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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

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Yandere Show Host (oc) x Gn! Co-Host Reader

Word count:3.k

Warning: cheating, psychological horror, body horror

“It’s cold up here…”

Cool tiles cradle you, curved edges gliding against the back of your legs as you pull them to your chest. You cover your knees with the hem of your shirt, trying to fight the cold in any way possible. The harsh wind slapped at your face and arms; world at your feet from the edge you sat on. You wanted to feel like you were on top of it all. To shout and feel like you mattered to the universe; but it was hard to do so with no comfort at the end of your cries – neither below nor beside you.

“I think we should take a break.”

You ball your fist into your clothes. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it.

“You know I care about you. I just… don’t think I’m ready for this kind of commitment, yet. I’ll.. call you when I am.”

You pull your phone out of your pocket. He’s still right beside you, but so – so far away. You stare down at it, hoping; pleading for his ring tone to play. Praying he won’t leave you again to spend a night in another’s arms.

“Y/n, ugh- come on. Don’t do this.”

Your hands shake. It’s always your fault.

“We just need a little time apart.”

Always we. Your feet feel like they’re losing stability; slipping off to the abyss below.

“Y/n. Y/n?!”

Y/n?

You open your eyes. A fan hangs over a velvet ceiling, chandelier below swaying as it blows air down on you. Floral shaped glass that held identical lights as their bulbs. Satin pillows held your back, soft enough to lure you back to sleep near immediately – had you been laying on them completely. Your limbs hung off the side of the couch, neck supported by a hand at its base. The skin was so cold; draining your natural heat till it mellowed into a neutral temperature. The permanent smile on your co-host's face greets you as you turn your attention to him, shoulders rising with a laugh.

“What have I told you about sleeping on the couch, you silly thing.” Host chimes. “You’ll get a crook in your neck. Bad for the show and yourself.”

You sit up with his aid, stretching the exhaustion and ache away with a yawn. The rest of the room wasn’t much to look at. A tall mirror clung to one wall, dressing table pushed in front and light bulbs screwed into its golden frame. Vases of flowers and various cases of makeup lined the table, the latter hardly ever put to use. A rack of clothing stood not too far off, every article tailored to your measurements as apposed to posted to Host’s lanky, slightly built frame. Lastly, there was a grey door, covered by sheer curtains and your name bolded in cursive across its wood. A place where your near every desire lied.

“I'm sorry. Yesterday had me a little more winded than usual.”

“Should we take a break for today then? We can have a good show any day, but a spectacular one only happens when you’re feeling 100%”

“No, no. I’m fine.”

“Wonderful. Shall we get ready then?” Host offers his hand, lifting you to your feet effortlessly. You walk over to the table, taking a seat upon the cushioned chair in front of it. Host tends to your hair, combing out your bedhead with his long fingers. Gentle strokes that fall down to the nape of your neck; relishing in the life beneath his fingertips. He hums to himself, satisfied with his work. With the fact he had such a stunning co-host. His chin rests atop your head; head tilted towards the mirror at you. In the corner of your eye lies your old phone dormant on the edge of the table. It vibrates with the arrival of a call.

“Absolute perfect! Everyone’s gonna love you out there.”

You flash a tired smile, ridding yourself of the hallucination as you look away. How long has it been since you became his co-host? You couldn’t remember. Time stood still for the most part; your only notion of it bring a bell that would toll before the start of each show. It was frightening at first. As a contestant, your time was spent cowering under the audiences' awaiting gaze; but upon your glorious win they did nothing but sing praises to the heavens – celebrating the new permanent figure on their stage. Though he’d never tell another soul, Host walked you through everything until that point. A bit of a cheat, sure, but he knew you’d be wonderful at everything after. They loved you, eternally – even when there were those days you wondered what life was like back home.

“What’s with that look? Do you need something?”

Host snaps his fingers, a stage hand appearing front the shadows. They looked so close to human; differences spilt only when given a long glance. Crooked hands carry a tray; skin an even deeper grey than his. Their neck was a few inches too long; face blank except for a pristine smile – just like your dear Host. He takes a pitcher from the tray, pouring you a glass of water into a cup that wasn’t there moments ago. His hands rest on your shoulders, smoothing the knots in your joints.

“Please let me know what you need.”

You look down. “I was just wondering…if anyone missed me back home.”

The ice in the glass settles. Silence kicks in too long to be comfortable, before Host’s body begins to shudder once more. It quakes with the force of his laughter. His form hutches over yours, trying to keep the laughs inwards to his best extent. He wipes an imaginary tear from an imaginary eye before addressing you again.

“Of course they miss you! You’re bound to be the highlight of anyone’s day, Y/n, but you must remember, this is home now. You’re no bigger of a star to anyone than us.”

“I.. I know, but I cant help it sometimes, y'know?” You say, offering a small chuckle of your own.

Of course he knows. He knows everything about you. Fears, likes and dislikes, – regrets. Your every dream; both in regards to what you desire and those images in your head. If it weren’t for his permanent smile, he’d be grinning with anticipation for what he had in store.

“Yes, I understand, dear. Just know that you belong here, and we’ll never let go.”

His hands clutch the sides of your arms, head angled awkwardly in the mirror. Just – staring. An alarm rings from nowhere, shutting off abruptly after the third buzz. Host clasps his hands together – you jumping at the sharp sound of his palms meeting. He smooths his slick hair back further and pulls your seat out for you.

“Well that’s our cue! Ready to give our fans another great performance?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Wonderful. Let’s get to it then.”

You stand to your feet once more, joining Host at a large curtain on the other end of the room; stage lights seeping from beneath the fabric. He exits before you, getting the crowd nice and warm up before your entrance just as he always did.

“Gooood day, lovely viewers! Welcome back to another show with your truly; your forever host – Host!”

The audience cheers. Shrill cheers that become muffled beneath the soundtrack playing around.

“Yes, yes. Hello to you all too. And what a delight greeting it has been so far. We can’t forget our wonderful co-host though, now can we? Give it up for our better half; the lovely as ever, Y/n!”

That’s your mark. The curtain bends under your hand, parting before you can even push them aside. The mutters from the crowd begin. As soon as your legs sweep over the stage floor their voices rise. The headlights blind you momentarily as you step out fully; wrapping you in a daze that felt like waking on another world. Your attire changes under the darkness behind your eyes, microphone in hand; and posture straightening as you greet your adoring fans.

“Greetings, everyone! It’s a pleasure to see you all again.”

The shouts from the crowd are just as; if not more appraising as they were for your partner. You smile and wave; soaking up the attention. Host couldn’t be more proud.

“I think we’re ready to begin another fabulous show. And quite a special one we have today. Y/n, do you know what today is?”

“Uh.. Wednesday?”

Host laughs, followed by a few chuckles from the audience.

“Oh, Y/n. Wednesday was last month. Today is the one year anniversary of you being our gracious star!”

The lights flicker off, returning with a central beam pointed directly at you. A banner hangs over head; congratulating you on the anniversary in bold, red lettering. Balloons and confetti fall around you. The audience hollers in cheer.

“We do love our co-host, don’t we now? Unfortunately, it seems to me that they don’t understand the lengths of our affection. By the end of today’s show I think they’ll have a change of heart.”

Your throat feels dry. What was he on about? Keeping a straight face, you smile into your mic.

“Thank you, all so much. You’re too kind..”

“Haha. No, Y/n, I think you are.. Let’s bring out our contestant!”

The room goes dark once again, more abruptly than the last. When everything settles, the layout of the stage had changed. The vacant area to your right was now blocked by a half wall you could see around if you peak – screen above showing all you needed to see. A large red heart was pastured to the wall behind, three chairs and a podium placing in tow. A landline phone was placed on a stand, as well as one on the podium. Shadows sat to each chair, dim lighting concealing their faces. The fourth stood at the podium, writhing around in place with muffled cries. You could see the outline of fingers over its mouth; the silhouette of more limbs encasing its body and keeping it in place.

“The game of this episode is all about missed connections. In our lives, we make so many new ones, we have to snip the old to make room. No matter how strong the cord may be. Our eager bachelor here knows a lot about that, which is why he’s perfect for our show! Put your hands together for, S!”

Illumination returns to the other half of the stage. The arms around the contestant vanish with the glow; leaving a blindfolded and shaken up man in their stead. Beads of sweat drip from his temple; him squirming in place like he was trying to get off the podium, but was unable. His hands were stuck to the surface no matter how hard he pulled. He was dresses in a letterman’s jacket, the embedded S pealing from the stitching – just like you remembered.

“Host?...”

His glance falls upon you for a single second, before he faces the crowd like nothing happened.

“Quite a looker, isn’t he? Our helpers for today thought so too at one point.”

“H-hey.. hey, what the hell is this? Where am I?!”

“Speaking out of turn are we? I wouldn’t advise that, unless you want to face a penalty. “

The man clams up, shaking like a dog in rain.

“Onto the rules of the game. One by one, our helpers will walk up to the phone and list a few things about themselves. It’s our contestant’s job to remember a single fact about them – their name. Three rounds for three members of his past. Simple enough, right?”

“Please.. I don’t know what I’ve done, but-"

Host lends into his microphone. “Shut up and play by our rules or face punishment like every other rule breaker. ..Let’s bring out our first assistant. Walk on down, A!”

The shadow in the seat closest to the telephone stands up. Their appearance becomes visible as they step into the light. They appeared to be a normal human being; all up to the left side of their face. It was smudged like someone rubbing off make up; lips stretched to their ear and eyelid permanent closed from the abnormality. They pick up the receiver, phone on the other end ringing in response. The constant quivers more, refusing to answer.

“Pick it up.”

The function in his arm is brought back as he hesitantly picks up the phone, putting it to his ear.

“H…ello?”

“We met a weekend in February. I blew you a kiss, you slipped your phone number into my pocket. They had no clue while you held their hand the entire time.”

“Fuck… fuck! Um, February.. R… Riley! Your name is Riley!”

“Corrrect!” Host exclaims. The man breathes a sigh of relief as the crowd cheers. You stare at the ground. Overtime you grew a numbness to the contestants and their cruel fates. You had to, if you wanted to keep your sanity; but this was too much. Too close to home. Home you foolishly believed to be yours alone for years. It feels hard to breathe.

“Everything alright, Y/n?”

“Yea.. Yes just….” You force yourself to bright up. “Excited for our guest getting his first question correct.”

“Glad to hear it! Onto the next one.”

The assistant at the stand leaves and the next makes their appearance. Body littered in bite marks; namely the neck and chest area. They ooze with a black liquid, dripping onto the phone as they take hold.

“We hooked up in the bathroom of the local theater. I saw you leaving a movie with your arm around someone thirty minutes later. You called me the next day. Who am I?”

The man’s lip quivers. “I.. I..”

Steps draw near him. The assistant peers over his shoulder, receiver still in hand. The cord slaps against his neck, tightening as their breath hits his face. They repeat into the phone, unable to take otherwise.

“Frankie.. Oh, god.. Frankie.”

His shoulder heave at the second round of applause. Tears fall from beneath his mask; rambling to himself as his nails rack against the podium.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-“

“Marvelous! Only one round to go.”

The process repeats. The final assistant walks to the stage. Their skin a pure black, eyes crossed out with a red, crayon like ink. The same ink was sprawled over their chest like an crude, anatomically accurate heart; bleeding down their torso. Their lips moved unnaturally as they spoke, like a frame by frame picture.

“I was the one who you came to most. You promised we’d be together eventually. I smiled when they went-"

“Blair…” The answer comes out in a quiver. He can’t bring himself to say more. He falls to his kneels; forces holding him like a puppet on a string allow him his moment of weakness. Your own legs feel like they’ll give out as well.

“Annnd there we have it, folks! Our contestant has finished all three base questions, but there’s still the bonus around for him to complete.”

“No, no, no. No, fuck you! You said I only had to do three! You lied!”

“Now, now. When did I say “only? Let’s get too it.”

The lights flicker yet again. There’s only a chair on stage, you now in it, and under the crowd's perpetual stare. They feel closer than normal, faceless grins shifting further upwards; socket-less eyes wide open and trained on you. Host appears on the screen above, speaking for the final assistant.

“We met in high school.”

“No.. please..”

“I was the one that learned to sew when you couldn’t afford the jacket for your team.”

“Not you… Anyone, but you.”

“I was there for you when your mother died. Covered your shifts for you and took care of you when you were sick.”

“You can’t be here..”

“You abandoned me everytime I poured my heart out to you.”

“I was scared…”

“Who am I?”

“Don’t make me say this..”

“Who. Am. I.”

“I don’t know!”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

Wrong answer~

Suddenly, everything returns to normal – as normal as it could be in this twisted place. The assistants are back, all staring past you at the contestant. He rips the blindfold from his face, looking around the room. Fear streaked his face as his eyes fell on the assistants, and you before them; silent and in tears.

“Y/n… Is that really you?”

You turn away. The assistants stand.

“Y/n! I’ve looked everywhere for you. It’s me..”

He steps off the podium towards you. They advance.

“Everyone else gave up, but I still search. I’m sorry for everything done. Please… I love-"

They grab onto him. Arms around his neck, torso, legs. Their skin melts into his; merging as they begin to drag him off stage.

“Y-y/n help! I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please!”

Your eyes remain on the floor. Even if you wanted to save him you couldn’t.

“I didn’t want to say that! The blindfold! Y/n!”

He’s gone. You’re alone once again. During the whole event the audience remains silent. You don’t know what to do.

Finish the show. It never starts. It never ends. Without you.

“A-and that brings us to the end of another show with your host, Host. And me as your co-host – Y/n!”

The crowd goes wild. It’s a standing ovation. Their hands clap like fireworks popping in your ears. Their praise rang to the high heavens. Howls, whistles, holders; all in your name for another amazing performance. Confetti falls in your hair, roses and other bouquets of flowers at your feet.

The set up is gone. It’s just you, Host, and your adoring fans. One arm snakes around your waist as he proclaims into the microphone.

“Is that all you got for our shinning star? Give it your all!”

An encore of approval, from the people whose love for you knew no end. The people who depended on seeing you every day and never tired from it. You relish in the saudade of their praise; raised further by one new member of audience who could finally give you the love he never could before.

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starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies · 4 months

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Percabeth's Playlist

listen here

The Great War

all that bloodshed, crimson clover, uh-huh, sweet dream was over, my hand was the one you reached for, all throughout the great war

Till Forever Falls Apart

if the tide takes california, i'm so glad I got to hold ya, and if the sky falls from heaven above, oh I know I had the best time falling into love

I Know Places

cause they got the cages, they got the boxes and guns, they are the hunters, we are the foxes, and we run, baby i know places we won't be found, and they'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down

Labyrinth

uh oh, i'm falling in love, oh no, i'm falling in love again, oh, i'm falling in love, i thought the plane was going down, how'd you turn it right around

Line Without a Hook

she's a, she's a lady, and i am just a boy, he's singing, she's a, she's a lady, and i am just a line without a hook

If the World Was Ending

if the world was ending you'd come over right, the sky'd be falling and i'd hold you tight, and there wouldn't be a reason why, we would even have to say goodbye

Feels Like

living in a movie i've watched and funny cause i couldn't have called it, met you at the right time, this is what it feels like

i have loved you since we were 18, long before we both thought the same thing, to be loved and to be in love

Out Of The Woods

remember when you hit the brakes too soon, twenty stitches in a hospital room, when you started crying, baby i did too, but when the sun came up, i was looking at you

Someone To You

and if the sun starts setting, the sky goes cold, then if the clouds get heavy and start to fall, i really need somebody to call my own, i wanna be somebody to someone, someone to you

Young God

but do you feel like a young god, you know the two of us are just young gods, and we'll be flying through the streets with the people underneath, and they're running, running, running

Favorite T-Shirt

heart is beating harder than it ever has, wanna put you in a photo, put you on my dash, i put my arm around your shoulder, to see if i can pull you closer, and i didn't wanna say it, but i honestly thought i'm growing older

Take on the World

nobody knows you the way that i know you, look in my eyes, i will never desert you, and just say the word, we'll take on the world

Long Live

you held your head like a hero, on a history book page, it was the end of a decade, but the start of an age

I Like Me Better

i knew from the first time, i'd stay for a long time cause, i like me better when, i like me better when i'm with you

Atlantis

i can't save us, my atlantis, we fall, we built this town on shaky ground, i can't save us, my atlantis, oh no, we built it up to pull it down

Hey Stupid, I Love You

you just forget sometimes, so promise me you won't, and you know i'll remind you, when you think i don't, hey stupid, i love you

I Found

and I found love where it wasn't supposed to be, right in front of me

#percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo disney+#percabeth playlist #ship playlist #character playlist

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eyndr-stories · 2 years

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The Stranger The Better (FNAF SB fanfic) C15 - Everything Comes Together, Everything Falls Apart

Read the intro to Chapter 1 (Enter A Sleepy Bitchard) for more details! I'd start reading there anyways else things won't make a whole lot of sense lol

In Summary: Reader is a forever exhausted young adult who has social difficulties doing their best to pay the bills, so when they get hired at the well-paying, almost entirely automated Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizza-Plex, they don't really hesitate to think things through before stumbling headfirst into a horror mystery surrounding this company and its crew of quirky (and surprisingly kind) animatronics.

Things To Know (lmk if I should add anything):

There are some horror elements in several chapters! This chapter is Very Spooky! Feelings of fear, being hunted, being grabbed, attempted murder, being attacked, feelings of stress, a gun is used, a taser is used, mentions of death, death threats, being controlled.

Eventual romance, minorly important to the plot.

Reader has paranoia.

There is much swearing.

Reader is also addicted to energy drinks, though at this point in the story they are doing well with battling said addiction.

Reader is nonbinary (and also trans masc) though it's not vital to the plot and only comes up once or twice.

Reader is from the south, is protective of their friends, and if you threaten their friends then I'm afraid you've yee'd your last haw and yes that is important to the plot (THIS IS THE CHAPTER WHERE THIS IS AT LONG LAST IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT)

Previous Chapter | Chapter 15 | Next Chapter

C15 - Everything Comes Together, Everything Falls Apart

This shadowed tunnel was drafty, carrying frosty air up the stairs towards you. You moved your flashlight over the concrete walls, stopping on a faded sign by the stairs reading 'Delivery Bay' with an arrow pointing down.

Greggory peeked his head in behind you to get a look at the small room. "What is it? Ghosts?"

"The way to some kind of delivery bay. I don’t think its in use, at least… not by the company. I'm betting they closed it off, and someone else found it and built that little entrance," you said. You walked to the edge of the steps and shone your light down into the darkness. "Part of me thinks we should wait for Freddy… but also I really wanna know what's down there. I feel like something is going on, you know?"

Greggory hummed. He stepped through the doorway and into the room. "Well, we've come this far, haven't we?"

That was all the convincing you needed. "Fair point. Just stay behind me, okay?"

Greggory nodded, and the two of you slowly descended the concrete steps.

The walk wasn't long. The stairs stopped next to a tall door, which wasn't locked. You handed the flashlight to Greggory, readied your taser, and marched through the door.

The delivery bay was massive. Of course it was, it was meant for unloading truck loads of supplies. There weren't any trucks here, however. To your left, a short tunnel lead out into the woods, a chain-link gate lined with weeds with a locked door closing off the way out. Within the several story tall and hundred foot wide floodlight illuminated space were only a few things. A great big work table along the nearest wall, covered with papers and tools and notes. Next to it was a pile of odd wooden models of varying sizes, piled together carelessly. A collection of heavy boxes, metal beams, screws and wires and other scraps here and there around the bay. Several blocky air cooling units taller than you, each pumping out frigid air. And, on the other side of the bay…

"What is that??" Greggory gasped.

"Jeez. Some kind of… mech?" You stared at the enormous machine. It did look like a giant bulky, roughly person-shaped mech. It didn't look powered on. It was just sitting there quietly. You could see a large dome set in the mech's chest, and beyond the glass was a heavily padded chair and numerous controls. Along the mech's back, like ridges of a spine, were strange cylindrical chambers, seven of them. They almost resembled recharge stations, but these were painted purple, and the glass was too thick with frost to see inside. There was what was without question the biggest battery you'd ever seen strapped where a head would be. Thick cords ran from the purple spine chambers to the battery. On either side of this battery were two enormous rabbit ears. Stylish graffiti on the rabbit mech's side read 'VANNY'. You glanced back at those wooden models, realizing that they were smaller versions of this thing.

"It's huge," Greggory said.

"No kidding. That thing is at least two stories tall."

Greggory turned to inspect the work table. "Okay… this is… weird."

You turned your attention from the mech for now and studied the work table. Its surface, as well as the walls around it, were covered in a mess of papers. Complicated blueprints, recognizable parts of the mech, technical notes. Pens and tools and spare screws and wrenches were tossed here and there haphazardly. Most concerning of all, however, was the collection of more personal notes and thoughts among the chaos.

Between a concerning amount of weird bunny head drawings, you read through the rambling notes.

'They brought this upon themselves'

'Still need more fucking power'

'I think the bunny design is fitting. Irony… what killed him will kill them.'

'They killed him. They fucking killed him. They deserve this'

'Scouting takes too much time. So much work to be done. At least I found a spot around the back of the offices, no cameras in sight. Will have to get Monty to tear a hole in the security fence'

'New nightguard is a fucking nuisance. Everything was fine with Moon out of the way. Now I have to hide again'

'That's it. I figured it out. I need six of them. Then I'll have enough power. Preferably all seven.'

'Avenge him'

'Everyone has the virus except Moon. Don't need all of them anyways. He better not get in my way.'

'He's gone. You can't change that. But you can put his soul to rest.'

'Monty purged the virus somehow. Was able to get him back under control easily enough.'

'I cant wait any longer. Everything is ready. Its time'

"Huh. That's concerning," you said.

"To say the least," Greggory muttered.

You were about to pull out your phone and take a picture when you heard loud stomping, metal on concrete. You looked to the door leading back up to the security office. You looked back to the end of the tunnel, but the chain link was topped with barbed wire and that gate was clearly chained shut. There wasn't anywhere to go, and not really anywhere to hide. You pulled Greggory back with you more to the center of the room, so you'd at least have some distance. You hoped you didn't need it. You hoped it was Freddy coming down the stairs.

No such luck.

Monty shoved past the door, tearing it off its hinges. He stumbled into the bay, limbs twitching and shuddering. His glasses were gone, and there was a horrible dull look in his eye, until his gaze landed on you and Greggory, then his gaze became much sharper, much angrier. He took a few steps forward.

"Greggory, get behind me," you whispered, lifting your taser.

Greggory had no complaints, stepping behind you and gripping the back of your hoodie tightly.

"Hey, Monty. It's on sight, right?" You laughed a little.

Monty didn't reply. He just stood there, twitching subtly and staring at you.

Someone spoke up from behind you. "Y/N."

You jumped and turned. "Vanessa?!"

Vanessa was standing back by the chain link fence. She had a heavy set of keys at her hip, and the chains on the fence's gate were gone. Her arms were crossed, and she glared at you intently. "Don't try to stop me. I won't fucking hesitate to tear down anyone who gets in my way."

"I don't even know what the fuck is going on!! What is all this?!" You gestured to the mech, the notes, Monty.

Vanessa huffed. She seemed to consider something for a moment. "You might understand… If I tell you, will you take that kid and leave?"

You studied Vanessa for a moment, then lied. "I will."

Vanessa believed you, and as she started to speak, you tried not to feel too relieved at speaking the first good lie of your life.

"It'll all make sense if you understand why first." Vanessa closed her eyes and gathered herself, then began, taking several steps into the bay so she didn't have to project as loud. "When I was around your age, I was married. His name was Cameron. Cam was… passionate. Driven. Thoughtful. He worked hard, so damn hard… we wanted to start a family together." Vanessa paused. She looked close to tears. Her expression hardened, and she continued. "Cam worked for the Fazbear industry, back before they shut down. Before he was murdered."

You'd been trying to keep an eye on both Monty and Vanessa at once, and had moved to keep yourself between Greggory and both of them. Now though, Vanessa had almost your full attention.

"I thought it'd be fitting. It was the rabbit animatronic that killed him. The negligence and greed of the fucks in charge that made the animatronics dangerous. It's so much cheaper to do things the easy way, to cut corners, to not care about the safety of your employees." Vanessa scowled. "Everything shut down, they covered up the murder, and that was that. I knew from Cam that other employees had been going missing since he started. I don't have any proof, but there's not a doubt in my mind that they all died at that place."

"God… that's awful," you muttered.

"And here they are again, re-opening, sweeping it all under the rug. Like it never happened, like this whole fucking place isn't built on the bones of the people they exploited. I knew it'd just keep happening, they'd keep hurting people for profit. I'm the only one who knows the truth, the only one who can stop them. It wasn't hard to get a job… I learned a lot from Cam. It's all about this, about Vanny." Vanessa gestured to the massive rabbit-themed mech.

"What… is that thing?" you asked.

Vanessa's expression turned proud. "That is Vanny. It is glorious revenge. It is a sweet and satisfying ending to a story that's gone on for far too long. Vanny is impressive, I know. It takes so much power to run it. And what better to power the vessel of management's end, but their own animatronics? That’s the beauty of the virus I've made, it forces the animatronics to stay awake longer so they produce more energy. As well as other things… It took a while to perfect, but I'm able to completely control any animatronic with the virus. I got Monty first, since Monty is naturally a troublemaker and so his violent tendencies would be overlooked."

You glanced back at Monty, who was still stationary.

"He was incredibly useful, I could have him steal materials, help me build. I had him help me get Foxy the night before they were supposed to introduce him. Foxy wasn't even activated yet, it was all too easy. But it still wasn't enough power. So, I got Moon next, since it was imperative that I was able to operate in secrecy, and I couldn't have the night guard bot finding me out and reporting back to management. However, there was an issue I overlooked. Moon and Sun occupy the same body, or at least they did. I could only infect Moon, and not Sun, so the virus affected Moon a little differently. I didn't have total control, and Moon could still recall what happened when I took control, since he and Sun share the same memory storage. So, I went for that fucking rabbit next. Just felt right. Bonnie gave Monty more trouble, stupid rabbit was torn to shreds as he was dragged down here. Not that I'd have preferred it any other way, honestly. Management blaming and demoting Moon for not being vigilant enough was a godsend. Still, it took me so long to finish Vanny. The reverse recharge stations were such a pain to engineer. They keep the bots conscious and stationary in these cryo-chambers, using their energy to power this mech suit, and keep them cool enough that they don't overheat."

Vanessa paused to gauge your reaction. You were honestly not even sure how to process all if it. So many things made sense now, puzzle pieces you hadn't even known were there fitting into place.

Vanessa went on. "Do you understand? Everything I've done, everything I've suffered, the horrible loss, it's all going to go away. I'll tear this fucking company apart. When the people at management HQ clock in in a few hours, I'll be there waiting for them. I'm going to end this, once and for all. I have to do this, Y/N. Do you understand??"

You understood. You could understand her point of view very clearly, and it made you mad. And for once, you weren't going to shove it down. "You don't. You fucking don't. You don't have to murder people to finally accept your loss and move on. You don't have to do this to your coworkers." You gestured to Monty. "If you don’t accept your loss and learn from it in order to build yourself a better future, you can end up hurting people around you as well as yourself. It's okay to hurt from it, for a long as you need to. But at the end, you still have to accept it. There's nothing to be done to fix the past. It happened, and that’s it. Now you’ve got this huge fucking hole in your heart, and its not fair, but its still there. You have to pick up your pieces and care for yourself, and let others help care for you too. That’s all you can do. And it sucks ass. But it gets better. You can make it better. But you have to make it."

Vanessa stared at you. You couldn't read her expression. She shook her head. "I should have known you wouldn't understand." She raised a hand in the air. "I warned you not to get in my way. I wasn't fucking around when I said I'd tear you down." She snapped her fingers.

Monty instantly charged you. You heard Greggory gasp and back away. You stepped forwards to meet Monty. Before you could move to tase him, however, something bumped you out of the way and caught Monty.

"Freddy!!" Greggory cheered.

Freddy had appeared in the nick of time. He was struggling to hold Monty back.

"Ready, Freddy?" You lifted your taser and stood a pace away from Monty, who was trying to swipe at you with his claws with an intense desperation.

"Now!" Freddy said, and shoved Monty towards you.

You only had a moment, but you didn't hesitate. You tased Monty, and then your taser beeped and fizzled out, finally out of power.

Monty screamed and fell to the floor. You looked up to see Chica and Roxy heading your way, coming from the tunnel that lead back to the security room. You put your dead taser away and looked to the two of them hopefully.

"We couldn't find Sun or Moon," Chica said.

Your heart fell. You had only a moment to stress about what that could mean before the skull shaking sound of a jet engine whirring to life got the attention of everyone.

You and everyone else looked to the mech. You could see Vanessa inside. She must have climbed in and started powering it on while you were distracted with Monty.

"We have to stop her- she's gonna murder everyone at HQ with that thing!" you said quickly.

Vanny stood, and the sound died down enough for you to hear your own thoughts. Giant purple eyes lit up over the dome, hiding Vanessa from view. The rabbit ears twitched, then an arc of lightning shot from the top of one ear to the other, crackling violently. The mech stretched and began to move in a heavy imprecise fashion, clumsily turning itself to face your group fully. The mech's hand extended and grabbed up Monty in a fist. Monty was still in the middle of booting back up. Vanny stuffed Monty into one of the open chambers lining its back. The door sealed shut, and Vanny's eyes glowed brighter.

Greggory eyed the mech, then wisely turned and ran for cover. He hid under the worktable.

"You got rid of my virus just to bring them all here to me anyways," Vanny said with a scoff. Vanessa must have installed some sort of speaker in the mech.

"You don't lay a fucking hand on my friends," you said.

"What will you do to stop me?? You're just an insect to me now. A annoying little fly," Vanny growled.

You'd been here before. In your dream, you'd faced off against an enormous rabbit, someplace cold. And then…

You ducked.

A rush of air nearly knocked your hat off. Vanny had swatted at you with enough force to instantly shatter your squishy body, but you'd ducked just in time.

Freddy jumped forwards and pulled you behind him. Chica and Roxy rushed forwards to attack Vanny.

Chica pried at the plating on Vanny's legs, and Roxy ripped into some of the wiring with her teeth.

Vanny exclaimed in annoyance. The mech easily grabbed and lifted Chica and Roxy, each held tightly in a fist. Vanny shoved them into open chambers.

You felt useless just standing here, but you weren't sure what you could do. Your taser was out of juice, and all you had left was your fists. Which, comparing them to the massive metal mech, you didn't think you'd win that fight.

"Y/N, take Greggory and run," Freddy said. He quickly rolled as Vanny grabbed at him next.

You were not going to run. You looked at Greggory though, to be sure he was safe. He was watching the fight unfold (or rather, go downhill alarmingly quickly) from under the table. Greggory was watching Freddy, who narrowly dodged another grab, and then Greggory met eyes with you. You held up your hands, then knocked out a little four beat rhythm on your palm with a fist. You needed Greggory to open a door for you.

Freddy cried out. You spun to see that Vanny had finally grabbed him. You looked around desperately. What could you do? You were just you, tired little inadequate you, against an enormous and now fully powered nightmare machine.

"Y/N, catch!" Greggory yelled.

You instinctively turned with your hands out to catch whatever was being thrown at you. You caught a heavy nail gun, and looked at Greggory, who gestured to the work table and shrugged. The nail gun looked so puny compared to the enormous mech, but you had to make do with what you had.

You lifted the gun as Vanny turned to you. You took a deep breath.

Your hands, for once, were steady.

You aimed for the battery pack on Vanny's head, stealing and storing power from your friends. You pulled the trigger, just as a fist bigger than you came flying at you.

You didn't recall the explosion as much as you did the moments after.

Your vision cut out, just for a moment. When you became aware of your surroundings, you realized you'd been blown back against the wall. Greggory wasn't too far away. He was staring in awe at the mech, which was now collapsed on the floor, inactive, with a giant chunk gone from its head where the battery had been.

A horrible moment of dread spurred you to your feet, despite the god awful ache in your bones. You stepped closer, and the compartments along Vanny's spine came into view, all unharmed, all slowly powering down. The relief that came over you nearly knocked you off your feet once more.

You turned back around and took a few steps towards Greggory, who thankfully looked unharmed, when you heard the mech hiss.

Vanessa pulled herself out of the dome, holding a bleeding cut on her head.

You hurried forwards. "Vanessa, are you alright?" As soon as you were sure she was alright, you were going to punch her fucking lights out.

Vanessa stood up and lifted the pistol she was clutching in her other hand. You stopped dead in your tracks, and slowly held up your hands, palm out.

"You think… I'd do all this shit… and not have a backup plan?" Vanessa lowered her other hand from her head, using both hands now to steadily aim the gun at you. "I've got enough bullets for management and you."

You took a step to the side, blocking Greggory from Vanessa's view. "Vanessa… don't do this. Cameron wouldn't want this."

Vanessa flinched. Her eyes started to well up with tears. Then, her face contorted with rage, and then-

BANG!

…

…You weren't dead.

You opened your eyes. To your shock and horror, Sun was standing in front of you, arms outstretched, shielding you.

Just past Sun, Moon was restraining Vanessa, who was screaming. You could barely hear her past the fading ringing in your ears.

Sun turned to face you. There was a bullet hole in his chest. He said something you couldn't hear. All you could see was the bullet hole.

You passed out.

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dragoncookies · 2 years

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TS, OOTW Fitz stuff

This

Okay this has been sitting in my brain for a year so I have to get it out.

Among the many songs that I associate with Fitz from Taylor Swift (champagne problems, this is me trying, the archer, all of reputation, so on and so forth), one song in particular reminds me a lot specifically about Fitz and Alden, and that song would be Out of the Woods.

One of the things I have find most shockingly overlooked about Fitz is what happened with his parents in Flashback. Doesn’t anyone remember him planning to move out because of how they wanted to keep Alvar? That must have been a HUGE stab to the back for Fitz. To him, they were siding with Alvar, who is one of his biggest sources of his pain. So now it’s not just his brother who’s hurt him, it’s his parents as well. He was willing to MOVE OUT, and now he still lives with them. I can’t even imagine the tension in Everglen.

Fitz is given ENORMOUS pressure being a Vacker, and his resemblance to his father is mentioned quite a few times in the series. He had to be perfect, constantly worrying about meeting expectations and getting a good relationship tangled up with the idea that you have to earn love. I anticipate his father is a larger source of anxiety for him than he would want to admit, but Alden was EVERYTHING to Fitz growing up.

Out of the Woods is a song about anxiety in a relationship (any relationship, not just romantic and don’t even go there). The chorus is repeating, the singer trying to reassure herself by asking the same question over and over again.

Are we out of the woods yet?

Are we in the clear yet?

Everything is fine as long as they’re “in the clear”

In the clear yet? Good.

Like being a Vacker, everything is good when you’re in the clear. Fitz is likely just trying to escape the ever chasing anxiety that follows him, being under such high stress but having to have a loving relationship with his father. Constantly wondering if they were okay.

Looking at it now, last December

We were built to fall apart, and fall back together

As of Unlocked, the “good” memories are over. Fitz now can only look back at the memories before the mess of Alvar, and perhaps can see the choking anxiety everything was built on. Yet, they still fall back together because the pleasant little Vacker Legacy must be maintained.

Ooh, your necklace hanging from my neck The night we couldn't quite forget When we decided, we decided To move the furniture so we could dance Baby, like we stood a chance Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying

I dont know why this verse sticks out to me so much. In the end, that’s all Fitz and Alden really are. Two, flimsy, paper airplanes catching the wind of the Vacker legacy

Just flying, flying flying, even if everything below them is dying.

And now for the meat and potatoes of the song: the bridge.

(This part, and all of the little analysis, is just my interpretation).

Remember when you hit the brakes too soon? Twenty stitches in a hospital room

These lines make me think of when Alden broke his mind, one of the bigger mess ups for Fitz and bigger struggle-events for Alden and Fitz.

When you started crying, baby I did too

Fitz hardly EVER cries, but he did when his dad died. Fitz and Alden had an anxiety filled father-son relationship, and it hurt for Fitz to see it wither in Flashback, but it was still one of the only stable things Fitz had as the rest of his world got swept right under his feet. Fitz doesn’t cry for much, but he cried for his father.

When the sun came up I was lookin’ at you

In the darkness of Fitz thinking he was going to lose his father, he lashed out at everyone. He tried to blame everyone, but “when the sun came up”, when his dad came back, it brought light to the fact that he hadn’t truly been focused on anyone but Alden and coping with his (basically) death.

Remember when we couldn't take the heat?

The “heat” being the heavy weight of the entire Vacker family watching to see what this new generation did about Alvar. The “heat” of the pressure from the other Vackers, and the whole world. Fitz and Alden didn’t make out the same after the tribunal, they “couldn’t take the heat”.

I walked out, I said "I'm setting you free" But the monsters turned out to be just trees

Fitz actually did almost “walk out”, he stormed out of that tribunal hall and didn’t want to go back to Everglen.

I’m not sure what monsters of Fitz’s turned out to be just trees. He was worried about Sophie not liking him, but she did, so I guess you can take that but uh. Anyways

When the sun came up, you were lookin’ at me

Despite Fitz throwing Alden to the rocks, Alden was still so worried about him. He still cared, still looking at Fitz even after the darkness of what happened. Not saying Alden cared in a true sense, but enough to still check up on Fitz and thank Sophie for saving his life.

The way Taylor sing’s the bridge, and all of OOTW, is pained but a little aggressive, just how I imagine Fitz feels about his wonderful father at this point in the series.

Here’s some more brainrot and things to pick at your brain.

Has anybody seen the 1989 world tour (like videos, if you actually went that’s amazing).

The WANGBT and IKYWTWYWI rock style performances always remind me of Fitz. Like, how aggressive but expressive and how the performances are masterpieces.

I just feel like Fitz would really like singing his heart out on stage or something, like Fitz in playing electric guitar and performing in a way that doesn’t involve having to be perfect and get a good score, just sharing something from his heart, is just fun to ponder. I feel like holding the microphone would just feel right in his hand.

Picture (or somebody make a fan art): Fitz, dyed hair, electric guitar, having the time of his life performing.

Like, him singing out the woods would be so personal.

Anyways, thank you for listening in, if you made it all the way down here, you’re a real one.

Have a lovely day, night, afternoon, midnight, whatever.

#fitz vacker #keeper of the lost cities #KotLC #kotlc headcanons #kotlc fitz #fitz vacker angst #kotlc thoughts #fitz would just be so cool if rock themed #alden vacker #ew alden

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signalwatch · 11 months

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Noir Watch: Deep Valley (1997)

Watch: 07/04/2023

Format: TCM

Viewing: First

Director: Jean Negulesco

This one felt like it had pieces of noir mixed in with American Gothic melodrama more than what you think of when you start searching the shelves for a noir. And that's fine. It's not like people in 1947 were setting out to make "noir".

As a movie featuring Ida Lupino, I was pre-inclined to give it a shot. And she's great! Maybe not as good as in other things, but she and Fay Bainter - who plays her mother - are both terrific in this movie.

But I'm not sure the movie quite sticks the landing, and it's probably 15 minutes too long at an hour and 44 minutes. It also really does echo High Sierra, which Lupino had starred in back in 1941, and it almost feels like she should have played the young naive woman of this film in 1941 and the more mature woman of High Sierra in '47. But that's not how it worked out, and I don't have a time machine to tell them what to do.

Lupino plays a 22 year old (she's 28ish here) who has been the middle-man for her parents who have been at a stalemate for years since her father struck her mother. Now, the two don't talk as their once grand house falls apart around them. The mother hasn't left her room in *years* (don't ask me the logistics) having Lupino wait on her hand and foot, and the father lives downstairs and tends to the farm. Sort of. The entire house is falling apart and Lupino is a nervous mess, complete with a crippling stutter.

Meanwhile, a highway (the PCH, maybe?) is coming along the other side of the hill where she lives in a Deep Valley. The road is being built with prison labor*, and each day Lupino sneaks off to watch shirtless men labor in the sun. No, really. It's incredibly horny.

Anyway, she has a favorite in Dane Clark. One day the crew comes to the farmhouse to fill up some water buckets and while there, Clark gets in an altercation with a guard and gets sent to a shed awaiting a return to San Quentin. A landslide occurs, and Clark escapes in the chaos. Meanwhile, Lupino sees the walls closing in on her (relating to the prisoners) and makes good her own escape into the woods.

The pair come across each other and fall in love/ make it off camera.

Turns our Clark has a bit of a temper, and is known to basically go into rages and deck people, which is how he ended up in jail. But he's convinced the love of a good Lupino will fix all this.

Lupino runs home to grab some supplies so the two can make good their escape, but first realizes in her absence, her parents figured their shit out, and also she's somewhat trapped by the posse using her house and not wanting to draw suspicion.

The movie walks some fine lines. Clearly Lupino's naive virgin has never really known a man before and is throwing herself at the first guy to really take her fancy. Similarly, Clark is putting way too much on Lupino as an angel who will save him from himself. And the movie never really does anything to de-romanticize all of that. Or address that Clark "doesn't mean it", but he sure has homicidal impulses and if Lupino were to leave with him, sure seems like she'd be dead within a year.

I *do* think the movie wants to say something about this, but it's left to a brief bit of dialog from her mother to put the seed of doubt in the audience's mind. And I'm not sure the movie (and 1947) is aware of what it's setting up. But like many movies of young couples caught in an impossible situation (see: They Live By Night), it's all Romeo and Juliet star-crossed romance. People are gonna wind up dead before things are over.

According to show-notes presented by Eddie Muller, this could have been a John Garfield movie, and we might have had a marginally different picture if that had occurred. We have to buy a lot in a short amount of time, and the movie doesn't always sell it. I don't know how that looks with Garfield.

But, also, the movie wants us to believe Lupino doesn't look great in a blouse and jeans and that makes the movie a liar.

Still, it's an interesting movie if not a great one. Not all of these are grand slams.

*no, this is never addressed

https://ift.tt/isGZkDd

from The Signal Watch https://ift.tt/78FCxwu

#ida lupino

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50chickens · 1 year

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So.

Back in 2021, around this time we acquired a coop. From that company that makes coops. The one that uses the line that they’re ‘Amish built’ ‘Amish made’ as like a selling point. You know the one.

At first we were enamored with it. It’s quite big and very roomy. Very easy to clean. Expensive but worth it. Even came with a cute little gift- a little apron for collecting eggs!

But over time little things have started to add up. Holes didn’t exactly line up, things were ever so slightly askew. Which in and of itself wasn’t an issue until a tree fell on the attached run during a major storm (don’t worry no one was hurt, the only thing that didn’t make it was the run itself). However the impact made those little askews worse. So nesting box panels didn’t fit quite right and the floor tray didn’t fit right afterwards. But whatever that’s not exactly their fault right? …They claim to use the best hardware, they even got a special door latch that wiggles to accommodate temp changes. Admittedly this is pretty cool! I’ve no issues with the hardware provided. I kinda wish I had them on my other coops.

But that’s not what prompted this. What prompted this is what the hardware attaches to: the wood. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve had to make a bigger or new hole because a screw was pulled out. Once I was cleaning a roosting bar that had some small amount of crud accumulated on it and it snapped. Another time I was replacing another roosting bar after cleaning and the wooden brackets that hold it in place came loose. And today. Today the channel that the floor tray slots into gave way. The wood that’s used in these very expensive ‘Amish made’ coops is so damn… cheap? Soft? Thin? It’s just not great for a structure that’s supposed to last for as expensive as it was. Now I get that maybe I’m not that great at maintaining and maybe there’s something that I’m missing. But… I’ve got an older cheaper crappier tractor supply coop that I have not had these issues with. I’ve got another bigger more pricy TS coop that was given to us and have not had those kind of issues with it, the sliding door sucks in higher humidity but the floors still standing and the roosting bars still there. The coop isn’t that old, it shouldn’t be falling apart like this, especially now when it’s the one solid structure I NEED to be actually solid.

There had been a delay when we ordered this coop, and given that it was still pandemic times and manufacturing was still hit pretty hard- and apparently they were inundated with orders so we didn’t think nothing of it. But now I’m kinda wondering if some corners weren’t cut, wouldn’t be the first company to do so during the pandemic. :/

…anyway rant over. Needed to vent while I warm up, because guess who had several feet of snow earlier in the week prior and has to figure out how to fix this in *that*? So Um yeah. Idk if newer ones are better now or what but maybe rethink any future purchases from The Chicken Coop Company. The one from TS might be just as good for half the cost.

#pet chicken #bukbukbock #rant #chicken coops #vent

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 11 months

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"Army Tent Poles, Sheets, Boots Made by Convicts," Vancouver Sun. July 3, 1943. Page 14. ---- By JAMES DYER The war has reached into British Columbia Penitentiary, perched on its hill overlooking the great bend of the mighty Fraser River at New Westminster, and many of its 268 convicts are today lending a hand to the United Nations' war effort in humble but none-the-less effective ways. Here, men whose terms ranges from two years to life - there are 12 of the latter in the grim, grey prison at present - keep themselves busy, some of them quite happy, at a variety of tasks from mending thousands of army boots and slippers, repairing uniforms, to the manufacture of tent poles, sheets, pillow slips and mattress for the men of the Armed Force. By permission of the department of Justice at Ottawa, The Vancouver Sun sent a reporter and cameraman into the prison to see how it works. No pleasure palace, B.C. penitentiary is a tiny, practically self-contained community, a congeries of small industries.

Here men who have a debt to pay to society are under a humane discipline that keeps most of them healthy, if not contented with their lot. Things within its 25-foot walls of sheer masonry are a little different from the average man's conception of a prison, gleaned from the movies. The visitors saw men at work, many of them learning useful trades which they can turn to honest use when let out into the world once more.

KEEPS NUMBERS DOWN War has had a double influence in this prison. It has supplied much useful work to convicts. It has kept their numbers down.

Warden William Meighen and his deputy warden, Robert S. Douglass, displayed a significant chart in their office. It was a graph showing the rise and fall of prison population from the year 1913 to the present year. Significant was the fact that the line on the graph dropped to about 110 Inmates in 1918-20, immediately after the first Great War, rose again to 450 in 1931. when the depression was in fall swing, and then, after a moderate recession during the next decade, fell away again sharply to less than 300 in 1942.

"There are always men who are weak, and these you will find in prisons," Warden Melghen commented. "But it would appear that when there are plenty of honest occupations for men, the prison poplation declines."

A conducted tour of the prison plant, under Warden Meighen's supervision disclosed one outstanding fact at the beginning. An entire new cell block, built only a few years ago, with 200 cells in it, stands entirely empty. And the main cell block, housing the 268 prisoners now incarcerated, is by no means full.

The cell blocks are the things about the prison which bear most resemblance to what one sees in the movies. In the main block, the chief feature is a huge central, dome-like court, with three tiers of free galleries, running all around. Radiating outward from these galleries are alleyways containing the cell blocks, the door of which each man has his name and prison number.

VARIETY OF WORK Heavy steel grilles guard each cell door and at the end of each alley nearest the central court are huge steel wheels like the wheel of a ship, by means of which the guards can lock every cell in an alleyway by a single operation. But, contrary to popular impression, the convicts spend few of their daylight hours to their cells. The prison finds a variety of work for them apart from war work. On the way from the gates to the central block, for example, Warden Meighen proudly pointed out a properous locking vegetable garden.

The men working on it were mostly "long termers," and seem to include Chinese and Indian prisoners. "We took more than 11 tons of tomatoes out of that last year," he said. PRISON WOOD PILE From the "inside gardens," as these are called the prison also has an outside farm with a piggery attached the warden led the visitors to the prison wood pile. A renewed venture this year and a valuable contribution to the war effort from Greater Vancouver's point of view is the gathering of stray logs from the Fraser River and their conversion into firewood for the prison.

We expect to gather $1500 to $2000 worth of wood this year," the warden commented.

The empty new cell block in partially used as a storehouse. Here are hundreds of army tent poles, made in the carpenter shop and ready for shipment.

The tailor shop is a huge room 120 by 45, in which nearly 40 prisoners, mostly young men, were at work on a rush order of thousands of pillow cases for the army. There were a score of electric sewing machines clattering here, and at a dozen long tables men were pressing out the completed cases.

"We have shipped 60,000 of them already, and not one rejected," Mr. Meighen said proudly

MUCH REPAIR WORK In the blacksmith and sheet metal shop, a dozen men were at work on various jobs, some for the prison - all repairs and plumbing work are done on the premises - others doing more work for the Army. There were broken Army cots, dozens of them; there were scores of battered, rusty garbage cans and coal scuttles, many of them seemingly beyond repair. The convicts were repairing them nevertheless.

It was a surprise to learn that all the familiar red post boxes in Greater Vancouver and New Westminster eventually end up in this shop for repairs and repainting. Broken down mail bags - which, incidentally, are made at the Kingston Penitentiary - come to another part of the prison plant for repairs.

The shoe repair shop was not doing much business. But it had repaired 300 pairs of Army boots in May, besides innumerable slippers. Last year it renewed more than 2000 pair of boots.

In the midst of the visit, a uniformed officer began making the rounds of the various shops. "Exercise!" he called out, and the heavy steel doors which, always locked, guard every part of the prison, began swinging open to let a stream of men into the exercising court.

"The men most take physical exercise every day - we have a P.T. Instructor," the warden explained.

Prisoners are served meals in semi-cafeteria style. There is no common dining hall, each man eating in his cell.

The luncheon was appetizing: the visitors tried samples of the beef stew and blanc mange and found them good. As the prisoners left the kitchen, they marched in platoons to their cell tiers and closed their doors. Then the tier guards spun their wheels, locking them in for the duration of the luncheon hour. SMOKE PERIODS Besides their recreation period and mealtimes, the prisoners are allowed smoking periods twice a day, the warden explained.

"For men who have not passed Grade Eight, lessons are compulsory. And we have the Department of Education's correspondence courses too, for those who want them. Come and see our library," invited the warden. PLENTY OF BOOKS The library is a small room with several hundred volumes, whose dog-eared condition be spoke plenty of use. The visitors had seen, in several cells, small piles of books. Here was where they came from. The library gets about 300 new books a year. "We also take a large number] of magazines," the warden point- ed out. "You won't find any crime magazines or detective stories, though," he laughed.

A thing that strike a visitor is the arrangement of loudspeakers in the cell corridors. The warden comments. "The men listen to the radio. We give them the news programs and good talks. They like plenty of music and radio drama - but nothing so much as a prize fight or a hockey game." ENVIABLE RECORD Warden Meighen, an affable veteran of nearly 30 years in the service, and warden of four prisons since 1923, has the enviable record of having had not a single prison break or riot at any prison he has governed. Incidentally, he spiked one popular misconception about prisons. That one is that prisoners placed in "solitary" are shoved into a hole in the ground, out of sight and sound. "See those windows over there?" he pointed to a wing of the main block whose ground floor windows were narrow slits. "Those are the windows of the solitary cells. "They may not be the pleasantest places, but at least they overlook a nice green lawn."

///

To study the effects of war on BC's penitentiary and at the same time give readers a glimpse Into the working of the penal system, The Vancouver Sun sent a reporter and photographer through the institution. Permission for this visit was granted for the first time by the department of justice at Reporter James Dyer and Cameraman Dave Bachan found that the war had reached into the confines of the prison as shown in the above pictures. Top, left, shows the prisoners, whose faces have been painted out in accordance with the justice department request to keep the identity of the men secret, working on taking logs out of the Fraser River to keep the jail supplied with fuel. In the centre picture the convicts are re-pairing letter boxes in the sheet metal shop. On the right is Warden William Meighen who has charge of guarding the men whose sentences range from two years to life. In the lower photos, a prisoner is seen dumping fuel in the storage yard while on the right the men are making pillowcases for the army.

[AL: Part of a coordinated effort to highlight the operations and contributions to the war effort of federal penitentiaries in Canada. What's fascinating is that, other than the drop in prisoner population due to the war, the various activities and work are the same as were being done before the war. This article does really highlight the centrality of unfree convict labour - to the operations of the penitentiary, to its dominant ideology of 'reformation,' and to the daily lives of the incarcerated.]

#vancouver #new westminster #british columbia penitentiary #prison discipline #prison conditions #convict labour #penal labour #prison industries #dominion penitentiaries #canada during world war 2 #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada #newspapers writing about newspapers #life inside

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spockandawe · 3 years

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So I saw this ask/response about Xue Yang’s backstory go by on my dash, and it gave me some thoughts, which felt off-topic/speculative enough I didn’t want to just reblog, but were too long for a tumblr comment, so here we go. First, from the asker:

it was never just about a finger, but a child who had nothing vs adults who knew better and still took more from him and humiliated him

And everything @veliseraptor said (as with all lise xue yang posts) is also excellent, but this line hit me in the same place as that line from the ask:

I really am getting sick of the idea that it’s ~just a finger~ and not like…what it means, the surrounding trauma and implications of it. it’s the death of the last of his innocence and trust in people.

I’ve written about Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen’s last conversation before (I’m never not thinking about it, basically), and I’ve especially dug into the way that Xue Yang is fairly chill (despite being stabbed) and puts out the story, Xiao Xingchen doesn’t respond the way he’s hoping for, and Xue Yang’s takes it VERY badly and starts actively burning everything down.

Now, in those posts, I focused a lot on the way Xue Yang’s present emotions, if that makes sense, not what it all meant in light of his childhood. And here’s where we get speculative, but I don’t think I’ve wandered too far off into the woods, even if the text doesn’t explicitly support it.

So here’s where I’m at: Xiao Xingchen slowly, gradually, won a lot of Xue Yang’s trust. It started with the rescue when Xue Yang was unconscious and bleeding in a field, continued with Xiao Xingchen not pushing his boundaries, and extended into three years of accidental domestic bliss. By the end, Xue Yang, despite his everything, is happily living in the yizhuang and running errands to the market to buy vegetables. He’s not a naturally trusting person, which makes plenty of sense, all things considered, but he’s still reached this point, and Xiao Xingchen is something special and precious to him. The fact that he tells him the end of the story about how he lost his finger is significant.

When Xue Yang tells Xiao Xingchen an important personal story about a child who had nothing and adults who should have known better and took more from him, and a story about trauma and the death of the last of his innocence... Xiao Xingchen’s response is both Kinda Not Great, and also misses the point of what Xue Yang was trying to communicate (for understandable reasons on both counts, but I’m focusing on the emotional world Xue Yang was living in at this moment)

“Chang Ci’an broke one of your fingers. If you sought revenge, you could have simply broken one of his fingers in return. If you really took the matter to heart, you could have broken two, or even all ten! Even if you had cut off his arm, things wouldn’t have been like this.”

A critical point in here is that Xiao Xingchen skips right past what that injury meant to a seven-year-old street child who tried to run an errand in exchange for some sweets, and instead had three adults viciously take out their bad mood on him. Look up what a seven year old child looks like, he was so young. And probably don’t look up crush damage, because it’s nasty stuff, but after three adults slapped this small child around, a cart ran over his entire hand. The missing finger is the only thing that’s obvious now, but

“ He was seven! The bones of his left hand were crushed, and one finger was ground into battered flesh on the spot!”

And lets not even talk about how complicated hand bones are to set correctly, how bad old timey medicine was at preventing infection, or whether this small street child even had anyone who cared enough to feed him, or to make sure he was still breathing.

When Xue Yang tells this story and Xiao Xingchen focuses on how disproportionate his revenge was, that’s when Xue Yang gets cruel. It’s very shortly after this when he tells Xiao Xingchen that if he wasn’t capable of understanding the world, he never should have left the mountain in the first place. If you’re watching the show, he looks devastated, for all the good it does him when he’s talking to a blind man.

That’s a long time to reach my final point, but here we go: Despite Xue Yang’s approach to life and his own intentions, over the course of three years, Xiao Xingchen built up a lot of trust with him. With Song Lan dead, things are already doomed to fall apart, but the moment Xue Yang starts trying to hurt Xiao Xingchen is when Xiao Xingchen has this reaction to his story. My speculative conclusion is that Xue Yang reacts so badly because in this moment, Xiao Xingchen, his favorite person, proves to Xue Yang that he can’t be trusted with that little seven-year-old Xue Yang who was used, mistreated, and maimed.

Xue Yang tells Xiao Xingchen the story of when he was most vulnerable and suffering, and the first thing out of Xiao Xingchen’s mouth is that Xue Yang could have broken the man’s finger in return. Xue Yang took it pretty reasonably when Xiao Xingchen stabbed him in the stomach, but this is the point where things really deteriorate. I think that a significant part of that whiplash is that Xue Yang has begun to trust Xiao Xingchen, and Xiao Xingchen effectively tells him that he was wrong, and Xiao Xingchen can’t be trusted with justice for that mistreated child any more than the rest of the world. When Xiao Xingchen tells him that murdering the man’s whole family was excessive, what Xue Yang hears is ‘that child didn’t deserve the justice you gave him.’ Neither of them is really interpreting the other one’s words and intentions fairly at this point in the conversation, which, again, is understandable. But I do think that the things Xue Yang says following this point have a lot to do with the betrayal he feels when he decides that Xiao Xingchen couldn’t have been trusted with Xue Yang’s innocent, abused childhood self.

#xue yang #xiao xingchen #the untamed #mdzs #meta #child abuse/#maybe the story woulda gone over better if you hadn't just murdered his bff buddy #idk #just saying

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foxes-that-run · 5 months

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Have you done a Hunger analysis/can you do one

Hi, I haven't, I love that song though. So here it is:

Hunger

It is about Harry looking back on a relationship he is not over. It was leaked in 20 April 2022, the week he played Coachella. See 2022 timeline if you subscribe to the thought the leaks are timed.

When it was written is less important because it's quite reflective, but based on 'one year into two', if I had to guess, I think this song is from the first week of January 2017:

4 January 2013 - Blue dress on a boat

6 January 2015 - Harry and Taylor were ambiguously dating (and touring) since Valentine's Day 2014. Harry arrived in LA on the 2nd and neither was seen for a few days. Taylor posted this photo with 'This Love' Lyrics. Harry then reappeared. Things seemed tense at Lily Aldridge's birthday on the 19th and Taylor went to Maui with the Haim sisters while Harry stayed in LA. Taylor started dating Calvin a few weeks later.

6 January 2016 - Harry posted this photo of rain on a window. Out of the Woods MV was just released, it aired NYE 2015 in the same show as the last 1D TV appearance.

5 January 2017 - The leak Lately included that it was written on 5 January 2017, He flew to LA on the 6th. Lately was leaked on 6 January 2024. That is one year turning two from 2015:

Lyrics

Candles burnt down to the floor Wearing less than you wore before Shoes sitting by the door never put them on We would stay in my house for days Spilling breakfast on pillowcases Your stuff don’t taste the same Now that you’re gone

The first verse is reminiscing of the good times, of enjoying spending time together in a hedonistic way.

To me the first lines are on New Years Eve 2012 which Taylor also included in New Years Day "Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor / You and me from the night before". If written in January the shared NYE memory would have been timely.

I love the line "shoes sitting by the door" it sounds to me like they were to go out but stayed in to be together.

"Your stuff don't taste the same" to me is her music, especially Red and 1989, I imagine hearing them after they were actually over would hurt with how much the themes of 1989 especially are "built to fall apart and back together again"

I guess I’m prone to overthinking One thing goes wrong and I can’t adjust I’ve lost the taste for the good in us And I’m sorry

The second verse is talking about feeling sad that Harry wasn't able to keep the relationship and his engagement with it.

"Lost the taste for the good": reminds me of the Two Ghosts, "We're not who we used to be". Two Ghosts was written around Valentines Day 2015, soon after this break up. To Nick Grimshaw Harry said about it "sometimes things change, and you can do all the same things, and sometimes it’s just different, you know". I think this is a similar detached loss of connection, later to Zane Lowe Harry said he was 'just coasting.'

I think with more time for reflection this song has matured to see with regret why he lost the taste for the good in what he lost, which Two Ghosts doesn't get into.

"Prone to overthinking" is interesting, Harry seems like he would. He uses this word again in Grapejuice about Taylor, he acknowledges she worries about other girls and assures he doesn't want anyone else "You're always there, so don't overthink, I'm so over whites and pinks"

We had a hunger then only each other then Couldn’t get enough when we started Always a hunger then now it’s just emptiness We were in love, we were starving We had a hunger then

To me, the song title and chorus has a double meaning:

In the first half of the chorus Harry is singing about Hunger in the sense of an insatiable desire for each other. The bliss of a new relationship where you just want to be together all the time.

This ends with 'now there's just emptiness. He uses emptiness as an analogy for being emotionally depleted in Ever Since New York also "There's no water inside this swimming pool" and in Two Ghosts "We're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty"

I hear a second meaning with "we were in love, we were starving." The theme of the song is reflecting on where it went wrong, I think he is referring their mental health and wellbeing at the time as being a factor for why it didn't work out.

We could ruin a perfect night On my birthday I made you cry You told me you learned to drive I guess you lied I could never get sick of you I just bit off more than I could chew And as one year turns into two I’m still not over you, still not over you

As the song says, they are still not over each other.

You told me you learned to drive

This could be read two ways, as many anons have said to me today :)

Taylor used driving as a metaphor for their relationship in Treacherous and throughout 1989 and Harry did in Keep Driving. The line is saying that she told Harry they could make it work but she lied and they didn’t. I really like this interpretation, it reminds me of Fools Gold where he also called her a lair for him feeling like his commitment to their relationship wasn’t reciprocated

This reminds me of of a Gatsby quote Jordan says to Nick: “You said a bad driver was only safe until she met another bad driver? Well, I met another bad driver, didn’t I? I mean it was careless of me to make such a wrong guess. I thought you were rather an honest, straightforward person. I thought it was your secret pride.”

On my birthday I made you cry

Taylor also refers to this in Coney Island the male part sings "Were you standing in the hallway / With a big cake, happy birthday". Sadly there are options for this, I think the big cake is a metaphor for an special gift:

2015, he threw a big party with lots of famous people in LA just before he left for tour. After possibly break up 6 January, on the 17th Taylor shared a photo of her kitchen with the framed Temper Trap Lyrics on her stove, (below). She then went to Maui with the Haim sisters, on the 23rd - 30th (I wonder if Harry was meant to go). On Harry's birthday she was in Nashville.

2013 Taylor had Temper Trap write and sign the correct lyrics/Arm Lyrics/Tattoo and framed it for his birthday, but they broke up before she gifted it. She included it in the photo again in 2015. :( The blue dress on a boat was 4 January, however she was in London on the 21st and rumoured to see him. There were reports she had booked a week in Italy as well as other gifts. Harry had a wild 19th birthday with a £5k bar tab and strippers.

I could never get sick you

I hear "I could never get sick of you" as responding to something said directly to Harry. However, in November 2015 Taylor used those words to Vogue. It's an interesting comment that was foreshadowing the Reputation era. If this song was written in early 2017 it would have been the thick of that:

"I'll need to give people a certain breather from me because at a certain point they're going to get a little sick of hearing about me, so then I'll need to go away for a while and then depending on my gauge on how sick of me they are I'll decide when to put out the next album,"

I just bit off more than I could chew

I think this is the crux of it, Harry was quite young when they started dating and the One Direction schedule of a tour and album every year was intense. In his more recent interviews he's talked about mental health, and his band mates have also spoken about the toll it took on them. I think Harry was not available or ready to provide an older partner who was also anxious the support she was looking for. In his words in To be So Lonely, he "Wasn't ready for it all".

#haylor #harry styles #harry styles unreleased

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 4 years

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call out my name pt. 2

summary: spencer rushes off to fix things with y/n, but can they really be fixed?

word count: 2,371 reading time aprox: 9 mins

a/n: i just wanted to say thank you for all the support and praise i received on here, especially seeing all of my favorite authors comment and reblog my work is so heartening. thank you all so much for the support, you’re the reason why i have the encouragement to continue doing what i love <3

masterlist

part 1

The rain pattered against the window panes, interlocking with the light that shone through the sheer curtains of my apartment. A cold breeze slipped through the crack of the window, letting it venture through the dim room before it graced my skin. Although the sensation hadn’t registered in my mind as the plain beige wall in front of me consumed my attention.

The hypnotic sound of the rain provided a consistent rhythm that encouraged my introspection. In the entire duration of my break, I’ve let my thoughts filter and organize themselves. I’ve felt powerless against the accusations that my brain has thrown towards me, setting my emotions to the side in a state of suspense.

My knees were curled up against my chest, my unwashed hair scrunched up against my cheeks, and my sweater was littered with unknown stains and dried tears. Along with the descension of my reasonability, my hygiene followed shortly after.

I was brought out of my bubble by the buzz of my phone. I turned it off weeks ago from the constant notifications I got from the team, it was only when I received a text message from my mother that I decided to turn it back on for the day.

I reached over to the side table where my phone laid, feeling my muscles tense up and ache from the lack of movement I’ve done these past weeks. Turning it on, the intense light blinded me, leaving me disoriented. When my eyes finally adjusted to the sudden change of light, I wished that I had been blinded a little longer than I was.

The notification read ‘New Voicemail: JJ <3’

My breath got pushed back in my throat, a wave of discomfort flooding over my entire body as my thumb hesitated over the notification. My lips trembled, swallowing my saliva while a debate ensued between my impulsivity and my timidity. With a numb boost of confidence I hurriedly pressed on the notification, traveling through my phone to hear out her message.

“Hey Y/N” The message began. “I know that you heard...about what I said to Spence-” Her voice was low and full of penance, although any remorse that I tried to comprehend washed away at her use of Spencer’s nickname. “Gosh, I don’t even - I don’t even know how to begin to apologize for what I said - I - you don’t know how much Spence loves you and how much he talks about you” She sighed, her tone picking up as she praised Spencer. “But what I said was completely inappropriate and I’m so sorry for what I said. Telling Spence that I loved him was way out of line, considering that you’re such a dear friend to me, and especially since things are so complicated with me and Will - I just - I’m so sorry that I told him that I love-”

The rest of the message was left to the imagination as I forcefully threw my phone against the beige wall, denting it in the process. A flurry of newfound rage clouded my mind, providing a break from the contradicting thoughts that usually engulfed my head. For once, I had directed the emotion towards another individual rather than myself.

The phone fell with a heavy thud, glass debris flying across the floor, decorating the oak floors with fragments. I could care less about the material expense that I would have to pay; my blind resentment tainting my rationality.

My chest heaved in exasperation as a novel onslaught of tears pricked the corners of my eyes. Although the quantity of tears were sparse because they were wasted on my self reproach the previous week. I furiously wiped them away, detaching myself from the malicious feeling, a habit I came to develop.

I adapted to the stupefaction that infiltrated my heart, at times feeling grateful for the ability. The coldness that surrounded my small living room couldn’t compare to the icy innards of my chest.

Finally collecting my composure, I looked over to a mirror that sat between my bookshelves, taking in my disheveled and ragged appearance.

JJ wouldn’t look like this

My face contorted into a somber expression, letting my insecurities slip through the hard persona I persisted to instill in myself. I surveyed the filthy environment that surrounded me; the floor was painted with old dirt, the furniture had accumulated colonies of dust, and the roses that sat on the kitchen counters had wilted.

JJ would never let herself go like this

Who was I kidding? Who was I, Y/N Y/L/N, to compare to a Georgetown graduate, an astounding profiler, and an icon of beauty?

Well the one thing I had that she didn’t was Spencer

But did I really?

I was startled out of my grim assessment by a frantic knocking against my front door. I groaned internally, not hesitating to stay where I was situated. I couldn’t handle any human interaction at the moment, frankly I didn’t want any human interaction at all. I’ve learned to love the little cocoon I had built around me, finding serendipity in my self-isolation.

“Go away!” I attempted to shout, but all that came out was a hoarse whimper that sent a sharp pain to my esophagus. I flinched as the knocking became more frantic, the volume elevating along with the forceful jabs against the wood.

I felt my ears ring, using my hands to alleviate the pounding that attacked my eardrums. I was about to open my mouth to disclose another warning, but a familiar voice had interrupted me.

“Y/N! Y/N are you in there!” Spencer yelled, slamming his fists against the door between every phrase.

I froze in my spot, a wave of mixed emotions coming over me as my cheeks flushed at hearing his voice for the first time in a long time. The familiar sound sent shockwaves down my spine and dread silenced my tongue. It felt like I was on high alert, like an animal paranoid of its prey.

“Y/N! Just - god please tell me you’re at least okay” He stammered in his fit of hysteria, the bangs on the door slowing in rhythm.

Silence followed his pleas, instilling a sense of relief that I didn’t know I needed. Movement outside stilled, making me think that he had given up his relentless efforts and went elsewhere. I let out a breath that I held in, alleviating the stress that had accumulated inside of me.

Although the moment that I began to relax into my seat, two blaring shots rattled through the apartment complex. The scent of gunpowder meshed with the dewy air as I jumped out of my seat, startled and alarmed. I closed my eyes and covered my ears with my palms, the ringing leaving me blindsided.

“Y/N! Y/N? Are you there?” Spencer rushed in with his gun pointed, his feet clattering against the floor in a haste.

“What the fuck Spencer” I hoarsely whispered, although the meekly volume of my voice hadn’t penetrated this ears.

“Y/N!” He called out once again, slowing his movements as his sneakers squeaked with every step he made.

“I’m here Spencer, I’m here” I repeated, using all my might to push the small phrase off of my tongue. My throat stung at the strain of my voice, a burning feeling eliciting from the back of my throat due to the dryness. This time I had caught his attention.

We locked eyes for a brief moment before I quickly broke our line of sight, insecure about my current appearance; even after a month I still held Spencer’s opinion to the highest magnitude. In the time that I observed him, I noticed that he was drenched in rain water, his hair tangled and strung out from his head while droplets proceeded behind him.

“I-” He breathed, his words caught in his throat. He dropped his revolver beside him in incredulity, drinking in my battered presence. He didn’t look too well either, his stature was still the same but the bags under his eyes were prominent, his cheeks were puffed from exhaustion, and his posture resembled the hunchback of Notre Dame.

“W- what are y- you doing here Spencer?” I croaked, rubbing my hands against my arms in an attempt for any type of coverage.

My senses heightened as I waited for his response. He brought in such a familiar, yet unfamiliar presence with him. It felt like I was home, but so far away from it at the same time.

Maybe it was the way that I longed for the warmth of his embrace, the calming rhythm of his heart beat while I slept on his chest, and the soothing melody of his voice while he read to me. But maybe it was also the way he hadn’t dared to speak when JJ’s voice was full of love, when he assumed that I hadn’t acknowledged the endearments he received from another woman, and when I became a distant thought in the back of his head.

I’ve never doubted Spencer’s eidetic memory, but this time I questioned my place in that brilliant mind of his. Maybe for the first time, I was the one thought that had ceased to exist.

“I - why didn’t you tell me?” He uttered, running his hand over his jaw in grievance. His eyes burned holes into me, the intense glare making me feel small under his scrutiny.

I couldn’t answer

“God Y/N - I don’t even - why didn’t you even tell me?”

“I - uh - I don’t” I stuttered, unable to muster the confidence or cognitive ability to speak; it was like my brain had turned into mush.

“Please talk to me” He pleaded, taking a hesitant step closer to me.

I stumbled back in a haste like he was some sort of repellent. I felt a constant push and pull in my gut, messing with my innate instincts.

“Spencer don’t-” I warned, seeing how he had taken a few determined strides towards me.

“Spence...please don't - p- please” I whimpered, feeling a wet substance slide down the apple of my cheeks. I tasted the crimson blood mix with the salty residue on my lips, unaware of how hard I bit down on the skin.

Pained tears continued to fall incessantly from my eyes, matching the way the rain ran down my window panes previously. I saw Spencer’s figure slump down in defeat, the helplessness in my words permeating his eardrums.

“Y/N just - please let me fix - Y/N just please let me fix us” He solicited, looking to me for permission to advance.

“Spencer there’s no need for fixing anythi-”

“Yes there is Y/N-”

“No there isn’t Spencer!” I persisted, convincing myself that I had everything under control. I shut my eyes in frustration, shaking my head in denial while I reminded myself of all the malicious emotions I refused to feel.

“Y/N please just list-”

“No Spencer. I know what to do and I know how to deal with-”

“No Y/N! No you don’t - god you’re so stubborn sometimes -” He imprudently blurted out, pinching at the bridge of his nose to collect his composure. “Y/N - please just…” He sighed, looking deep into my eyes from a distance. “Please just let me in” He begged, a few tears slipping from the corners of his somber irises. His face wore an anguished and desperate expression, an expression that had the ability to end a war.

My cold exterior shattered instantaneously from the sight of Spencer, feeling my heart being tugged into multiple directions until all that was left was a pained human muscle. As much as I wanted to convince myself of an ardent persona, I knew that Spencer was the only person that could invoke such a visceral reaction from me. Whether I accepted the feeling or not, I knew that Spencer’s effect on me was unmatched to any delusions I made myself to believe.

My lips trembled uncontrollably as a soft sob rolled off my tongue. I looked to Spencer for aid, feeling my entire facade crash and burn. My knees buckled and weakened from reality coming in all at once. When the first cry fell from my mouth, more followed soon after.

I became a drenched mess that sat in the middle of the living room. I felt deceived by myself, developing a sense of self resentment as my mindset came into actualization. I grieved for the fragment of myself that I secluded and killed off because of my inability to process my agony, longing for that piece of me back.

Spencer came to my rescue, engulfing me in his arms and encroaching me with his touch. I leaned into his chest, desperately clutching onto the dress shirt he wore. My tears stained his blazer, leaving puddles along the fabric, but I couldn’t care less.

I breathed in the sedative scent, feeling it flush through my nostrils, reminding me of home. I held onto his arms tightly, afraid that he would disappear the moment I let go of him.

Spencer tried to reach down to grab a hold of my cheek, but I nudged his fingers away, climbing into his lap as I buried my face into the crook of his neck.

He cooed into my hair, stroking my back while he whispered his endearments in my ear. “You’re okay Y/N - we’re going to be okay” He breathed, letting out a staggered exhale as he enunciated his words.

Light rushed into my chest at that moment, letting it conquer and cut through the caution tape I had wired around my feelings. Shutting my eyes, I relaxed into his love, letting it infiltrate and replace my fears.

I didn’t doubt that it was going to take time to heal and repair, but at least it was beginning.

“I love you so so much Y/N - more than you can ever conceive” He declared, pressing a soft kiss on my temple. “And nobody will ever tell me otherwise”

I knew from that moment that I didn’t have to walk on a tightrope no longer because I knew it was my name that Spencer would be calling out.

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie @linthebinbag @goldentournesol @andiebeaword @moon-light-jukebox @pizzarollsfordayz @baby-i-am-fireproof @cielo1984 @spncersreid @101donuts @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @parkeroffline

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Happiness [Maxwell Lorenzano x f!Reader]

Author’s note: Please heed warnings before you read. This is angst. There’s a little fluff and a few spicy moments, but at its core, this is a pretty angsty read. It’s a different interpretation of Maxwell, post WW84. Reblogs are so appreciated. I worked really hard on this and it’s not showing up in tags so if you could reblog it... it would literally mean the world to me :( <3

Summary: After the dreamstone debacle, Maxwell Lord loses custody of his son, his home, his job and all his wealth. He has nothing, and what was once the simple task of ‘living’, is suddenly proving to be extremely difficult. Until a beacon of light enters his life. He can only hope that you don’t find out who he really is.

Word count: 4000+

Rating: 18+

Warnings: depression/suicidal thoughts, PSTD/trauma implications, poverty, starvation, binge eating, allusions to sex, male masturbation, food and drink mention.

Masterlist

Max is usually pretty good at keeping himself to himself, but when he hears the commotion from outside his small shanty apartment, he cautiously stalks towards the front door and leans into the wood, gazing out the peephole. He spots you, struggling to unlock the door located on the far side of the hall. Your arms are filled with brown paper bags and an abundance of cardboard boxes circle around your feet. He hears you curse as you drop one of the paper bags. It rips, and groceries spill onto the floor with a clatter. He swallows thickly, feeling his tummy grumble at the sight of fresh fruit and colourful veg. Max hadn’t eaten a single meal this week.

He spends a few more seconds watching you struggle, before the guilt swarms over him and he feels like a creep. He does wonder if he should leave his apartment and help you out though, but eventually he decides on turning his heel and walks back to the torn leather sofa. He just knows he’ll be some kind of intrusion on you. If Max has learned one thing, it’s that he needs to stay away from other people. Otherwise, he’d just hurt them. Even if hurting them was the last thing he intended to do.

Still, he finds himself marvelling over you. He wants to go over and introduce himself. He thinks you’re absolutely stunning. Maybe it’s just because he hasn’t seen a woman (other than his ex-wife) in just short of a year, or maybe it’s something more genuine -- like the way you wear your hair or that glimmer in your eye. Once upon a time, Maxwell would’ve strolled on over to your apartment with the utmost confidence and charm, with the sole intention of winning you over and taking you back to his place. He wouldn’t dare do that now.

He stares at the wall clock, and watches as the minute leg ticks. It’s painfully slow. It’s 5:52pm, and Maxwell is just waiting until 6pm, because he knows at 6pm he can call his son, Alistair. If he tries calling a second earlier though, he is certain his ex-wife will throw a rage, claiming that he’s breaking court order. Maxwell had never been one to follow rules, but now, he didn’t have much of a choice. As he waits for the leg to strike 6, all he can really do is think about you. Truth be told, he hates that he’s thinking about you this much. He doesn't even know you.

But you’re so pretty. Your features are soft and delicate. Your clothes fit you perfectly and hug your body in all the right places. He can’t help but think what you sound like. He wonders if you’re from around here. He wonders why you moved into this particular neighbourhood, out of all the other neighbourhoods in rural D.C. He should go over and say hello at least. It would be the polite thing to do. He considers bringing over a bottle of wine to make a peace offering, but then he remembers all he has in his refrigerator is a stick of butter and a bottle of milk that has grown old and fermented. He assumes that you probably wouldn’t care for such housewarming gifts.

Maxwell calls Alistair as soon as the clock turns six. As always, Alistair is more than excited to speak to his dad, beaming brightly down the line. Alistair tells Maxwell about his step-father, and how he’d built a pool in their back garden for Ali and his mom. Max’s lips curl into a frown when he realises that his ex’s new husband is giving Alistair everything Max couldn’t. And once again, Maxwell feels like he has failed as a father.

For a short while, Alistair babbles about his day at school and how he got full marks on a pop quiz. Maxwell is as proud as punch. He has no doubt that success will one day find Alistair, he just hopes Alistair has an easier time handling it. Max can hear a faint yelling in the background of the phone call and eventually Alistair is interrupted.

“Oh-- mommy is calling me to eat dinner.” Alistair says softly, his voice suddenly growing oddly timid. Max’s stomach grumbles again at the mention of dinner.

“But we still have ten minutes left of our phone call.” Max replies matter-of-factly. He hopes Alistair can’t hear the disappointment in his voice. This isn’t his fault. He hears his ex yell again and Max can’t help but feel his face harden with disdain.

“I know, I’m sorry daddy, but I have to go.” The croak in Alistair’s voice is enough to break Maxwell’s heart. He wishes this could’ve been different. It should’ve been different.

Max knows he can’t argue though. It’s only futile. So he accepts the fact that Alistair has to leave the phone call early -- at least he was getting something to eat. Maxwell remembers when he was Alistair’s age. His mom always struggled to put food on the table because his dad would spend all the money on drinks at the local bar. Maxwell is just grateful his son isn’t starving.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Maxwell reassures before taking a shaky exhale. “I love y--”

But then, the line went dead. Max assumes that Alistair’s mom has ripped the phone from his hand and hung up. Sighing, Maxwell forces himself to stand up and walk on over to his bedroom. The bed is unmade and there are several piles of dirty laundry all over the floor. He jams open the sticky window and climbs onto the balcony, inhaling the cool evening air and lighting a cigarette. Smoking was a habit he’d gotten himself into when he was much younger, but he’d grown out of it when he’d hit limelight. Now though, it was growing back in to be a shameful addiction that he just couldn’t shake. It helped him stop feeling hunger, though.

As he flicks the orange lit ash over the edge of the balcony, his eyes catch on you again. You are standing on the street, talking to some guy. You’re laughing, and it looks like this mystery man’s hand is caressing your arm. It’s probably your boyfriend; Maxwell assumes, and the pang of jealousy in his chest turns into unadulterated sadness as he realises he was probably never going to find love again. He peers over the edge of the balcony once more as he takes a final drag of the cigarette, and he wonders if the jump would kill him.

Maxwell’s eyes begin to sting, and he climbs back into his bedroom, knocking his head on the window pane in the process.

He can’t sleep that night, and he tosses and turns in his three quarter sized bed. He could feel every spring in his mattress. What he would give to just sleep one more night in the soft, plush king sized bed he used to take for granted. He switched on his amber tinged bedside lamp and swatted away a moth that flew towards it. Maxwell stared at the ceiling and wondered if the damp had gotten worse. Even if it had, it wasn’t like Max had the courage to bring it up with the landlord.

He finds himself thinking about you again. He lived to see the way you smiled when you spoke to that guy, or the way your hair blew ever so slightly in the evening breeze. Max wraps his hand around his semi-hard cock and begins to jerk himself off. To nobody’s surprise though, he doesn’t finish -- the overwhelming feeling of revolt consuming him. He thinks he’s disgusting, and that nobody would ever want to touch him. He can’t even stand touching himself.

He falls asleep not long after that.

Max once had a pretty decent sleep schedule, going to bed at 10 and waking up at 6. But now he was up until the early hours of the morning, overthinking and hating himself. He wakes up three or four times a night from the same recurring nightmare. It’s a replay from the clear night of July ‘84, when he took over everyone’s TV screens. His doctor prescribed him therapy for it, which would probably help, but Maxwell just can’t afford it.

He wakes up to the sound of a bang on his front door. Max scrambles to his feet in a panic, checking the time on his alarm clock. It’s 2pm. And the person at the door could easily be his landlord, finally having enough and kicking him out. Max’s rent is two months overdue.

But it’s not his unforgiving landlord. It’s you. And you’re holding a fruit basket.

“Hey neighbour!” you smile pleasantly before introducing yourself to him. “I just moved in across the hall. I wasn’t sure what you’d like… but I figured everyone likes fruit!”

Maxwell stays quiet, standing there in complete disbelief. No one has shown him this amount of kindness in so long…

The prolonged silence makes you feel a little strange. He still hasn’t accepted the fruit basket, nor had he said anything. He was just… staring at you. It wasn’t a slimy gawk. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what his dark eyes were trying to tell you.

“—I’m sorry,” you continue eventually when he doesn’t speak, dropping the fruit basket by your side and turning away. “I uh— would you like me to get you something else?”

Maxwell’s eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head. “No!” he exclaims, opening his front door wider and taking the fruit basket from you. “I’m sorry,” he apologises. “I uh— I love fruit.”

You smile at his fluster, and you swear you notice a rosy pink blush cross his cheeks. It’s adorable.

“Oh okay, that’s good then.”

Maxwell prays you can’t hear his stomach grumble at the sight of the fresh fruit. He’s so excited to eat it all. “How can I repay you?”

You raise your eyebrows at his proposition and chuckle awkwardly. “Repay me? No no,” you laugh. “It’s just a fruit basket,”

It wasn’t just a fruit basket though. It was the only food Max had.

“I mean, you could tell me your name.”

Maxwell curses, realising he hasn’t even introduced himself. Gods— he wonders when exactly he’d lost his charm.

“Right, I’m sorry. I’m Max.” He extends his arm and offers you a handshake. You giggle, but accept.

He feels a bolt of electricity run up his arm when your fingers interlink with his, and he wonders if you can feel it too.

“Very formal Max,” you acknowledge with a smile.

Maxwell genuinely hasn’t communicated with anyone since July 1984. It’s probably about time he ditches the businessman persona, although he doesn’t realise he still uses it from time to time. Old habits die hard.

“I must say, I feel like I recognise you from somewhere.”

“No. You don’t.” Maxwell quickly snaps back and you’re afraid you struck a nerve.

There’s a longer silence and you find yourself wondering about your neighbour. He’s right in front of you and yet you can’t help but feel as though he’s some kind of enigma. Maybe it’s the crinkles in the corner of his eyes or his wry smile.

“Um…” you mumble, your gaze trailing behind him as you try and peer into his apartment. You can’t see much though. From where you stand it looks very empty… and brown. “If you weren’t busy tonight maybe you could come over and we could get to know each other. I uh-- don’t have many friends yet.” you explain shyly, nervously biting your lip.

You didn’t usually get nervous talking to new people, but there was just something about Maxwell that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His presence made butterflies flutter in your tummy and your hands feel clammy with excitement… or maybe anticipation. He stares at you blankly before clearing his throat.

“I uh-- yeah I mean-- maybe,” Maxwell shrugs cooly. “If I’m not busy.”

Pft, busy. Max hasn’t been busy since the dreamstone debacle.

“Of course,” you nod your head and smile. “Well, you’re welcome to come on over anytime.”

And then, without thinking, Maxwell replies. “And you’re welcome to come over here anytime too.”

You feel your smile grow into a grin and you reach out, placing your hand on Max’s arm. “Okay, well, it was nice meeting you.” you bite your lip.

Max’s heart stops when you touch him, and for the first time, he doesn’t flinch away. You’re holding his bicep and… he likes it. It’s not sending him into a spur of anxiety, in fact, he feels better just for finally plucking the courage to talk to you. And now you’re touching him. You’re not repulsed or disgusted… in fact, you’re smiling. You look happy, and maybe Max is happy too. Maybe. Max doesn’t even realise the small smile that’s crept upon his lips.

“Nice meeting you too.” He swallows and you wave goodbye.

He watches you walk back into your apartment, drinking in your appearance. You were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt today. It was casual… but he liked it.

Even when he finally gets back into his apartment and slumps against his front door, he’s still smiling. This feeling is so unfamiliar.

Maxwell finds himself pondering whether or not he should visit you tonight. He so desperately wanted to see you again-- see your pretty face and sparkling eyes and that perfect smile. Maybe Max could have a friend. That would be nice.

But he quickly gets scared again. He knows immediately that you’re too good for him, and that he’ll only end up hurting you. And then he’ll be left alone again. Max doesn’t know if he can survive another heartbreak.

Once again, he lights a cigarette and sits on the balcony, and wonders if the jump will kill him.

Then he realises he suddenly doesn’t want to die. At least, not yet. He wants to see you again first.

Max doesn’t even bother finishing the cigarette. He taps away the ash and climbs back inside, stripping himself of his clothes and turning on the shower. If he was going to see you tonight, he’d at least make the effort.

The soap he uses is from Dollar Tree, and it doesn’t really have a scent. It made a change from his favourite Jo Malone pomegranate fragranced soap, that’s for sure. He gets annoyed trying to squirt out the very little remenints of his shampoo bottle. Although he doesn’t have much, he’s satisfied when he comes out of the shower. He feels clean and fresh.

Maxwell rakes through his tiny collapsing wardrobe, trying to find an outfit that will make him appear somewhat presentable. He’s probably overthinking this whole thing -- after all, it isn’t exactly a date. But he still feels the strong inclination to impress you. He so desperately wants to be liked by you.

Most of his everyday wear is stained or ripped or very aged. But then he spots the small duffel bag at the bottom of his closet and he remembers he packed some of his old business wear when he moved out of his manor and into this apartment. He hadn’t looked in the duffel bag once since moving though, afraid that seeing the clothes would unleash some kind of trauma on him.

Max crosses his legs and hesitantly unzips the black bag. Inside, he finds a few fitted shirts, a few tailored pants, and one suit jacket. He even spots a belt and two patterned ties. He’s a little upset though when he can’t find the suspenders he used to wear. They were always his favourite part of his outfit.

Maxwell can’t bring himself to dress in the whole get up, but he does pick out a white button down shirt and grey pants. He tucks the shirt in, and wraps the belt through the loops in his pants, clicking it into place. Opting to look slightly more casual, Max leaves the first two buttons of his shirt undone and rolls the sleeves up to his elbows.

And for the first time in a long time, Max likes the way he looks. He wishes he had some cologne to spray, and he could definitely do with a haircut, but this is good enough.

He doesn’t want to seem desperate, so he does wait (albeit impatiently) until 8:30pm to see you. In the meantime, he eats over half of the fruit basket. He tells himself he’ll stop after an apple and an orange, but strangely enough. He can’t. He can’t stop. It just tastes so good and he’s so hungry -- so he eats until he feels sick. He wants to lie down because he really doesn’t feel too good at all, but he’s not going to pass up this opportunity to see you for anything. He feels a little cold, so he throws on his suit jacket which is grey in colour and matches the tailored pants. Max chokes down a glass of water, straightens up his posture, and knocks on your door.

He’s not waiting for long, and he’s delighted when he sees you answer the door. Your lips are painted a ruby red colour and you’re wearing your hair differently. Not only that, but you’d changed out of your sweater and jeans, and now you’re doting a knee length flowy dress. Your feet are slipped into some fuzzy looking slippers though, and Max admires the small diamond stud earrings that you don. They really bring out the colour of your eyes.

“I was hoping you’d come.” you reveal nervously, opening the door wider and looking your neighbour up and down. He looks so incredibly handsome in his change of outfit. Max feels himself blush under your gaze and he smiles.

“I just couldn’t pass this up.” he laughs nervously.

You move out the way and gesture for him to enter your apartment. Max notes that it’s roughly the same size as his, but it’s already filled with more furniture. Judging from the plentiful cardboard boxes in every corner, you hadn’t finished unpacking either. You find yourself watching Max as he takes in your front room. You take his jacket and hang it on your coat peg which stands by your front door. You definitely do recognise him from somewhere, especially seeing him in that shirt and those pants…

You shrug off your curiosity temporarily though, and take his hand, pulling him into your kitchen. Max loves the way your hand fits so perfectly into his. He doesn’t want you to pull away. And you don’t, until you reach the refrigerator.

“I have cranberry juice, tea, coffee-- no milk though, uh…” you trail off and check the cupboards. You beam when you see the bottle of champagne that your friend had gifted you. It was to celebrate moving out. You present him with it and grin. “Would you care to have a glass with me?”

Max remembers the distinct taste of the bubbles on his lips and he nods in agreement. You don’t have any fancy glasses, let alone flutes, so you pour the pale yellow liquid into two plastic tumblers. You hand one to Max and cradle your own in both of your hands.

“You should propose a toast.” you laugh jokingly.

Luckily, Maxwell has always been able to handle being put on the spot. He only takes a few seconds to come up with something.

“To new friends.” he announces with a charming smile, and clinks his cup against yours.

Max hasn’t had a drink in a long time, so it doesn’t take long for it to reside in his system and he begins to feel a bit tipsy. It’s not bad though. Maxwell is relaxed, and he’s comfortable. You bounce off each other and make each other laugh right up until the early hours of the morning. You bring out Monopoly and you’re surprised at how good he is at it. He gives you advice on buying properties and investments and it truly sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. You wonder what he does for a living.

“I didn’t say this earlier,” Max says as you pour out the last of the champagne. The alcohol has him buzzing with confidence. “But you look breathtaking, really. That dress and those earrings and your lips…”

And you don’t know what it is, but Max just makes you feel so good. “My lips?” you repeat breathlessly, gazing into his honeyed brown eyes.

Max nods wordlessly when you climb into his lap and straddle his hips. You place the palms of your hands flat against his chest and nudge your nose against his, giggling playfully. Max feels scared -- he’d never been this close to anyone in so long, let alone a beautiful woman like yourself.

Gods, he’s so handsome too. A small piece of his hair has fallen out of place and it crosses his forehead. You’re quick to brush it out of his face with your finger, and one of your hands cup his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the warmth of your touch, humming in contentment. When he opens his eyes again, they’re noticeably shades darker.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice low like it had dropped a few octaves.

You nod desperately and your lips crash against his.

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the adrenaline but he’s an amazing kisser -- perhaps the best you’ve ever had. You roll your hips over his lap and he moans, but doesn’t break the kiss once. His large hands roam around your back and squeeze at the soft flesh of your thighs. The Monopoly game has been long discarded now, leaving only you and Max revelling in each other’s touch.

You want more. You want him. You dip your hand in between your bodies and find his belt, trying your best to undo the buckle so you can get him out of his pants. You’re certain you can feel his erection pressing against the inside of your thigh, and you’d be right in thinking he wants this too.

But what he wants the most, is to not ruin things between you both, and Max feels like that maybe this is all happening a bit too fast. He doesn’t want to reject you, and he’s afraid of hurting you, but he’s also afraid of you getting so close to him -- that you find out who he truly is, and the things he does. He doesn’t want to lose you because you make him feel so happy. For the first time in potentially years, Maxwell feels genuine happiness. He doesn’t want to fuck up, not when he’s been doing so well.

So he pulls away from you breathlessly and moves your hands away from him. He holds them though, brushing his thumbs in comforting circles against your soft skin.

“I really like you,” he smiles. “And tonight has been… great. You have no idea how much I’ve enjoyed myself. But I-- I really want to see you again. And do this again. And have a good time with you. I just don’t think we should-- you know--” Maxwell tries to explain. He feels bad for rejecting you. “It’s not that I don’t want to. Because trust me,” he sighs, closing his brown eyes. “I really really do. But--”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” you smile, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I understand, and honestly, I think you’re probably right. I’ve had a good time too though.”

Maxwell can’t help but beam knowing that there’s no hard feelings between you both.

“So we can do this again?” he asks hopefully.

“Yes.” you reply, pressing a chaste yet sweet kiss to his lips.

You wiggle off his lap and Maxwell stands up. “I should head back home then,” he says. “It’s late. But maybe we can do something tomorrow?”

“I’d like that a lot.” you agree.

Max gives you one final kiss and part of you wants to ask him if he’d be willing to stay the night. You shake away the temptation and tell yourself there’d be plenty more opportunities for him to stay over. Before he leaves, you see him abruptly spin around on his heel and point his index finger towards you.

And your heart drops.

You freeze.

You think you can feel your blood run cold and the colour drain out of your face.

Because in that moment, when he points his finger at you, you recognise him.

You remember him.

You know who he is.

“I almost forgot my jacket.” Max laughs, sliding past you.

You feel like you can’t move though.

This was the man who single handedly almost destroyed the entire planet.

But how -- how could it be Maxwell Lord? He was so sweet and kind and funny. How could the man you just made out with, the man you shared a bottle of champagne with -- your own neighbour…

How could it be Maxwell Lord?

How hadn’t you noticed sooner. Hell, his name was literally Max Lorenzano.

“Goodnight.” Max tells you.

You try and force yourself to say it back but no words come out. Your throat feels dry and you’re panicking.

Max doesn’t even notice though. He’s too busy beaming with happiness when he leaves.

You aren’t sure if you’re going to see him again.

When Maxwell gets back home, he can’t rid himself of the grin that’s plastered across his lips. He sits out on the balcony and lights a cigarette, but this time, when he looks at the ground beneath you, he doesn’t wonder if the jump will kill him.

His eyebrows furrow together when he notices the florist across the road, and he wonders how much a bouquet of flowers will cost him. He wants to get you something; as a thank you for giving him a good time.

He simply can’t wait to see you again.

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor r @pedro-pastel l @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @beskarprincessjenny @readsalot73 @softmedics @jade10077 @dodgerandevans @planetariumx @pascals-cat t @ajeff855 @spideysimpossiblegirl @smoldjarin

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #ww84

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professorspork · 3 years

Note

Remembering your masterclass of a mini-fic made me think of Ruby finding the tip of Crocea Mors after, operating on the blissful misunderstanding that Cinder stole her friend's soul in two and broke it in two killing Penny and. God her whole friendship with Jaune was built on oversharing about weapons and making his feel like more than just a hand-me-down, and now that memory is, in bloody pieces.

(Well if you’re going to bandy about compliments like masterclass I’m gonna just lose my mind completely and continue it, even if that means only barely addressing the thing you actually brought up. Sorry about that. And it’s possible that neither of us knows what “blissful” means.)--

It takes the better part of an hour to coax Ruby away from Penny’s body.

(Or at least, Blake thinks it does. It’s a little hard know for sure, because time is weird here. Like when you get lost in a good book and suddenly look up and realize you’re sitting in the dark because the sun went down without you noticing, only somehow in reverse-- the shock coming not from the passage of time, but from the nagging sense that it refuses to. There’s a stillness here that makes her teeth ache; makes the hair on her upper arms prickle like she’s being watched.)

She doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing she can say, nothing that can make it better, and she knows that, but. She’s never felt quite so unequal to a task in her life. She’s not Ruby, with her usually-boundless optimism and hope; she’s not Weiss, all aggressive support and unexpected insight; she’s not--

She’s not---

(She’s not thinking about Yang, she’s not, because if she lets herself the thought will consume her, and it won’t leave room for anything else. She can’t fall apart. Ruby needs her, and Yang would want her to take care of Ruby. So that’s what Blake’s going to do.)

But everything she can think of to say feels hollow and cruel. What can they do? Bury her, in this place time’s forsaken? Promise to come back for her, as though escape is possible? The last time Ruby was this miserable, at Schnee Manor with Yang--

--(don’t think about Yang)--

-- well. Blake hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but her ears are sensitive. And thinking back on it now, it’s nothing anyone said that snapped Ruby out of her spiral. It was breaking glass and Jaune’s boots on the stairs; it was the thought that--

That Penny needed her.

“Ruby, we have to keep going,” she says softly. Rubbing at the nape of Ruby’s neck the way her mom used to, when Blake was young and couldn’t sleep after a nightmare.

As though there’s any waking up from this.

“I can’t.”

“I know it’s hard, but we have to, we--”

“I can’t. I-- I c-can’t find any more bodies, Blake. I can’t.”

(Blake knows what it feels like, to be impaled. This is worse.)

“We w--” (She swallows back her won’t. She doesn’t want to lie.) “I’m alive. You’re alive. If anyone else fell after us, they might be-- I mean at the very least, Yang’s probably--”

“I know,” Ruby interrupts-- not testy, exactly, just simple and clear. “No offense, but if I thought Yang were dead, I wouldn’t-- I mean, I couldn’t--”

Blake can relate to that feeling, too. She squeezes Ruby’s shoulder, hoping it comes across as reassuring instead of like the needy grasp for her own reassurance it really is. “Then let’s go find her.”

“But I...” Ruby looks mournfully back down at Penny’s body; at the way her own is now covered in Penny’s blood, from clinging to her so tight.

The question’s out of Blake’s mouth before she can really consider what it is she’s offering:

“Do you want me to carry her? Take her with us?”

(She would do it, if Ruby asked her to. Gladly. She’s done it before; she’s stronger than she looks.)

The question seems to take Ruby aback; knocks a little bit of life back into her vacant gaze. “No, I-- no. Thank you. We should... let her rest. She never got to--” Tears gather again at the corners of her eyes, but she holds them off, this time. “-- I always told her she never understood the glory of naps. I bet she was looking forward to that.”

It’s a horrifying thought, really, but it’s the best they have. So they pick themselves up, and off they go-- Ruby casting forlorn glances over her shoulder every few steps, but always, always moving forward.

They travel along the tree line, so they’ve got eyes on the beach and the forest at once. Occasionally they call names-- arbitrary, hopeless, unsure of who might be down here with them-- but mostly they sniffle, and keep to themselves.

It’s Ruby who spots the glint of metal first. “Crocea Mors!” she gasps, running, which-- seriously? Blake can see the sword, but taken out of context like this she has no idea how Ruby could tell what she was looking at from so far off. Only maybe it’s not so surprising; the only person with better recall for weapons than Ruby that Blake’s ever met is Velvet. Then: “Oh, no--”

It’s Crocea Mors, alright.

Half of it. Covered in blood.

“Do you think--?”

They both saw the stab wound in Penny’s stomach; both saw the lack of burns accompanying it. If Cinder did this, if she broke Jaune’s sword in two and used it to cut Penny down, then Jaune-- Jaune’s probably--

(But no, she can’t think like that. She’s only carrying half a weapon herself right now, and she’s still standing. It doesn’t have to mean anything.)

(Only now she’s dwelling on it, thinking about the thin line of gold that knit Gambol Shroud back together once before. Thinking about the gold on his shield. And it’s unbearable.)

“It was the last he had of--”

“It was his great-great-grandfather’s,” Ruby says, pointedly enough that Blake realizes if she’d managed to say Pyrrha’s name aloud, the girl before her would have shattered like the sword in her hand. “We’ve lost-- so many people, and all we can do is get used to it, carve them up and carry the pieces like it’s normal, and--”

A voice cuts through the quiet, interrupting them:

“Weiss? Ruby? Anyone?!”

Jaune’s alive Weiss fell that’s Jaune that was Jaune--

They take off running into the woods.

They find Jaune in a clearing, Crescent Rose mounted safely on his back, bracing his mouth between cupped hands as he hollers. “Blake? Yang? Hello?”

When he gets a good look at Ruby when they emerge from the trees-- at the crimson painting her front, at the severed steel held in her hands-- he goes silent.

Then he falls to his knees, and sobs:

“She asked me to, she asked me to, I’m so sorry-- but Winter’s-- it worked, it’s what she wanted, please, I’m so sorry, she told me--”

The words don’t make any sense...

... until suddenly they do.

Blake thought that surely, after everything, she knew all of the ways that devastation could paint Ruby Rose’s features. The pain and sorrow and grief and rage and impotent, helpless shock.

She was wrong.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #blake belladonna #ruby rose #penny polendina #jaune arc #blake and ruby #fic what i wrote #ruby and penny #natsu-tigre

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alloveroliver · 4 years

Text

Jung Hi x MC “Brazen.”

Rating: Smut, 18 up, minors DNI

A|N: Hi gets railed by MC on camera. The video is sent to Sujee so she can cry about it because we all hate her. #spitefic

WC: 4000+

*Tags*: Sub!Hi, Dom!MC, Pegging, Femdon, Voyeurism Implications, Edging, Overstimulation, Forced Orgasm, Bondage, Master, Degrading, Crying <3.

Love Unholyc Fanfic

Loud breaths came from beyond the bedroom door, gasps, and choked moans alike. She pressed her ear to the wood and froze, hearing Hi’s telltale mewl of pleasure. She twisted the doorknob slowly and took a tentative step inside the room.

“Babe?” She made eye contact with him as she entered. “What's going on?”

Hi sat naked, sans his black collar, on top of their bed. His pale skin tinged pink as he huffed air. His legs were spread, hand slowly moving up and down his cock. He sat upright against the headrest and pressed his head into the wall.

He sent her a tired smile, batting his lust-filled eyes. “I started to touch myself to the thought of you,” He gulped, glancing over to the corner of the room. A camera stood on a tripod aimed at him, red light on indicating he was recording himself. “But… I didn’t cum yet. I’ve been edging myself because I wanted you to be the one to make me cum.”

His honesty fueled her footsteps toward him. She took in the sight of his naked frame, oogling his bare chest. His heels pressed into the comforter with every slow stroke he made. She eyed his cock, thick and red from what looked like a long edging session. Veins bulged from the side while his length shone a deep red that contrasted the rest of his skin.

“I-I…” He stuttered as she stared at his aching sex. “I wanted you to see me like this, M-master…” He whispered, letting go of his cock that was sure to burst any moment.

Her heart throbbed as his salacious confession. Her mind quickly caught up with the situation, and she began to take on the role he wished her to portray.

“How long have you been edging yourself for me, baby?” She eyed the camera then looked back at him.

She slid up on the bed, pressing his thighs apart to get a better look at the mess he’d made. His engorged cock leaked precum down the tip, dripping down to his balls.

“Thirty or-so minutes.” He licked his lips as she grew closer.

She kissed the tip of his cock, taking the base in her hand and squeezing just a bit.

“That's a long time. You sure you can hold out for much longer?”

“No, not for much longer. Now that you’re here, I- Ah!” He tossed his head back, chest rising rapidly.

Her tongue slid up the length of his cock. She placed her lips on the tip and sucked lightly.

Hi gasped as she pressed more kisses along his straining cock. She hummed against his skin, watching his knees slide closed against her body.

“And what do you want from me, baby boy?” She nipped at his thigh with her teeth, keeping eye contact with him.

Hi sipped air before he spoke. “I want you to… allow me to cum. Please. Make me cum.”

His hair was a mess around his face, flipping this way and that. He’d been edging himself into a total wreck while he waited for her.

She placed her hand on his hip and tugged quickly, making him lay flat against the mattress. He looked up at her, startled but trusting her to take the lead. The corners of his eyes began to prickle with tears as she ran one finger up and down his aching shaft.

“It looks like you’ve played with your cock for a while, but” She leaned back, pushing his legs up and out of her way. “It seems as if you haven't even touched your ass.”

Hi's mouth flew open, but no sound came out. Eyeing the camera for a long moment, he regained his composure. He gulped then tried again, “N-no. I haven't’. I don’t like the feeling of touching myself there. It feels better when someone else… Well, when you do it”

“Mind if I?’ She traced her finger around his hole, sending him a sinful smile.

Her hand slid all over his center, making sure to make contact with every part of him. Sliding up his body, she took his hands into hers and gently guided them up above his head—the quirks of being a kinky couple allowed for built-in restraints along the bed. There were two on every side of the bed making eight in total, but today she’d just use these two.

“W-wait!” He stared at her wide-eyed when she pulled the built-in cuffs out from under the headboard.

“Baby,” She cupped his face, kissing his pouting lips. “You said you’ve been edging yourself. I just want to examine you to see just how far gone you are. But, I can’t do that with our hands getting in the way.”

He nods, light sparkling in his eyes as she secures the cuffs around his wrists. He relaxes his arms back, blushing deeper as he makes eye contact with the camera.

“How many people are you planning to send this video to this time?” She teases, opening the side table drawer to grab a bottle of lube.

He tries to chuckle, but he's too far gone for casual conversation. “You know me~.”

“I have someone in mind.” She whispers under her breath, taking a toy out from the second drawer. Her tone was low, but she could see Hi’s brows raise.

“Don’t tell me, y-yet…” He smiled, pressing his face into his arm as excitement built.

She pops the top to the lube and squeezes a healthy amount onto his dick. Hi shivers as the goop drips down this shaft, down his balls, and over his ass. She pushes his legs open more, lifting his hips to expose him to the camera. She squeezes lube directly onto his ass, and Hi sighs. He reflexively moves to close his legs, but she has other ideas.

“Ah, don’t be shy now, Hi. Let me, and them," She nods to the camera. "see all of you.”

Hi bites his lip and lets his knees fall apart. “Like this… Master?”

“Yes, just like this. You’re so good for me, Hi.”

Her finger circles around the rim of his ass before pressing gradually inside. Hi’s hips jump at the intrusion. His neglected cock remained hot and erect before her.

She effortlessly adds a second finger and exhales. “You’re such a slut.” Her words make Hi’s eyes shoot open.

“Mmm… Master.” He mewled, relaxing his body to allow for a third finger to enter.

“Do you like this, Hi?” She separates her fingers just a tad, making him buck into her.

“Yes! Yes, yes!” He swiveled his hips as she slid them in and out of him slowly. “I l-like it when you finger my ass… Master.” He tossed his head back, chest heaving for more air.

She sped up her movements and twisted her fingers back and forth. The lube was ample enough to keep the area nice and slick.

“Good boy, such a good boy, taking my fingers like this.”

Hi hummed at the praise smiling in a haze of drunk lust.

“Your ass is begging to be filled, Hi. Do you want me to fill it, baby? Do you want me to tend to your needs?”

He huffed through a whimper. “Yes… Will you let me cum then? I’m scared I might cum the second you put it in.”

“You know how to hold it by now. I’ve trained you many, many times. You can hold it for me, can’t you, baby?”

“Yes, yes, Master. I promise to hold it until you give me permission.”

He choked back a sob as her fingers left his needy hole. Hi began to clench against nothing as she moved to the other side of the bed.

She took the toy she’d laid out earlier and removed her clothes. The strap-on was easy to step into. She tightened it against her pelvis and crawled on the bed toward Hi. He watched every moment, wide-eyed and patient.

She slid to the side of his body and teased the tip of the dildo on his plump lips. “Why don’t you wet it for me, baby. Open that pretty little mouth of yours.”

He complied, stretching his lips over the large toy and taking it in. Hi bobbed his head over the toy, licking around it to make it slicker. She slid the toy deeper and deeper down his throat until Hi choked.

“That’s perfect,” She cooed, taking his hair into a fist and shoving him onto the toy cock over and over again.

He sucked and slurped at the intrusion, taking it down his throat and choking on it all over again.

“You’re such a good slut for me, Hi. I love how you're so willing to do anything to please me. To please your Master.”

“Mmm,” He hummed over the toy and nodded, cheeks flushed and wet from stray tears. He gagged again as she forced it deeper. Coughs spilled out of him as she removed the toy from his mouth. Drool slid down his chin, but she ignored it.

Moving between his legs again, she lined her cock up with his. She pressed the toy to his member and jerked them both off, watching Hi pull and twisted at the restraints. His cock was deep red, begging for release as it bulged.

She stroked twice more before stopping. Hi rolled his hips upward, begging for just a second more stimulation. “I’m so close! So close…” He began to chant.

She teased the tip of the toy around his ass. More lube was added to the cock and to his ass to ensure pleasure instead of pain. She pressed lightly against his hole then back again. Hi’s moans were higher pitched as he tossed his head back into the bed.

His red hair clung to his forehead, eyes hazy and squint. She teased the tip again, pressing and stretching but not entirely entering.

“Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.” She smacked the toy cock over his hole, causing the idol to jolt.

Hi spread his legs further, angling his hips upward for a better viewpoint in good faith. His stiff neglected cock strained into the air. “Please fuck me! I need you to fill me up. I want to feel so full because of you, please.”

“Beg me, Hi. Convince me that this is what you really want.” She tapped the dick along his hole again. She used her free hand to stroke his lubed up cock, smearing the concoction of lube and precum around his shaft.

“P-please!” He sputtered out, pushing his hips down to where his ass pressed against the dildo. “I want to cum! Please let me cum f-f-from my ass being fucked. I want you to fuck me so good! Please master. I need you. I want you inside of me!” A sob takes over, and he takes a breath to calm himself down.

“Such a good boy.” She teases the head against his ass more, pressing slightly to open him up.

“I need you to fuck me with that cock, please. I need to feel full. I-I’m your slut! I’m your slut. I’ll do anything for you! I’ll do anything for that cock, please!” Hi babbled, his arms flexing until his biceps ballooned.

Her brows quirked up. “Anything?”

“Yes! Any- wait!” He gulped back his words, sniffling back his tears. “Wait, what do you have in mind?”

“Do you want this cock or not, Hi? I thought you needed me to fuck your ass.”

His eyes grew wide as she slid away from his entrance. "I want it!” He backpedaled. “I need it, please, fuck me. Hard! I… I like it rough. Oh, god-I want to cum so fucking bad. Pleaseeeee. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care. I’ll do anything. Anything!”

She moved back, pressing the cock back into his hole.

“Yeah,” He choked back a sob. “Yeah, just like that. More, oh, please give me more cock.”

She pressed even further into his stretching hole. “Spread your legs more, Hi. Let me see that useless hole of yours I’m going to fuck.”

He eyed the camera and moaned. Hi spread his knees and lifted his feet off the bed to angle himself more. The position was humiliating, but she knew the humiliation went right to his cock.

“That’s it,” She rubbed his thigh while pressing into him. “That’s it, relax for me.”

The cock slid easily into his hole, slick with lube. She went slowly to ease him into the size of the toy. Hi’s legs began to shake as she slid in to the halfway point.

“Use me,” He mewled. “Use me up until I’m useless.”

“Oh, I will, baby. I will. You can count on it.” She thrust, slipping the dildo all the way to the hilt. Her pelvis pressed firmly against his ass.

“It’s all the way in, just like you wanted. Now, why don’t you fuck yourself on my cock. Go on,” She coaxed, “Show me how much you like being fucked in the ass.

His movements are erratic at the start. He moaned as he rocked his hips toward her. The toy impaled him over and over, and Hi’s cock dripped more pre from the tip.

“Fuuuck fuck! It feels so good, Master! Your c-cock.” He tossed his head back, getting a good rhythm going now. “So fucking good.” He followed her instructions, fucking himself before she even moved.

“Mmm,” She watched him come undone below her. “My turn.”

She began pumping her hips against him, fast and hard, just as he requested. Hi’s back arched off the bed as wet sounds filled the room.

“The friction feels so fucking good. Ah!” Hi screwed his eyes shut, head pressing hard down to the bed.

“I love how you let me use you like this. Like you’re just a hole for me to fuck, and nothing more.” She thrust into him harder for good measure.

“Yes, Master,” He hardly responded to her. His moans were coming out like a rushing river.

Skin on skin slapped together as Hi dug his heels into the mattress. She grabbed his neglected cock and began pumping up and down along the slick shaft. Hi let out a strangled sob as she stroked him faster.

“Do you like this, Hi? The double stimulation? Ah, but what does it matter? You're just my doll.”

He rutted his hips up into her hand. “I’m just a fuck toy.” He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing the pooled tears to fall down his cheeks. “I’m just a hole for you to fuck, Master.”

“That’s right, baby. You're just my little fuck doll. A hole for me to plow into whenever I damn well please.”

“Yes! Yes, Master.” His words became choked sobs as his cock throbbed in her hand. “Mm-Master! May I cum, please?”

“Not yet.”

He took in a breath far too quickly and wailed. “No!!! No, Master, please! I can’t hold back any longer. I can’t! I need to cum. I’m going to cum!”

“Don’t you dare cum.” She squeezed his cock and Hi let out a twisted moan.

“Ple-” He thrashed against the restraints clenching around the cock fucking his ass.

“Count to five. Then you may cum.”

“Ah! Thank you! One! Two!”

She shakes her head. “Slower, start over.”

He wept with tears streaming down his face. “One-” He pants, trying to calm his cries.

“Two-”

“Good boy,” She smooths her hand up and down his cock graciously,

“Four-” He whispered, clenching his eyes shut.

“You forgot three. Start over.”

Hi jerked into her hand. “Master! I can’t! Oh my... Fucking god!. Oh my god- ONE!”

“Keep going.” She pumped his cock faster.

“TWO!” Another sob takes over him as he bucks his ass against the dildo.

“THREE!” His toes curl, and he pinches his eyes shut.

“Doing good, baby. Doing really really well.” She reassures him, keeping up the same pace that's been keeping him on the cusp for minutes now.

“F-FOUR! Fuck yeah, fuck my ass harder!” He shakes as she speeds up her movements.

She obliges, fucking him rougher than before. Soft slick smacks fill the room that can most definitely be heard on the recording.

“FIVE!!” He screams.

“Cum,” She allows, angling his cock to his chest.

His thighs shake as ropes splash onto his abs. “Feels… so good.” His mouth lulls open as his cock pulses hard in her hand. “Feels soooo fucking good. Oh god…” More cum spurts out, coating his sweating skin in white.

Several moments passed and his dick hardly pulses anymore, but his body still writhed.

“Was it worth it, baby?” She asked, still stroking him just as fast.

“Still... Still feels so good.” He mewled, back arching. His hips pressed down into the stroke of her cock.

“Such a good little slut for me, Hi. You’re so good for me.” She stroked his spent cock faster, and Hi’s moans grew higher pitched.

“Shit- S-slow down! You can stop! I came! I came already!” He tried to catch his breath, wiping his tears on his arm the best he could.

“I thought you said you were just a hole for me to fuck.” She reminded him with a smirk.

The room went quiet.

“I-”

“So that's what I’m doing. I’m fucking this little ass of yours until I feel like it.” She kept up a rough pace as Hi regained his faculties.

He gulped back a sob and relaxed his arching back, allowing the thrusts to rock his body. “I’m so sensitive. It’s so sensitive!” He moaned as another throb pulses in his cock.

“Are you going to cum again? So soon, my little fuck doll?”

“I think!” Hi’s back began to arch again. “I feel another building. Oh my god…” He jerked against the restraints and screamed into the room.

Hi didn’t even ask this time. He couldn’t. His voice would be hoarse if he kept up his yelling, so he bit his lip instead. Cum began to rope out of his spent cock, going down her hand to land on his lower belly.

“Oof, such a bad boy. You didn’t even ask permission.” The cum coating made for extra lewd slick sounds from her pumping his cock.

He could hardly keep his eyes open as the last of his cum dribbled down the tip. His body flexed and relaxed as the last wave of the orgasm pulsed throughout it.

She stopped stroking and pulled out of his ass. Hi eased against the bed, sweating, and panting.

“Flip over,” She ordered.

“Yes, Master,” He mumbled, sucking in air as quickly as he could.

He began to move but was too weak, still writhing in the aftershock of his orgasms. She helped him flip over gradually.

His bound arms twisted into an X shape as his face pressed into the bed.

“Ass up.” She urged.

He could hardly hold up on his knees as they wobbled like jello. He finally found a good position and stabilized himself.

“Good job, Now.” She lined the toy up with his hole then slammed it into his asshole all at once. “Let me have some more fun with you.”

Hi huffed and moaned as she fucked him roughly. He pushed his ass back into the speed as she slammed against his cheeks.

“That spot! Oh-” He mewled loudly. “That’s it! That’s the spot.” He assured, back muscles flexing with each hump.

“You like this angle, babe? Is this angle going to make you cum again?”

“Yes, Master! Oh, god, yes, Master. Right there, ohhh yeah.” His tongue lulled out further with each rough fuck to his prostate.

She rubbed the curve of his backside, then gave his ass a hard smack. Hi let out a string of curse words as his cheek turned into a red handprint. His cock wept, dripping onto the bedsheets.

“Master...Mmm,” He moaned, pulling the restraints on his wrist. “Can I…”

“You can cum, baby. Let me watch you cum untouched. I’m having fun watching this cock disappear into that stretched ass of yours.”

He seemed relieved as he began to shake. She could see his ass start to pulse around the dildo. Hi spewed cum onto the bedsheets as his climax engulfed him. He came less than before but still a significant amount. He huffed suddenly, as if he’d been holding his breath the whole time.

“Is this good, babe? Do you like this angle?”

“It’s too good! Oh, Master. I’m… No!”

Her brows rose. “No, what?”

“This angle, Ah!” He jolted with each thrust. “I’m going to cum again. It’s too much. I can’t stop cumming… I-”

“Cum for me.” She egged him on, holding onto his hips as she fucked him.

Hi groaned as his weeping cock twitched. He came again, hardly sputtering any fluids onto the bed this time.

“That’s a good boy.” She smoothed her hand over his red ass.

“OH! Don’t praise while you’re fucking me like that. NGH-” Hi tried to warn, but another shutter fluttered through his body. She watched his muscles flex and contract along his back and thighs. His worn-out cock hardly dripped onto the bed, utterly spent.

She slowed her pace and gently slid out of Hi’s ass.

“T-thank you, Master. Thank you, thank you.” He spoke as she pulled out entirely from him. His stretched ass fluttered. The hole clenched against nothing as his body still rolled with the aftershock. Lube dribbled out of him onto his red tinged thighs. She slid off the toy from her hips and tossed it aside.

He collapsed onto the bed with a woosh. Quickly, she undid the restraints and smoothed his hair out of his face. She kissed his forehead, his cheeks, and his lips. He kissed her back, humming with satisfaction.

She whispered too quietly for the camera to pick up. “Are you okay, babe? How do you feel?”

Kissing Hi’s face again, she began at the bridge of his nose. Her hand moved to his heated back, running along his spine. She rubbed circles over his shoulders, soothing his sore muscles.

“I feel better than ever.” Hi gave her an enthusiastic yet weak smile. “You’re so amazing.” He fondly kissed her lips and relaxed in her arms. His head dropped to a pillow covered in his drool and tears. She lifted his head slightly and moved a fresh pillow below him instead.

“I’m glad to hear that.” She locked eyes with him. “You didn’t use our safe word.” She rubbed circles over his wrists to make sure they wouldn’t be as sore the next day.

“Didn’t need to.” He smiled lazily, nuzzling into her chest. She held him for a long moment before getting up.

“One second.” She assured, sliding out of bed. She got off the bed, and walked over to turn off the camera. The red light faded, and she let out a long breath.

She hopped back into bed with Hi, leaving tons of tiny kisses all along his face and neck. He ‘Ooo’ed at the promise of a warm bath with her where she vowed to wash his hair. Hi hugged her close, keeping her in his arms until he caught his breath.

Part 2 with Sujee is coming soon <3 (It’s more of a companion piece and not a continuation of the fic above)

Hello! Thank you for reading! If you're a long-time follower, you know this is a little more out there for me. I tend to hold back based on the culture of the fandoms I am in, so I hope this wasn't too much lol.

Please play Unholyc with us! XD <3

Masterlist is at the top of my blog~ or search #love unholyc smut for more like this.

#love unholyc #love unholyc hi #love unholyc smut #hi x mc #jung hi #love unholyc jung hi #smut

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flirtyhyuck · 3 years

Text

Floor 1 - Incubus Haechan

; haechan x gender neutral reader

; incubus haechan, slight religious talk, suggestive, dubcon, demonic aphrodisiac

; 2.4k wc

; The entire room is painted black. The only thing you can see is your friend’s phone screen and the flickering orange light illuminating the elevator itself. It’s old fashion; dark-stain wood plank walls with a vintage scissor gate. The metal looks rusty and you’re afraid to touch it. You step into the small box alone, waving off your friend and nervously reading the attraction brochure for the fifteenth time. It’s creepily vague with way too bold of a font and too many colours.

Welcome to Elevator 127!

Come make an appearance at a spooky Halloween attraction unlike any haunted house you’ve ever seen. Pick a floor for an eerie hour with any of our paranormal members. Free of charge too! Pass the elevator doors and enter their realm far from any experience you’ve ever had.

Select your floor...

The very first listing in the brochure is for an incubus named Haechan; 606 years old, male (in human form), and Korean. There’s nothing but his information printed with what looks like a stamp of a sigil; two circles, one big and small, with three crosses meeting at their ends in the middle , laid 90 degrees separate from one another, with a flicked tail coming from the center. Lilith spells itself out between the edges of the circles in all capitals.

You scan the rest of the options but end up back at Haechan’s section. It’s best to go in order, he’s only a floor up and all the rest are placed in a drastic range from one another. You fold up the brochure and shove it into your back pocket, crumpling up the paper slightly, and scan the button selection for his floor. The pad is a painted rectangle with ten black, circular buttons, arranged in five rows with his placed alone at the very top. It’s damp when you press and you go to check your hands in the case it was your own sweat, grimacing when you find that there’s now a clear sheen on your right pointer.

With a final close of the door, you wipe your finger onto the thin brochure paper that peeks out and stand patiently as the elevator leisurely makes its way up. The floors were either built far apart or this old lift was taking its time on the way there. You check your phone for the time, feeling as if five minutes had already passed just for a single floor, and raise a brow when the device doesn’t turn on. How cliche, you think.

The elevator gently comes to a stop, so naturally that you wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the slight squeak that sounds when it halts. You press the door button and watch it squeak open, revealing a dim, red room with candles placed all over its wooden black furniture.

A second later, the view is obstructed by a large puff of smoke, a black cloud appearing out of nowhere to drift away in skinny tendrils from the body standing in the middle of it. You guess that this is Haechan. He’s a younger-looking man, an innocent face with a teasing smile and soft but prominent jawline. He’s got caramel skin with the reddest of lips, colour resembling the dark shade of horns that peek through his curled, light brown hair. He’s dressed in all black, head to toe varying from sheer mesh to worn leather in the dark shade.

“Hi,” he giggles as an introduction, a glittering in his black eyes and pearly whites. The man tilts his head like a curious puppy, eyes opening even wider with wonder, and he eyes you up and down before carrying on, “I’m Haechan, demon name is Donghyuck.”

You stand in shock, still taking in the sudden appearance of the incubus and his simple introduction. The first thing you do is give him your own name in a small mumble, biting your lip nervously. His eyes focus on the action with fervor, gaze so strong you swear you can feel a slight burn begin to bubble your skin on the exact spot.

He chuckles when you turn away, blinking in a lethargic manner before taking a step back and directing you into his room with a wave of two fingers. You walk in with a deep breath and the moment your body enters the room, the gate slams shut with a crash and plunges down so fast you can hear gusts of air follow behind it. How lucky that you didn’t have to experience that speed.

The first thing you notice is how warm it is here compared to the elevator, air stuffy, and dense. Your cheeks take in the warmth as you steady for proper breathing, adjusting to the thicker air as you take in the room properly. There’s a king-sized bed against the center of the left wall, covered in red satin and black lace lined sheets. With a proper inspection, the room is actually furnished like any other, only standing out due to its intimate and monotone colour palette. Besides the giant sigil that’s painted onto the center of the floor, identical to the brochure.

“Thanks for choosing my floor, doll. I was getting bored,” he smiles, still not moving an inch. His posture is like that of a statue, the only sense of life is the smile on his lips. With his hands crossed in front of his hips, he continues speaking with a charming lilt in a honey-coated voice, “the only rule on my floor is absolutely no religious or silver jewellery. Go put them in the box behind you.”

You spin around and make your way to the small glass box, open and waiting, before discarding any accessories that seem to be against his rule. The moment your necklace is off your skin and onto the box, you feel Haechan’s body stood a centimetre from your own. Leaning over your shoulder, he watches you drop the last of your rings into the box before whispering, “can I touch you?”

You barely get halfway through a nod before Haechan eagerly wraps his arms around your waist, pressing you against his own body. His skin is searing hot, only slightly hidden by the heat absorption of his clothing. The part that stands out the most is his bare fingers, ungloved, and laid on your sides. There’s a gradual sweltering feeling that forms like a branding print and your body begins to panic at the feeling, needing to run from the danger of burns this very moment. Except you lean into it, the slight numbing feeling worryingly satisfying the more you hold out. Sustaining the touch makes it more intense, more terrifying, yet when his hand drifts up to clutch at a different spot, the fresh searing feel has shivers flying down your spine.

“Close your eyes, doll,” he mutters into your nape. Your eyelids shut without any added thought of his order, lips parting in a slight gasp at the touch of his breath against your exposed skin. It’s overwhelming and you feel your brain go fuzzy, zeroing in on that singular spot and the throb that comes with every exhale .

His hand finds your jaw next, the touch burning just as much as the last, and with a firm hold, Haechan physically gets you to look over your shoulder. With a drowsy blink, you open your eyes to the dizzying sight of his face leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss. Your mind blanks immediately; senses working in overdrive so that all you can make out is static, you’ve forgotten how to breathe and there’s no way to feel if you’re kissing Haechan back properly.

The demon pulls back with a lewd pop, licking away the spit all over his lips with a swipe of his forked tongue before murmuring for you to open your eyes again. “You can relax now, baby.”

The action of blinking open is painfully difficult, eyelids insanely sluggish and head so heavy that even the low luminescence of candle-light is enough to have you wince. You open your mouth to speak but can only manage a smile, tongue lazy after the haze. He doesn’t look nearly as worn out as you, the exact opposite actually. His breathing is slow and controlled, expression alert and attuned to each and every one of your actions.

“I’ll let you relax,” he huffs with a simper, “I’ll have to calm down on how much I take, you’re more sensitive than I thought.” As if to check that truth, Haechan runs his pointer down your neck and follows the movement to the middle of your chest with a light scratch, digging into the midway point of your pelvis before letting go with an amused hum. You visibly shudder.

He pulls away and wanders to the other side of the room. The distance clears your head instantly, muscles gaining their strength back from the jello state they were in just a moment ago. Regaining the ability to breathe feels like a blocked nose finally clearing up after a week long fever and you take deep, desperate inhales, savouring the sensation of your lungs filling properly. Sitting up, you watch Haechan walk over to the glass box and examine the contents through the clear material curiously.

You startle realising you were no longer near the glass box, suddenly you were on a completely different side of the room watching it from a distance away. “What the fuck,” you whisper, gulping down the confusion and panting in fear. Your hands fly up and you look between them and the box so quickly your neck might snap if you do another two. The sleeves of your shirt fall down your forearm to reveal your skin, allowing access to cooling. You relish in the feeling of crisp air on your skin, exceptionally torrid, so much so you swear that you can feel the layer sizzling against one another.

“Don’t worry,” Haechan smirks, licking across his perfectly straight teeth with a calm gaze that only serves to panic you more. “I moved you to the bed while we were kissing.” There’s no shame in his voice, only a hint of pride when recalling the actions, but he’s so infuriatingly indifferent that you feel a whine crawl up your throat, feeling ignored.

Right, you think, inhaling once and twice to ground yourself after that blanking bliss. The satin is damp under your hands and it holds onto your legs surprisingly well, latching onto the sweat that has formed between before and now. “What happened to me?” you ask, breathless.

He stands up from where he was leaning over the box, strolling over the small distance with a slight smirk and watchful eyes. “You get weak when we touch,” he explains with a drag of his words, “having your essence isn’t the most powerful feeling after all.”

“My essence?” The saliva in your mouth is grossly thick, vicious, and somewhat salty. You’re dehydrated. There’s a bottle of water on the bedside table and you gulp half of it down in one go, forgoing the need to breathe in exchange for the cool liquid. The preparation is oddly excessive but you appreciate it nonetheless, necking the second half after less than ten seconds of being out of breath.

He watches you drink with a clouded gaze. The glaze in his eyes have disappeared, black irises dulling in emotion before expanding beyond their circumference, colouring part of his whites. You stare as they change and take a deep breath to control the fearful confusion of the sight. The night was strange enough, anymore questioning and your head would explode. Your lips, swollen and wet with more than just his spit is a delightful sight and Haechan feels himself grow impatient. “Are you ready to continue?” he hurries, trying his best to hide the hunger in his chest.

Continue with what, you don’t know, but there was absolutely no way you could take sitting around and doing nothing under his intense stare for any longer. You nod and he’s in front of you in half a second, on his knees and leaning forward with his hands on your thighs for support. “Okay,” he drawls, setting fire to your skin as he examines every line of your features, “I’m going to touch you. Are you okay with that?”

With the pressure of his hands on your body yet again, you feel your chest constrict once more before panting out a yes. He notices the effect and removes his hands, asking a second time to receive the same response, this time from a clear head. With your cue to go, Haechan’s pushing himself against you with haste and dives in to press your lips together. You chase after him when he pulls away, desperate and empty without his kiss.

“I could smell you the moment you got into the elevator,” he lulls, licking his tongue over the warm expanse of your neck. His saliva was cold, shockingly so, and you chase the chilling moisture desperately. The sharp gasp you let out is embarrassingly loud but Haechan, feverish, soaks the sound up, fingers tightening their grip on your shoulders as he noses at your neck.

“Smell what?” you shiver, afraid of moving even an inch away from his touch. It was dangerously enchanting and you find yourself losing your sense again, giving your all to the greedy demon. Haechan wasn’t taking nearly as much as before, you feel yourself becoming impatient, needing the overwhelming sensation for as long as you can take it. He pulls away with the widest grin on his face, the entirety of his eyes completely painted over in deep black. A misty cloud of smoke, like the one he introduced himself in, begins to surround you.

“Your arousal, of course,” he chuckles. He stuffs his nose into your clavicle, tracing up the line of your shoulder to inhale deeply. “It’s astoundingly suffocating.” The action would be weird if not for the warmth that gathers in your belly, one that dissipates into sparks that race down your limbs in a pleasant buzz.

“Do you like it?” you shudder, throwing your head back as he sucks at a pressure point in the junction of your neck and shoulders.

“Oh, my babydoll,” he growls, gripping your chin with his thumb to stare into your eyes, forcing you to gaze into his black. The rest of the room turns black in your peripheral, partially masking the wings that have grown from his back, but you can’t take notice with how potently demanding his stare is, not allowing you to look away for even a second.

His fingers, with nails that have become tough and black, wander up and push against your lips, fighting for entry before you feel his skin, now leathery and hot enough to bubble, lays flat against your tongue. It feels like your mouth is about to melt away yet you couldn’t want anything other than to be in this exact moment. Haechan’s grin stretches from ear to ear, wider than the length between his horns, and still, the harrowing image does nothing to deter your want. He leans forward and mumbles with the same honey, sweet voice as before, “I more than like it. Your arousal is a gift from God himself.”

#haechan #haechan x reader #haechan smut #haechan fanfic #nct x reader #nct #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream fanfic #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fanfic

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jjmjjktth · 3 years

Text

Chapter One: Intruder

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The portal was a strange experience, It felt different than whe Max used it; but she had been using a miraculous longer than he ever had. The gateway opened into a spacious courtyard closed by a large wooden gate with an iron portcullis. Along the stone-brick walls were gardens filled with vegetables and herbs. A little weedy… how odd, they don't appear to require any trimming. Even the grass isn't overgrown. Despite being built centuries ago, the temple appeared to be newly built. Maybe some of the Guardians were restored with the temple. On the other wall were racks and racks of weapons of all difficulty levels. Not even rusted! At her feet, the dirt was magically stained into an intricate symbol. The Order symbol? Maybe.

Finally preceding to the main doors she had to pause, the doors were ornately carved wood inlaid with gold. The carvings depicted the story of the founding of the order. Detailing the many wars and summits necessary to protect the miraculous and the world. Taking hold of the equally intricate, brass door-rings, Marinette pulled open the doors with surprisingly little difficulty.

The doors opened to a square-shaped pathway with arch-like pillars lining the right side opening to a lawn. A pool of clear water with a blossoming cherry tree on it’s bank, despite it being fall. Does it bloom year long? In the pool was the same symbol found in the courtyard. Along the left side of the stone path were plain wooden doors with a single, unique symbol carved where there would be a peephole on more modern doors. Upon closer examination, she could read the symbols. Must be the Guardian Language. The symbols each represented a miracle box. Opening the first door, Marinette found a queen sized bed covered by luxurious bedding. Through another archway was a small area to prepare food with a cabinet containing only fifteen tiny dishes and one set of larger dishes. Passing through the final archway, she saw a miracle box set on a table with a guardian staff leaned against it.

Marinette made her way back to the pathway to look around some more. Spying a door without a marking, she decided to head that way. Through the door she beheld an oriental style dining hall with all the places set with delicate pottery. This has to seat over a hundred! At the end of the hall was a dais that sat thirteen, the middle chair being the most elaborate. Maybe for the main guardians? Were there thirteen of them?

“Tikki, who were those chairs for?” she asked.

“I don’t know, we were never allowed out of the miracle boxes.”

Moving on through an arch at the left of the dais, she came across the kitchen. There were iron kettles and fire pits large enough to cook animals the size of a horse. By the window in the sun, several flowers and herbs hung to dry. Only half of them are dry! It’s like this place was frozen in time! Picking one of three doors leads her to another hallway lined with hundreds of doors; each one an individual living space. The rooms contained a simple bed, a washbasin, and chamberpot. The lucky ones got a window.

Going back to the kitchen and exited through the only door she hadn't gone through. There were three doors, one on the left, one on the right, and one at the end of the hall. Opting for the left door, the teen found herself in a large training room. Along the walls were five of each weapon, all dull.

The door across the hall lead to a treasury. Precious metals, gems and tapestries lined the room all painstakingly organized by size, value, and intracity. Separate from the other rooms, Marinette found what she suspected to be the “Grand Guardian’s” quarters. The rooms were even more luxurious and spacious than any others she had seen, (minus the treasury). That would be her room, judging by the marking of her miracle box on the doorway. Exhausted from the day, The new guardian fell onto the bed, not even bothering to get changed or tuck herself in, and fell sound asleep.

–––––––––––––––––Damian–––––––––––––––––

Sticking to the shadows, Damian leapt through Gotham skillfully avoiding cameras and using none of his usual equipment. Relying on his techniques that he learned in the League of Assassins, the vigilante had a distinct advantage against the members of his family. True to his training, he would disappear. Mother would be proud, no… Thalia wouldn’t, he clearly wasn’t her son anymore. At least until he was useful again.

It was simple to make his way to the run-down apartment that looked like it was abandoned. Entering through the window, Damian called off the security system and turned on the lights. He would need several things. Heading to a cabinet, the heir took out several debit cards, each in a different name with a substantial fortune he deposited personally from banks around the world. His closet was filled with clothes of all kinds. Some were for Damian while others accompanied disguises of various complexity. He filled his suitcase with the disguises.

He left the safehouse the same way he came and donned a simple and elegant disguise, Fredric Destero, a twenty-year-old businessman. Frederic promptly walked to a paid car garage to collect a car attached to Fredric’s alias. Despite sitting in a garage for four years the car had a full gas tank and charged battery. It wasn’t an expensive car, it was bought for the purpose of escape. And escape he would.

It was a short drive to the train station, filled with silence. Damian could only think of two reasons to not disappear from the modern world, and one of them would be able to find him easily and know that he didn’t want to return. The other reason was his pets. He would miss them. Maybe I could find a way to come back for them. He thought about turning back however, when he caught a glimpse of Batman starting his patrol as if nothing were out of ordinary, Damian finalized his decision to leave. A ticket to New York was cheap and the train ride would be short,(only an hour or two).

Upon arriving at the New York station Damian promptly boarded the subway that headed to the airport. JFK Airport was huge and if he hadn’t been there before, the teen would have easily been lost. However, Damian –er Friedric headed to the ticket counter to purchase a plane ride to some remote area. Opting for the soonest flight, the teen would be headed to Tibet in… twenty minutes! I probably should have given myself a larger time window.

Running through the airport is a good warm-up after sitting on a train for a few hours. He just barely made his flight. Good thing I have to be quick, almost thought I Wouldn't make it. He was sitting next to an older woman. She was talkative. Tt.

“Have you ever been to Tibet, young man?” The woman said, “ It’s my first time. For a family vacation.”

“Yes, I have visited some of the ruins and sanctuaries there.” Can I have a peaceful flight? Maybe? Turns out the answer was yes and no. She stopped talking when she fell asleep; but, she fell asleep on him. All and all, it was the most uncomfortable flight he had been on, even with his brothers.

Getting off the plane was a long and tedious process, and crowded. I am never flying again. If I can help it. Now where to go. In hindsight, he should’ve had a better plan. Instead Damian decided to hike into the mountains to live off the land? That was his half made plan until he came upon a large temple with it’s gates wide open. Against his better judgement he entered.

The place didn’t look like it was abandoned but, no one was in sight! Not a noise was made that didn’t come from some animal or nature. Until there were footsteps. The ex-assassin quietly followed the footsteps to a dining hall of some sort before he could see the person. She was elegantly dressed in what appeared to be the traditional clothes for the temple and her raven hair was tied up into a bun using red ribbons. When she turned to look in his direction, she only appeared to be sixteen years old. When the girl caught sight of him, she stood alarmed.

“Who are you and how did you get in? I thought the gates were closed.” Was that French?

Taglist: @swiftie-miraculer13 @messymessyml @myazael @woe-is-me0 @roguishredaxion @user00000003 @genderfluidmoma

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Hello, Jjmjjktth here

Chapter one is out! I’m still not sure what I should call this fic tho.

Smiled and love, Jjmjjktth <3 :)

#maribat #marinette #damian wayne #the bats #daminette #paris has a hawkmoth problem #salt #toodles #young hearts are easily broken

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