d like Michigan!” Rory shouted at them. The two dropped the facade and walked back to him.

“Listen, you can’t tell anyone you’re a vampire, okay?” Jesse said in a patronizing tone, like he was talking to a 2nd grader.

“I’m a vampire?! Cool!” Rory shouted.

“I don’t think we can keep this one! He seems too stupid!” He yelled at Gord after shushing Rory to be quiet.

“Fine, whatever you say,” Gord conceded. With unnatural speed, Gord ran behind the two and pulled a large wooden stake out from inside a large bush. Rory was thrown to face him in the blink of an eye, and saw Gord speeding towards him.

Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. He was freeing himself from Jesse’s grip for the first time in the night and dropped to the floor, gasping for air on his hands and knees. Gord and Jesse looked at each other as Rory sat down and stared up at the two, terrified at what they were gonna do next.

Rory was being thrown out of a black car onto the ground in a back alley before he knew it.

“You missed the ritual because you weren’t supposed to survive, so make sure you drink blood within the next 24 hours, or else you’ll die. Do you want to die?” Jesse asked him. Rory shook his head aggressively.

“We’ll let you know when we need you,” He finished, slamming the car door. The car peeled off before Rory could say anything.

Rory sat on the wet pavement and shivered from the fall breeze, trying not to cry. After composing himself, Rory made it his new goal to find Erica and make sure she was safe, maybe after getting some new clothes to wear, since his current ones were covered in his own blood and now mud. He peeked his head around the corner, and looked around, worried that someone might try and harm him. He then remembered when Gord tried to - what he assumes was - kill him just a few hours ago, he was able to escape just fine. So maybe he was invincible now! Just like Superman! He ran down the street, realizing that the wind hit his face much harder, and that he made it to the end of the block in only a few seconds instead of minutes. He jumped for joy, elated to know that he was now a superhero, the same way his favorite characters were in the comic books. But that excitement stalled when he stopped jumping and felt a pain in his body. He was hungry.

Rory strolled along the sidewalk, being overly cautious to not seem like a very strong and very cool vampire, which caused him to hike his knees up to his chest every time he lifted up his leg to walk, and clenched his hands into fists and kept his elbows up. He came across a scary looking store that he would normally never enter, but since it was the only place open he went in anyway. There was loud music playing that hurt his ears, and everything was dimly lit. He was all of a sudden being harassed by a man from behind the counter. Rory could feel himself tense up, not only because the guy was cursing at him to provide some identification before going further into the store, but because there was now a smell in the air that he had never smelt before that was absolutely wonderful, and he needed to have more of it. He only stalked up closer to him; he felt like he was no longer in control of his body. Before he knew it, he was behind the counter and the man's flesh was under his teeth, and he couldn’t stop drinking his blood.

This is what caused Rory to actually start crying. The mixture of the body beneath him and his favorite jacket being even more bloody than it was before all swept over him as he truly realized what he had become. But the taste made it all feel worth it. He would do it all over again if that meant he could get more. That thought is what stopped the tear from flowing down his face, and what caused him to stand up and walk away like nothing had happened. Rory then found himself clothes shopping in the adult store, grabbing very gaudy and absolutely fantastic looking clothes that were definitely not his size, but were perfect for his brand new life. He was quick to get home, which was a new perk he was really enjoying, and skipped up to his room without being detected by his mother. Vivian was such a heavy sleeper that he was able to shower and change without her waking up to notice.

He didn’t even have to think about laying or sitting down the entire night, he was filled with so much energy. Excitement, wonder, and just a little bit of sorrow (that he tried his best not to think about) all ran through him as he bounced around his room until the sun started to rise. The light peaking through his window stung his skin a bit, so he grabbed the sunscreen and lathered it thick onto his skin before heading out the door for school. What surprised him the most, besides how quickly he made it to school or how he could lift an entire park bench if he wanted to, was that he didn’t see Erica anywhere all day. It wasn’t until after school that he saw his friends Ethan and Benny, who were shocked and anxious about him being a vampire now, but Rory tried to not let them harsh his vibe. But after that conversation, a lot of the memories from the night before started to rush back to him, especially after he came to find out what Jesse meant by “we’ll let you know when we need you.” Rory was gonna do his best to have fun and do whatever his new vampire friends asked him to, even if they weren’t all that nice to him. He was just excited to be alive, and to get more blood sometime soon, because he was starting to get hungry again.

I apologize if this isn't the best, I wrote it sort of last minute and didn't have time to go back and edit it. I still think it's cool, so let me know what you think about it! Thanks for reading!

#sorry this is so late!#i waited until last minute to post it lol #roryweek #roryweek2023 #mbav #my babysitters a vampire #my babysitter's a vampire #rory keaner #rory mbav #mbav fanfic #mbav stuff

11 notes · View notes

gaykey · 11 months

Note

shinee embodies so much queer chaos and i love them for it

they really do, and that's one of the many reasons i love them. i also, love how shinee's rep in the kpop community has also become synonymous with just like being gay, and gay culture.

genuinely, it makes me so happy.

it's the legacy they deserve.

happy pride to shinee

#anon #shinee #sorry this is so late!

21 notes · View notes

ofhowlingcommandos · 29 days

Note

Maybe playing around the time tunel is not the best idea, landing on the ground hard. The teen looks up to see Dum Dum, and sighs, recognizing the man from old photos. "Um. Hi." The teen says.

Timothy froze for a moment or two the moment he watched a young man fall from the sky, seemingly appear out of nowhere. Then again, they had just escaped a secret Hydra base with many experiments done by Zola, so it wasn't entirely unlikely that they had somehow found a way to mess with their minds.

"What the hell?" He muttered under his breath as he watched the scene unfold.

#@manymusesbym #hell I'll always fight - Timothy Dugan #sorry this is so late!

4 notes · View notes

dreamer213 · 9 months

Text

Broken Machines: Between The Shadows

Chapter 4: Campaign Carnival

That night after their date and the following day were surprisingly peaceful for Whitley. With little to do, since he blasted through all his work for a carefree Saturday, Whitley had some time on his hands for the rest of the weekend. Enough time to get a good amount of sleep, check some areas that the staff companies about for maintenance, and finish up a book on his reading list. What’s more, with Jaques out of the house the atmosphere in the manor was far calmer, and everyone’s spirits were greatly calmed by the lack of this major stressor. The assurance of having no stern eyes looking down on everyone, no unreasonable requests coming in every few hours, and no tantrums to clean up after for two days was a blessing the Schnee manor was rarely afforded. The kitchen staff especially took advantage of his absence, focusing on making more appropriate meals for the Mistress and Young Master with him away. Willow was snuck detoxifying food via extra snacks and hearty soups and Whitley was given denser meals and even a nice slice of shortcake made by Sue. It was a welcomed surprise, one which Whitley bragged to Penny about later that night much to her jealousy.

Things were incredibly peaceful until the rotten apple returned to spoil the bunch and life returned to business as usual, ie suffering. Whitley continued his stringent work/study schedule, lightly rejuvenated by his time away from home. He had expected the week to go as normal with him buried under a mountain of work until in the middle of the week Jacques suddenly call him to his study. It was an unwelcome summons to say the less and Whitley’s nerves were wrecked as he walked down the halls to his father's study.

His plan had worked flawlessly, no one had noticed he was gone for a few hours, so what could this be about? A thousand possibilities run through his mind as he enters the study, Jacques sat at his desk waiting for him.

Whitley: Father.

He addresses, voice calm and collected despite the emotional minefield he’s stepped into. Jacques looks at him with the same empty gaze he’d given all his children since the façade of their happy family shared years ago.

Jacques: Ah, there you are. Come sit down.

Whitley complies, sitting down in the chair directly in front of Jacques’s desk. His gaze is soft but cold and neutral look of calm indifference masking his internal panic as they engage in conversation.

Jacques: So, I see you’ve been keeping up with all your tasks.

Whitley: Yes Father.

Jacques: Good, and it seems that the work I left for you over the weekend was completed to standard.

Whitley: It was double-checked and filed alphabetically as requested.

Jacques: And you also made headway on some of the maintenance work around the manor.

Whitley: It was mostly minor work, I just got it out of the way so it wouldn’t become a nuisance in the future.

He replies with a charming smile still unsure what this was all about but not uneasy enough to show his hand. Jacques continues to stare at him with indifference as he pulls something out from the top drawer of his desk.

Jacques: Since you seem to have gotten a good handle on things here, then you can manage some fieldwork.

He states, sliding over a stack of business cards to Whitley.

Jacques: Set tomorrow’s work aside and get plenty of sleep tonight, you’ll be accompanying me in the morning for an outing.

Whitley tenses slightly in shock, face never falling as he replies calmly with another “Yes, Father” before being dismissed. When he returns to his room, he finds three sets of clothing resting on his bed, an informal itinerary for the next day's activities resting on top of the pile.

Whitley: Guess I’m on lackey duty again.

Whitley laments before looking over the schedule and attire. This was the other most arduous part of his job, following behind his father and acting as his unpaid assistant while he negotiated with other elites. Honestly, he was more of an errand boy than anything else with skills to match. A gopher who served his master and his associates without fail. It’s humiliating work but he had no choice but to play the obedient dog as always. He reorganizes the schedule and sets the clothing in a small suitcase before taking a shower. After he’s fully ready for bed Whitley retrieves his secret scroll and seeks solace in his greatest comfort. The scroll only rings three before the image of pajama-clad Penny appears on the screen.

Penny: Good evening, Whitley. How was your day?

She greets him, the sound of her voice pushing back all his stress away and warming his heart up from its frigid state.

Whitley: Thank God, I have her.

He coos to himself before expressing his delight to the girl herself as their evening conversation begins. Whitley sleeps soundly that night, focusing on Penny’s pleasant chatter over thinking about the hoops he’d be jumping through for his father the next day. When morning breaks, he texts her an explanation of what he’d be doing that day and to not contact him unless he reached out first.

Penny: [But what if you get hurt or lost in the city?]

She typed worriedly uncomfortable with the idea of Whitley being out and about with someone as cold hearted as Jacques regardless of the man being his parent or not. Whitley chuckles at the obvious concern in her words, typing his reply with a soft smirk.

Whitley: [I’ll be fine, the man can’t afford to lose me. Not when I’m his last chance at upholding the family legacy.]

He reassures, confident in the one aspect of himself his father truly held in worth.

Penny: [Okay but call me if anything happens. I’ll do everything I can to help you even if I can’t be there myself.]

Penny texts back, begrudgingly accepting the current situation. Whitley’s smiles deepen at her kind words, her endless need to comfort and protect him giving him strength as he prepares for the day ahead.

Instead of his usual outfit, Whitley dawned a white long sleeve button up and a pair of gray golf shorts. He parts the simple look with a blue and black plaid pattern woolen sleeveless sweater vest, matching high socks, black golf shoes and a plaid golf cap. It’s a classic golfer’s look, or at least decent caddy attire.

Whitley: Befitting for the unofficial attendant.

He griped mentally as he gathers up the necessities for today’s travels. A change of clothes, his laptop, scroll, and a pack of business cards are his arsenal for this excursion. He debates taking his burner scroll just to have some way of distracting himself during this nonsense but resists to prevent a possible slip-up in front of his father. With everything he needs in hand, Whitley leaves his room and heads out into the hallways of the manor. He doesn’t even think of going to a dining room or kitchen for breakfast, no, there was no time for that when Jaques requested his presence in the outside world. Dashing to the main entrance, the family limo sat in wait for them out front with the driver standing at the rear door. Whitley walks outside, the driver opens the door as he approaches.

Whitley: Morning Andrew.

Andrew: Young Master.

They greet each other in passing, Whitley sledding into his seat in the limo and Andrew closing the door behind him. Whitley looks over his schedule again as he waits for his father to arrive.

Whitley: Okay first is golf with the star of the stock market Alvin Krämer and his colleagues, then a late lunch with Father’s lacke- (tsk)-Senior Broad member Bradley Bergmann and finally a meeting with the food mogul Matthew Kraus. A whole day of languishing around behind Father while he butters up skivvy donors and lallygags with his revolting pals, how grand!

He thinks sarcastically, waiting patiently for his father to arrive. When the man does finally step out of the house, a maid holding a suitcase and golf bag in tow. While she puts the bag in the trunk Jacques berates the driver for parking too far from the front door before getting into the back seat. He sits down opposite Whitley, looking over the boy’s appearance for any flaws. Feeling his father’s harsh gaze Whitley smiles at Jacques and covertly looks him over in turn. The older man was dressed in a golf shirt, long plaid pants, pro golfer shoes, a black golf cap, a flashy branded watch, and golf gloves. It was a true imitation of the proverbial pro golfer look with none of the skill or charisma to back it up.

Jacques: Did you bring everything?

He asks bluntly, finding his appearance acceptable and moving on to the task at hand.

Whitley: Yes, Father. I have everything we need for today.

He replies, perfectly practiced to the point it felt like breathing. Jacques accepts this and soon the limo’s engine roars to life, and they drive away in silence. Jacques has his head buried in his scroll for the duration while Whitley does some light arm exercises in preparation for what was to come. When they arrive at their destination Whitley takes his things and gets out, heading to the trunk to grab his father’s bags as well. It’s a clear day, the sun is beaming down, and the heat from the city’s air system was set a dense temperature. Sunlight heats the gravel of the parking lot and bounces off the windows of the country club in front of him. The building is massive, the exterior had a modern design with a little rustic color palette and a few nicely placed water features. The club, however, is completely dwarfed by the enormous greenery of the golf courses around it. It would be the picture of summer if not for the icy mountains in the far distance.

Whitley pulls down his hat to shield his eyes from the rays as Jacques joins him on the walking path and they head to the club. He keeps a few steps behind Jacques as they enter the building and check in, taking the chance to look around. It wasn’t often that Jacques went golfing, but the man insisted on keeping an open membership despite it being so costly. The place hadn’t changed much, the décor was still a cozy modern lounge layout with some classical marbling and art pieces laced throughout to add an air of class.

Whitley: Hardly worth a 4,000,000-lien joining fee and the 200,000-lien monthly membership fee if you ask me but I suppose if you have the money splurging on a hobby is a no-brainer.

He thought as his father walked them past the reception desk and into the main building of the clubhouse. They pass several of the amenities and several bars before stopping in front of the restaurant area where Krämer and a few of his cohorts sat eating brunch at a table right beside a large bay window overlooking the course.

Jacques: Alvin!

He calls out, grabbing the attention of the salt-and-pepper-haired man who whirls his head around to see him.

Alvin: Jacques! Get over here, you beautiful bastard!

Krämer waves them over, his colleagues pulling up chairs for the two white-haired men to sit at the table. One chair was added in the middle, and another was placed at the furthest part of the table. Without even thinking Whitley takes the furthest chair while Jacques is integrated into the group of older gentlemen. They shot the breeze almost immediately as Jacques sits down, being welcome to the table with cheers and back pats.

Alvin: Thanks for coming out. I know you’ve been all tied up with your campaign.

Jacques Well any good candidate knows when to talk a break. Besides, I’ve been workshopping a few policies I’d like to enact once I’m in office and thought you’d like to hear them firsthand while things are still in motion.

Krämer immediately sits up from his causal posture and stares at Jacques with a momentary look of surprise. The surprise quickly fades into a dastardly look of intrigue, Krämer flashing a toothy grin at the implementation of what Jacques had to say.

Alvin: Really now?

He beckons while rubbing his thick bread and lightly tapping the table’s edge with his fingertips.

Alvin: Why don’t we talk about this out on the green? It’s a beautiful day to play a few holes and chat.

Jacques: Of course, why do you think I brought my good cubs?!

He jests, sending the men into a short fit of hearty laughter as they rise to leave for a golfing section.

Jacques: Whitley!

Jacques calls out, Whitley standing up as if perfectly on quo.

Whitley: Yes, Father?

Jacques: Go grab some carts and get our clubs, we’ll be waiting by the smoking dean.

Whitley: Yes, Father.

Jacques: Remember to get the newer ones with the heated seats, I don’t want to get road rash driving up the course.

He demands before exiting with all the other elder gentlemen, leaving Whitley behind with all the luggage. The young man sighs softly before getting on with his forcefully assigned task, requesting a dolly from the front desk, pilling the golf bags onto it, and outside where he grabs a few carts. After getting secure Whitley drives each of the carts out to the men as they puff on cigars, doing his best to avert the clouds of smoking as he walks back to get the next cart. When the groups got all their gear and transport, they head out into the course. The next few hours are leisurely for the wealthy men as they golf and talk shop. Meanwhile, Whitley is the silent caddy, getting things from the carts when told to, passing around food and drink they’d order, and retrieving or giving the golf balls a little nudge when someone fell short of a hole-in-one. His father is the worst offender, being so terrible at this game that Whitley is traversing past bushes and the edges of ponds to get the balls back. As he’s coming back from digging another one out of a sand trap Whitley incidentally sneaks up behind Krämer and Jacques and catches a bit of their conversation.

Jacques: So, we’re in agreement then?

Alvin: Yeah, I’ll back you so long as you do something about that pesky corporate stock limit bill once you’ve got your council seat.

Jacques: Understood, I look forward to your donation and thank you for contribution to the cause.

They shake hands, the rotten glee from the successful shady dealings gleaming in their corked smiles. Whitley bites his tongue, forces back a wretch as he watches them.

Of course, that’s what they were here for.

Seeing his father on his sleazy antics was predictably disturbing but Whitley doesn’t let that show at all. He walks around the brush and approaches them from a different angle, rejoining without anyone suspecting he’s heard a thing. He returns the ball to his father and is quickly shooed away so the men can continue their game. Whitley sits back at the carts and contemplates the information he’d just obtained.

Whitley: That bill is meant to prevent large corporations from overtaking too many smaller businesses and creating monopolies to dominate the market. Father barely skirted it when he started “expanding” the SDC. If he gets a chance to remove it entire-

His thoughts pause, the lower of dystopian horror this act could cause making his stomach hurt more than his hunger. This could be really bad for the whole kingdom if not the world as Atlas’s businesses makes up most of the world’s corporate and healthcare economy. The price hikes this would allow for would be astronomical!

Whitley: This is bad. This could mean the complete destruction of the free market at worse or horrendous worldwide inflation. I need to find a way to temper this.

He mused, though incapable of doing about the situation anything out right Whitley was still a prominent figure in Atlas. He had access to some of the most exclusive events and places in the kingdom and had already made contact with the head of the military. If he said the right thing to the right people at the right times, he could get rumors started and passed around enough to bring some attention to the issue before a crisis.

Whitley: Maybe I should drop a hint to the General the next time he forces himself to admit a function. With him acting as both military general and chief ambassador, holding two council seats, and having a close repertoire with the other two members, he’s the best option to blow the whistle to. And since he can’t rely on his proxy to stand in for him anymore, he’ll have to be more active in the social scene with the election coming up.

The thought of this former proxy brings Penny’s visage to the forefront of Whitley’s mind. He had tried not to think about her so he wouldn’t get distracted but now that she was on his mind the thought of her permeated it like a thick mist. He wondered how she was doing; her morning patrol would end soon, and she’d be going to lunch at the academy right after. She loved to send photos of her meal or talk with him as she ate but that wouldn’t be happening today.

Whitley: I hope she’s too upset about not seeing me today. She was distracted this morning, though it’s not like she’s going to to spend her lunch time staring sadly at her scroll sadly just because I couldn’t call her.

At the very second the vision of Penny sitting at a lunch table eating and sobbing while staring her phone longingly appears in his head, hitting him with a wave of guilt so hard he goes pale. He doesn’t get long to wallow in guilt as Jacques calls him over as they advance to the next hole on the course. By the end of the round, it’s 3 pm and time for Jacques’s next appointment. He takes his time bidding farewell to his friends while Whitley takes the chance to shower and get changed in the locker room. It’s a quick shower in the emptiest locker room as he doesn’t like being exposed in public nor risking people seeing his unclothed body. Once he’s clean, Whitley changes into royal blue pin stripe suit with white shirt, black tie, and black leather dress shoes that he’d bring in his bag. He watches face in the sink and combs his hair before stepping out again, walking back to the other locker rooms just as his father enters. He waits at the door until Jacques returns dressed in his usual attire and the two head back to the limo.

It’s another long drive into the city to their next stop, an obscenely large and grandiose hotel. The place is gelled with gold and white marble exterior in the style of Romantic era buildings. This was the Grande Palazzo, one of the most famous hotels in all of Atlas for two reasons. First that the former owner and her daughters along with a huntsman were brutality murdered in the boiler room by a rouge orphan 15 years ago. The second being the exceptional buffet, the most luxurious in the city and the whole kingdom. A good gimmick made during the remodel of the building and spearheaded by the new owner to help recover the hotel’s prestige. It had worked well enough that now it was one of the most popular hotels in the city for vacation and lunch dates for the upper class.

They enter the building and stop at the front desk to check in, the maître d’ leading them to gilded elevator after their reservation clears. The maître d’ uses a keycard to unlock the door and presses the button for the top floor after letting them in. She bows to them as the doors close and soon the elevator ascends. The ride to the top floor is silent, Whitley staring at the doors blankly as the elevator moves up pass the many floors of the hotel. Soon the doors reopen and the two are greeted by the sight of the restaurant. Its décor is just as grand as the lobby, all the large dining hall was full of luxurious seating areas, hard marble flooring, and large windows that faced the streets to look down on passersby. To say the actual buffet portion of the eatery was massive would be an understatement. Grills, ovens, stoves, and more hum in the many food stations as chefs cook, restock, and serve hordes of delicious food. Grade-A meat dishes, premium seafood, and vegetables, gourmet pasta, soup, breads, and desserts were all on offer in this grand buffet.

The mix of delightful scents in the air only aggravates Whitley’s hungry. He struggles to keep his composure as they head in to search for Bergmann. It doesn’t take long to find or rather his assistant, Mateo Green. Whitley had only seen the man twice as he’d been hired only last year and was the fifteenth assistant Bergmann had hired over the years. Very few lasted more than a year due to the stress, some leaving with a hefty severance pay after sustaining lifelong ailments and injuries from working with the man. And looking at Mateo’s small build, short height, and anxious demeanor, Whitley was less than optimistic about his poor man’s future in the SDC.

The stocky little twenty-something businessman was filling a plate with various bread rolls while holding a full unopposed bottle of red wine under his arm. He looked quite frazzled, wavering between rushing to grab the bread and stalling to swap out one that didn’t look up to par. When he turns away from the bread station Mateo spots them and nearly drops everything in a panic. He stumbles to regain his footing and not drop his haul then swiftly approaches them, a nervous smile cladded on his face and sweat dripping down his forehead as he makes his greetings.

Mateo: He-Hello Mr. Schnee! I h-hope the drive wasn’t t-too long!

He stammers out, his efforts rewarded with a cold look from Jacques as he stares the short man down. Mateo laughs nervously under his gaze, clearly terrified but trying his damnedest not to whimper under the intensity of the superior of his superior’s presence.

Mateo: G-Good to see you had a smooth drive! M-M-Mr. Bergmann’s waiting for us at the table, this way, please!

He skitters onto a turn and guides them to their seats for this lavish meal. Of course, they’re sitting at a window booth with a clear view of the skyline and the streets below. The left side of the booth is clean and clear, ready for them to claim. On the right side there was Bergmann, sitting alongside a trio of empty plates, two bowls, and two glasses in front of him as the large man sipped from a near-empty glass of wine. It's an appropriate sight, the man was the picture of the middle-aged upper manager archetype. Fat, balding, and skin a chalky kind of pale from his time hidden from his responsibilities in his office with the ruthless temper and gluttony to match.

Whitley: And here’s the damned pig.

Whitley thought, a fake smile ever presented as he stands at his father’s side while Mateo sets the plate of bread down. Bergmann catches sight of the two out the corner of his eye as he reaches for a roll. He pulls his hand away from the plate and waves them over.

Bradley: Jacques! Little One! You finally made it!

Jacques: Good God Bradley, you couldn’t wait for 10 minutes to start chowing down, could you?!

Bradley: Sorry but you know you can’t leave me a big guy like me with a near-endless stream of good food unsupervised!

Bergmann joked, letting out a hearty belly laugh that Jacques echoes with his own chuckle as he down. Whitley doesn’t move to sit with his father, primitively staying put to await the order he knew he’d be receiving soon.

Bradley: And if we’re talking about lunch, I should be asking you where your plates are!

Jacques: Well unlike you, I have enough grace to wait until I’m seated. But if you insist.

He punctuates his sentence with a wave of his hand in Whitley’s direction. Whitley, well acquainted with this gesture, simply nods and walks away from the table toward the buffet. He picks up a plate and utensils before going to different stations to get his father’s lunch. He knows the man’s taste and how he operates so he puts together an almost professional-looking plate. Two-ounce A5 steak, a side of grilled asparagus, and gourmet mashed potatoes paired with a glass of red wine. Once the spread is complete, he returns to the table and presents the spread to Jacques. Jacques barely acknowledges him as he analyzes the meal, and when he finds it sufficient, he waves Whitley off.

Jacques: This will do. Now run along, the adults have important things to discuss.

Whitley: Yes, Father.

Whitley lets out an internal sigh of relief f relief, with the venue and his father preoccupied for the moment he could finally sit down and have something to eat for himself. He strides away from that at a slightly faster pace than usual, smoothly escaping before anyone can make any more requests of him. Temporally free Whitley carefully files his plate with delicious food of his choosing. The ettiequte for restaurants like this were a little different, the atmosphere was built for indulgent so he could have more and seeing as he hadn’t eaten all day Whitley was keen to get his fill. He went for the dense dishes, a brisket, pasta primavera, a lobster tail, and a small bowl of gazpacho on the side. His hands are full as he looks for a place to sit down, he needed to be close to his father but far enough not to be in his direct line of sight. He scans the area and sees Mateo sitting a couple of tables down, stacks of papers surrounding him as types away on his laptop frantically.

Whitley: That’ll do.

He thought before heading towards the mild manner subordinate. He sits down opposite him and quickly notes Mateo's horrible disposition, the man clearly hadn’t slept for days nor eaten in hours. The hefty dark bags under his eyes highlighted their near-soulless appearance. Ever internal compassionate, Whitley gets back up and back to the buffet to make another plate. He carb-loads the hell out of it with prime rib, shrimp, pasta, and a large puff pastry, then returns to the table and presents it to Mateo. Holding the plate right blow his most and directly in his line of sight, snatching Mateo out of his work haze.

Mateo: W-what the-

Whitley: You do know your lunchtime is mandated by the labor laws, right?

Mateo: But I have to-I can’t-

Whitley: Are you trying to go against your superior? Do you really think you’re in a position to start causing problems?

Mateo: What?! No! Of course not! I-

Whitley: Then shut up, have your break, and stop doing unnecessary things.

Whitley states in a harsh tone as he places the plate into Mateo’s hands. While he didn’t like speaking like this to someone so fragile Whitley couldn’t be caught acting too nice with his father around. The flustered Mateo looks around for somewhere to put his plate down, but Whitley beats him to the punch by using his now free hand to gently slide the laptop out toward the other end of the table. As moves it Whitley catches sight of what Mateo was working on as the latter starts chowing down.

It was a list of HR complaints from Bergmann’s division, mostly about the overgrown bastard himself. Abuse of power, workplace harassment, sexual harassment, unpaid overtime, and so much more. It seems Mateo was tasked with burying the claims and burning evidence before anything got too public. Whitley looks over at Mateo, who’s completely preoccupied with stuffing his face like this is his last meal, then back at the laptop. He turns to get a good view of the screen, making mental notes on names, events, and times for later use. Also takes note of the machine itself for when he’d find a chance to get his hand on its content.

Whitley: Of course, the pig wouldn’t clean up his own mess. No, he just shits where he pleases and kicks his caretaker into the slop face first.

He thought as he finally starts eating, too into data collecting to really taste his food.

Whitley: But the tracks those scuffles making it easier to send the hog to slaughter when its number’s up.

He mused while scanning the screen between bites. By the time lunch ends Whitley has a full stomach and a full list of possible jaded witnesses and victims to interview once his time in the sun came. After bidding their goodbyes, father, and son are off again to their last destination for the day. The drive this time however feels different, bumps and grooves of the roads not matching the normal paths for where they should be heading. Perplexed, Whitley glances out the window and immediately knows they’re not going where he thought they were. The streets they were turning down were not ones he’d been through before but knew of very well.

Whitley: Damn it, don’t tell he’s taking me there?!

He cursed internally, nerves tensing as his mind wonders of what horrors he might face when they arrived at their destination. This destination not being the usual lounge or high-end bar but somewhere in the Atlas Red Light district. The red-light district in Atlas was just as scum as any other city, just a little more polished. Posh brothels instead of strip clubs and “smoke” lounges instead of street dealers and so on. Whitley only knew of this place from overhearing the crude banter from Jacques and his cronies, much of which was nauseating to visualize. Disgusting things about loose women and illicit substances articulating in an absolutely skin-crawling way that only old, perverted men speak.

As they drive through the area, the business names and storefronts start looking more and more sketchy. And when the sun goes down neon lights begin to shine, illuminating the area with a less-than-innocent glow. Whitley’s heart hammered with fear, this situation was truly out of his element. He didn’t care about his father doing reprehensible things, it’s suited the man’s filthy and dishonest nature! But involving him-directly? that was too much even for Whitley.

Whitley: Okay, calm down Whitley! This is the first time he’s taken you anywhere like this so it’s unlikely anything will happen. Just an introduction to the environment to get me used to it for a further meeting.

Whitley mused, trying to soothe his anxiety with rational thought. Still, the implications of bringing him out here were too dreadful to ignore.

Whitley: But if not-

A chill ran down his spine as the thought of what exactly Jacques would make him do once they left this car. Whitley had already lost so much of his emotional innocence because of his father’s hand, now he might be facing the losing his purity as well! And he had just found someone to cherish and love! This was just too much for Whitley to bare. He looks over to Jacques, hoping to find any hints of what his intentions are but is met with the same uncaring gaze that burned at his soul every time their eyes met. With no idea where he’s going or what will happen to him, Whitley can only sit in silent terror. When the limo finally comes to a stop it’s parked a bit away from what appears to be an average hookah bar. The sigh glowing in neon read “The Topaz Oasis”. Whitley breathed a low sigh of relief, and Jacques final finally speaks up as the driver comes around to open the door.

Jacques: When we get inside, I need you to take a package from Kraus and leave. This isn’t a place you can gallivant about just yet.

He states, uncaring as always but to Whitley this coldness was welcomed as it solidifies the situation as nothing outside of the norm.

Whitley: Yes, Father.

He answers and they exit the limo, walking less than a block up to reach the bar. Whitley’s calm is soon replaced with discomfort when they enter the building.

Upon entry, they were met with a woman dressed in the traditional dance garb of Vacuo, sitting at a small desk in the surprisingly small front room. She looked between them and then ask for a password to which Jacques lends down to her level and whispers it in her ear. The woman nods in the affirmative then pushes a button under the desk, opening the door to the main behind her. This is when things become uncomfortable as the moment the door opens the room is filled with a thick pungent smell. It’s strong like cigar smoke but somehow thicker and the smell itself is both fruity but with an undertone that reeked of toxic fumes. While the woman and Jacques seemed unbothered by it Whitley had to cover his mouth with his sleeve as he struggled to breathe. The air was so thick with this odor he had to suppress the urge to cough his lungs out as they walk deep into the building. Inside there were many people, some of whom Whitley recognized, being served by or entertained by women dressed in a more scantily clad version of the hostess’s outfit.

And dear gods, the smoke! Every table, couch, and den had a hookah, and almost every patron was using one. With so many in use in one enclosed area, the smoke rested in the air and was visible even under the dim light of the bar. As they journey deeper into the bar, Whitley starts to feel light-headed. His vision was getting blurry from the lack of proper oxygen, and he was not sure how much longer he could last. Mercifully, it doesn’t take long for them to find Kraus’s table. It’s a jarring sight as the outwardly wholesome-looking family man, the image of a loving middle-aged dad, Matthew Kraus sat on a long couch surrounded by a bevy of women serving him as he took a long drag from the hookah pipe. His eyes are glossy as he breathes out a ring of smoke before noticing the two white-haired men.

Kraus: Ah Schnee. ’Bout time you showed up.

Jacques: Kraus. I heard you had something for me.

Kraus nods, takes another drag of the pipe then snaps his fingers and one of servers presents them with a box. It’s a velveteen jewelry box, definitely something high-end enough to be stored rather than displayed for fear of theft.

The perfect bribe for a showoff like Jacques.

Being the tacky man that was Jacques opens the box a little and peeks at its contents. He smirks then hands it off to Whitley.

Jacques: You know me well Mathew, I appreciate that.

Kraus: All a part of business my good man. You and the boy staying for smoke?

Jacques: I am but the boy is leaving, it’s far past his bedtime.

He says, gesturing at Whitley to leave. Whitley nods and immediately speed walks to the exit, slowing himself down ever so much to not appear like he’s running away. Once he’s outside, in the cool night air Whitley fall onto his knees and into a coughing fit. His starved lungs pushing out all the toxic fumes he’d ingested and replaces it with oxygen as he grips the box tight in his arms. Once he can finally breathe again, Whitley gets up and goes back to the limo. He knocks on the driver side window and waits for him to roll it down. When comes down the driver notices his pained demeanor and ask if he’s alright.

Whitley: Just take me home, Andrew.

He orders before getting into the back. The drive back is silent and when they pull up to the manor Whitley doesn’t wait to be let out, getting his things together and walks out before the driver can come to the passenger door. He walks straight through the front door and doesn’t acknowledge anyone as he drops the box of in his father’s office then finally returning to his bedroom.He drops everything down on the floor, completely exhausted. He drag himself to his secret scroll’s hiding spot and retrieves it before flopping down onto his bed. There was only one thing he wanted right now, one thing he need to soothe him after this horrid day and after waiting through several seconds of idle ringing he gets it.

Penny: Good evening Whitley! How was your day?

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #penny polendina #fanfic #beta testers #whitley schnee #fanfiction #angst #cute #Sorry this is so late!

11 notes · View notes