#old led bar wasn't bright enough | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

electricopolis-net · 2 months

Text

S03E06: Life in Exile

Pt. 1: The Town of Refuse

The day after their arrival in Junk Town, the old man known as the Cursebreaker led both Bob Sparker and Percy King to the shoreline. On a hill near the beach was a small, dusty house, though again, like the houses in town, it was made of a combination of wood planks, concrete, sheet metal, and other debris. "This house has been abandoned for quite some time," the Cursebreaker declared. "I'm sure nobody will kick up a fuss if you move in."

Then, he led them to the beach itself. "Junk Town subsists on the waste that floats up here," he explained, motioning with his staff to some of the flotsam washing up on the shore. "Take a look."

Bob crouched down and wedged a tin sign board out of the sand. "Hey, this looks familiar," he said, turning it back and forth. "The Pine Room--wasn't that a bar in Electricopolis? I used to go there before it shut down."

"That's right," said the Cursebreaker, nodding. "And that's not all. Old television tubes, monitors, magazines, plastic bags and old clothes, all kinds of stuff turn up here. And it's all from your fair city in the valley."

Percy stroked his chin, thinking. "Fascinating. I knew some of the companies in town used the underground sea as a dumping ground, but I never realized the currents bore the refuse all the way out here..."

"There's a lot of things you folks don't realize," said the Cursebreaker, turning away from the water. "But there's time for that."

There was a moment of silence. Bob stood up and looked out over the water, shielding his eyes from the sun. It was a cloudy day, but still bright enough to sting his eyes, unfamiliar with the sunlight as they were.

"So...what should we do?" Bob asked. "Just kill time until we go back to town?"

"Oh, you're not going back," said the Cursebreaker matter-of-factly. Bob and Percy turned to stare at him. "Not until the clouds clear."

Not until the clouds clear.

What did he mean by that? Bob tossed and turned, thinking about it. Thankfully, the abandoned house by the shore did have a couple of beds in it, lumpen and worn though they were. It was, as the Cursebreaker had said, better than nothing, but only just.

"I mean, the city's power is shot," Percy explained. "So it probably will be quite some time before that subway's running again. But I don't understand what he meant about the clouds."

"The clouds have always been there, right?" Bob asked.

"As far as I know."

"As far as you know." Bob shot him a pointed look. "You sure you're not hiding anything?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Come on now. We're stuck together, so we may as well trust each other, don't you think?"

"I have a better idea." Bob sat up, restless. "I'm going to get something to eat."

He walked into Junk Town along the road from the beach. Given his gawky, long-nosed appearance, and the fact that he was still wearing a dressy vest, pants, and shoes, the people of the town avoided him and whispered as he walked by. He tried his best to ignore it, and walked up to a food stall.

"Excuse me," he said politely. The smell of grilling fish and hot rice made his mouth water. "Um...do you take cash here?"

"Cash?" said the proprietor. "What do you mean by that?"

"Cash," repeated Bob. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and drew out a couple bills. "Or--I don't imagine you take cards."

The proprietor regarded him with a wary look. "That stuff's no good here," he said. "We don't take that kind of money."

"What do you take?"

"Junk Town tender. Coins, mostly. Barter sometimes, if you got something good to trade." He looked Bob Sparker up and down. "You got anything to trade?"

"Trade?" Bob blinked. He looked down at himself, patting himself down quizzically. "I don't think so."

The man shook his head. "Sorry. No can do. You come back with something good, I'll give you a bowl."

It was the same story everywhere he went--none of the businesses in town took any kind of tender aside from coins, medals, rings, mostly small metal objects that Bob had absolutely none of on hand. Occasionally he would see a customer trade for something larger, like canned food for fresh, or a parcel of cloth for a finished dress. Then he saw a familiar face with a large head of lettuce in his hands, haggling with a nearby shopkeep.

"Hey, it's you," said the farmer, turning away from the shopkeep. "Found yourself a place in town, did you?"

"For what that's worth," Bob complained. "I'm starving, I've got no money, and I can't get anyone to give me the time of day."

The farmer looked at him, then down at the lettuce. "Hmm. I wouldn't mind giving this to you, but I'd need something in return. You sure you don't have anything on you?"

Bob thought. He turned his pockets inside-out. "I've got...my house keys, my phone, my wallet..."

"Lemme see those." The farmer grabbed his house keys and turned them around, admiring them. "Yeah, these'll melt down okay."

Bob grimaced. Well, it's not like I was going home anytime soon, he thought.

The farmer handed him the lettuce. It was surprisingly heavy, and Bob struggled to hold it. "Well! Looks like you're getting the hang of things here in town," said the man, grinning. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Bob arrived back at the house with the lettuce. "Well, look at you," Percy chuckled. "Grew it yourself, did you?"

"I'll have you know I traded for it," said Bob proudly, setting it down on the table. "They don't take cash or cards here, so you gotta trade for everything. They do take coins, though...and keys."

"Interesting." Percy swung his legs off the bed. "We're not going to get much of a meal out of just a head of lettuce, though. You said they take coins?"

"Yeah. You have any?"

"I do." Percy took out a change purse from his pocket and upended it onto the table. A clattering of coins fell out--only about ten or twenty of them, but enough to make a nice little pile. "It's not much by Electricopolis standards, but it might get us a meal out here." He stroked his chin, thinking. "Maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"I have an idea." He scooped the coins back into the purse, set it on the table, and grabbed the lettuce in both hands. "I'll be back soon."

"Hey! That's my lettuce!" Bob yelped, blocking the door. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Are you really that territorial over a vegetable?"

"Mr. King--Percy," Bob replied, exasperated. "I can't believe I have to explain this. You turned everyone in town against me and exiled me just because I didn't want to be under your thumb anymore. If we're gonna stick together--and unfortunately, it sure looks like we are--then you gotta tell me what you're thinking. Preferably it won't involve stealing my stuff."

Percy sighed, maddeningly condescendingly. "It's simple. We keep the coins for a rainy day, and we trade the lettuce up for something more substantial. If we play our cards right, we can get a full meal without dipping into the money at all."

Bob blinked. He considered this. "That's...that makes sense, actually."

"I should hope it does. I am a businessman, after all," Percy said proudly. He paused, thought, then added: "And if it doesn't work out, you can spend the money however you like."

"All right," Bob capitulated, unblocking the door. "Good luck, I guess."

Percy walked back in about half an hour later with some heavy plastic bags in his arms. "Whoa," Bob marveled, watching as he began to empty them onto the table. "What's all that?"

"First, our dinner." Percy set some plastic takeout containers of fish and rice onto the table, followed by some canned vegetables and tinned fish. "Food for later, though it isn't very much, and some utensils. I also found our friend the woodsman, who offered us some wood for the stove. We'll need it."

"Man." Bob sighed heavily. "We're really roughing it, huh?"

Percy nodded. "It's not the accommodations we deserve, but it is what we have. We may as well get used to them."

The accommodations you deserve are behind bars, Bob thought snidely, but held his tongue.

"Also..."

Percy cracked open one of the takeout containers. "I had the cook at the food stall cut up part of that lettuce when I traded it. Since it's the first thing we owned out here, I thought it would be nice to try it after all."

Bob opened his container and looked at his meal. The rice was nestled up to one side of the container, with the fish on another and the cooked, sauced lettuce in the other third. "Huh. It looks good."

Percy handed him a plastic fork, then took the other for himself. They began to eat.

It was delicious. It was absolutely delicious. It was almost more delicious than anything Bob had had in the city, and he'd sampled quite a few dishes, usually on Percy's dime. The fish was tastier than anything you could find from the fisheries in town, and the lettuce was fresh and crispy, not like the sorry, soggy mess that usually came on a burger.

"This...this is exceptional," Percy muttered. "This is quite a meal."

"It's good," Bob choked with emotion. "It...it's really good."

To be continued...

#electricopolis #bob sparker #percy king #story post #story illustration

12 notes · View notes

capricioussun · 6 months

Note

i feel bad for this but Drawn and frail for fellpap

I got really melodramatic with this one otl

Ao3

CW for reference to implied torture, imprisonment, "canon typical violence"

Prompt list

—

The corridor felt longer than it ever had before. Longer even than the first time Asgore led her there, growing darker, colder with every step. A familiar, old door loomed at the end, groaning as she forced it open, rusty hinges crying a warning to any held captive in the cells beyond.

Barring some dust here and there she wouldn't waste time thinking on, all were empty. All but one.

She made her way on stiff legs to the farthest cell, every step echoing in the unnatural silence. Her body ached, exhaustion fighting to take hold after everything it'd taken to get this far. But it had all been worth it. The rebellion had finally taken the throne. The barrier was broken. After all this time, they were really, truly all free now. Or would be, soon.

Very little light found its way this far, but still, a ghost of her shadow fell over the heavy door. The key struggled to turn, the rotted wood cracking loudly as the door was raucously thrown open, and her shadow stretched out further, just shy of the prisoner. Even the dim light could not reach him where he lay, curled against the far wall.

He startled harshly at the sound, drawing in on himself and raising a hand as if it was somehow bright enough he'd need to shield his eyes. Faintly, his bones had begun to rattle – a chalky, hollow sound unsoftened by fabric, stripped and sallow.

Anger and grief swelled chokingly quick, making her dizzy, nearly blinded with rage. That the near unrecognizable monster before her, impossibly small and frail, trembling and holding himself close with not fear but resignation, could be the same as her once fellow Captain, her Lieutenant...her friend. It was unconscionable.

Suddenly, the shifting of her armor with every step on the stone floor sounded cacophonous in the small room. Her presence large and imposing before him, likely mirroring whatever scenes played out here before, on the rare occasion he was "tended" to. Closer now, his mistreatment became all the clearer.

The pale magic gathered at his joints was a sickly tan, thicker and partially dried at wounds left unhealed, discolored bruises marred at least half his body, and his bones looked thin enough to shatter if he so much as tried to stand on his own. She would've thought it impossible for a skeleton to look gaunt before today.

Papyrus – and it was, truly Papyrus –tilted his head, hand lowering slightly as he looked up at her, or maybe he was too weak to continue holding it up so high. His sockets looked sunken and somehow even darker than when he normally forwent using eyelights, but even that wasn't quite so haunting has his expression.

Soul-deep exhaustion. Weak and tired, teetering dangerously close to the edge of Falling. No fear, no acknowledgment, maybe a scrap of uncertainty, perhaps wondering what she was there for if not punishment, or why it was taking so long to start. Her soul twisted painfully in her chest, gloves creaking from hands clenched tight at her sides, nearly as tight as her jaw, sending a dull throb through her already aching head.

Without warning, she turned on heel, storming back out of the cell and down the hall. At the very least he deserved a shred of dignity preserved. She could give him that much. The trip back to the connecting corridor was brief, quicker still to tear a piece of the drapes from the window. She only slowed upon reaching the room again, though not as much as before, not allowing hesitation as she moved back toward her once fierce ally.

In a swift maneuver, she drew the fabric around him as she knelt. She could remember a time she'd threatened him for growing taller than her, but as he flinched away at the unexpected touch, he looked so very much like that small, anxious child she'd seen trailing behind his brother at the labs all those years ago.

Her hands shook with fury that had no place to go, carefully tucking the makeshift blanket around him as that lingering raised hand found their joint by his collarbone. Those despondent eyes wrested her attention and she'd known, she'd known from the start of this what she had to do. They'd both have died down here, rotting in this prison if Asgore had turned his wrath on her as well. How many others would've suffered alongside them.

The truth did little to assuage her guilt, hot and strangling not unlike the urge to cry but infinitely more wrathful. But of course it was him to make that sacrifice, of course.

"Told you I'd still save your scrawny ass," she managed in a ragged whisper. A bitter laugh choked her, forced to look away as Papyrus still showed no sign of recognition.

Her hands shook nearly in time with his tremors, clasped firmly around his fragile shoulders. There was no resistance when she pulled him forward with more care than she'd ever handled him in all their years together. He merely fell against her and she bundled him close, searching for relief beyond the rage.

Not ideal, no, but he was alive. They both were. She'd kept her word and they could finally both go home. Better yet, make new ones on the surface.

"Shouldn'a taken so long," her voice shook, gravel from days of shouting orders, strained from tears she couldn't shed, "I'm-" her voice cracked so she clenched her jaw tighter, "I'm sorry, Papyrus."

"You shouldn't have- this wasn't supposed to..." her words tapered off as she realized he'd stilled in her embrace.

Forcing panic aside, she pulled away only enough to see his face. At the movement, his sockets opened blearily, a stubborn tremble or two shaking him, but only a deep need for rest looked back at her. In the stiflingly musty air, she could still feel the pulse of his soul so close to her, the low crackle of his magic, still alive and flowing, as his eyes lulled closed again.

Easing him back to her shoulder, a shuddering sigh wracked her. The relief began trickling in then, at last. Despite his condition, he knew he was safe now. It wouldn't be long until she could get him the true help he needed, and then his recovery could begin.

As mindfully as she could, she pulled herself to her feet with Papyrus gathered securely in her arms, stirring briefly but already dozing again as she made their way back to the others.

Beyond a shadow of doubt, she knew if anyone could bounce back from months of this form of hell, it would be him. And she'd do everything to be there for him this time, every step of the way.

#cs follower fics #<- new tag I gotta update and put all the other ones in <3 #weia-yo #ty for the prompt!!! 💕 oh how I love tossing him in a wood chipper #underfell #uf edge #uf levi #underfell papyrus #underfell undyne #angst #hurt comfort #implied torture #overcast moonlight #lmk abt any typos plllsssss

8 notes · View notes

sleepyselkiesims · 28 days

Text

Part 47

Snow White was getting worse. Both Chris and Apple weren't enough.

Attina loved her mama, but this was too much!

The benevolent god tried having Snow do things she enjoyed, but she just seemed.... empty.

Chris was just about the only thing that got a reaction out of her anymore.

Luckily, Chris had a plan. He got up early one morning, and proposed part of his idea.

Just before the sun rose, as snow settled upon the ground, the loving couple returned to the place where, just last winter, they'd ended the most romantic day of their lives.

Snow was thrilled with Chris' thoughtfulness! Apparently he'd even found a vampire-safe drink that he would make for her himself! How special!

She politely looked away and ignored the splashes during the moments Chris messed up the drink. He may have had the theory memorized, but the man had never mixed a drink in his life.

Actually, Chris knew a surprising number of special drinks for a guy who's never touched a bar before!

Chris handed her the glass so casually that she took a sip without a second thought.

It was surprisingly delicious! Especially given the weird green smoke trail it left behind. Maybe it had just been too long since she'd tasted anything besides plasma. The drink disappeared in a single gulp.

Next thing she knew, Snow White rose off the ground and started spinning in the air, accompanied by black fog. She managed to shoot a glance at Chris, who couldn't stop grinning.

For some reason, Snow seemed more upset in this moment than she had when she initially became a vampire??

The magic was unstoppable by that point. In a bright burst of light that would've made Shrek and Fiona happy, she felt herself change once more.

Emotion overwhelmed Snow White in that moment. The power she was now familiar with was just... gone. She could feel her bladder again. Death would come for her, inevitably. And Chris... Chris hadn't told her.

But there he was, gasping with delight, amazed with himself and his beautiful wife. And she had to admit, it was pretty cool that he'd figured out the drink on his own, just for her.

Well, now that she wasn't a vampire anymore... Chris pulled out his notebook and started barraging Snow with questions.

But of course, his strangeness is what led Snow White to fall in love with him in the first place.

And she didn't need to be a vampire to have Christopher entirely within her thrall.

With that, the spouses shared yet another true love's first kiss; their first as mutual human sims since Snow White transformed! They were gonna set records for Number of True Love's First Kisses.

"Hey honey, remember when I karate chopped you in the face at our wedding?"

"Yes!! I don't need the physical reminder though.

"Did you just see that?!?!!? What just happened?!? My entire worldview has irrevocably shifted!!"

"Yeah, I remember when that happened to me back in the day. Weird summer."

As the sun started to peek out, the couple hurried back home. Snow White's kids would be so happy when they got home, and found their mother returned to her old self, just in time for their birthday!

...Well... ok only 2 kids really remembered the pre-vampire days. So human mom was probably more weird than nice. But shhh, celebration!!

And don't tell Snow that drink cost around 8,000 simoleons. Plumbob, let's hope the kids marry rich.

#sleepysims #Sims 4 #Snow White

2 notes · View notes

burr-ell · 2 years

Text

25. mistletoe kiss

It was a frigid evening in Emon as Vex and Vax met outside Scanlan's house—his "mansion", as he insisted on calling it, even though it was a fairly standard-issue suburban two-story. (Though if he could pay a mortgage in this housing market, Vex thought, he might deserve to call it whatever he wanted. Not that she'd tell him that.) Vax was rubbing his parka-covered arms up and down after elbowing his car door closed and Vex had her hands firmly tucked into her peacoated sides after locking her motorcycle. Home though Emon might now be, they were southerners through and through, and no amount of elven blood was about to change that. This party had better be worth it.

They trudged silently up the driveway, taking note of the cars that were already parked. Vex spotted Keyleth's red electric sedan and Pike's white, slightly dinged SUV and a couple others she didn't recognize. A little early to tell, then.

No, she was not looking for Percy. But if she was, she knew he wasn't here yet.

They reached the doorstep, both scuffing their boots on the mat as Vex knocked. Mercifully, Scanlan answered quickly and ushered them inside.

"Thanks," Vax gasped as the twins kicked off their shoes. "It's freezing out there."

"Nothin' like booze to fix that!" Scanlan said cheerfully. "C'mon, party's this way."

He led the way downstairs to his basement, from which jaunty tunes were thumping through the floorboards (with a lot more bass than was customary for standard Winter's Crest carol fare). Vex got to the door first and was promptly halted in her tracks.

"Soooooooo," Scanlan drawled from somewhere around her hips as he sidled up to her, "whaddaya think?"

Vex stared. "Well, it's certainly...colorful."

An understatement if ever there was one. Winter's Crest baubles shone bold jewel tones in the light of strings upon strings of vivid multicolored fairy-lights. Garlands were strung about on the wall crown, but instead of the usual green, they were Scanlan's signature purple, accented with sparkling gold bows. The actual overhead lights were turned off in exchange for rotating light projectors in various colors. And if that wasn't enough, the serving bar in front of the kitchen was covered in bottles of various wines and liquors whose array of colors was reflected back on the side walls.

It was a Scanlan party, alright.

"So who all's here?" Vex asked casually as she crossed the threshold, Vax following her and making a beeline for the bar.

"Pike, Keyleth, some of my old band, and Grog and Percy are on their way." Scanlan grinned. "And I'll let you in on a little something, just because you're you—"

He pointed to the window across the room. Even in this cacophony of color, Vex could clearly make out a sprig of mistletoe.

"Got em up all over the house," Scanlan said gleefully. "I can't wait to see what happens if Grog and Vax just happen to get stuck under it."

Vex immediately followed her brother to the bar. For his own sake, she hoped he planned on some heavy drinking, and from the sounds of it, she could use a couple herself.

-+-

"Evening, Vex'ahlia."

She'd heard his footsteps, heard him greet Scanlan at the door, smelled the faint whiffs of cologne as he walked up behind her. How was she still unprepared when he greeted her? She took a quick, near-imperceptible steadying breath and turned away from an odd little painting she'd been inspecting to face him.

"Evening, Percival," she said, forcing the corners of her mouth up and hoping she looked natural instead of like she had just had a difficult medical procedure. "Busy day?" She cringed internally.

Percy shrugged. "Nothing too terrible. Victor actually let me out a little early; I fixed a faulty alternator that was giving him trouble."

"Very impressive," said Vex, and she meant it. She knew enough about cars to keep from getting swindled, but Percy's head for the inner workings was on another level.

"Thank you." His smile was cute. And handsome. And his bright blue eyes were crinkling up at the corners. Looking at his face was a mistake. "And how is Death From Above?"

Vex couldn't help laughing. It was still such a ridiculous name and barely made sense, but Percy made it work when he gave it. "Doing wonderfully, darling. As always, you're a miracle worker."

Percy grinned and preened in an endearing sort of way. "Hardly. I merely enjoy the work."

"I appreciate it all the same." She reached out to grab his arm on impulse, to rub a hand on it or hold it or whatever it was she did normally. But there was no normally with him anymore, something her slightly tipsy brain checked her on right in the middle of the motion. She pulled her hand back and swung it a little at her side, hoping against hope that she'd played it off, staring determinedly at a shiny bauble above Percy's shoulder.

"Hey, Vex, can I get your help with something?"

She could have sighed in relief at Vax's sudden appearance at her side. "Sure," she said, maybe a little too quickly. "Well, ah—see you, Percy."

Vax led them over to the bar, uncorking a bottle of wine and pouring glasses for both of them. "Just so you know, this is aerated," he drawled.

"Oh, thank the gods," said Vex with a hand over her chest. "Imagine if it was one of those regular peasant wines."

"Perish the thought," said Vax, holding up his glass and grinning. "Cheers." Vex lifted hers and clinked the glasses together, and they both took a sip. It wasn't bad.

They were quiet for a moment or two, but Vax was pressing his lips together and determinedly avoiding her eyes. Vex frowned. "What is it?"

Vax sighed, then squared his shoulders and looked her in the eye. "How long are you gonna keep torturing yourself for?"

Vex lifted her eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't gimme that," he said sternly. "You've been weird around him ever since the hospital. It's like we're in third grade or something. You've got to talk to him."

"That'll be a great conversation," she said irritably. "'So Pike thinks you came out of your coma because I confessed my undying love to you! Oh, you don't feel the same, of course, I'm sure it's-not-me-it's-you—"

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not," she snapped. Because why would she kid herself? Why would she set herself up for more heartbreak by hoping that maybe those smiles and soft conversations meant...

No. She's not going there. She won't.

Vax was staring at her, dumbfounded. "I'm supposed to be the stupid one, y'know," he said.

"Remember that," Vex snarked before taking another sip of wine.

"Every day," said Vax. "Don't change the subject." He sighed, put down his glass, and leaned forward on his elbows. "Look, Stubs, I'm not gonna tell you what to do; no one can. I'm just saying it's alright to go after a little happiness once in awhile."

"I am happy!"

"But you could be happier."

"It's not—" Vex huffed. "Everybody could be happier."

"And what would make you happier is being with him. Somehow," he added, and Vex rolled her eyes. He reached out to touch her wrist. "Look, he almost died. Life's about this stuff, y'know? Moments with each other. Just...don't let him slip away. You deserve to be happy, no matter what you think."

Vex sighed and took another sip of her wine, closing her eyes as if to savor it to avoid Vax's gaze. When she opened them, he was gone, already halfway across the room to chat with Grog and Pike.

Dick.

-+-

The chill is almost refreshing, Vex thought as she leaned against a post on Scanlan's porch. Then a breeze blew past, finding its way between each and every thread of her clothes to rattle her to the bone, and she shivered, shaking her head. Never mind, the cold still sucks.

But it was preferable, at least for the moment. The noise of the party, the pressure of the people...normally she liked it, but with everything on her mind at the moment it was just too much.

This shouldn't be weighing her down so much, should it? Wasn't being in love supposed to be good, even if the other person didn't feel the same way? Better to have loved and lost and all that? She should just be content with things as they were, right?

"Hi."

She sighed. It had to be him.

"Hey," she said dully, barely glancing back.

"Are you alright?" Percy walked up beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. "You hate the cold."

Vex took a deep breath to steel herself. "It's just...I've had a lot on my mind lately." How exactly was she to broach this subject? "How are you? I'm sorry—I should have asked."

"No, no," said Percy quickly. "No apologies necessary." He let go of her shoulder. Vex almost shook her head, exasperated with herself for missing his touch. "I'm...alright, I suppose. As well as I can be. I've been careful to avoid the bar, at least."

"Not a bad idea at Scanlan's place."

"Certainly not."

Vex pressed her lips together. "You know I...we really care about you."

"I scarcely deserve it, most days," Percy said with a wry smile. "But you've all shown me it's true regardless."

Vex frowned at him. "You do deserve it," she insisted. "If there's one thing I've learned from everything we've all been through, it's that you have to forgive yourself. I..." She swallowed. "I want that for you. We almost lost you, and I couldn't—"

She broke off, staring determinedly at a leaf on one of Scanlan's hedges. She wasn't going to break, she couldn't break.

But then again, Percival de Rolo had been taking her masks off for a long time now without even the slightest idea he was doing it.

She dared to look up and saw Percy's eyes widening, before flicking up to something on the porch ceiling and smiling slightly. "What's—"

And then he closed the distance and kissed her.

His hands were chilly as they held her face and his lips were already slightly chapped from the cold. Her eyes were blown wide open and she could see, up close, the rather awkward view of another person's face smushed up against hers. It didn't last long, either—just a few seconds before Percy pulled away.

And, she knew as she unconsciously brought her fingers up to her lips, it was the most wonderful kiss she'd ever had.

"Mistletoe."

Vex stared up at him. "What?" Was he really—

"I—there's mistletoe, up there—" The look on Vex's face must have conveyed her thoughts, because Percy immediately threw up his hands in panicked placation. "Not that that's—it's not the only reason—I mean, it was just a pretext, I thought—I should've clarified, I—"

"Percy." Vex reached up and took his face in her hands, a smile curving her lips. "How long?"

"Ages ago," he breathed, a puff of air dissipating between them. "I just never would've believed—"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

He pressed his lips together guiltily. "I...I heard. At the hospital. It was the only thing I heard, and I—never would have thought, otherwise—"

"Why didn't you say anything before?" She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice, to little avail.

"I just didn't think it was the right time," he said, avoiding her gaze. "And I didn't want to...embarrass you? By bringing it up? And we were all so busy, and I sort of hoped...well..." He was silent for a beat or two.

"Hoped what?" she pressed.

"I hoped...maybe...here, at the Winter's Crest party," he said, uncharacteristically bashful. "I thought the atmosphere would be—well, terribly romantic, and maybe the mistletoe would help just in case I was wrong, and—mmph!"

Vex flung her arms around his neck and crushed her lips to his, delighting in his muffled yelp of surprise and even more so at how he turned his head to accommodate her, one arm around her shoulders and the other tugging her close by the waist. She pushed forward, giving her arms enough space to let one hand run through his hair, smiling in spite of herself against the kiss at his pleased little hum. Everything they'd gone through was leading up to this, this catharsis, and Vex was nothing if not a master of making anything worth her trouble.

She pulled back, grinning from ear to pointed ear at the dazed, dopey expression on his usually cool and collected face. "Mistletoe," she teased. "Can't let it go to waste, can we?"

He blinked slowly as if coming to. "Ah—no. I don't suppose we—"

"Wait a minute."

Vex glared up at the porch ceiling. Where Percy claimed hung a sprig of mistletoe was only a blank white space. "You said there was mistletoe here."

Percy frowned. "There was," he said. "I saw it, clear as day."

"Then wh—" Vex stopped short and slowly turned to one of the front windows. There was Scanlan, chatting with Gilmore, Kima, and that half-orc from his old band, and he caught her eye. He wiggled his fingers, casting an illusory mistletoe in midair and then dissolving it with a wink before turning back to his conversation.

"I should have known." Percy had come to look over her shoulder.

"I don't know whether to thank him."

"Oh, I do. I'm going to kill that bloody gnome."

2d20 kiss prompts

#perc'ahlia #percahlia #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia #critical role #this iiiiis probably rushed and unnatural but idccccccc i gotta get this dooooone #otp: it's yours (my heart and my judgment)#burr writes

54 notes · View notes

myristicisms · 8 months

Text

@cherrygunpowder | Rinoa Heartilly says;;

" You did everything you could. "

How much loss was he expected to take? Ever giving, ever caring, ever golden hearted as he was, when was it Zack's turn to have a moment of peace. Numerous men, wiped out in damn near the blink of an eye and he'd been helpless in stopping it, as was quickly becoming a trend within his life. What sort of commander came out unscathed yet couldn't keep those dearest to him safe? ( A pathetic one, you couldn't even save Angeal, why would you be able to protect anyone else? ) He knows the look upon his face is sour, far more bitter than that of an unripe Banora white and yet it hardly mattered much.

Nothing seemed to matter much anymore.

Not that being jaded was all too surprising, when a man rises to the top at such a young age, he sees far too much and Zack had been a victim of circumstance by definition; Once starry eyed and full of life, he'd made a name for himself with how quickly he'd risen to Second Class, fifteen and already participating in a long running war was already enough to severely traumatize anyone, and then his promotion to First happened and seemingly everything fell apart from there. The icy claws of reality sunk deeply within his chest, ripping apart his ribs and shredding into the ever beating and loving heart of the once bright eyed teenager. That was war though, the brutal truth of what growing up meant when one's goal was to become a hero. It was always the same story, the same song and dance but different feet tapping along to the disastrous rhythm of combat.

Sharing his tale with others was just the same, many always questioned the boisterous man, how he was able to maintain a large smile and stay so kind despite the ever present dread looming within his mind, and this raven haired woman was no different. He pours his heart out once again, eyebrows knit together and a pitiful attempt at masking his grief behind a half hearted smile while he recounts what's led him to this moment, hiding away outside of a decently populated bar while drinking some odd soda he'd impulse purchased simply because he'd been thirsty and diets be damned.

Usually, when finishing his tale, most would look upon him with pity and offer something akin to ‘ that's rough ’, and yet his new company was kinder in her phrasing. “ You did everything you could. ” And he finds himself devoid of knowing how to respond. Laughter would be inappropriate, especially with how it struck a chord deep within Zack's heart simply because it reminded him so much of his old mentor. It hurt in a way that left him feeling human, as though he were just a normal person once again and not a revered warrior created to maim and slaughter any who stood in his way.

Silence was always so terribly awkward.

“ I did, but... Will my best ever be enough? ” He finally manages, turquoise eyes unfocused as he collects his pooling thoughts in what may as well have been a broken bowl. “ It feels like the more I try, the harder I work to be better ; to be a hero, it means nothing in the wider picture. I did my best and it did nothing at all. ” And he knows he's being pessimistic, feels utterly hopeless for a minute simply because his guest hadn't struck conversation with him over his tragic past, she wasn't there to listen to him mope and yet she still allowed him to tell his tale for the umpteenth time.

“ I never caught your name, here I am making a therapist of you unprompted and I didn't even get your name, I'm sorry. ”

#muse;; zack fair #cherrygunpowder | rinoa heartilly #// i'm so sorry i'm not too familiar with non ff7 muses #// but i tried to keep things mostly neutral for an easier verse!!#// also im so sorry my first interaction with you is zack word vomiting and being sad

1 note · View note

typical-simplelove · 2 years

Text

Dancing on My Own (M. Tkachuk)

Dancing On My Own (M. Tkachuk)

Word Count: 400 words

Warnings: explicit!female reader

I chose violence, and I apologize. Enjoy!

He watched her dancing. She was dancing around with her four year old nephew, moving along to the 80s song that the couple picked out. Her smile was wide and happy as she danced along and got soaked up in the song.

Matthew's never been jealous of a four-year-old before, but today, for the first time, he despised that child. Matthew wanted to be dancing with her. He wanted his hand in hers, and he wanted to be the one that gave her that perfect, beautiful smile. She was the only one he wanted. There wasn't a single person on this planet that could compare to her, yet she was dancing with that four-year-old.

Fucking toddler.

Again, he's never been jealous of a four-year-old, but tonight was a night full of new things. Throughout the entire day, he was only thinking of her. He knew he shouldn't considering the circumstances, but he could help. Her bright eyes, her infectious smile, her desire to make everyone happy, even when it didn't make her happy. If he met her first, maybe things would have been different.

Just as a slow song starts to echo through the ballroom, Matthew watched as she walks up to a close family friend who he figured she'd one day marry. He wasn't good enough for her, no one was, not that four-year-old, not Matthew. His hands rest low on her hips as she wraps her arms around his neck. She's smiling as he whispers something into her year.

Matthew finished his whiskey in one sip as he stared at her, jealous. He should probably be out there dancing, but he wasn't in the mood. His eyes stare at her as she continues to dance with her family friend. Matthew was no longer jealous of that four-year-old. He was jealous of the person she was dancing with. Matthew wanted to be the one, but he wasn't. A few wrong choices turned him down this path.

He's about to walk back to the bar and grab a drink when he bears someone call his name. Justina. Justina. His heart softens at Justina's voice as he realizes what's happening.

"May I have this dance?" Justina asks, her smile familiar and comforting. Matthew nods.

He was supposed to be thinking about Justina, not anyone else. Matthew took Justina's arm in his and led her to the dance floor. The gold wedding band on Matthew's hand chilled Justina's skin and sent a shiver down her spine.

After all, Matthew married Justina, and it didn't matter if Matthew had feelings for Justina's sister, was jealous of that four-year-old, or wanted to strangle Justina and her sister's family friend. He made his choice, and he would have to live with it.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk x reader #nhl fic #hockey fic #nhl blurb #claudia writes #I'm sorry #op: 2022

82 notes · View notes

professorsnape394 · 3 years

Text

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Nine: Letters, Lovers and Loyalties

A/N: This is the ninth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2185

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

Yet another letter dropped into the lap of Aria Dumbledore as she sat absentmindedly sketching. Dropping her quill back into the small pot of ink which balanced on the arm of her chair, a small sigh escaped her lips. She had been expecting another to arrive any day now.

Aria allowed herself a small glance in the direction of her desk where the ever growing pile of unopened letter sat gathering dust. Disregarding her drawing, Aria traveled to her desk, fingers fumbling with the edge of the envelope. Admittedly, Aria's mind had been focused on that small pile of letters the past few days, and consequently the man who sent them. She couldn't bring herself to reply to his constant inquiries, but she had considered there was no harm in opening a few of them. She longed to hear from him, though she had been in denial for so long now she wasn't sure what to expect from his most recent letters.

Waiting no longer she ripped the paper from its wax seal, her eyes quickly scanning every word on the page.

My dear Aria, Though I know you say you cannot reply to my letters, I write them all with the hope that you will find the time in your busy schedule to at least read them. As always things are quiet here without you. Too quiet. I miss your voice. I miss hearing you sing to yourself in the shower thinking no one can hear you, I miss hearing you hum as you wander aimlessly through the house, I miss watching you draw as I pose for you, but most importantly I miss holding you in my arms. I long for the end of the school year when we will be reunited and I will have nothing to miss except maybe writing these letters. I long for a response to my letters, my darling. I simply must know that you miss me as I miss you. In the mean time I will continue to write to you to keep myself distracted from everything terrible happening in the world, by simply thinking of you. All my love, S.

Aria couldn't help but feel a great pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach for ignoring the letters, but she couldn't bare the thought of reading them, while she was still coming to terms with how she felt when she decided to leave for Hogwarts. She knew immediately she would not be able to maintain a long distance relationship with him. Though he was the first man she had ever loved she had been too cowardly to confess her feelings for him in person, let alone on a piece of parchment. She knew she was a pathetic coward from the moment he told her he loved her and she could not find it in her to return the favour. Her cowardice was more than proven the day she left for Hogwarts. Aria had planned to break up with him, to avoid further heartbreak down the line. But she could not even find the courage to do that.

Instead she was living in denial. In her mind they had broken up, and refused to face up to whatever she was truly feeling until it was absolutely necessary. Her plan had been to distract herself as much as possible, suppress her feelings and just forget about the situation completely. And to be totally honest her plan had been working for her, with the exception of a few off days such as today. However when it came time to wake up and face the music she had no idea what her plan would be then.

Leaving the letter open on her desk she took a stroll around the grounds of Hogwarts to clear her mind. The time to figure out all of her problems was not now. She was still a young, carefree woman and she didn't want the burden of guilt stopping her from living her life however she so wished.

Arias walk led her to the village of Hogsmeade, and after working up a light sweat, the young professor opted to pop into the Three Broomsticks to quench her thirst.

Unsurprisingly for a late Tuesday evening the place was barren. Besides for a drunken wizard practically falling off his bar stood, a crazy witch whispering to herself and two well dressed men, sitting out of place in a side booth, the place was completely deserted. Planning to only stay for a pumpkin juice Aria took a seat at the bar and begun chatting to the same barmaid who had served her and Severus all those weeks ago.

"Busy night?" Aria joked, rolling her eyes at the drunk to her right.

The woman laughed in return, handing over a glass of pumpkin juice. "This is pretty much the standard, at this time." She shrugged, polishing off a perfectly clean glass, to keep herself busy. "That one over there doesn't even order anything, but its not worth the hassle kicking her out." She gestured to the old hag in the corner, her perfectly polished nails glistening in the dim bar light.

"I wish I could say I felt sorry for you, but a break away from the chaos that is Hogwarts is a slight relief." Aria sighed. She was still not used to being around so many people all the time having spent the past few years alone, besides her mother, she often needed time alone to breathe.

"Oh, then you must be new. I've had my fair share of lonely professors spend an evening behind my bar, and I usually remember who's spilled their whole life story to me. Though you do look familiar, what do you teach?" She finished up with her glasses, leaning her elbows on the bar to get a closer look at the younger woman, her breasts practically falling out her blouse.

"I'm just an apprentice for now. I'm the new Potions Mistress." Aria smiled, taking a small sip of her drink.

"Oh yes, now I remember. You came here with that Severus. He's not unfamiliar with our whiskey selection, if you know what I mean." Both women rolled their eyes in unison. "He doesn't seem to talk much though, I can't say I know anything about him. I must admit I was surprised to see him with a gorgeous young witch like yourself."

"You weren't the only one." Aria scoffed, finishing off her pumpkin juice.

"Well it makes a little bit more sense now." She laughed, a set of pristine pearly teeth emerging from her red glossy lips.

It seemed Aria was not the only one who had been admiring the woman's beauty, and almost right on cue the drunk decided to look a little bit more lively, demanding another pint. Reluctantly the barmaid obliged, shooting Aria an apologetic look.

Aria couldn't help but notice the gruff looking man practically throw himself over the bar in order to get a good gawk at the barmaids behind. The slightly older woman seemed unfazed by the mans actions, in-fact Aria wasn't entirely unsure she wasn't enjoying the attention. Choosing not to interrupt as neither party seemed to object to the altercation, Aria kept her mouth shut.

That was until the man's attention turned to her. The barmaid disappeared from view, presumably to refill the barrel the drunk had practically drowned himself in. "Haven't seen you around here before." He started harmlessly, though Aria did not miss the way his eyes seemed to scan the whole of her body.

"Just moved into Hogwarts, haven't seen much of Hogsmeade." Aria admitted, but made the conscious decision to turn away from him, hoping not to engage in any further conversation.

"You a friend of Ros'" He asked, intrigued, while downing a good half of his pint.

"Not really, no." Aria shrugged. "I didn't even know her name until just now."

"Rosalind Rookwood." He edged his seat closer to Arias. "Fantastic barmaid, though I wouldn't say it was her best profession." He winked.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Aria turned her nose up at the man, just praying he would leave her alone.

"Well, you know, bein' a barmaids fine an all, but it doesn't always pay the bills. Miss Rookwood's got her fair share of stories to tell, and not all of them her own." He laughed, the potent stench of his alcoholic breath suffocating Aria as he leaned in closer, wrapping a heavy arm around her shoulders. "If it turns out teaching isn't for you, just know you'll have a loyal customer in me." He hiccuped, his free arm, reaching down to stroke the woman's exposed thigh.

Instinctively Aria gripped onto his wrist, forcing it off of her. "What the hell do you think you are doing!?" Aria exclaimed, pushing the man away from her. "Don't you dare lay your hands on me again."

The drunk showed no sign of guilt or remorse, he simply chuckled to himself, revealing a shocking lack of teeth. Disgusted, Aria made to move but found herself cornered against the bar.

Fortunately the altercation had caused enough disruption to alert the two men having a casual evening drink. Instantly one rushed over to her aid, stupefying the old man. The second man followed suit and made it his business to remove the frozen figure from the bar.

"Are you alright?" The first man asked, his brow furrowing with worry.

"I'm fine, thank you for stepping in." Aria smiled, brushing herself down, as though she was riding herself from the drunks disgusting touch.

The man returned a boyish grin, his eyes bright blue and full of kindness. Aria had never seen anyone like him. His presence was almost cartoon like, with positivity radiating from him. Aria couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, her smile growing just by looking at him. His energy was contagious.

"Is... is there anything I can do to thank you?" She tried your shake herself back to reality though remained entranced by him.

"Nothing at all. I'm just glad I was here to help." He extended a hand, almost nervously, introducing himself. "Alexander Turner, pleasure to meet you."

"You too." Aria blushed, unable to break eye contact with the man, and was now incredibly aware of how dumbfounded she must look. "I'm Aria" She stuttered, the sound of his friend retuning sending her back to reality. "I apologise for staring, but I just can't seem to take my eyes off you, you have an enchanting aura about you. I'm sorry if I may seem a little strange."

"There's no need to apologise, I get it all the time." He laughed, though not arrogantly, it was sweet and innocent. "My mother's a Veela." He added, almost embarrassedly, upon noticing the slightly look of confusion appearing on Arias face.

The couple shared an awkward smile, both at a loss for words.

Alexander's friend passed by the pair silently, slapping him encouragingly on the shoulder before disappearing behind the bar, Rosalind following closely behind.

Aria noted the difference in both attitude and appearance in the two men, finally able to distinguish between the two. The friend was tall and broad shouldered, his hair messy though not long. He gave off a sort of American football, "bro", fratbroy vibe. In other words kind of arrogant and full of himself. Clearly he saw himself as the one in control. Alexander on the other hand was more slim, but not skinny. Tall but not lanky. Innocent but not naive. His clothes appeared similar to his friends but presented more neatly and well put together. She assumed he felt sorry for his friend, knowing his Veela parentage would gain him lots of female attention, and in return Alexander simply allowed himself to get pushed around to boost his friends ego.

With a roll of his eyes Alexander practically confirmed her theory and Aria couldn't stop herself from laughing once more.

Knowing that while Rosalind and 'Braydon'; as he turned out to be, would not be returning any time soon, Aria and Alexander chose to occupy one of the booths and get to know a little bit about each other, where Alex truly confirmed all of Aria's suspicions.

Upon Braydon's return, he flashed his rather large biceps, kissing each one in turn as he flexed them, before letting out a hearty growl, presumably this was a display of male dominance among his kind. His kind being; douchebags.

With another roll of her eyes Aria bid farewell to the men, thanking Alexander once more for his heroic rescue.

"How about a date?" Alex called nervously as Aria had just about reached the door.

"I'm sorry?" She replies, caught off guard.

"A date, here, with me. What do you say?" Aria shook her head unable to look away from that damn charming smile of his.

"I'll agree to a few drinks." She clarified. "Just send me an owl, you know where I'll be." And with that she disappeared once more down the path to Hogwarts, the grey sky above all the while threatening to rain down on her.

Taglist: @ayamenimthiriel @lizlil

#severus snape #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape one shot #severus snape imagine #severus snape x reader #severus x reader #severus x oc #severus x y/n #Harry Potter #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter fanfiction #alan rickman #dumbledore #dumbledores granddaughter #potions master #potions masters apprentice #Severus Snape smut #severus snape fluff

45 notes · View notes

horrorkingdom · 3 years

Text

The Satellite Images

A friend of mine showed me how to use Google Maps. I'm sure you've seen it. It lets you use satellite images to look at locations all over the world. A few years ago, I was in a car accident. Since then, I really don't leave the house that often. It's difficult, and the idea of a seeing a car drive by me makes me feel lightheaded. I was fascinated by the fact that I could see all over the world, almost like being there. I could virtually walk down the streets, and it almost felt like I was really there.

I became instantly hooked. It gave me a real eye on the world. I could go to almost any major city, and I did. I'd seen streets in China, Japan, Germany, and England... so many places. I'd even gone to tourist attractions like the Great Barrier Reef and Dracula's castle.

My favorite was to go to random places in major cities and see how many people and animals I could find. The faces of the people were always blurred to protect their privacy, but it was still enjoyable to see them out there, enjoying their life, walking like it was no big deal.

"She must have good taste," I laughed.

I zoomed in closer and noticed the grey bag she carried on a grey and purple shoulder strap. She was walking in a relaxed manner, one hand trailing the wall beside her. I bet if I could have seen her face, I would see that she was smiling. I began to feel a little sad. I let my hands fall onto the arms of my wheelchair and looked at her for a minute more. I wished that I could be there, walking so carefree with her. That wouldn't happen though, until I died. I was stuck in this chair. I sighed and zoomed out of Tokyo. Enough of this for tonight. I turned off the computer and went to bed.

—

I got up early and decided to look around Paris. Paris was always fun. I liked the look of the city, with all of the old, beautiful buildings and so many people to watch. I randomly zoomed to an area and saw a street, lined with old brick buildings, a few small shops, and an old tan brick church. Ahead was an intersection, and dozens of people walked by. A balding businessman walked quickly past, looking back at an old woman, hair covered with a scarf, carrying a large purse. A curvy woman in black pants that were too tight stared into a store window, and two women led a group of small children around a corner.

I spun the view around a few more times, and then saw something peculiar. Sitting on the bench at the bus stop, were two people. One of them was a young woman with her feet stuck in front of her in a relaxed manner. She was wearing a pair of red sneakers, like my own. I was startled for a moment; as I noticed the black pants, white t-shirt, and black hooded jacket. Her dark brown hair was tied loosely behind her head. A grey bag sat on the bench beside her, the shoulder strap hooked over her shoulder.

"This is crazy," I thought. "It can't possibly be the same woman. This is a different country, different continent even. How could it be her?"

This was stupid. It wasn't as if these were live photographs. They were taken ahead of time and then stored. It's not like she was in two places at once. She could just be a traveler. Besides, without seeing her face, it was impossible to tell it was the same person. Brown hair was probably the most common hair color in the world. Those red sneakers were something I purchased online. I'm sure a million other people did too. I shook my head and went to fix some lunch.

When I got back online, I decided to look at Berlin. I picked a random street, as usual. It looked pretty empty. There were brick buildings lining the streets, looking more like factories than anything else. There were also empty lots, full of long grass and piled gravel. There wasn't much to see at all, really. There was a line of motorbikes and a car with two German flags sticking up from it. After more searching, I found one kid. He looked like he was dressed for school, a jacket thrown over his bag. He was intently looking at some kind of mobile device. I was disappointed. I started to leave, but then I caught something out of the corner of my eye. I turned the view, and there they were. Those damned red sneakers.

She was standing on a street corner, next to some kind of signpost. She had a hand on the post, looking down the street, as if waiting to cross the street. I stared, in shock. How could she be there too? Even if she was traveling, there's no way I would find her every time. Even finding her in Paris would have been one heck of a coincidence, but this? This was crazy. Was this some kind of joke? Had Google decided to play a prank on its users that used their product so much? It would have been a great joke...

I did a quick search, looking for a note about a woman that shows up like Waldo. There was nothing. I looked through articles on strange things you can see on Google Maps, but none of them mentioned the woman that travels the world with you. This was crazy. Had my self-imposed isolation driven me mad? Had I become so lonely that I created a hallucination for myself?

Leaving the Berlin image on my screen, I sent a text message to a friend, asking him to look at the locations. I asked him if he saw the same woman. Then I waited, hands sweating, heart thumping in my chest. I jumped when my phone beeped with a return text message, ten minutes later.

The text read, "I see the lady you're talking about in Berlin. I didn't see her in Paris or Tokyo. Is this some kind of game, or what? Are you okay?"

I didn't respond, instead returning to the locations in Tokyo and Paris. There she was. She was there, but it was different. She no longer sat on the bus-stop bench, in Paris. She was standing in front of it, looking for something in her bag. In Tokyo, she was blocks away, squatting down to pet that calico cat. I shivered. Who was she? What was happening?

I switched the map to Brussels. It was another city street. It was lined with old looking buildings, with shops on the ground level, and what I guessed was apartments above. I quickly scanned the streets. They were empty, other than a stocky woman in a bright blue sweater. I did a second sweep. She wasn't there. I sighed in relief. I couldn't believe I was getting so worked up about this.

It was nothing but a coinci-- I stopped, my eyes frozen on the screen. There was a building at the point of a fork in the road, white with a black-ironwork-framed balcony jutting from the second floor. I hadn't seen her, as I had been looking at the sidewalks. There she stood, standing on the balcony, her head tilted in the direction of the camera, almost like she was coyly looking toward me. My breath caught in my throat.

I switched to Sydney. She was leaning against the wall, inside the doorway of a bright blue Carricks Pharmacy building. London showed her getting ready to step onto a red double-decker bus, her head turned to look over her shoulder. She was everywhere I looked. She stood on a brick sidewalk on a bridge in Venice, she walked across a yellow barred crosswalk in Zurich; and in Hong Kong, and she stood between a Wing Lung Bank and a McDonald's adjusting the strap on her bag. In each picture, she came closer and closer to looking directly at me with her blurred out face.

My heart felt like a terrified bird, slamming around inside my chest. I couldn't catch my breath. I wasn't sure what to do. I couldn't call the police. Should I send screenshots to Google?

I clenched my fists tightly and closed my eyes. Who was she? Was she following me? Was I following her? I wish I could see the expression on her face, know what she saw when she looked back at me. I wanted to get out of the chair and run. Why is it that the only thing that made me feel free again, was the thing that made me feel even more trapped? I had to know.

I typed in the name of my town and zoomed into a random street. It was a couple of miles from my house; the gates to the city park were shown in the clarity of daylight, despite it being night here. There she was. There... There she was. She was only a few miles from my house, standing under the ironwork arch that stated the name of the park. She looked directly at the camera, directly at me. I felt like I might throw up. She was near me, and she was watching me. She was coming for me. What did she want?

I typed in the name of the apartment complex where I live. I could see the outside of the building. The parking lot was full of cars, and there were a few blurred out children on the playground. I searched everywhere for her. She wasn't in the parking lot or on the sidewalks, not hiding between the buildings or standing in the playground. I even scanned each of the cars, behind the bushes, and each of the blurred windows. She wasn't there. I curled tightly around myself and lay my head down on the desk.

This place was safe. I didn't leave the apartment anyway. I would never use Google Maps again. I would never see her again. She could stay at the park for all I cared. I smiled to myself and was surprised to find a tear slipping down my face.

"I'm safe," I said to myself in a whisper. It felt good to hear it out loud. "I'm safe."

As I said it, there was a knock at the door. A chill ran down my spine. I had a camera hooked to my computer that showed who was at the front door, which made it easier for me, with my mobility issues. I slowly reached for the control to show myself who was outside, but my hand trembled furiously. As I touched the control, I realized my mistake. The last of Google's images that I'd seen had only shown the outside of the building. Just the outside.

I looked at the screen and saw a woman in a white t-shirt, black pants, black hooded jacket; and carrying a grey bag with a purple and grey striped shoulder strap. Of course, there were those red sneakers. She looked directly at the camera, her face still a complete blur. As I tried to stifle a scream, she raised a hand and knocked loudly on my front door.

#explore #beginner witch #spirituality #sigils #journal #creepy #creepypasta #horror #horror community #truefacts #true stories #follow #new to tumblr #scary stories #creepy photo #Reddit

3 notes · View notes

shxlbylore · 4 years

Text

Without You

John Shelby x Reader

Plot: John's assistant is dating Finn but recently they've been arguing more, yet to make matters even worse Y/N has fallen for John. At Grace and Thomas's engagement party they get too close for comfort.

Note: Super angsty, tw and cw for alcohol, smoking, drug mention, cheating and suggested smut at like a 12A level

"Fucks sake, what are we gonna do with you Y/N eh?" Arthur groans, swatting your grasping hand away from his jacket pocket, pulling out his cigarette box.

"Nothing unfortunately Arthur, stuck with me begging for cigs until your brother shows up." You pause, plucking a cigarette out and gesturing to Arthur to light you up; he huffs but obliges. It was no secret that old grumpy Arthur had a soft spot for you, in fairness most of the Blinders did. From the lads who patrolled the streets at night to the Shelby brothers themselves, you were fondly thought of and not just for your looks, but your intelligence, wit and charisma.

"Which brother are you waiting on this time then?" Arthur murmurs back with a smirk, carefully lighting the tip of the cig which hung between your coloured lips, earning an eye roll from you in return.

"Finn obviously."

"You're not overly picky about it though are you?" He prompts, raising any eyebrow. You felt your jawline flush with heat, you knew yours and John's chemistry hadn't gone unnoticed since you became his assistant just three short months ago but you hadn't known the office gossip had risen through the ranks of the business.

"Get me a drink?" You shoot back, he luckily is easily swayed out of that line of conversation and heads off to the bar leaving you alone in the booth. You hoped he'd thought you acted nonchalant but if Arthur knew, who else did? You knew Finn was oblivious. Michael had adopted a really annoying habit of raising his eyebrows whenever he spotted you even close to John or as soon as you said his name since he'd caught you staring at John at the Garrison when you were too pissed to care last month. For a psychic Poll seemed none the wiser. Tommy obviously knew and had appointed you as John's assistant to make a point.

You hadn't meant to of fallen for John. You were meant to be dating his younger brother. Since you'd moved to Birmingham a year prior you'd been close with Finn, but recently everything had changed. Finn was more withdrawn and seemed to only want to sniff Tokyo with Michael and Isaiah and commit arson when they got bored. Now most your nights were spent in the Garrison with Ada and the other brothers.

It wasn't like you and Finn were deeply in love. You just enjoyed his company, you made a good partnership but there was little passion. You didn't feel the draw you had to John with Finn, which made you feel endlessly guilty. It could've been so easy with Finn. Much easier than the awful tension between you and John which was overall pointless and exhausting.

A pair of strong arms encircled your waist and a kiss is pressed to your cheek, you offer a small smile, folding your arms onto his.

"Promise me our engagement party won't be as dead as this." Finn murmured into your ear, you release a small giggle in return, you felt cruel to be laughing at Grace and Thomas after everything they'd been through but you just couldn't deal with arguing with Finn tonight. He seemed to be in a better mood than he had lately, maybe you could make it work? You had your good moments after all. He quickly pulls away as Arthur heads back over with John trailing behind him, he pauses and traces your figure quickly before brushing his thumb over his bottom lip, suddenly in deep thought.

"You look nice Y/N, one of Ada's?" He asks, mouth slanted in approval of the fitted red dress, as he slides into the seat across from you. Yet he does not wait for a response instead he launches back into deep conversation with his brothers.

You sip from your glass of vodka in silence, watching Thomas and Grace dance and talk to their guests. That could easily be you and Finn in a few years. You recoil from the thought before a guilty pang arises squeezes deep within your chest. Shit.

Fuck it. You stood on shaky legs, you needed to get away from it all. You deserved a nice night. Whatever happened to just having fun? You headed to the dance floor where Liz and some of the other blinder wives and girlfriends were congregated.

Suddenly you were lurching away from the bar towards a woodpanelled back room. You had no idea how long you'd been dancing but your feet were burning, makeup smeared and heels cradled in your hand. Your shaking hands grab the brass handle and after great difficulty finally prised the door open and slammed it behind you, clutching you head at the bang. Your spine pressed against the heavy oak door, the cool air and silence enveloping you in relief.

"Y/N?" A low voice murmured somewhere in the depths of the dimly lit room. You opened your eyes, your pupils taking the time to adjust, finally making out the gloomy yet broad figure of John Shelby.

"Sorry John I'll leave you to-"

He cut you off by reclining further on the sofa, crossing his leg across the other, obviously relaxed in your presence.

"No, it's mad in there. Come on, rest for a bit."

He didn't need to tell you twice. You sat next to him on the luxiourously upholstered leather sofa, your bare knee just brushing his suit clad thigh, causing you to swallow deeply. You sit in silence, stealing a glance at him. He has his head tilted back, his eyes closed, his strong jawline catching in the flickering light. You swallow deeply, despite your intoxicated state you're more than capable of understanding how beautiful this man was. A slow smile brushes across his lips as he lazily opened one eye.

"You enjoying the view or sommet?" He teased.

"Or sommet." You replied flatly, breaking away from his stare.

"I'm not sure Miss Y/L/N. If Polly saw us now, right now. Just us, a dark room, sitting so close, anything could happen."

"Fuck off."

He chuckled, jostling your shoulder. When you moved your shoulder away he pauses, grabbing your chin and turning your head so that you have to look in his eyes. All amusement and playfulness has drained from his face, his expression softened with concern.

"What's up with you? You've not been yourself lately. "

"I'm fine."

"You're not. Come on tell me what's happened."

"Nothing just tired."

"Don't bullshit me, I know you. I know when you're hiding sommet." His face is so close to yours, you can feel his warm breath across your cheeks. You should pull away. You should get up and walk out of the pub. Go home and sleep it off. Wake up next to Finn. Settle down with him. Do what you're meant to.

"You have to tell me what's wrong. I don't like talking to anyone but you, without you I'm pretty much fucked."

You should do what you're meant to.

But you don't.

Instead his fingers find the back of your neck and you grasp the collar of his jacket, your propelled closer towards him, you lean forwards and close the gap breaking the two of you apart- your lips pressing against his firmly. He's shocked. He breaks away momentarily but suddenly pulls you closer to him, unable to reject you. You push his shoulder back and move on top of him, pressing him back into the soft leather. His fingers trace shapes across your waist and hips, soaking up the sensation of your hips against his, how helpless he feels that he can't stop himself. His mouth finds your neck as his hands wander lower, a soft moan encouraging him to whisper nonsensical yet affectionate phrases against your bare skin between bruising kisses. Rough fingers desperately fiddle with the ties on your dress before grasping at your shoulder blades, though he was trying to understand every inch of you. You'd never of expected him to be this way. From the rumours you'd heard expected him to be dominating you completely and ripping your clothes off but instead he was desperate for you, he was rough of course but the way he complimented you and affectionately touched you it was obvious he'd wanted you for a long time.

A loud cough came somewhere from behind you and John had firmly pushed you off the top of him and was standing protectively in front of your half dressed form. They're talking, well slurring to one another, a hushed argument of sorts but you're too gone to understanding what's going on completely.

Footsteps.

Michael looms somewhere above you, in a fog of black swirls.

"Come on Y/N you've had your fun. Let's get you home and sober up." He tells you firmly as he helps you stand, you stagger falling to the side but John catches you by the waist, supporting you as you steady yourself.

"You two have fucked it completely." Michael murmurs, as John helps you do up the row of buttons at the back of your dress. He pushes him off and rebuttons the closure properly.

It's not clear if he's referring to just the crooked red silk buttons.

"Y/N we need to get you home. John-"

"Fuck off Michael." He snaps back, the realisation of what's going to happen finally cutting through the haze of his stupor.

"I'm not the one who tried to shag my brother's girlfriend." Michael states, causing John to release a frustrated groan in reply as he pours another drink. "You've had enough of that mate."

You're being led through the bustling crowd of the Garrison, Michael's strong arms steering my shoulders through the crowd.

"Y/N! We've been looking for you-" Finn yells, his smile bright as he grabs at your sleeve clumsily, but his eyes are red and dilated, he's obviously wired. He lifts your chin up and his face falls. "Y/N? Michael why's she crying what's happened?"

You hadn't even noticed the hot tears streaming down your cheeks until Finn had wiped them away with thumb and index finger, it only made you cry harder, face contorting.

"I'm taking her home Finn, she had too much to drink. You know how she can get. You stay here. I'll sort her."

Finn nods and presses a polite kiss to your forehead before losing himself in the crowd, possibly to seek the next thrill of the night. He'd soon forget you.

You were being dragged down the dark alleys by Michael, you were glad of his company even though you could tell he was furious by the rigidity of his shoulders and the way the muscle jumped in his jaw and temple. He rested your back against a lamppost as he fiddled with the key in the rusting lock, when he eventually forced the door open he pulled you into Polly's home.

You closed your eyes, exhausted and overwhelmed, letting him guide you up the stairs to his attic bedroom. You collapse onto his soft worn bed and feel the first waves of sleep crash over you. He turns off the light but before he slams the door he hesitates.

"You've massively fucked it this time."

#john shelby x reader #peaky blinders #finn shelby #michael shelby #Angst

13 notes · View notes