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#i fast forwarded thru the stage. it was just :

chorusofkhonshu · 7 months

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Manipulated Dreams

My theory that there are two Noones In Episode 3 she sees the movie that plays with scenes that are out of order. In episode 1, at 21:30 to 21:50, the scene suddenly changes and her surroundings twisted, either this is a memory that is being fast-forwarded and manipulated, or the kid with smokey hair might have some kind of power to teleport? Episode 2, doesn't have much going on but does show that kids like Noone do experience the same lost feeling so he could be at the same stage in coming over to Nowhere if pieces of him are still missing, he could feel it too, just like Noone who was not part of Nowhere yet. I would think that this shows the Ferryman is not with every kid thru their journey and it is possible to cross over without his aid. Up until this point, Noone has not fully meshed into Nowhere, her bond with the nightmares is not as strong. Back to episode 1, she can't feel the cold either, she falls through a long sliding drop and when asked if it hurts, she says not like it should have. In episode 2, she still zones out when she sees the Ferryman, both she and Jester zone out but only she sees the Ferryman, both of their connections are still relatively new. On top of that by the end when she accidentally kills the fat warty adult with acid she doesn't feel bad, if anything she is glad. In both of the first two episodes she has seemingly died but never showed much reaction compared to ep 4. Shows that the connection or signal in physical feeling is not as strong yet.

Episode 3- Discussing hiding things from themselves, reveal your inner face, Noone asking herself questions. Like watching a film that she is also the star of. Following this, the first time she takes the Ferryman's hand, strengthening the bond or connection between the two. The Noone that this actually happened to took the Ferryman's hand, and the Noone experiencing the dream also took his hand. Following this in episode 4 where she experiences her first death with a much stronger connection. It was at this episode that I noticed, in my opinion, that Noone has become a lot less descriptive because she can feel things a lot more clearly, she doesn't have time to process, and its all reactionary at this point.

Episode 5 starts with Noone waking up in the sewers in her dream, turning around, and down towards the entranceway; the other kids could be seen by her laughing as they struggled to close the door. It was almost like they had just dumped her in there, but how did they dump her in there if she just entered the dream. I don't know, makes me think that there is another Noone out and about in Nowhere while she is still in her waking world. Next, when she gets swept away by the flood in the sewers the Ferryman somehow pauses the dream? The waves stopped and she no longer had to swim, a while later after her argument with Otto the waves suddenly kick up again once the Ferryman was gone.

Episode 6 is when her and the double finally merge and become one; when the door opens a voice can be heard that says "Come in". Two flow from one and here is made whole again. It seems unlikely that Noone could enter Nowhere physically before walking through the door, so she dream shares with the double. I think there is a lot more to this, i think the episodes themselves might also be out of order, but not sure yet. At the end of the day these are all just spit balls from me, i like to explore all types of angles.

#ln3 #little nightmares #the sounds of nightmares #little nightmares theory #tson #tson noone #tson otto

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yeahiwasintheshit · 3 months

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watched this movie? doc? idk.. something called 'mondo new york' and man it was a mess. when i saw it i thought it was like a doc about the underground scene of the late 80s in new york, and it kind of is, but its not really a doc. its just a string of scenes from new york in the late 80s, which in itself sounds pretty good, but its kinda lame. like you start off just following this young girl, and she is the viewers kinda guide. where she goes we go. but she never talks or even talks to other people, we are just kinda watching what shes watching. in theory its sounds promising, but it just ends up being boring. and i think they wanted to be like provocative and edgy or something, so we see some fucked up shit like not one, not 2 but a few animal deaths, or maybe its fake, i dont know. either way its not interesting.

we start off and shes at some gritty bar where a woman is performing a song, and at first im like ok this is interesting, but theres no narrator or any commentary, its just a record of this entire song of this persons performance. and its not good. then its like the girl guide just walks away and shes at some kind of maybe poetry slam or something, idk... this weird guy is at a mic and is talking about weird shit. ive been fast forwarding by this point. certainly through the song in the scene before, but this was also bad. this guy eventually takes out 2 live mice from his pockets, and then bites their heads off. it looks kinda real, i mean the mice are 100% real, but just before he bites both their heads off, he does drop his hand out of frame. so that made me think it was more staged than it kinda looked. personally i think its fake. but thats not the last animal death.

then she leaves this poetry thing, after the guy sets off fireworks in his shirt or something dumb. ohhh so edgy! we then go to a punk bar? skin head bar? idk its a room full of white dudes moshing around to punk music and this girl is there. i was also fast forwarding at this point. for no real reason. she then leaves.

she then is at washington square park (daylight now) and theres a comic with a fairly large audience, so i stop it and hes doing some bad comedy. speaking in like "white" waspy voice. i fast forward and stop and hes saying how black people are always late or something, and then saying how puerto ricans have lots of children. its the routine of the pre-internet hack comedian, but he was getting alot of laughs from the crowd. this part was real long! so i fast forwarded thru most of it as he was doing the jewish voice.

she then ends up in like a burnt out building and someone is shooting themselves up with drugs, and this was no joke. very clearly you see blood fill the syringe and he pushes it back. i was sick. there was some talking, but i didnt bother to listen. again i fast forwarded.

shes then talking to some poetry guy in the street, at night now. ummm. oh she ends up in some basement where theyre doing some kind of voodoo something. whats that religion called? santamaria? or whatever. idk all i know is that the guy bites the head off a chicken. this was 100% real, cause those wings were a flapping and blood was squirting and that chicken didnt have a head anymore, and it was in his mouth. i was sickened. but that was not even the last dead animal. ann magnussun shows up and does some bit i was fast forwarding thru, but it ends in her in some field where theres a dead horse and shes beating it with like a stick or something. get it... beating a dead horse. it was so lame, and trying so hard to be idk provocative? interesting? edgy? idk. i was bored, and eye rolling.

but that wasnt even the last animal in the movie being hurt. we also end up in a cock fight. but this thankfully didnt end in a dead animal. the 2 chickens were absolutely fighting, but they didnt have the razors on their claws. the one chicken was pecking blood out the head of the other, but they do make it a point to show both chickens alive at the end of the scene. so whatever

there were other scenes of other things happening, but nothing looked interesting enough to stop fast forwarding. until the end. the final song i stopped and it was actually pretty funny. i tried looking for it on yt, but couldnt find it. it was a drag queen singing a song, i think was called fuck you, and it was kinda funny. he had a sorta fred schneider kinda voice, so it was kinda entertaining. the rest of the movie left such a bad taste, it was a little hard to get over it lol

admittedly out of the whole run time, i prob watched only 35-40 mins of it. so maybe i not the best judge, but if youre reading this, then you know if this is something you care to even watch. i thought it was boring most of the time, and its attempts to be provocative or shocking were really kind dumb and not at all interesting. wow a dead animal... very edgelordy. the only sort of positive i can think of, is the sort of b-roll scenes of 80s new york. kinda cool to see the city and the people back then. i guess.

#mondo new york #yiwits reviews

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peppertaemint · 7 months

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It was only months ago that I watched sw3, 4 and 5 and thru all those stages, taemin was so stiff to minho. Actually I noticed that the fanservice of their ship was so minimal and subdued compared to how taemin showed skinship to other members/friends lol

But fast forward to 2023 and taemin initiating fanservice and just overall relaxed with minho is such a different vibe compared in the past. I wonder what happened to them haha

What are your thoughts about this?

Hi Anon,

In the shows that you mention, there is a marked difference. There's still a lot of cute moments, but it's not the same. What you should look at is the comeback content for TSOL - you'll see a big shift there. That's like spring 2018. And then, if you watch each come back since then it all kind of goes in the same direction. You should look at minho's welcome back from military Vlog and Instagram live. Those are interesting. And then you should look at don't call me era. 👀🤭

But I think if you were to take like 2014 solo Taemin and Minho of the same time period, it would look like a night and day difference.

As for your question, what happened to them? I don't know. 🤭 I think only they can answer that. But I do have a saying: if it looks like a duck and it works like a duck, it probably is a duck.

#huhuhuhuhu #2Min Ask #2Min #2Min shinee #shinee #taeminho #taemin x minho

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hinacu-arts · 1 year

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I posted 753 times in 2022

That's 689 more posts than 2021!

225 posts created (30%)

528 posts reblogged (70%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@help-i-need-a-cool-username

@hinacu-arts

@millylotus

@void-inked-pen

@freakadr0id

I tagged 713 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#hinacu tmnt - 166 posts

#rottmnt - 114 posts

#hinacu au - 106 posts

#hinacu sonic - 98 posts

#rwby - 86 posts

#hinacu rwby - 80 posts

#tffm fic - 78 posts

#hinacu xover - 67 posts

#tmnt 2012 - 61 posts

#bbc the fic - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#when i walk and i really wanna put a sash in but would i ever actually wear it? no i'll leave it out for now maybe i'll add some jewelry and

My Top Posts in 2022:

Some sonic drawings i wanna do after i figure out how to draw them

Tails sitting on Tom's shoulders. They are wearing matching sunglasses

Sonic puffing up all spiky

Maddie and Knuckles doing yoga together

Knuckles demolishing a carnival strength game

Redraw these scenes:

See the full post

390 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

One again on the cusp of finally attempting a fic, and once again its crack taken seriously

You know all those fics where 2012!Mikey shows up in Riseverse and the brothers instantly adopt him and he doesnt want to go home? Yeah its that but from the 2012 gangs perspective, as they fight the Rise cast in stages (they win, they "get Mikey back"). Leo and Donnie are always Extra™️ so its set up like a videogame, and the boss battle is Splinter Rat Jitsu. Theres a fog machine so all 2012 can see of Casey Jr. is the glowing eyes in his mask. April introduces herself by coming up behind 12!Raph and hitting him so hard he flies. Donnie's "stage" is Albertoland and he's clearly unhinged the entire time. Raph doesnt really wanna fight so its essentially him just pushing 2012 back with little effort. Leo and Mikey Dr. Delicate Touch are a duo. Cassandra comes out of the shadows with both her masks on and gives 2012 a run for their money. At the end 2012 run through the last door, expecting to see 12!Mikey tied up, but he's just chilling with Draxum on the couch eating chips and salsa

EDIT: i did it Ao3 and FFnet

470 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

another possible crossover scene that has absolutely nothing to do with anything (but i laughed so im sharing)

rise! Leo: Your Casey and Donnie don't like each other? Oh this is really funny.

2012! Leo: what... do you mean?

rise! Leo, snickering: well you see, in my world Donnie and Casey are kinda married...

2012! Everyone: WHAT?!

rise! Leo: yeah, so first off we're in Florida-

2012! Raph: why were you in Florida?!

rise! Leo: and we got our tails handed to us pretty bad. Raph busted his hand up, April fractured a couple ribs, Donnie had a concussion, Cassie messed up her knee, yadda yadda. So, we're on some heavy duty painkillers, and Mikey-

rise! Leo: actually I think i have the wedding on video actually. *pulls out phone*

rise! Leo: ahhh no it must be on Mikey's phone. This video was the same night though!

Video!Leo: so, tell me Don-Don, how would you rate your whole Florida experience?

Video!Donnie, who clearly is not 100% coherent: two outta ten. Do not reccomend.

Video!Leo: but you still give it a two?

Video!Donnie: the humidity and heat are pretty nice but that's the only good thing about this state.

rise! Leo: i'll just fast forward to the relevant part.

Video!Mikey: Donnie! You're the smart one-

Video!Donnie, off screen: right you are!

Video!Mikey: PLEASE tell Casey that people who go through Vegas' drive through wedding chapels are real and actual marriages!

Video!Donnie: of course Vegas weddings are real!

Video!Mikey: aha!

Video!Donnie: its every other drive thru wedding chapel who's marriages are a sham.

Video!Casey, to Mikey: aha!

Video!April: im pretty sure they're also legal-

Video!Donnie: no they arent!

Video!Casey: You heard Mikey, Purple's the smart one, so he must be right! Which makes me right!

Video!Raph: but your stance was on Vegas weddings-

Video!Leo, behind the camera: if you two are so sure about this why don't you go test it out? Theres a drive through chapel 45 minutes awayyyy

Video!Casey: no thats too far. You couldn't pay me to sit in a van with all five of you for that long.

Video!Leo: what if I paid you both $50?

Video!Donnie: done! CASSANDRA! What is your middle name I need to propose properly

See the full post

572 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

Every time i play around with a 2012 x 2018 crossover set in 2018 verse i get secondhand self conscious and dial back the affection between 2018's extended cast. But you know what? No. Let 2012 and every other verse get uncomfortable with being in a environment filled with so much undisputed love

2018 boys cuddle on the couch. One of the boys will plop their head in 18!April's lap. Casey Jr. will slide up under 18!Leo's arm and doze off while leaning into his chest. Draxum comes over for lunch every Saturday and 18!Mikey excitedly calls him "Dad" while bouncing around him the first hour he's there. 18!Splinter kisses his sons goodnight if he sees them on his way to bed, including alternate universe counterpart sons. The Hamatos are huggers and every time 18!April or Sunita or Cassandra drop by, and on the rare occasion Sr. Hueso or Big Mama deliver something, they get a big hello hug. Cassandra greets Casey Jr. with hugs and dramatic cheek kisses and Casey Jr. has the biggest smile on his face the whole time. 18!Raph's just constantly beaming affection. 18!Leo will drape himself off everyone and everything. "I love you"s are said in almost every goodbye. No one is ashamed to admit they crawl into each others' beds at night after bad dreams or scary movies, often just telling a 2012 thats looking for them to jusy come to that room that morning because theyre comfy and dont want to move. 18!April regularly wears 18!Donnie's sweatshirts and trades off with him throughout the day (she likes baggy sweatshirts, Donnie likes warm sweatshirts), even after 12!Donnie and the teasing his brothers not-so-quietly do makes it a little uncomfortable, because this is something small that makes the other happy and a couple stares is hardly a price. 18!Mikey actively does gestures of affection (ex. making someone's favorite meal, making a painting, playing with April's hair, etc). 18!Donnie will walk away from a project if someone expressly states they wanna spend time with him (videogames are a whole different story). Sitting on top of each other because the booths at Run of the Mill cant hold 12+ people (Leo's sideways in Donnie's lap with his arms around his neck, Mikey is sitting on top of the booth with April sitting in front of him between his legs and his plate balanced on her head, Cassandra is propped up on Raph's shell and Casey Jr. is on his knee, Sunita has one leg on the seat and the other in April's lap) while 2012 try to pretend they arent uncomfortable with being squished together in a row. Todd shows up being Todd and 2018 actively and enthusiastically join in his sappy friendship things. The boys using their ten thousand dad nicknames for 18!Splinter. 18!Mikey running around to get goodnight hugs and kisses

702 notes - Posted September 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Drew this meme for a tmnt 2012 x rottmnt crossover and now i wanna draw more

See the full post

1,593 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #hinacu

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wolfgene92 · 1 year

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Super Junior: The Last Man Standing

I have been delaying and just paying for subscription in Disney+

I am not mentally and emotionally ready to watch the first , the success , the heartbreak , the pain and the triumphs of that idol that supposed to be replaced in three months group.

It feels so superficial why you remain loyal in a group. Ah! Because I was in that darkest place, that bad thoughts. And that temptation to END it because it's painful.

I remember going to that stage getting my diploma and the person I want to be there so much isn't there.

I did not cry, I keep telling myself...it's okay, your paps here. It's okay even if you missed your brother so much. Don't complain, don't cry, you aren't that special for your mother to be there.

Every success, I undermine and think it's isn't enough, it's so little and normal. Because that's how I feel growing up. You need to constantly follow what they ask you or you get whip , force to kneel down in salt or worst the beans and it's painful but I never cried. It's pride! Endure it!

After graduation in highschool, I cut that black straight hair that my mom's love so much.

That's the extreme thing I did, but you might hear I did drugs or whore myself in my early teen. I mean my mom's believe her friend more that her daughter. And I didn't try to say otherwise. What's the point explaining? When that person you believe would ask you first before accusing you in the phone just right up threatened to just kill you if shes back. But it's okay, you are numb at this point, you deserve that , you aren't really a good daughter. So it's okay! Suck it up!

And when I thought the dark times can't be anymore darker. Life laugh at you throwing the most painful punchline. What you experience it's just the tip of a larger heart wrenching iceberg we called life.

It gets worst , excruciatingly worst but thru this times. I was watching that cringy idol group on suit dancing sorry sorry. And one of the reason why I am here still and not giving up. I promise to buy their album, to have my own money to support them because at those darkest time, I was singing my heart out, laughing so loud and slowly that light penetrates in that crack.

Yes I was broken , but in those cracks I see light sipping through. I found my solace , hope because these group I follow went thru the most heartbreaking event in their life but all of them are so tenacious to stop. They keep going, and so did I, I continue anticipating more pain 😆

Fast-forward , it gets better , it's gets stagnant, and then life whisk you a little bit of obstacle, detour and letting you get lost but you get back up because your compass is set , inside your heart, you only need to look ahead , move forward and bring your annoying mind in the game. Never ever leave it, there is a reason why our brains is higher than our hearts.

If you ask me if I could wish for anything to change , No because this trauma , abuse and pain builds me. It wasn't so bad at all. As I said I'll be okay, it's okay.

I ain't stoping my tears anymore as a grown adult. I cry in a heartbeat both in happiness and sadness.

you will continue to learn, to understand yourself, to stop hating yourself, to heal yourself. Your

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jayteacups · 2 years

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K-pop Singer! Levi, despite his very very rare occurrences online, takes time to go thru any dm requests from fans, and he actually finds a few very polite ones asking about his vocal warm-ups or asking about his favorite teas / tea herbs he has at home, or asking about his stretch/ warm up routine before dance practice.

It's only a select few, but it really warms his heart to see fans talking about how they've been inspired by him, to get into music, professionally, so they see him as a teacher / coach of sorts. So sometimes.. just.. sometimes, he'll very politely write back and he always adds a little 'Thank you Very much, for the kind hearted message. ♡' at the end of every dm he sends back.

K-Pop singer! Levi who then starts posting on his stories a little (just a little) more frequently. (Sometimes.) And it's his favorite teas and a little motivational quote. Or a selfie with his cat or with a new, small, house plant from his local plant shop, with a self-care reminder.

Fans sometimes send him photos of their sticky note collections of the quotes he puts on his stories, or they send him a photo of their progress in home-brewing their "tea of the day." Or maybe they got it from their favorite café. And sometimes they share their own motivational quotes from their family / friends or from books / films.

And over time, it becomes one of the most wholesome communities.

Awww Delphi this is so wholesome!!! yes kpop singer!Levi is very scarcely online for a multitude of reasons; with his massive popularity comes a lot of pressure and unwarranted criticism and it didn't bother him at first, but as it got worse with his rising career it got exhausting to the point he was on the verge of burnout so he just stopped posting and stopped going on social media pretty much full stop (not that he was posting much beforehand anyway, but there was a period where he just went completely dark online for like several years and the only times you'd hear from him are comeback announcements which came much less frequently than they used to. he'd later announce that he left social media for so long because of undisclosed personal issues).

But one day Levi logs back in to check his messages, because he does know that there are some really lovely and polite fans, and he gets touched every time, because he still can't quite believe that people do genuinely care about the person behind the stage performer, and he still can't quite believe his music and his life experiences have inspired so many others. Fast forward several months later where he's slowly began to post on his story a little more frequently (god the idea of him showing off cat and his house plant collection and a series of favourite teas bit by bit with every new picture is so??? 🥺🥺🥺 i love him). it's like a really comforting and welcoming corner of the internet and everyone is just so chill, showing each other their favourite tea blends or their sticky note walls with levi's favourite quotes.

#aot asks #levi hcs #kpop idol levi au #this is very cute #love this #moots: delphi

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noisessobbingdistant · 2 years

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Metal Mania #8 — Page 20

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of Cinema’s performance was the soloing coming from Mike and Dan. During “Rockin’ the U.S.”, Dan took a killer guitar break though he does’nt play on the studio version appearing on U.S. Metal II. That song, along with “Fast Action”, “Wake up and rock” and others similarly titled were overly typical of Cinema’s good but-nothing-special set.

An amusing thing about thier show was the conflicting stage personas they all projected, all of them seeming to clash with the others in the band Varney was at his side of the stage scowling and sneering while on the other side Dan was happily bouncing about. In the middle we see Peter making an attempt to conform to that all too obvious Hollywood look and Hari somehow trying to retain a bit of sincerity in the midst of it all.

Mike and Dan are good guitarist and I would hope they would do something more interesting than what they’re doing with Cinema. Previously, Mike had said that he would keep his band and his U.S. Metal project separate entities but he apparently had a change of heart on that one which I find a bit disappointing. I would like to see him get in to new things, musically, to give us something to look forward to.

Some highlights on the U.S. Metal II album include “World War 3” by a Toronto band with the same moniker as at least one HM band I can think of from the other side of the Atlantic: Exciter.

“Waiting” is a fine tune from a Chicago outfit called LeMans. On side two, we get another song from the Rods—but so what, thats followed by a great solo guitar performance by Mike Batio called “The Haunted House” and a tack from Hawaii’s own Vixen entitled “Angels from the dust” featuring excellent guitar death from Marty Friedman. Next comes “Children of the Storm” from upstate New York Metallers, Virgin Steel. Jack Starr is the ace axeman on that cut. And to close the album we have Failsafe doing “Just passin’ thru”. The sing-

ENEMY FORTIFICATIONS ANNIHILATED:

U.S. GUITARISTS KILL!!!!!

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#metal mania 8 #cinema band #mike varney #dan meblin #the Peter gy #harrison kari #le mans band #mike batio #vixen band #marty friedman #virgin steele #jack starr #failsafe band

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mirrorballtales · 8 days

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Here we go again. . .

All of this is selfishly written. First, I’m fighting and trying really hard not to be distant. I feel I’m in a state of bracing myself. I guess let me retract real quick. I always had a really hard time with goodbyes. You’d think the girl that is used to people leaving would get used to this but it only gets harder and harder. I’ve always hated June. That’s why summer was always my least favorite. How was I supposed to immerse myself in endless afternoons of heat and fun when I felt forgotten, abandoned, and alone. Like I was right where everyone left me. For a while it was okay. When I stopped going to school that feeling went away. I think I put up a wall, guarded myself, and said I won’t do it anymore. I won’t trust anyone. I won’t let anyone in. So I felt like a princess in a tower, watching life thru a hole in a boarded up window. Swords on guard in case anyone tried to come for me. I know this was simply a response to always feeling safer at school than home. I knew what summer awaited me.

Fast forward to today. I feel like I’m 14 and I’m crying in an auditorium, falling to my knees begging people not to leave, again. Only this time, it seems self-inflicted. I made a mistake. A big one. I trusted. And I removed the wooden beams from my window. I stepped out and left my sword up on that tower. I trusted again and let myself get close again. It’s hell on Earth. I feel like I’m back at the asylum, the only place I felt safe. The only place I hated and wanted to be in again. The place they tried fixing my sadness, fixing whatever the fuck was wrong with me. The drugs they gave me never worked. Because they didn’t understand all my sadness was rooted in people I love and trust leaving me behind. Even if it wasn’t malicious. Even if it wasn’t what they wanted. It was rooted in my curse. The people I love leave. And so then I go crazy. I think none of it was real. I imagined it all in my head. And I get so afraid they won’t miss me. They won’t remember me. Time will do what it does best and erase everything. Even my own existence.

And I find myself being the only one who recalls it all. Stuck in a cloud of gold dust but it never settles. I think the existence of them was all made up. All in my head. I remember having to say good bye to Silvia. Crying because I was left stranded. And my god she was like my sister. Crying in Paris when I felt like that goodbye was going to kill me. Saying goodbye to the worst of them because every cell in me had attached to theirs. So now I’m here screaming, crying in every god damn place, cursing myself for knowing you. Afraid one day you’ll ask me about the weather and you’ll take a ‘forget her’ pill. And I’ll yell ‘fuck you’ for doing this even if it’s not your doing. I want to kill them all for doing this. I want to include myself in that list. Cursing your name and then mine for having some sort of hand in this. I’m afraid this will all seem like a lost page in a book, and I won’t pick up because it hurts so much. This feels like teenage petulance. And I’m writing a long message on a yearbook you’ll look back on one day. Feels like I could just die, or sleep all day, or not get up. None of it would make difference because in the end it won’t change that you’re gone. Or that I let myself trust again. That I let my guard down. It’s summer again. And I’m back at an asylum and they’ll tell me to take pills to fix my sadness. It’ll feel like I’m mourning a death and go thru the stages. I’ll be in denial. I’ll tell myself you’re actually still here, it’s all in my head. I’ll be angry you’re gone. I’ll be depressed I can’t find you. I’ll bargain to whoever will listen. I’ll trade my place. Give you immunity, immortality for the cost of my life. Then I’ll accept it. But where do you go when I get to the stage. Do you get to stay, do you forget me? Do I just figure out a way to do it while I’m miserable and no one can figure it out? I’m sick of being strong. Sick of being the tough girl. The one that breaks down on the floor with a smile so I don’t impose. I’ll find the pill you once gave me for physical pain and I’ll want to take it but it won’t take this away. I’ll make a turn and expect you to wait for me but you’ll never come. The bell will ring and I won’t see you. You won’t care that I want to vent. You will remove yourself. It’ll be for the better. I know this. You will be happy. I know this. It’s for the best. I know this. But it’s going to hurt, and this I know. Write what you know, they say, I’ll write about the pain because that’s all I know. Tears will shed on the ink of words of agony, and all that will be left is scars acquired like souvenirs of a memory of you and the mistake I made, letting you in. Because the story was written long ago, you’d leave and I’d be left alone. Again. It’s like a vow you somehow made unknowingly. It all ends with me suffering. And you’ll be just another loss in my life. Another hole. For the millionth time. What a plot twist. I wouldn’t have written it like this. I’m sure the ghosts that follow me are laughing at me for losing another best friend. I should have left it alone. Should have left it stayed buried. I wish I could unrecall how this was momentary. How I’ll be combing thru a field of memories engulfed in flames. I’ll see it until I die, another loss of my life.

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asminahcasim · 2 months

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“Moment in Motion: The Dance of My Everyday Lives”

A moment to remember, when my grandma and I were likely Tom and Jerry because of my mischief, she used to chase me around with a wooden stick, we wouldn’t stop chasing each other until she finally caught me up and hit me with the stick she had with her, so naughty me.

Hi!!! by the way I am Asmina Casim, middle child of my parents, I’m just want to share my life story with you, for three days after I was born in this world, my grandparents took care of me, even though my parents are around, my grandpa decided to take me in and bring me home to Mindanao, but even though I’m in Mindanao, I always take a vacations here, before that I want to share with you what my parents work, They are both Businessmen, and that time I can say that our family is incredibly perfect and happy, We are so blessed with everything we have, Our parents do everything they can to provide us with the things we need. But suddenly our once very happy family faced a tough situation, my dad had another woman, and when my mother found out, she got stressed. Unfortunately, because of the stress, my mom couldn’t safely give birth to my sibling. When my sibling passed away, my sister and I really blamed our dad because it was truly his fault, we believe that what happened to our sibling was because of him.

Fast forward, my mother and us have moved on from the painful memories left by our father, guess what? He chose his new partner over us, it’s painful to think about, but it’s true. After those hardships, I returned to Mindanao to continue my studies there, my life back in Mindanao was extremely simple, I was a cheerful child who always played outside with my friends, during my elementary, I didn’t think about life’s problems because I was too young my interests revolved around playing outside, I found joy only in playing because I didn't have a happy family during those times. Despite that, I had friends who became a significant part of my life, bringing immense happiness to my days. They make my days extra special when I’m with them, and I always forgot those problem in my mind, our friendship is full of laughter, until now there is no changes between us, even I am now far from them, the closeness is still remaining, I can say that they are among the happy moments that happened in my childhood.

As the years passed, I entered high school, and that's where life changes began. I learned to think right about what's happening around me. And also that time I realized that I no longer had a happy family to return to, and I constantly suffered too much, I always begged God to bring back our happy family and return my dad to us. I’m consistently been the top student in our school since elementary until in my high school, but for me, all the awards I received feel useless because I never experienced my dad hanging my medals. I even dislike recognition days because instead of being happy and proud, I feel sad seeing others joyfully going up the stage with their dads, I never experienced too that my dad being proud of me or seeing that I’m worth it as his child. I have a huge resentment towards him, how I wish I could open up to him, but my shyness prevails, ever since my dad left us, the closeness disappeared, and I don’t have the courage to talk to him about the things that hurt me.

Now that I’m in my senior high school and can make decisions on my own, I want to choose to be happy despite of all tears that I thru before, I just realized that the past cannot be brought back, and I just want to focus on my studies instead and do my best to make my mom proud of me, I don’t know where life take me, but I got this and I always got this, I will continue as long as I have a strength to build a happy life again and forget everything that is already done…

#memoirs

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littlewalken · 8 months

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Sep 14

Didn't want to go deal with the car getting its oil changed but I came home with a DVD of Picard s3 among other things so it worked out.

But man does the first season drag. I've had the DVDs since they came out and... I just fast forwarded thru most of episode 5.

Do not tell me this was the best season unless you're just a dudebro who bases your reviews on thinking you can live thru the Romulan Lord of the Rings elf and wanted to see the big tiddy Borg chick with weapons.

Totally saw her at a Joey McIntyre show once.

So far I have yet to find a character I even want to care about. What, Data's surprise daughters with no personality? Senile old Picard? Bitch? Male bitch? Blonde scientist lady? Did I miss someone?

Get on with it. I want to see why Brent deserves his Emmy.

***

Always running in to reminders of the brain injury and for all I can do there will always be things that 'just aren't gonna happen'.

Found one of the few purse sized reusable notebooks at the box store that weren't missing pieces. Going to see if that helps with the writing. My current purse is too small for the regular iPad and I don't have a protection case for the old mini to keep the screen from getting scratched. Paper allows me to have more of a flow of consciousness.

I might get some reusable filler paper online. I need to get replacement feet for my cane any way.

Found DVDs for all 3 seasons of Staged but they're going to be imports. Do I have to explain again that they sell multi region DVD players for the price of an average quality one and it will open a world of Husbands, Robert Shenanigan, and BBC versions of things to you?

Thus I was so pissed off when the DVD drawer in my duo player finally gave out because I had unlocked it to play my Japanese tea ceremony and deluxe Aussie releases. I also had a doodad that went from that player to my puter at the time and the foresight to rip a few things.

I don't have a doodad now, the last one works but its software no longer does, because I know the time will come to replace my current desktop so I'm holding off for that.

No, you can't buy one now and save it for later, that's not how puters work.

And with their current configs I'll have to special order what I want.

The good news is this one is going on 8 years and as long as it continues to update I'm going to use it.

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justasuckerinacandyworld · 10 months

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Pls don’t judge me. Last year I went through a break up. I left my ex after 8 years together. We both fell out of love. Being single was new and I hung out with my cousin so much. I met a guy friend of his at the time. I hooked up with him but we didn’t fully have sex because he couldn’t get hard and he didn’t have a big dick. So I was going to bail either way. I ended things because that guy was immature and clingy. Fast forward and I hooked up with another friend of my cousin who he promised wouldn’t say a thing and keep it between us. Sex was just sex and we weren’t looking to date. Fast forward now I am seriosuly dating another friend of my cousin. But doesn’t hang out with the guys I mentioned before. They know of each other but don’t hang. Basically V (the guy I now love)..asked me today again if I hooked up with any of my cousins friends. He asked me this first week we met and I told him I did go out with someone he knew of but nothing happened with me and him. I should’ve said we kissed and we didn’t have sex but he touched me. But I didn’t say a thing because he’s big on judging women past and body counts. So today when I said yes I kissed him. Understandably he was mad. Then basically interrogated me asking EXACTLY what did I do with this guy and I didn’t want to answer. Told him it’s my past and I wish I can take it back. But I wasn’t expecting or wanting things to be this way. It so happens that I would once again meet a guy thru my cousin BUT THIS TIME I actually fall in love. Because he truly is a good man. So V only knows that I hooked up with one of my cousins friends. Should I reach out to the second man and ask him to please keep this secret. Because I care so much about V. Should I do that? I’m terrified he will find out and hate me even more. I’m so mad at myself for doing what I did in my past. BUT I can’t be hard on myself. I was single. I also am human and got so lonely so I figured “hey let’s see what it’s like to be dating again for the first time in 8 YEARS.” He’s mad that I didn’t tell the truth and lied. And also he’s big on exclusivity. He said he views me differently now. That he wants all his things back. Basically ending things and saying he needs to focus on his life right now. So I’m letting go. And seeing what god wants.

I am a liar. But I was so afraid of this amazing guy judge me. Think I’m a hoe. But I was in a confusing stage at the time. Where I went against MY OWN MORALS. I wish I could take it back. Now I’m terrified my secret hook up with the other guy will come to light.

First things first, this is a judgement free space. I have a past, you have a past, a majority of people on this site have a past so no one has any right to judge you.

Secondly, I'm so sorry you're dealing with someone who is most likely pushing his insecurities of his own past onto you and making you feel less than what you are. You've really done nothing wrong except exclude a few minor details about an experience that wasn't much of an experience from what I'm understanding. At the time, you were single exploring your options and just trying to enjoy yourself before eventually meeting V. I guess I could kinda see his point of view of feeling a little hurt but that doesn't warrant a big reaction like that if he truly and dearly loves you. If he was really serious about being with you he would man up and talk things out with you instead of throwing a hissy fit and pouting in a corner. As for worrying about the other guy going off and saying something at this point I wouldn't worry about it.

You take care of yourself and keep your chin up. You are not a hoe. You are not a liar. You are a human being with wants and needs just like everyone else. Life is way too short for you to stress over someone who might not even be the right person for you.

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accovers · 2 years

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The Prefect Candidate: Pt 1

Yandere android Human Fnaf Sister Location with fem reader

(Just for reference all the androids are 7ft tall use that info however you please)

As the elevator descended, Y/N felt like she couldn't breathe. She had always been afraid of androids and tight spaces, why she chose this job she had no idea. But alas here she was. Y/N was snapped back into reality by the sudden jolt of the elevator. “Jesus!” Y/N yelped “One day I'm going to break a bone thanks to this stupid elevator” Finally the elevator stopped “Please press the red button to start your shift” Pressing the red button Y/N kneeled down and started to crawl “Today is going to be a tad bit different due to implications. You will be tasked to restart the power manually. To achieve this you will have to crawl through Ballora gallery.” The hand units voice projected through the vents. Y/N’s breath hitched “Fantastic”

“Uh oh, It seems that Ballora isn't on her stage. Let's administer a control shock.” Pressing the button Y/N was greeted a A sharp bright light, and a guttural screech. Jumping back, Y/N pulled at her hair in distress. “What the hell was that!” Y/N yelled. No one answered. “Please press the blue button” Licking her lips Y/N pressed the blue button. A faint light illuminated the Gallery. There stood Ballora twirling on her stage. “We knew you could do it, Ballora! Please look to your right and administer a controlled shock” Y/N hesitated ‘What will happen if i just don't do it’ the hand units voice projected thru the speakers “Administer a controlled shock” The voice sounded more forceful. “Geez alright, alright. You didn't have to say it like that”. Y/N pressed that bright red button, which caused a bright light to brighten the room for a second revealing a figure with short white hair and bright pink suit and fox ears and a tail. The figure had a manic grin that stretched across his face and one fist against the window. As quickly as the figure appeared it was gone. Y/N fell on her butt “What the-Can androids even do that?” whispered Y/N. “Please press the blue button” getting on her knees, Y/N covered her eye’s and slightly spread her fingers so she could peek and pressed the button. Light illuminated the room in front of her revealing Funtime Foxy back on his stage waving at her. “We don't have time to check on Baby today. Please proceed through Ballora gallery.”

Crawling on the floor, Y/N had her flashlight in between her teeth. Stopping now and then when she heard the ballerinas music grow closer. “You seem to be taking a long time .Please proceed as fast as you can.” Hand units' loud voice caused Y/N’s flashlight to clatter on the ground. Y/N held her breath as the music grew louder and louder until the android was right in front of her. Ballora lingered for a minute before spinning away. Slowly Y/N grabbed her flash light and placed it back in between her teeth and proceeded forward. Finally the girl reached the breaker room which had a poster on the door which read ‘lets party’.

Gently pushing the door open, Y/N looked around the large room. Sparks flew from wires that seemed to be everywhere but mostly the ceiling. “Using the interface may disrupt nearby electronics. If you feel as though you're in danger please feel free to disconnect the interface until it is safe to reconnect.” Y/N quickly grabbed the tablet and scanned the screen ‘great just great, this is going to take me forever. Not to mention this place is hella scary’ Y/N thought. “Hello love.” a voice with a british accent droned out. Breath hitching Y/N turned off the interface and waited. Another voice piped up “Calm down and go back to sleep no one is here.” As sparks flew Y/N could make out the figure that had a top hat, shaggy hair, a suit, and what seemed to be bear ears. Right next to the figure stood a smaller figure, with a dress shirt and shorts and rabbit ears. After waiting a few more seconds Y/N turned the interface back on and started to restart the different locations on the map. After a few minutes the danger level went up again so she shut off the interface. “There’s the birthday girl.” Freddy purred “I think it was just a mouse” the small voice piped up. Sparks flew again. Both figures were so close. Y/N itched to get out of the dark room but she couldn't afford to be fired. So after waiting a minute for the danger level to go down she started the interface again. Y/N was almost fully done but yet again the danger level rose. Shutting off the interface Y/N felt her self shaking, all she wanted to do is curl up in a ball and cry. Squinting Y/N tried to spot the pair but they were nowhere to be seen. “There you are, Darling” The voice sounded a little too close. Y/N felt something grab her and throw her against the wall “wha-” Y/N sputtered trying to catch her breath. “You're so delicate.. Too bad I have to kill you.” Freddy purred while he gently caressed the frightened girl. Adrenaline rushed through Y/N's veins as she kicked Freddy off of her, and ran straight for the door “You bitch!” Freddy barked as he attempted to grab the girl but alas failed. As Y/N quickly closed the door she could hear the fists funtime Freddy bang on the metal door.

#yandere fnaf #fnaf x reader #sister location #fnaf #funtime freddy #ballora #funtime foxy #baby #x reader #yandere #slow burn

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide.

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone.

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue.

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood.

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you.

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream.

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall.

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne.

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination.

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background. And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby.

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway.

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his.

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes. With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!"

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet.

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away.

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask.

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system.

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked.

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow.

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission.

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did.

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even,

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby.

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end.

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his.

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

#murder he wrote #j's haunted house 2020 #dark ransom #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #reader insert #chris evans #chris evans characters

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Co-written with @southerngracela

Part 1

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but not enough to prevent cold

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places. Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room. The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host.

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone. With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream.

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. “Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat “Window. It’s a window.”

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize” you bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Aalongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background. And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath.

And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.

*****

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

And now she was all his.

*****

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!"

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away.

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask.

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked.

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow.

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand.

His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

And you knew then, you were in for it.

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you Princess? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

He could make out 3 vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby.

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his.

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** WIYPT Tag List:

Everything

@momobaby227 @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @nerdofthefandoms @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @what-just-happened-bro @jennmurawski13 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jtargaryen18 @redhairedfeistynerd @charmed-asylum @saiyanprincessswanie @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @jhayes6984 @anika-ann @icanfeelastormbrewing @gigglegirl77 @princess-evans-addict @mes-2016 @theladybiers @void-hoechlin

Ransom Drysdale

@patzammit @icandothisallday @capsiclewinter @this-is-serenaa @alexakeyloveloki @perplexed3001 @twittytelly @kelbabyblue @maan24

If your name appears above but the tag isn’t live please let me know.

#halloween challenge #j's haunted house 2020 #jshauntedhouse2020 #dark ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #murder he wrote #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fanfiction #knives out #knives out fanfic

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asthmark · 4 years

Text

❝ comfortable ❞ l.mk

synopsis → “oh, i’m mark. mark lee.” he gives her a lop-sided grin, reminding you of a high school boy. the kind you would have a crush on.

word count → 3k

a/n → instead of admitting to the fact that this has been in my drafts since october what if i just said i was watching superm interviews and got inspired.. would anyone believe that??? anyway superm on the ellen show was a fever dream lol

your leg bounces nervously as your makeup artist touches up your look and you stare at the tv screen in anticipation. you were finally making your television debut. you knew you were blessed for the wonderful opportunity, especially for how new you were to the music industry.

you had started like nearly every other artist; posting covers on youtube. these were well received and gained a good amount of views and likes but your career really took off when you began creating original content. every time you would release a single, it would make it on the trending page thanks to your growing fanbase and exposure to the general public, who seemed to like you. soon enough, requests to interview you whether it be on radio, tv, or magazines were high and, thanks to your managers, you found yourself in los angeles, backstage in a studio, waiting for the ellen degeneres to introduce you to her live audience and thousands of viewers at home.

“don’t move so much, miss l/n,” the woman trying to apply your highlighter comments. “you’re smudging your makeup.”

you force yourself to sit still as you apologize. “sorry. pre-show jitters.”

the woman smiles, emphatically. “i understand, sweetheart. i would be nervous too.”

you’re quiet for a moment, debating if you should continue conversing with her. “can i be honest?”

she hums as she dabs a beauty blender into your cheek. “go ahead.”

“i am so nervous that i’ll mess up or say something stupid. the only thing close to an interview i’ve ever done was a q&a on my youtube channel. and at least i could edit stuff out then.” you huff. “if i make some kind of mistake on my tv debut, my career will be over before it even started.”

“well, think of it this way,” she says. “you went from a moderately popular youtube channel to the ellen show. that doesn’t happen for no reason. there are people out there who really admire you.”

you chuckle in disbelief. “it’s crazy to think about people actually wanting to see me. i still can't believe it.”

she giggles, softly. “they know there's something worth seeing.” at seeing your small smile, almost as if you were barely realizing your own star status, she laughs. “you seriously gotta wake up, girl. you’re famous!”

you smile at her, finding humor in her words. “thanks for the wake up call.”

you both direct your attention to the tv placed backstage that broadcasted what was happening on stage. you listen in to ellen’s monologue as she tells jokes and addresses current topics. before long, there’s a knock on the doorframe. you half expect a staff member to let you know that you’ll be on soon but instead you hear a quiet, “hello?”

you and your makeup artist both turn to the boy standing in the doorway. he's wearing a black jacket paired with dark, ripped jeans held up by a belt. he goes to bow, then remembers that korean etiquette does not apply and decides to wave as a greeting instead. you reciprocate the gesture. he stands with only one foot inside the room, almost as if he’s too polite to enter without being given the okay.

“did they send you to get your makeup done?” the woman who had done yours says.

he nods. “they said something about concealer and bb cream, i think?”

she smiles. “yeah, it’s basic stuff. come on in. what’s your name, dear?”

“oh, i’m mark. mark lee.” he gives her a lop-sided grin, reminding you of a high school boy. the kind you would have a crush on.

“well, mark lee, i’m lily. i’ll be doing your makeup, making sure you look pretty for the cameras.” she motions to you. “i'm just about done here so i’ll be right with you.”

“okay, thank you.” he shuffles in, his eyes glued to you and you hold his stare. he nods, a wordless greeting as he settles in next to you. in return, you throw up a peace sign and he smiles at your casual behavior.

“you know what? somebody used all the setting spray. i’ll be right back, i’m just going to steal some from my co-workers.” with that, lily darts out of the room.

it’s pure silence between the two of you until you spark conversation. “i didn't get to introduce myself but i'm y/n.”

“i know,” he responds, quickly. “i'm kind of a fan, actually. i mean, it’s practically impossible to not be. you’re all over the place. especially with the new single you dropped... which is a bop, by the way.”

you smile at his simply-worded praise. it was a nice switch up from the professional reviews you received from critics. “that’s so cute. i’m honored.” you miss the way mark’s ears turn slightly pink at your words. “but enough about me, what do you do, mark?”

“oh, me? i’m in the k-pop scene.”

you hum. “that’s a good genre to be in. which group?”

“right now i’m promoting with superm, it’s kind of like a side project. but originally, i’m in a band called nct.”

you lean forward at hearing the familiar name. “nct? as in, nct 127?”

mark’s eyes light up. “yeah! you know us?”

you nod, enthusiastically. “oh my god, yes! you collabed with ava, right?”

“we sure did. are you guys close?”

“i help her write lyrics sometimes.” you lower your voice down to a whisper for dramatic effect. “i wrote the chorus to ‘sweet but psycho’.”

the way mark’s jaw drops is almost comedic. “no way! that song got her famous, dude!” his lips curve into a playful smirk. “just because of that i’m gonna have to get you in the studio.”

you return the mischievous look. “is that a promise?”

“i’m back!” lily announces, giving mark no time to respond. she gives no warning as she spritzs you with the bottle she had gone to retrieve.

you cough, choking on the mist. “no heads up?”

“sorry, dear. you’re on in two minutes, no time to waste.”

you feel a chill go up your spine. it was finally time.

mark nudges your arm. “you okay?”

“a little nervous.” that proves to be the biggest understatement of all time because in reality your heart is doing somersaults.

“hey.” you stare at him, his brown eyes boring into you. “you’ll be fine. there’s nothing to worry about. you got this!”

you smile at his words of encouragement. he cared about you and you find that your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now.

“i'll be here to cheer you on while you’re out there and i’ll be back when you’re done to tell you how amazing you did, okay?”

you nod.

“now get out there!”

“well, we have a great show for y’all today,” ellen says, clasping her hands together, having just finished her monologue. “i mean, it’s always great but the exciting thing is we have two musical guests today.”

the audience that cheered wildly is shown on screen. you almost forget about the knot in your stomach when you see some people in the crowd wearing shirts with the cover art and quoted lyrics of your last single.

“i see you guys are ready so, without further ado... let’s get started. our first guest is a soloist who has made quite a big name for herself in such a short period of time. she currently has three singles on the billboard charts, her most recent music video is number one trending on youtube, and she has a new ep coming out soon. here for her television debut, please welcome y/n l/n.”

you walk out from behind the stage, a huge smile on your face. the crowd screams and you wave to them until your hands become too occupied hugging the hostess who greets you with open arms and a proud smile. once the hype dies down and your entrance music fades out, you take a seat, opposite of ellen.

“how have you been y/n?”

“amazing,” you respond, letting your hands fall neatly in your lap.

“and why is that?”

you sigh, wistfully. “everything has been going so well for me lately. i mean, i feel like all these doors are opening up for me all of a sudden. i think i finally made it.”

“you’re just barely realizing that?” ellen exclaims.

you laugh, along with the audience. “kind of, yeah. it just all happened so fast.”

“is there an experience that comes to mind where you finally realized how famous you are?”

you try to think for a few moments before your eyes light up. “okay so, i was at a mcdonald’s like, last month and i went through the drive thru and ordered some nuggets and fries. so, i pull up to the window to pay and it’s around 2 a.m. so the cashier guy is super out of it, like he’s not even paying attention to me. finally, he goes to grab my card and he gets a good look at me and just freezes. like, full on shuts down. so i ask him if he’s okay and he nods so i try to hand him my card again but he goes, ‘no, you’re famous, you don’t have to pay’. and in that moment i just knew.”

“hold on, pause,” ellen announces, dramatically. “you’re telling me that you have been nominated as artist of the year, gained over ten million followers on social media and made your national television debut but the thing that really made you say ‘wow, i’m famous’ was a couple of chicken nuggets?”

“ellen, c’mon,” you begin, seriously. “it was a twenty piece.”

“oh, well, that changes everything,” she says, playing along with you, as the audience erupts into laughter.

the rest of the interview goes smoothly, running on jokes and sarcastic energy. you discuss your young age (thus resulting in some of your baby pictures finally being revealed to the world), millennial culture (the crowd went wild when you explained terms such as netflix and chill to ellen who claimed she didn’t understand yet her sly smirk said otherwise) and your upcoming ep (that you would be giving a sneak peek of later on in the show).

you continue chatting once the commercial break is announced and ellen showers you with praises, commenting how young talent never failed to amaze her, although it did make her feel old. you get to thank the hostess and tell her how much you appreciated her sweet words and the opportunity she had given you before the crew is dragging you backstage so you can prep for your upcoming performance.

you’re greeted by a “that was awesome!” and a high five one you get backstage.

you flash mark a full smile. “couldn’t have done it without my hype man.”

just then lily walks in to touch up your makeup.

“and my hype woman!”

she just rolls her eyes and chuckles as she reapplies gloss to your lips.

“seriously though, y/n. why did you have to be so perfect? the bar is all the way up here now.” to emphasize his point, mark raises his arm as high as it will go.

“hey, i only tried hard because you’re up next. you’re a hard act to beat, mark lee. i mean, you’re charismatic, charming, witty; basically every talk show host’s dream.”

he scoffs yet you see how he avoids your gaze, your compliments obviously flattering him to the extreme.

a staff member walks by, cutting your conversation short. “y/n, you’re back on in one. superm is on right after.”

you and mark turn back to each other, speaking the same two words at the same time.

“good luck.”

ellen introduces you again, only this time you hold a guitar and stand in front of a microphone once you’re back on the stage. you perform a never before heard song but judging by the roaring applause and standing ovation you receive by the end of it, it’s another successful hit.

you bask in the amazing response and then you’re ushered backstage for the last time. you catch sight of the staff placing more seats on the stage as you exit and you smile eagerly, knowing exactly what’s to come. you search the hallways for your new friend, hoping you can catch him before the show goes back on air. you’re almost about to give up when you hear your name being called.

you lock eyes with mark who stands a couple feet away, barely hidden from the audience’s view. even from where you stand you can tell he has a nervous smile on his face. you jog towards him and to your surprise, he envelops your figure without a second thought. in return, you tentatively wrap your arms around him.

“great job,” he murmurs, breath fanning your ear. “i really did cheer you on.”

“i’ll make sure to do the same.” you hesitantly pull away from his embrace, holding him at an arm’s length away. “go get ‘em.”

he gives you a determined nod and you watch him rush on stage, the audience’s wild cheering increasing. their energy didn’t fade once throughout the interview and just as you had suspected, mark was doing wonderfully. he clearly thrived in interviews; his awkward, boyish nature enchanting everyone in the studio, yourself included.

ellen crosses her legs and clears her throat. “so, i have to ask you something, you know, for the fans.”

the group leaned forward in anticipation, awaiting her next words.

“are any of you dating?”

the crowd released noises of amusement at hearing the very personal question. you can’t help but feel intrigued although you knew ellen has always been quite the invasive person. you watched as the seven boys looked around at each other, unsure what to say but before their silence can become suspiciously long, mark ends up taking the question.

“why are you always so curious about this, though?” he blurts.

the audience absolutely eats up his response, cheering at his bluntness. even you find it humorous, shoulders shaking with a chuckle. that’s definitely gonna become a meme, you think.

“it’s my job!” counters ellen. “why are you so defensive?”

the crowd is very responsive to ellen’s rebuttal, ‘ooh’ing in amusement.

mark’s silence only pushes the hostess to continue teasing him.

“does it maybe have anything to do with y/n?”

your smile drops. had she seen you two? you’re not sure why you feel so exposed; after all, you had just been talking.

ellen’s lips adorn a sly smile at mark’s stunned reaction. “you seemed to be getting very comfortable with each other backstage.”

the black haired male stumbles over his words before he gets a semi-coherent sentence out. “we just, um—we just met.”

“oh really? you two looked like you had known each other forever.”

mark chuckles breathlessly, eyes glued to his lap, obviously at a loss for words. ellen stares at him expectantly so he mutters, “i like making friends.”

ellen, the audience, and even some of the band members laugh at his response.

“well, i’m sure there’s a lot of fans out there that wish they were your ‘friend’.” her tone makes it clear she doesn’t buy his excuse but she prods him no further, instead turning to stare into the main camera. “when we get back superm will be performing their title track ‘jopping’. during the commercial break, please feel free to place your bets as to how long mark and y/n will remain ‘friends’.”

the camera pans to mark for a couple seconds; his ears are bright red and his cheeks are dusted light pink, his makeup doing nothing to help hide the blush. his eyes dart around, anxiously and then they cut to commercials.

you shake your head, smiling at the entire situation and just how big of a dork mark was.

you attentively watch superm’s two performances, eyes mostly glued to a certain rapper. you sit patiently in the makeup room, waiting for mark to return backstage so you can congratulate him but he never appears. you try to conceal your disappointment, even when lily enters the room, smiling brightly.

“well, the show’s over, doll.” she removes her makeup stained apron and glances at you as she places it on a nearby rack. “hey, why the long face?”

you stare at your reflection in the mirror, no longer bothering to hide your pout now that your frustration had been made known.

“you did great, if that’s what you’re worried about. just ask mark.”

“he left,” you mumble. “i thought i’d be able to catch him before he left and we could… i don’t know, talk a bit more? i just really—” you trail off.

“like him?” lily suggests, too loudly for your liking.

your head snaps towards her, eyes wide, only confirming your feelings.

“don’t worry, dear, you can say it. i won’t tell ellen,” she jokes.

you sigh and slump down in your seat. “yeah. i like him.”

“well, then, i have good news for you.”

you half-heartedly hum, allowing her to continue.

she waves a piece of crumpled paper in front of your face. you grab it from her, staring at it curiously.

“what’s this?”

she nods her head at it, encouraging you to find out for yourself. “open it and see.”

you obey, unfolding the tiny item. your eyes struggle to read the words inside but if you squint, they become clearer.

please call, me i would love to become closer ‘friends’.

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

it’s mark btw :)

you can’t contain your smile at the cute little note.

“he’s adorable,” you say, mostly to yourself but lily audibly agrees.

“he ran into me as he was leaving and begged me to deliver that message to you. which reminds me, i’m supposed to let you know that he wishes he could have stuck around but his schedule is ‘crazy tight’ so he had to ‘dip’. his words not mine.”

you nod, grin widening. “thanks, lily.”

“my pleasure. nothing like young love.”

you give her a glare although it’s all but threatening.

she folds her arms, teasingly. “so, are you going to give him a call or what?”

you’re sure she sees the phone in your hand and the way your fingers press the numbers on the keypad, excitedly but nevertheless, you decide to answer.

“i’d be crazy not to.”

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