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velvetm00light · 7 months

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Rescue: Y/N's POV

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Three of Save Me in Y/N's POV

Spencer's POV: here

Previous Chapters: one, two

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You're abducted by a brutal serial killer who's been stalking you. In an attempt to survive, you allow yourself to imagine the comforting words and actions of your coworker, Spencer. After a few days of grueling torture, your team finally finds you, but not before the damage is done.

Warnings: Torture, kidnapping, dead parents, suggestions of sexual assault, knives and cutting torture, sense deprivation (sight), emotional manipulation, fear, grief. In future parts, will mention PinV, oral, domxsub situations, grief, bondage, physical harm, etc.

A/N: This one is a dark one, so please read at your own risk. If you still want to read the series but want to skip over the abduction, you're totally more than welcome to skip this chapter. This chapter is also written in Spencer's POV so you can read that instead or skip both all together (there is one important detail at the end so if you want to just scroll down and read the very end you can do that too:)). The chapters after this will be tamer but as always, warnings will be listed before the chapter!

YOUR HEAD POUNDS RELENTLESSLY as you come to, your vision blurry. Your hands are immovable, cold metal biting into your skin. As you attempt to move, you hear the rattling of chains above you which you realize can only mean you've been chained to the ceiling.

You attempt to get your bearings as fast as possible to determine if there's anything within your reach that can help, or anything that might tell you about this guy that you can use to your advantage.

Too slowly, your vision regains it's focus. You quickly analyze your surroundings, the chains that are hooked onto handcuffs on your hands are connected to a hook on the ceiling, the light wood table just to your left has a variety of tools laying upon it, the large barn doors, too far in front of you, the cold straw already numbing your bare feet. You feel lucky that he didn't blindfold you, at least. Small victory.

You look downward, feeling another small victory as you realize you're still clothed. Without a clock, you're unsure of how long you were out and how far your team might be into saving you. It could have only been a few hours, depending on how long the drive here was, how long you were out, and if he kept you out longer. To the left, just beyond the table, a wooden slat on the side of the barn is skewed, allowing you to just slightly determine if it's night or day.

The sun threatens to spill through the barn through the small opening, and you sigh in small relief, assuming that if it's still light out, hopefully it's still the same day and has only been a few hours since your abduction.

The barn door opens slowly and your entire body trembles. You can't decide which could be worse, him taking his time to torture you with the anticipation of what he's gonna do and when, or him bursting in here and getting to work. You decide to settle on the best case scenario for this moment is for him to take his time. The more time he takes, the more time he gives your team.

Your stomach begins to sink as you realize he might feel comfortable taking his time because he's sure he won't be caught. You shake your head quickly to rid of the thought, your team is the absolute best at what they do, there's no way they won't find you. Feeling helpless will not help you survive this.

The wooden doors finally open fully and you try to remember as many details as you can in case you're able to get away. He's wearing a black hoodie, but has the hoodie down this time to reveal jet black hair and a tattoo peaking out across his neck. He's wearing dark blue jeans, the kind most likely worn for farm work or manual labor. They're dirty and ripped in some places. He's wearing dark work boots, but you're unable to see any kind of brand name.

As he begins to walk towards you, you do the only thing you can to distance your mind, you profile. You study his gait, and notice he prefers his left leg over his right, considering you're in a barn and the clothes he's wearing, you bet he probably got injured working on this very farm. For him to bring you here, it must hold some sort of significance to him, most likely where he grew up.

The lack of farming equipment in the barn suggests he either can't do farm work anymore due to his injury, or he has another place for storage and this barn is simply for his disturbed pleasures. Considering his dirty work clothes and that fact that he's a textbook narcissist, you highly doubt even with an injury, he still does some kind of farm work, which also sends a chill down your spine at the thought that his injury does not make him an easy fight.

Once he gets closer, you continue trying to distance yourself from your body. His eyes are hazel, a coppery brown lining the irises. If he wasn't a serial killer who kidnapped you to torture and murder you, you'd probably think his eyes were actually kind of beautiful.

The stubble on his face is only a few days old, a small patch of hair no longer growing due to a scar on his right jaw. The tattoo crawling up his neck looks to be...a rose? An odd choice for a neck tattoo, but to each their own.

He stops mere feet away from you, not close enough for you to reach him which is a smart move on his part, you suppose. You've proven you won't go down without a fight, but hopefully that will make him more reserved with his methods.

A devilish grin spreads across his face and it tightens the knot in your stomach even tighter. He seems to simply be getting off on the fact that he's taking the shots and you have to suffer in anticipation of what's going to happen next. You keep your expression emotionless and devoid of the fear he desperately wants to see from you.

You stare him in the eyes, unwilling to back down or be the first to initiate the beginning of whatever he has planned. You're perfectly fine staring at him for as long as needed if it means giving your team more time to find you and yourself more time to detach.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," he starts. He makes no move towards you or to the tools on the table. You try your hardest to keep your emotions off your face and deny him of everything he wants. "Do you remember me?"

You squint your eyes and tilt your head to the side. Every action, every thought slowed as much as you can. You hum quietly, trying to seem unbothered to him. "Should I?"

"Yes, you should."

You play your little game again, squinting more this time and turning your head to the other side. You really have never seen this man before, at least not that you know of. You try to rack your brain of all the cashiers, baristas, salesmen, anyone you could have possibly come into contact to as long back as you can remember.

"Maybe you should jog my memory, you did land a pretty hard one. I could be suffering from amnesia."

He barks a laugh. "Do you take me as a fool?"

"Well, considering I'm not sure who you are, what your name is, or really anything about you for that matter, I'm not really sure what I take you as other than a kidnapper and a stalker."

His smile is unfaltering as he studies your face closely. It's almost impossible not to squirm under his gaze.

"I'm offended you don't recognize me, but I guess I have grown up since then."

Grown up? His comment takes you by surprise and you begin to shuffle through all the memories of your childhood as possible. Your parents were killed in a horrific accident when your were 6 years old which landed you in a foster family. Your memories of that time are just fuzzy patches of little moments. You had such a hard time getting through the grief that you holed so deep into yourself that it took years for you to come out, and you haven't wanted to even try to crack open any of those suppressed memories of your childhood.

"I guess I can't blame you back then, it must be hard to lose your parents in such a way."

This time, you can't keep your emotions from running all over your face. How did he know about your parents? You haven't even told your coworkers about it. "Let's try to jog your memory, shall we?" He grins and slowly makes his way towards the tools, knowing you're watching his every move and terrified of what he can do with each of them.

He runs a light finger over each tool before settling on a basic kitchen knife. Of course he would start simple, why get into the fun right away when he wants to make it last? He obviously wants you alive, so he isn't going to kill you outright, but he might just come close to it if he doesn't get what he wants.

He strolls casually towards you as if he's not holding a knife in his hand and about to probably do terrible things with it. He circles you like a predator before stopping directly behind you. You're unable to stop the rising panic at not being able to see him. You flinch as cold metal bites your skin as he traces the exposed flesh of your arms. He grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks it up, releasing a gasp from your mouth. He glides the blade gently over your back, a shiver sending down your spine. "Do you remember?"

"No."

He tsks and swipes the blade. Sudden pain courses through you as you realize he actually just cut you. He would most likely start shallow, but you don't like the idea of the increasing pain as you further slide into yourself to ignore the pain. "How about now?"

"Pain doesn't help. If you want me to remember, you should use your words instead." You grit out through your teeth.

"What would be the fun in that?"

He swipes the blade again in a different spot and you whimper. You remember the deep breathing Spencer reminded you to do just before your abduction and begin to utilize it. Your mind begins to wander to Spencer and how you just wish he was here to save you from this mess you've somehow put yourself in with actions of your childhood. You wish he was here to profile him and help you understand what they hell you did, what you're supposed to remember, and how to fix this mess.

You begin to imagine Spencer running his gentle hands over where the cuts on your back are, imagining him kissing them better. You close your eyes and picture Spencer in front of you, a sweet hand cupping your cheek, telling you how brave and strong you are.

You're snapped back to reality with another sharp pain, this time in your abdomen. Your eyes snap open and you're met with the gaze of your kidnapper. "No sleeping, just thinking."

You look down at yourself, a shallow wound sliced across the right side of your abdomen. Luckily it's not deep enough to cause any real bleeding, just small droplets poking out the edges of your now split skin. You steel your gaze and raise your eye back to his.

"I already told you, pain does nothing."

"We'll see about that."

He continues toying with you, making short shallow cuts around your body. As he continues, you continue to climb deeper down the hole into yourself until you're picturing Spencer touching you instead of a blade, his hands holding yours, encouraging you to keep going. You play out different scenarios in your head, anything and everything you can think of; telling Spencer that you've had a crush on him these past few years and him confessing the same, marrying him and having little brilliant combinations of you and him running around, all the dates you wish he would take you on, the places you want him to touch you.

"Why don't we play a game?" His voice comes from right in front of you, bringing you back to reality.

"I don't think we have the same definition of the word game."

"I'm going to let you ask any questions you want about who I am, but they're going to be yes or no questions." A creepy smile tugs at his lips. He stays close to you, fiddling with the knife in his hands as if itching for more. "If I say no more than 3 times in a row, I cut deeper and deeper each time."

"You're fucking sick," you spit. He just laughs in your face and says, "Begin."

You try your best to go through your memories, if you're going to play this sick game it'll be on your time.

"Did we meet as kids?" You ask first.

"Yes."

You lose a relieved sigh. "Did we meet before my parents died?"

"No."

The memories after your parents deaths are almost impossible to bring to light and you begin to grow frustrated. "I don't remember after my parents died."

"I don't care. Next question."

You groan and try to think. "Did we go to the same school?"

"No."

Your breath hitches and you remind yourself to tread carefully. The deeper he slices, the longer you'll have reminders of this and you're unsure if you'll be able to handle it. His smile widens, as if he can hear your thoughts and it pleases his sick fucking mind.

"Did anything romantic or sexual ever happen between us?"

His smile falls and you notice a twitch in his jaw. At least his answer to this will help you, if he says no, then he's angry over the fact you rejected his sexual advancements and if he says yes, then he is probably an old jealous boyfriend. "No." Well that solves that, you think.

He wastes no time slashing across your abdomen again, this time you can't stop the grunt that comes out. You don't dare to look down but you can feel the warmth of your blood slowly travel downward towards your pants.

"Did you make a sexual advancement towards me?"

He seems almost hesitant to answer, but eventually says, "Yes."

"Did I reject you?"

"Yes." His knuckles start to turn white as he tightens his grip on the knife.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not!" He roars, grabbing your neck with a rough grip and lifting your face up to meet his. "Look at you now, I could do exactly what I've wanted to do since we met and you can't tell me no this time."

Your eyes widen at his implications. He drops you and sets the knife down on the table lazily. He slowly saunters over to you, running his fingers across all the bare skin he can see, then making his way down towards your pants.

"Get your hands off me!" You growl, bucking wildly, attempting to land some kind of kick to him.

"I don't think I will."

His hand wanders up the nape of your neck and into your hair. He twists your hair between his fingers and yanks. You yelp in shock. "I'll make sure to kill your little crush, when he eventually comes to save you if you keep fighting."

"What?"

"Don't think I haven't noticed. The way you two look at each other, the way you flush when he brushes against you. I know you're thinking of him right now, hoping it'll save you. It won't. I'm going to ruin everything for you so you're not able to enjoy anything with him."

"How long have you been watching me? How do you even know all of this?" You cry out, your heart threatening to break in two at the thought of Spencer's life being at risk because of you. You didn't even know that it was obvious how you felt about Spencer.

"A man never reveals his sources." He whispers, his mouth close to your ear as his breath travels down your neck.

"Please, just don't hurt him."

"Only if you stay still."

A tear slips from your eye and falls down the side of your face as you stare up at the ceiling, his hand still forcing your head backwards. "That's what I thought."

He releases his hand from your hair. You hear the sound of a buckle undoing behind you and you can't help but let the tears flow. You attempt to crawl into yourself, imagining Spencer here with you, telling you all the statistics and smart things he would probably tell you to make you feel better, all the love you so desperately have wanted him to give you. You drop your head and focus on the thought of Spencer.

Hours later, you wake to pure darkness. Your body is sore and your eyes feel tired from the tears that overtook them. You begin to think it might just be nighttime until you realize there's a mask over your face. He left a hole for your mouth, probably to get you to play more games with him that will lead to pain. You feel almost suffocated in it, unable to see if it's day or night, whether he's even in the barn with you currently or not.

Your arms ache from the constant position of them above your head and from the metal handcuffs digging into your flesh. You whimper as you try to move, your body rejecting all movement. You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you begin to silently apologize to Spencer. You had no idea that just by simply liking him you've put him in danger, he could easily be in your spot right now if this son of a bitch's priorities had been different. You thought you had kept your feelings towards him pretty chill but your mind runs through all the small interactions you've had and how you acted. You're still unable to think of a reasonable explanation on how he could possibly know so much and how he could've seen you do it all. You don't recognize him from the Bureau so that would leave hacking the surveillance but he also just didn't look like the hacking type.

You allow yourself to fall into an imaginary conversation with Spencer in your head to help keep your sanity.

"You're so brave," you imagine him telling you, his thumb slowly rubbing circles on your hands. "You're the strongest person I've ever met and you inspire me every single day."

"I don't know if I can do this, Spence.."

"Of course you can. You have to. I need you to come back to me."

"I want to..so bad."

"Then do it. Survive this and come home to me, please. I don't think I'd be able to live this life knowing you're not here to experience it with me."

Imaginary Spencer is ripped away from you as a blow is landed to your abdomen. The air from your lungs whooshes from you. He lands a few more, and your body tremblings in fear as you instinctively brace yourself for more. "Having no sight really heightens all your other senses, huh?" He whispers into your ear.

He feels so close to you it makes your skin crawl and you wish for nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible. "You know, I'm actually looking forward to your team eventually finding out where you are. It'll still take them too long, the damage will already be done by then. Then, I can take away all the people who mean the most to you."

"Please.." you croak. "Please, don't hurt them. You already have what you want."

"You might be right about that, but what's a better final blow to you than knowing you caused this and you have to mourn your friends for the rest of your life knowing you're the reason they're not here anymore?"

You choke on your sobs, unable to even get a word out to beg for their lives. You know that you would never forgive yourself if any of them got hurt even though they would tell you it wasn't your fault and that you had no idea. You still can't help feeling guilty anyway.

A day or two pass, maybe. You're unsure if it's only been a day or multiple with the mask constantly on your face. Your kidnapper was generous enough to give you sips of water here and there but your stomach grumbles intensely with hunger. You swear you could probably eat just about anything to get rid of the feeling. Old blood is crusted all over your body and clothing, new blood still warm on your skin and soaking into your clothes. You feel as if you're starting to lose hope, maybe this guy really is too smart and covered his tracks. Even if they do eventually find you, will they find you alive?

You hear slight rustling outside the barn somewhere, your mind too scattered to determine if it's him or maybe some wild animal, or where the sound is even coming from. The barn door explodes open and you can't even find it in you to flinch. "She's here!" You hear a voice yell and within a few seconds, you feel hands over you, some untangling your hands from the handcuffs and chains, others holding you steady once you're released. Your body is so utterly exhausted, your legs give out on you and you fall to the floor. Arms are wrapped around you as they cradle you on the straw floor. "(Y/n)?"

"Take it off.." you whimper out.

"I'm trying..."

"Take it off!" You cry, ripping at the mask with your fingernails.

"(Y/n) please, I'm trying. Hold on.."

The masks finally releases from your face and the light is blinding but the relief is instant. A sob shudders through your body and you curl up into the person on the floor with you and release all the pent up emotions you've kept at bay.

"I'm here, you're safe now." A voice coos, a gentle hand runs through your hair.

Once you have no more tears left to cry, soft hands are placed on the sides of your head as they twist you to look at whoever they belong to.

"Spencer.." you choke. You swear you could cry again at the sight of him. You throw your aching arms around his neck and he embraces you tightly. "I'm so sorry..."

"(Y/n), why? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about."

"He..he told me he would hurt you, all of you, if I fought back."

Spencer's face is slick with tears and he squeezes you tighter into him. "I'm here."

You lift your face to look at his and he meets your gaze with sad eyes. The bags under his eyes tell you he probably hasn't left since your abduction. "Spencer.."

"Yes, love?"

"The only thing that got me through...what he did, was you." You confess, feeling your tears restock and begin swarming your eyes again.

His lip quivers as he digests your confession. "I am so sorry."

"You found me," is all you can say back.

Spencer releases you from his embrace as paramedics rush to your side. "Don't leave.." you whine, reaching for his hand as you lay on your cut up back. "I'm here," he says, grabbing your outstretched hand and squeezing as the medics begin their work of patching up all your wounds and transferring you to a stretcher.

Spencer doesn't drop your hand while you're rolled to the ambulance or while the medics continue to work on you during the ride to the hospital.

"I love you," you whisper, unsure if he could even hear you. You're unable to find out before sleep consumes your exhausted mind and body.

TAG LIST: @qatiee @dottirose @thisaintredwine @jay-2s-world @ruziazyn @jay-2s-world

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gvfmarge · 2 months

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Lighthouse of my Soul - Chapter One

Hi everyone!

This is my very first multipart fic! I hope you enjoy it! I’m feeling a little underwhelmed with how this first chapter turned out. I want it to be more, so hopefully you’ll stick around! I’m hoping to grow my writing a with this fic and maybe get some feelings out while doing it. This is going to be a bit of a slow burner, so be gentle with me, I’m a baby!

(Ghost)Jake x Reader

Warnings: none? Some cussing, some slightly spooky stuff but not too much for now.

I’ve also never had a tag list, so if you’re interested in the next parts just let me know and I’ll tag you! Xoxoxoxo

Were you running away? From what? It didn’t matter. You felt like you had finally reached your destination. You felt the ocean was your new beginning. The Outer Banks had always been your comfort place, growing up vacationing here was always your favorite. It felt like home every time you visited, so it was a no brainer when you had been offered a temporary position at the local newspaper in Hatteras. You felt that you were going to finally make something of yourself. All the hard work you had put into studying and writing was going to pay off.

You had luckily stumbled upon a tiny cottage to rent. The owner explaining it had been built in 1874 and had weathered many storms and tribulations. It had originally been part of the life-saving station before they had built a newer building and eventually became the Coast Guard. The house had endured damage along the years from storms and each time had been repaired. When you stepped foot inside, you could feel the history. The floorboards squeaked with each step inside, taking a deep breath it smelled like sea salt and fresh air. Everything in the house was basically original. The dark hardwood floors showed signs of wear, with little scratches here and there and you could see the discoloration throughout the house where many footsteps had worn down the stain. The walls were fully covered in shiplap and had been sanded down and painted a beautiful light blue color. The kitchen was small, with only 3 overhead cabinets, a small older fridge and a stove. The living room was connected to the kitchen, you could barely see where the owners had taken out the wall to try and have somewhat of an open concept. Slowly inspecting each room, you came to realize just how small it was compared to the pictures you had viewed online. You realized you might not even have enough space for a couch and a table, but you would figure logistics out later. Walking up the steep rickety stairs you came upon a short hallway, at the end was a window stretching from the ceiling to the floor with an amazing view of the beach and ocean outside of the house, from the second floor it seemed you could see forever over the horizon. There are two bedrooms split by the hallway. Looking inside the room to your left, you noticed a small desk sitting underneath a window looking out to the ocean. On it, sat an empty white vase and a typewriter. It piqued your curiosity, the home came unfurnished and you were not made aware of anything left behind for you to use.

Walking over to it, you sat down in the tiny wooden chair and ran your fingers over the vintage keys. As soon as your fingertips met with the cold metal, you felt electricity flow through your hand, up your arm and down your spine. Goosebumps rose over your skin and you quickly pulled your hand away. The shock and stress of moving must be getting to you, you thought. You gazed out the window taking in the ocean waves. You were finally alone, it felt peaceful but somehow, you felt a longing in the house. There was something that you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

You felt a presence with you and quickly turned around to the entrance of the room. You could have sworn you felt eyes on you but there wasn’t a soul there. You slowly turned your body around again to face the window and your mind wondered back to the memories you had that led you here. Suddenly, a faint smell of tobacco burning filled the room. The sweet but heavy aroma seemed to swirl around your body. It was intoxicating but slightly overwhelming. You felt frozen for just a moment, not quite understanding what was happening. With another deep breath you slowly stood up and scanned the room for any sign of someone else. As quickly as the tobacco smell came, it was gone. You shrugged the smell off to the history of the cottage and made your way back downstairs to begin unpacking and making yourself finally feel at home.

The sun had slowly crept through your first floor windows and shown brightly against the kitchen cabinets. You looked at the clock you had just hung on the wall to see that it was 6pm. You had worked for hours trying to unpack all of the boxes the moving company had just piled into your living area. Thankfully, the moving company had taken your mattress upstairs for you so you didn’t have to figure out how to lug it up the tight cornered stairs by yourself. Deciding it was best to take the empty bedroom, you asked them to place it under the window that overlooked the ocean. The bedrooms were narrow, with only about two feet of space between both sides of the mattress and the walls. At the other end of the room was a built in closet that was actually a nice size considering how small the whole house was. The door opened up beside the closet, so there was really no other option for your bed. You were not a fan for your bed to be facing the door or the closet, but it would have to work.

Boxes on top of boxes had somehow dwindled down to a select few that you didn’t know what to do with. As you carefully climbed the steep stairs with box in tow, you felt just how tired your legs really were. You had climbed these stairs at least a thousand times today just trying to get everything in your desired spot. You had been avoiding the typewriter room. It just felt odd to you and you really had no use for it now, so deciding to use it as storage for now, you slowly pushed the heavy wooden door open with the cardboard box and peaked inside. No one, just the lonely typewriter. There was such a sadness in the room and you didn’t know how. There was no explanation but you understood with old houses came a lengthy wrap sheet of history inside the walls. You finished bringing the random boxes into the room to go through later. Slowly exiting the room, you once again felt goosebumps raise across your skin. You quickly slammed the bedroom door shut and almost ran down the stairs.

“You’re just imagining things, it’s an old house. You’ve watched too many scary movies.” Scoffing to yourself. You turned to the front door which was from top to bottom glass and stared out to the ocean. You felt such a connection. There was just something special about the ocean. It always made you feel whole, even as a child when you didn’t know you were missing something, you knew it was to be in awe of.

You made a mental note to buy curtains to place over the front and back doors to keep your privacy. The two doors mirrored each other in the house, you could walk a straight line from the front door to the back door and see right through both doors of glass.

That night you sat in the floor of your living room, using an empty cardboard box as your coffee table to eat the pizza you had ordered in off of. Thankfully you did have a TV, so there would be a little bit of entertainment to keep you occupied before you started your new position on Monday.

After watching what seemed like hours of trash TV, you decided to tuck yourself in for the first night in your new home. Brushing your teeth and doing your skincare in the only bathroom downstairs, you stared at yourself in the mirror. “Am I actually doing this? Is this actually real?” Your mind was spinning miles a minute and you hoped you would be able to turn it off enough to get a little rest. The first night in new homes never seems to go smoothly. You either can’t sleep because it’s too quiet or the ceiling fan is too loud, or the room is too hot or too cold. You were nervous for what you would find when you made your way upstairs in the darkness. You huffed when you realized the owners hadn’t thought of putting a light in the stairway when they remodeled the house, so you had to use your senses to make sure you didn’t fall tumbling down to the bottom.

At the top of the stairs, you sped walked to get inside your bedroom and practically slammed your bedroom door shut. “What are you so afraid of.” You laughed at yourself. This would be a long summer if you couldn’t get it together. Crawling into bed, really just your mattress on the floor, you turned the switch of the lamp off and faced the window that was on the left side of the bed. You could only see the stars and the moon through the window panes, you stared for what seemed like minutes until your entire bedroom was suddenly lit up with a bright white light. You shot up in bed and stared. “What the hell” is all you could say. Until a few seconds later, your bedroom was lit up like the Fourth of July again. “There’s no fucking way, are you serious.” You hadn’t realized on the drive here or even unpacking your things, that Cape Hatteras Lighthouse was literally in your back yard. The lighthouse was close enough to shine its light through your bedroom window and make you feel like you just got busted for drugs by the police. The lighthouse’s light rotation takes about 7 seconds, which is more than aggravating when you’re trying to sleep. You flipped your body over like you were trying to slam through the floor and groaned. “Of course, I would get stuck with a creepy old house and the lighthouse in my backyard.” You grumbled. After calming down, sleep finally found you and you more than gladly welcomed the darkness.

How long had you been asleep? You picked up your phone and the time read 3am. You huffed out another long sigh. Your bladder felt like it was going to explode. There was no falling asleep like this or you would most definitely wet the bed. You laid there for a few moments until you felt like you could brave the dark house in the middle of the night. Of course the only bathroom was downstairs. Why wouldn’t it be?

You turned your bedside lamp on and rolled out onto your feet. Creeping down the dark stairs with only your phones flashlight, you didn’t sense anything. Everything felt calm to your surprise. There was no uneasiness and you didn’t feel like the devil himself would pop out around the corner. You finished your business quickly and started the ascent back up to your room. On the fourth or fifth step up, a rhythmic sound stopped you in your tracks. You stood silent and as still as a statue, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your toes. Your ears became hot as you realized what the sound was. The vintage typewriter. You were frozen. Even if you wanted to turn around and bust your way out the front door and squeal like a baby all the way back home, your body wouldn’t let you. Your feet felt like they had been cemented to the step.

Suddenly the bell of the typewriter rang out in the upstairs bedroom and the keys were being pressed in a quick but precise fashion. The person using the typewriter knew what they were doing and they seemed to be in a hurry to write whatever they were writing. You heard the paper being ripped out of the roller. Silence. No foot steps, no more typing, nothing but the ocean waves outside. You took a deep breath and steadied yourself on the wall of the staircase. Did you imagine all of it? Are you still just half asleep and dreamed it? Are you actually going insane? Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion and turning black, the world felt like it was swirling around your head and you squeezed your eyes tightly shut to try and stop the uneasy feeling.

When you opened them, you were staring at your wooden bedroom ceiling. You followed the grooves of the shiplap until your eyes met the window you had been looking out to see the lighthouse light. The sun was warming your face and the brightness almost seemed too bright. You scrambled around your comforter to find your phone, which showed 8:45am.

“There’s no possible way that’s right.” You quickly googled the time and realized it was correct. You had somehow blacked out on the stairs and made it into bed? How? Your mind was racing with confusion and then you remembered, the typewriter.

You quickly opened up the text thread with your landlady and hit the call button. Hearing the ringing tone you couldn’t even conjure up what you were about to say. Were you just giving up? Was this going to break you?

“Hello?” The sweet lady answered in a joyful tone. “Hi Mrs. Hartley, did you accidentally leave a typewriter and desk in one of the bedrooms upstairs?”

There was silence on the other end of the line and you were becoming more and more anxious the longer she took to respond. “No honey, I didn’t leave anything in the house. It has been empty for over a year now.” She quietly answered in her sweet but concerned tone. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes. No worries at all. I had a great first night here. Thank you so much again!” You hit the red button before she could even think of a reply.

You looked up to your bedroom door that was wide open and felt the goosebumps rise once again down your spine. What the actual fuck is happening here?

#jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet #gvf #gvf smut #jake kiszka fanfic #Jake kiszka #Gvfmarge mine

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lost-batarang · 1 year

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Mother, Mother (3500k Characters)

Talia gently held Jason as he woke from the Lazarus pit, covered in bruises, cuts, and with a horrendous scar; Jason tried to opens his eyes, and saw Talia holding him. He could barely speak, let alone walk; "T..Talia..?...That..yo..you..Jo...ker....he.." Jason tried to speak, before violently coughing, rolling out of Talia's grip and lying on the cold, wet floor of Gotham's sewers. "I....B...ru...ce...he..." Jason tried to bring himself together, but to no avail; he was dead for quite some time, and the Lazarus pit may not have been able to cure all his wounds; and post-resurrection headaches is something both Talia and Ra's experienced often. "N...ee....d..s..a..ve...Br...u....ce.." Jason continued in a raspy and hoarse voice, trying to drag himself across the sewers, but barely moving his arms an inch. Blood and Lazarus water ran down his face, and then, he realized; Joker had left him with a scar. A large chunk of the left side of his face was crushed and torn apart by the crowbar, leaving an almost entirely visible skull, scraps of torn skin, and mushy flesh stuck to it; excluding the many metal splinters stuck inside it. Jason's eye on that side of his face was long gone, too, and his teeth were anything but intact. Talia quickly made her way over to Jason, and placed his hand on his chest. "Shh. The Lazarus pits have not healed you fully...scars remain, and your head must be pounding. You won't be able to move so quickly- your body is barely adjusted to the pit, so I wouldn't recommend trying unless you want to be writhing in pain after trying to move your ankle." Talia spoke in a soft yet stern voice. "T...a..lia..?..N..o..w..hy..." Jason tried to speak, but he was barely understandable. "Shh. You have suffered grievous injuries, and you need to rest, Jason. You were- you are, one of Bruce's sons, and now you are one of mine aswell. I need you to stay alive." Talia responded, but soon after Jason completely blacked out. What felt like a second later, Jason awoke inside a small room, laying on a finely crafted wooden bed with the softest silk sheets he had ever felt, and he could barely feel.- He was, however, starting to regain movement and speech. He would have to certainly talk slower to be understandable, but he could move his arms slightly now and turn his head. He looked down and saw that he was not dressed in his Robin costume, and it was clear this wasn't the manor or the sewers; all his memories were a haze, especially his death, but he saw that he was wearing a set of red robes commonly worn by high-ranking league of assassins members.- Minus the red coloration. Talia entered the room, "I always knew red was your favorite color. That old Robin costume won't be doing you any good- trust me. It's....damaged at the moment. And far from anywhere we could enter, certainly. " Talia spoke in an almost joking voice. "Why...why'd..you..save..me....I...I...died.." Jason replied in a withering voice. "Because, Jason. You're family. Bruce's family, and now mine. You're an Al-Ghul now, and you will be treated and trained as one. Speaking of training, it begins tomorrow, at dawn. Do not be late, for you should be able to walk by then. I'll have escorts to show you to the training room tomorrow, but it's the courtyard outside this temple. Oh, and don't fight them. It wouldn't end well for you, nor them. For now, rest, Jason. There's much ahead of us." Talia said to him confidently. Jason was still confused, but there wasn't much he could do. He could only sleep and see what's next.

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bluepoodle7 · 2 months

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#Pokemon #PokemonIdeaIHad #ClothesMannequinWhereTheClothesChangeTheType #MyOldIdea

I had a weird Pokémon idea for the longest time.

A art mannequin Pokémon where the clothes they wear changes their normal type to another.

It's a Normal/Ghost.

I'm surprised that when Pokémon went to Kalos they didn't make this a exclusive like a humanoid version Furfrou.

For a example this mannequin wears a goth outfit and becomes a full ghost type.

Or wears a pretty glittery clothes to be a fairy/ghost type.

But in each battle the clothes get wear and tear like battle damage then they fall off the mannequin to return as a normal/ghost type until this creature wears another article of clothing to change types again.

I would think these mannequins were from a long gone store that closed down and are just tiny ghost's left from the passion that was leftover from the store owner hopes with their dreams of reopening but never did.

I can see these wild broken mannequins walk past a store with clothes in it putting their hand on the glass longing to be in stores or even wear clothes again but after this creature leaves it seems to curse the store to close if a person sees that Pokémon window shop.

I'm surprised the Pokémon company hasn't made a dress up like game pokemon as a plush I know it would make money.

I would make this pokemon have all three gender types.

Like a male one, a female one, and a genderless one in the wild with differing body types.

The captured ones are used to show off the Pokémon clothes fashion on a runway or on a catwalk but doesn't replace human's fashion.

These Pokémon are great for contests and are often seen there before the fashion companies started using them.

If their clothes are fast fashion or bootleg then those clothes tend to rip in battle easily in real time then after battle the normal type will return next to the ghost type.

I would give this Pokémon the name Manneionista.

The abilities I would give them would be.

The main new ability would be Wardrobe Makeover which will raise the certain stats like if the mannequin was wearing sports wear their speed and evasiveness will be raised by 1 while also being a fighting/ghost type but when the clothes are gone they lose the buff.

Scrappy

Adaptability

The wild ones would have a starting different type but it's clothes are worn so the first attack maybe a different one from normal type strike pose move.

Maybe have these mannequins strike a pose to attack which starts normal then when the outfit matches like a construction worker outfit makes the striking pose move it would be ground type or if this mannequin wears a metal outfit the striking pose will become a steel type move.

The shiny ones are different colored mannequin pieces put together to make the body and any outfit this Pokémon wears becomes the negative color version of the original outfits this creature can wear but have exclusive gold/silver outfits.

Maybe give it a pre evolution named Mannykidz.

Which are like the kid sized mannequin's that you see in stores that when they evolve they become adult but have some that stay short due to some having restricted growth.

I slowly remembered Dynamite Headdy Wooden Dresser boss.

Dynamite Headdy boss: Wooden Dresser (youtube.com)

Image not mine but link is there.

Amazon.com: 8 Inch Artists Wooden Manikin Flexible Body Joints Human Figure Puppet Model Wood Male Mannequin Doll Ornament Stand for Home Office Desk Decoration Sketching Drawing Painting Supplies Gift

(5/7/2024) I had a short dream I was playing Pokémon Leaf Green or Fire Red and was in the safari zone then a shiny mannequin with mummy wrapping ripped up clothes on with red heeled shoes then it shined like a shiny.

I tried to catch it but it fled.

Image not mine but link is there.

[LIVE] Shiny Chansey in Pokemon LeafGreen! Safari Week 2022 - YouTube

#Pokemon #Pokemon Idea I Had #Clothes Mannequin Where The Clothes Change The Type #My Old Idea

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the-hinky-panda · 2 years

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Day 22: Phantasm

10/22: Phantasm

Universe // Characters: Dustland Fairytale // Javier Peña x Mariposa (mention of Carrillo)

Notes: Graphic description of a gunshot wound and blood

It happens with a flash and a bang.

It’s been so long since you’ve heard one, it takes you a moment to recognize the sound of a gunshot. It takes another moment for you to realize you’ve been shot. You drop the feed pail you had in your hand as you watch the skinny teenager turn and run out of the barn.

You and Javier had been taking matters into your own hands when it came to the boats on the Rio Grande. You sit on ridges and take pot shots at them passing by, never hitting the people but hitting the water close enough to splash them. You’ve snuck down the riverbanks and hammered screwdrivers through the bottom of the metal boats, sinking more than you could remember. It was only a matter of time before someone retaliated.

And now they have.

You blindly reach out for something to lean on, your hands finding the feed bin. The thought that this could have been Chucho or Javi crosses your mind as your world spins and you land on the old wooden floor planks. You’re glad it was you that offered to feed the horses this morning. You’re glad Chucho and Javi are still inside the house, drinking coffee. You’ve been on the ranch now five years and it’s been a wonderful five years. If this is how you die, then so be it. You’ve known peace and that’s more than what most people experience at the end.

You can hear Javi’s voice in the distance calling your name. You try to answer him but there’s liquid in your throat and you choke on it. Bright red splotches land on the wood and are quickly absorbed. You’re watching it disappear when you see movement in the shadows. You think it’s another attacker, fear suddenly breaking out across your body. Javi…no, you need to stop him from coming into the barn.

But then the figure steps out of the shadows and you can see who it is: the spit-polished black boots, well-worn green fatigues, straight nose, brown eyes, and dark hair. You can feel the floorboards beneath you give way under his weight as he leans down over you, a smile softening his features.

“Hola, Mariposa.”

You try to talk around the blood in your throat and enough of his name must make its way out because he smiles enough for a dimple to appear in his cheek.

“Horacio.”

***

He knows he has to clear the barn before checking on you, so he grits his teeth and does that. Whoever had been lying in wait is long gone now. Javier shoves his gun into the waistband of his jeans and immediately goes to you. He can hear the sirens, frighteningly faint, in the distance.

You’re on your back, blood pooling underneath you and running down your cheek and chin. It looks like the bullet hit you high in your side. You most likely have a collapsed lung and he prays to Mary, Joseph, Jesus, and anyone else who will listen, that it’s only your lung that’s damaged. The amount of blood loss is starting to tell another story. He takes off his button down shirt and uses it to put pressure on your wound. Your eyes, which had been focused on the corner of the barn, swing back to him.

“Cariño, look at me.”

Your eyes keep shifting between him and the corner.

“Is that where they came from?” He’s trying to get you to concentrate on something other than bleeding out. But you shake your head and shakily point to the corner.

“‘’Racio.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. If you’re seeing things, seeing people, then you’re running out of time faster than he thought.

“Well, you tell him to fuck off because it’s not your time yet.”

You try to smile. “You tell ‘im.”

The sirens are getting closer so Javier picks you up from the floor, pressing the wadded up shirt between the two of you to keep the pressure up on the wound. When he gets outside, the ambulance is on the property and heading for the barn.

The EMTs don’t even waste time getting the gurney out, they just let Javier up into the back and he puts you down on the white sheets. You’re so pale and it scares him. But then one of the EMTs taps him on the shoulder.

“We’re going to need the space. Follow behind us.”

And just like that, he’s kicked out of the ambulance. As soon as his feet are back on the ground, the doors shut and the vehicle is speeding down the dirt lane away from the ranch.

“Mijo!”

Chucho already had the passenger side door of the farm truck open and Javier jumps in, swinging the door shut and they’re following the dust trail left behind by the ambulance.

“How bad is it?”

Javier drags a hand over his face. “I don’t know, Pops. It looks bad. Side shot. She, uh,” he clears his throat. “She was seeing people.”

Chucho hums but doesn’t say anything else.

The ride to the hospital seems to take forever. Javier keeps his eyes glued to the back of the ambulance, trying to figure out what exactly is happening in there. But the back windows are tinted and he can’t see in there. When they reach the hospital, the ambulance pulls straight into the ER bay while Javier and his father had to find a parking spot in the parking garage. By the time they make it to the ER reception area, you’re already in surgery.

So the wait begins.

A few of Chucho’s friends who had been in the hospital visiting family members hear about the shooting and come down to sit with them. Lorraine and a couple other of your friends show up as well to hold a vigil. Cheap coffee cups are routinely shoved into his hands. Lorraine brings the latest one.

“I’d offer you a cigarette but they frown on smoking in hospitals nowadays.”

He tries to smile but can’t quite manage it. “Thanks for coming.”

“Well, she’s my friend.” There’s a pause. “As are you, Javi.”

He looks over at the group of three other women that came with Lorraine. The four of them together had come around you when you returned to the ranch. They included you in family BBQs, girls night out at the local bar, pot lucks, and many other events. You frequently came home from one of their outings smiling and relaxed. You had found your family. And now, it looks like you only had five years to enjoy it.

“Mr. Peña?”

He stands up as the surgeon comes over to him. There’s blood still on his scrubs. “Yeah?”

“She’s out of surgery and in recovery right now. If you want to sit with her as she comes out of the anesthesia, you can. The bullet went in her side, at an upright angle but thankfully it nicked one of her rib bones and that slowed it down so it didn’t make it to her heart. There’s a lot of blood loss but that’s easily fixed with rest and time. We can do a transfusion if necessary but we’ll know better where we stand with that tomorrow.”

“So, she’s going to be okay?” He wants to make sure he understands what the doctor is saying. “She’s going to make it?”

The surgeon smiles and claps him on the shoulder. “Yes, she’s going to be just fine. It’s going to be a decently long recovery, but she will recover.”

The sense of relief he feels almost buckles his knees but he manages to stay upright. His father gives him a nod, letting him know he heard the news and will tell those gathered around them. Javier follows the surgeon down the white hallways until they arrive at a corner bay with the curtains still drawn around the hospital gurney. A nurse finishes checking all the vitals and IV lines before giving him a brief smile and leaving the area.

You still look pale, almost the same color as the hospital sheets. At least this time there’s no blood staining your clothes or skin. He carefully slips his hand around yours, his mother’s opal ring on your left hand clinking against his own gold band. Three years of marriage. He’s thankful that it’s not “only three years.”

Your eyes start to move behind your eyelids and it’s not long before they open. They’re glassy and your pupils are dilated, and a smile tugs at your lips.

“Javi.”

“Hey. This is not the way to get out of chores.”

You huff a laugh but the good humor quickly fades. “He was just a kid, Javi. Some, skinny, scared teenager.”

“Most of them are.” He fights the urge to squeeze your hand tighter. “Are you, uh, are you seeing any visitors?”

The drugged smile comes back. “No. I did what you told me to. I told him to fuck off. That I wasn’t ready to go yet.” You sigh tiredly. “You’ve given me a perfect life, with family and friends, and love and I don’t have to hide. How could I leave that, leave you? He agreed.”

“Perfect, huh?”

You do squeeze his hand, but with only a partial amount of your regular strength. “Perfect, Javi.” You yawn dramatically and close your eyes. “You should have seen those sheep.”

“Sheep?”

“Yeah, the ones on the jet skis.”

For the first time in hours, he laughs. He also pulls out his phone. “You know what, babe, I think now would be a great time to call Steve and Connie.”

#Hinky's October Fic Fest #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #dustland fairytale series

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rebrandedstoryline · 1 year

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Rebranded - 2 - A Moment of Reprieve

Sun and Moon take a moment to enjoy a new experience before continuing on their journey.

Word Count: 1,199

The day had been spent in silence. Neither animatronic was willing to speak. Neither was really willing to move.

While the sun made its way through the sky, humans made their way along the nearby street.

With the rising light came the ability to study their surroundings. This warehouse, old and worn as it appeared to be, was still very much in use. Evidence of heavy machinery marked the dirt. Footprints were easy enough to spot.

Every passing vehicle was treated as a potential risk of discovery. They dared not move for fear of somehow drawing attention to themselves.

The workers sent by Fazbear Entertainment may very well have realized their escape by now. If not, then they inevitably would. Nine foot tall animatronics do not simply vanish. They moved - and they had indeed moved far under the cover of night. Just not far enough to feel secure in their temporary shelter.

They knew not what time it was when the humans first began to arrive at the warehouse. All that they knew was that the sun had risen rather high in the sky.

The two could do nothing but remain still and hidden, though they studied what these humans did. This place appeared to behave as some sort of temporary storage. For what, the bots did not know.

Large wooden crates full of white bags were unloaded from massive vehicles. Thankfully the people appeared to be disinterested in assuring the security of the building. The crates were simply unloaded and then left wherever they had been placed.

None ever drew close enough to the hidden animatronics to risk discovering them. Few had even bothered to gaze in their general direction. Once their work was done the people left. They took with them their heavy vehicles, but left behind the crates.

The rogue animatronics remained perfectly still and silent until the activity on the road slowed to a trickle. By then the signs of dusk had already begun to show. However, they would not be leaving the security of the warehouse until after the sun had completely vanished from the sky.

They tentatively became active once it became clear that the people were unlikely to return. At which point curiosity overtook them. The contents of the crates became a subject of interest at that point. Specifically the contents of the white bags that were held within.

The bolder of the two was the one to take the initiative. Either out of genuine curiosity, or in order to prevent their twin from being put at risk should whatever lay within the bags prove dangerous.

Metallic claws were raked along the outside of a random bag in order to spill its contents. Thousands of kernels of some unknown grain spilled from the wounds inflicted upon the fabric.

This further piqued the interest of the animatronics. Trash could fuel them just fine, but they did prefer food. Grain made for an excellent fuel. Plenty of fuels used to power machines were the direct result of processing grain. This damaged bag was claimed for that very purpose. To be converted directly into essential power that would keep their animatronic bodies functioning.

Grain was shoveled into their mouths by the handful. Nearly the whole bag was consumed in pursuit of energy. The remaining contents of the bag were scattered. Once their fuel converters had been completely filled. Once their bodies had been assured a long enough charge to allow them to spend the following days travelling.

The warehouse had been made into the home of countless rodents and birds. The grain was quickly and readily sought out.

First by the birds.

Then by the rats.

These animals showed no fear in the presence of the animatronics. Quite the opposite. The birds proved to be just as curious of the machines and the machines were of them.

The more docile of the animatronics extended a long arm to offer these curious birds a place to land. What could be described as a sense of childlike infatuation overtook them as a number of these surprisingly trusting birds proceeded to land on their extended limb.

“Pigeons~?” The curious AI inquired, peering towards their twin as if in search of confirmation. Or perhaps to make sure that their twin was able to share in the excitement of the moment. Neither of them had ever been able to draw so close to a bird before.

In the rare event that a member of the animal kingdom might succeed in breaking into the Pizza Plex, it had always been removed before any of the animatronics could become too distracted by it.

The other animatronic drew closer, curiously rotating their circular head to the side as they studied the tiny avians that had settled upon their twin’s arm.

“Doves, I think.” The other replied, tentatively extending a hand as if to touch one of the birds. The birds, however, responded by fluttering off. A disheartening interaction, for sure. Though there was at least an understanding that, for the birds, the presence of food had become more enticing than their interest in the animatronics.

“They’re so pretty, Moony~” The original replied, contently watching as the avians went about their business. They gobbled up the kernels of grain that had been scattered upon the dusty floor.

Despite the tension of the hours prior, a sort of childlike joy had seemingly overtaken them. A comforting change for sure. After having been terrified for so long, it was nice to have this moment of reprieve.

“Yes, Sun... Very pretty~ I especially like that one there, with the black face.” Moon responded in turn, carefully motioning towards their favorite bird. His movements seemed purposefully slow, as if he feared that he may accidentally frighten the feathery animals.

Sun’s response was to hum excitedly as they carefully crouched down to have a closer look at the birds pecking at the floor.

Following this, there came a few moments of content silence between them. The only sound being that of the animals scurrying around in search of the scattered grain. The birds pecked and scratched while the rodents chomped and chewed. To think that something so mundane, even annoying in the eyes of people, brought these runaway animatronics such a sense of comfort.

For them this was a new experience. Something pleasant to observe. New information worth taking in. The one downside of the moment was the fact that it inevitably had to come to an untimely conclusion.

The sun settled down beyond the limits of the horizon. As the sky grew dark once more, the time to resume their journey set upon them. The birds had to be left behind. The warehouse had provided for them during their short time within it, but now they needed to put more distance between themselves and that forsaken Pizza Plex.

The remains of the empty grain bag were quickly consumed by Moon to eliminate the evidence of their presence and the crate was re-secured. The birds and the rats were left behind to enjoy the scattered grain.

The animatronics pressed on, moving further from the city. Further from the prison that had nearly become the cause of their second demise.

#Rebranded #Rebranded AU #Rebranded Storyline #FNAF #fnaf:sb #FNAF AU #FNAF Security Breach #Sundrop #Moondrop #Daycare Attendant #Sun #Moon

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goroaix · 2 years

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I want to love you, they whisper, please let me do so. (It falls on deaf ears)

Sohn Hyunwoo x Fem reader x Qian Kun

Android/Cyborg AU. E2L (sort of) Fluff and lots of Angst.

Graphic depictions of violence. Blood and injuries. Bombings. Self hatred and existential crisis(es?). Bigotry. Mentions of character death. Near death experiences.

63k as of chapter 4/4.

『 Androids were things made in the shadows of human insatiability. The feeling of being a creator was second to none but what could you do when the euphoria turned to deep rooted horror?

What really made you human? 』

If there was one thing she dreaded about her day to day life, it would have to be the ever lingering hours past midnight where the sky should have been lit up with stars, though retained nothing but an inky blackness where the city’s horizon drowned them out. It was always then when she found herself tangled in webs: invisible and wretched ropes twisting around her feet in the hopes of dragging her into the public eye.

Nonetheless, it was inevitable and, as she walked down the unfortunately familiar alleyways and streets, she knew that there was no other option than to resign herself to her fate.

Neon lights shone down on the ground, figures falling across the concrete with uncertainty - shadows of moving branches and far away people melding together into the harsh lines of the surrounding buildings. Same old, same old, really.

Today, she didn’t have much of a plan other than to wander around and make herself as forgettable as possible, the dark coloured clothes she wore helping to aid in this. Maybe she would find something to do, but the likelihood wasn’t very big.

Each footstep echoed, though faded just as soon as it became a reality. She didn’t think much of it, more so happy that her impression wouldn’t last long.

Where could she go? What to do…

She turned into a secluded alley, the abandoned road home to many of the wealthier residents' unwanted and discarded items. Weirdly, she didn’t often frequent these spaces and it was mostly due to the fact that every square inch was always being surveyed and watched with bobbing cameras. It might have been wiser to install hidden cameras, but the cost outweighed the use when all it would capture was footage of rubbish.

There was nothing interesting, the usual designer bags and exponential food waste nothing to be excited about. Then again, one man’s trash was another man’s treasure - or so they said. She picked up a clean bag, holding it at the handles by her fingertips and swinging it as she climbed up on a box and pulled it over the filming camera that dutifully watched over its section up on the brick wall. It twisted and turned in response, trying to nudge off whatever was blocking its feed, but she was more interested in the thing he had noticed hidden amongst the litter.

A large and undisturbed wooden box lay on the ground, its surface covered with dirt and streaks of rain but the vague outline of a banner imprinted beneath the filth had caught her eyes. And so, she kicked away whatever debris there was and reached to grab ahold of it.

Her fingers ached, the thick and bulbous wood of the box scraping against her skin as she used all her strength to haul it upright. A hulking mass teetered in her grip, her body used to stabilise it on the ground with the edge closest to her hitting the ground with a resounding ‘thud!’.

It looked beaten and worn down, rain damage creating ripples on the surface. Ink leaked down the sides, letters creating pools underneath that made it hard to understand any of the writing. Even if she squinted and got up close, there was no hope for reading any of the small and unintelligible font. If only she could get it open; something this heavy almost always had something useful inside. Even if it was nothing but scrap metal, it could still fetch a good price if melted down.

And, if she was honest, she was in no position to turn down anything that could offer her the luxury of money - even if it was hidden within centimetres thick wooden panelling and screws that seemed to be firmly lodged in.

She had no idea how she was supposed to take this thing home with her, but she would try regardless. Stealing another glance at the blocked camera, she pushed the box as hard as she could, her feet sliding under the elevated base to feel wheels underneath. A relieved exhale followed; she wouldn’t have to drag this out after all.

Even so, it was too early to count her blessings and she needed to actually get out of this narrow alleyway before conjuring up dreams of grandeur. Being too cocky had definitely been the leading cause of failure in a few of her plans.

Her fingers slipped and she hissed, grabbing on to it at an awkward angle and feeling a splinter dig itself into her unprotected skin. Even if it stung, she needed to ignore it and dig it out later when time and circumstances allowed her to. Another quick glance to the camera, the bag swaying precariously. She had always hated being watched, almost as much as she hated scrounging around in off road areas.

The wheels creaked, moaning from having to support weight after rotting and rusting, and the wood seemed to fracture despite her never having heard of wood doing such a thing! If she sped down this downhill area, she would get out of the street faster - at the risk of losing control of course.

But, when the camera moved again and the fabric shifted before floating down, she knew that she had to close her eyes and pray that there was no law enforcement lying in wait for her at the bottom. She wheeled it as fast as she could and held on with a foot slotted into the small bar at the underside of the box. This would either end well or completely terribly.

And so, she pushed and down she went. If she could have articulated anything properly at that moment, she would have described the feeling as similar to freefalling, only instead of having a fail safe of a parachute, she had the welcome risk of more splinters. The mix of both fear and adrenaline lasted only a few seconds, the straight road at the end becoming nearer and nearer.

Letting her free foot dangle, the heel of her thick boots scraped against the ground, the friction making her soles hot with the feeling bordering on burning before the box slowed down enough for her to use both of her heels. Either this succeeded or she would end up with a few large bruises.

Wind rushed past her ears, making her tear up with the intensity of it against her eyes. Her grip tightened; almost there.

Her soles continued to grind against the floor before coming to a halt with the slope becoming more gentle. She was sure she had created a variety of skid marks against the tarmac but that hardly mattered now when she was now onto the next leg of her plan: getting back home without running into anyone else. That task would definitely be easier said than done, though, thankfully, it would just be a case of memory application.

Peering around the side, she saw no one there and quickly made her way around the bend - the cameras in this location long disabled by others who also hated being observed.

No sounds of anything other than her own footsteps and squeaking wheels was audible, a happy surprise in all honesty. There was only another few minutes walk left if she sped up and used the collapsing tunnelway.

Yes it was barely holding itself together, and yes she always ran through it for fear of being buried alive in rubble, but you couldn’t limit yourself during a heist like this (or, atleast, that’s what she liked to tell herself).

Therefore, she began to wheel it down the barely there path and past the edges of the border that separated them from the rest. The wheels began to sink into the mud, forcing her into moving with more haste. The lack of natural or artificial light didn’t help either, though that wasn’t much of an issue not after years of being adjusted to the dark. With hefty pushes and shoves, both she and the box made it through into the tunnel and she could finally let her chest loosen a little - no one would dare pursue her in here if they had even some sense of self preservation.

Finally, she thought as she rushed through the crumbling passageway, maybe I can get a decent meal out of this damn thing.

Read the rest on AO3

#kun x reader #shownu x reader #nct x reader #monsta x x reader #wayv x reader #kun imagines #nct fluff #monsta x fluff #monsta x imagines #wayv fluff #wayv angst

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mordenheim · 2 years

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Fictober 2022 28: We all have our reasons.

Prompt number: 28. “We all have our reasons.”

Original Fiction

Rating: T

Warnings/Tags: Violence, body horror, disembodied head

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Angela gave out a low moan as she opened her eyes. Thankfully the lights in the room were dim so she didn’t have to deal with the usual piercing pain of what felt like the mother of all hangovers. She stretched her stiff neck and wondered why her mouth was so dry when she realized it had a cloth stuck in it. Looking down, her arms and legs were taped to the wooden chair she was sitting in. In a panic, she started to rock the chair back and forth, the legs clunking loudly on the concrete floor. Finally, she tipped the chair backwards and the wood broke apart under her weight. Pulling her arms free, she yanked the wad of what looked to be gauze out of her mouth and started unwrapping the tape from her limbs. Free at last, she looked around the room. There was some sort of plastic sheeting hanging around where she had been kept so she pulled it aside. She was apparently in some sort of makeshift laboratory or surgery theater. A huge light array hung overhead, dimmed down at the moment but obviously bright enough to destroy any shadow that might be in the way. An operating table was directly under it, surrounded by two tables with massive arrays of wicked looking instruments. She was slowly backing away from the table when she bumped into something that sloshed and splashed a bit behind her. Slowly she turned to see the head of another woman, suspended in some sort of fluid and hooked up to a series of tubes and electrodes. Her body was completely frozen in terror until the head’s eyes opened, staring straight at Angela, causing her to let out an ear-piercing scream! A hissing, burbling voice came from behind her, “Oh good, you’re awake.” As she turned again, she was struck to the floor with some sort of heavy metallic claw. Standing over her was some creature that apparently had once been a man. A very old man. She could see bits of what he once was beneath the pistons and circuits of the metal monstrosity. It almost looked like as he grew older and parts of him were worn out or damaged, he simply replaced them. “Now now. Just relax and don’t do anything stupid. Your body is exactly what I need right now, your head, not so much.” She started to back away from the thing, cold spikes of fear stabbing at her heart. “What are you? Why are you doing this to me?” “What? Why? You’ve forgotten when, where, how and who!” He made a noise like he clucked his tongue. “You’re not a very good reporter, my dear.” “Why me? Why are you doing this to me?” She gasped as she felt the huge claw close over her throat. “We all have our reasons.” The face of the old man leered down at her. Cameras whirred and clicked in the empty sockets of his skull like face. “Unfortunately for you, you simply meet my current needs.” He looked over at the disembodied head in the tank as it seemed to smile lovingly at him. She gasped, pulling at the claw holding her in place before he dragged ber back to the operating theater and lifted her high with one arm, slamming her down onto the table and knocking the wind out of her. He quickly strapped her down before she could catch her breath, much less escape. He reached out his remaining human hand towards her, his cold clammy fingers making her skin crawl as he caressed her face. “Sadly, I don’t have any anesthetic available at the moment, so I fear that this is going to hurt, my dear. It’s going to hurt very, very much.”

#fictober22 #violence #body horror #decapitation #surgery

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drrealityslenderverse · 2 years

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Discarded

Sequel to Shock Collar

Back to Contents || Back to One-shot Contents

When that man had said proxies were hard to kill, Alex had thought he meant Pawn. Staring across the empty parking lot however sent a chill down his spine; Zac was standing there with a shorter masked figure. He wanted to believe he was seeing things but when he went back over the footage there wasn’t even a hiccup. He didn’t tell Pawn. Simply said they were moving again, closing in on his former friends. Alex had hoped the distance would keep the proxies at bay… he should’ve known better.

“I ever ask how to kill a proxy?” He glanced at the quiet figure next to him as they scoped out the college—he recognized parts from when he’d visit Amy.

Pawn turned their head to glance at him before shaking their head.

An aggravated sigh passed through his lips and Alex pressed the worn button. “I meant tell me then.”

A wheeze and several coughs echoed through the hall, doing little to ease his paranoia. Those two proxies probably heard that… He knew they were closing in. Twitching, the proxy next to him collected herself. “It… You uh, have to make s-sure they can’t heal… Decapitas-sion or… or uhm… burning the body are good options.”

“I can manage that.” Alex could hear quiet bickering again, much like when he’d first met Pawn. This time, he could make out the word ‘traitor’ being thrown around as well. He turned to his partner. “Go on ahead, I’ll be coming—gotta change out the tape.”

Hanging back, he listened as Pawn scouted ahead before following at a slower pace. His gun was in hand, ready to shoot at any sign of the targets. A loud thud caused the paranoid man to jump and take aim at the corner the noise had came from. Sounds of struggling scraped against the floor. Alex edged closer to the corner before whirling around it with his finger on the trigger. A look of annoyance flashed across his face when he saw Pawn seizing. These fits had been growing more frequent as of late; the shocks from the collar would often trigger them.

“This way!” Zac’s voice shouted out much too close for Alex’s comfort.

Two sets of footsteps charged closer. He wrenched Pawn up, tossing them in front of him; they sank back to their knees as the spasms lessened. “Stand up!”

She sent him a dazed look but obeyed, shakily managing to get her legs to support her weight. It wasn’t long before two proxies came into view: Zac and a short woman with a custom respirator mask, metallic retractable claws, and an outfit that looked similar to something Alex had seen the corps wear in Attack on Titan. While the anime reference wasn’t terrifying, the claws certainly were. He fired several rounds at them, slipping a hand around Pawn’s body to guide her back with him. She was shorter but still worked as a barrier.

Zac took the brunt of the bullets, his body swaying already from the damage the ones that managed to hit had done. But it didn’t stop the man completely. The other proxy had managed to evade his poorly aimed shots and claws at him from the right. Alex shouted before screaming as his wrist was grabbed and snapped harshly, the gun clattering to the floor.

“Pawn!” His voice crackled with the pain.

His partner snapped out of the daze they’d gone into and rammed into the shorter proxy. Alex gasped and clenched his teeth as he watched the pair fight. It really wasn’t a fair fight, especially once Zac joined in. Pawn was taken to the ground, the old unstable floor creaking dangerously beneath the weight of all three proxies.

He reached for his back, pulling out a small bottle of lighter fluid with his good hand. Haphazardly tearing off the cap, he hurriedly began soaking the floor with it. Cement wasn’t exactly going to burn but he hoped the section of patched wooden flooring around them and the lighter fluid would be enough to get the job done.

“Hey.” Zac’s attention turned to him, his nose crooked and dripping blood from a kick to the face.

Alex muffled a cry as he tried to use his injured hand to quicken his search for the lighter. More scuffling came from his left this time and he glanced up to see Pawn toss the shorter proxy off before lunging for Zac, giving Alex time to grab what he needed. There was a whoosh as the flames sprung up along the path. The female proxy howled as the flames hit, as she’d had the misfortune to land in a particularly large puddle of the lighter fluid. Zac halted his attack and hurried to her aid, leaving Alex to run free with Pawn limping heavily behind him.

A loud groan and shudder went through the floor. Wood splintered and cracked behind him. Turning, he watched as Pawn fell through the floor. Alex edged closer. Looking down, he could see them sprawled on the floor of the level below. “Dammit, hold on…”

Of course he’d have to drag them out. He still had use for them otherwise he wouldn’t bother. Alex paused at the top of the stairs, his body swaying as a nauseated feeling struck. His lungs felt they weren’t getting enough air and at first he thought it might’ve been the smoke rising up. Hazily, he saw the scratches the proxy gave him. The skin was off-color around it and, if he wasn’t mistaken, spreading.

“Poison?” He wheezed and tumbled forward down the stairs. Forget saving his proxy pet, he needed to save himself first.

Pawn wasn’t sure how long she’d been down there. Her body felt weak and she’d slipped in and out of consciousness. What little she could remember was swearing she’d seen and fought with Zac, a fire, and then falling down here. Alex had seen it happen yet… despite an unknown amount of time passing, she was sure he should’ve been there by now.

“But Slender’s proxies didn’t show to finish me off either… Did they die?” Part of her hoped so. Another part of her feared killing two proxies would only make Alex more demanding of her. “Did they just leave me here? …Can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.”

A fit of coughing echoed through the room she’d fallen into. Her breath rasped painfully. At some point she began to drift off again only to wake up again as hurried footsteps headed for her direction. Pawn weakly lifted her head. After a painful seizure and fighting two proxies in much better shape than herself, she couldn’t put up much of a fight.

“Tim?” The owner of the footsteps called out. “Tim are you alright? Look, I’m sorry about what happened!”

The man entered the room and nearly dropped his camera at the sight. Pawn immediately struggled to get to her feet, groaning as her body protested before collapsing again. Jay continued to stare at her for a moment dumbfounded before bolting back out the door, calling louder and much more desperately this time. The ex-proxy’s heart was racing. Jay and Tim were both people Alex had been after. If they found out she’d been helping him, if they hadn’t found out somehow already, what kind of trouble would she be in then?

Glancing upward, Pawn could still catch a faint smell of smoke through the hole she’d fallen through. The fire itself seemed to have gone out long ago. Her body protested as she once more tried to stand, managing to for a few seconds before falling in a heap. A few coughs escaped. She couldn’t make it back up through the hole even if she was capable of standing. Jay’s voice was further away but still much too close to suggest she could make a run for it through the door either—not in this state at least.

It wasn’t Jay who returned when quiet footsteps entered the room. The man in the hoodie stood over her, his frowning mask giving away nothing. Pawn’s focus fell to the gun in his hand; it belonged to Alex. The action of the weapon being aimed at her should’ve struck fear into the weak figure, but she felt nothing aside from a dazed unease. Would he kill her? Hoody wasn’t dumb, out of the three still alive he was most likely to know she’d helped Alex. Although, assuming he cared, he’d also have to know it was against her will—at least at first.

Pawn hated to admit it but the partnership had been beneficial. Killing wasn’t something she ever grew numb to but it had kept her alive. Presumably, it had also kept others alive as well by killing those infected. Of course, there were so many out there. For each one they’d killed more would spring up. Deep down, the ex-proxy was aware the eradication of the Operator’s victims would be impossible to achieve.

The bullet pierced through her chest, a second one puncturing her gut. Pawn wheezed, blood bubbling up into her throat. It’d missed her heart, likely punctured a lung. Through dimming vision she watched Hoody make a quick exit. Had she been conscious enough, she may have laughed at his attempt to kill her. Unfortunately, after a long while, she would heal… being born a proxy, even if abandoned by her operator, meant she was cursed to survive.

It would be how Jay and Tim found her minutes later. Unconscious, lying in her own blood, heart somehow still faintly beating, and in a situation that provided more questions than answers.

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dungeonmastertyrant · 2 months

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Dnd explained Frost Giants

Gigantic reavers from the freezing lands beyond civilization Frost giants are fierce hardy warriors that survive on the spoils of their raids and pillaging. They respect only brute strength and skill in battle demonstrating both with their scars and the grisly trophies they take from their enemies.

Frost giants are creatures of ice and snow. Their hair and beards are pale white or light blue matted with frost and clattering with icicles. Their flesh is as blue as glacial ice.

Frost giants dwell in high peaks and glacial rifts where the sun hides its golden head by winter. Crops don't grow in their and they keep little livestock beyond what they capture in their raids against civilized lands. They hunt the wild game of the tundra and mountains but don't cook it since meat from a fresh kill tastes sufficiently hot to their palate.

The war horns of the Frost giants howl as they march from their ice fortresses and glacial rifts amid the howling blizzard. When that storm clears villages and steadings lay in ruins ravens descending to feed on the corpses of any creatures foolish or unlucky enough to stand in the giants path.

Inns and taverns suffer the brunt of the damage their cellars gutted and their casks of ale and mead gone. Smithies are likewise toppled their iron and steel claimed. Curiously undisturbed are the houses of moneylenders and wealthy citizens for the reavers have little use for coins or baubles. Frost giants prize gems and jewelry large enough to be worn and noticed. However even those treasures are most often saved for trading opportunities with other giants more adept at crafting metal weapons and armor.

Frost giants respect brute strength above all else and a Frost giants place in the ordning depends on evidence of physical might such as superior musculature scars from the bodies of slain enemies. Tasks such as hunting childbearing and crafting are given to giants based on their physical strength and hardiness.

When Frost giants of different clans meet and their status is unclear they wrestle for dominance. Such meetings are might resemble festivals where giants cheer on their champions making bold boasts and challenges. At other times the informal ceremony can become a chaotic free for all where both clans rush into a melee that fells trees shatters the ice on frozen lakes and causes avalanches on the snowy mountainsides.

Though Frost giants consider the menial crafting of goods beneath them carving and leatherwork are valued skills. They make their clothing from the skins and bones of beasts and carve bone or ivory into jewelry and the handles of weapons and tools. They reuse the weapons and armor of their smaller foes stringing shields into scale armor and lashing sword blades to wooden hafts to make giant sized spears. The greatest battle trophies come from conquered dragons and the greatest Frost giant jarls wear armor of Dragon scales or wield picks and mauls made of a Dragon's teeth and claws.

#dnd explained #frost giant

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mrsmerken · 2 years

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How To Stop Shoe Heels From Wearing Down?

Are you fed up with replacing pairs of shoes after a few months due to worn-out and damaged shoe heels? In this article we will discuss How To Stop Shoe Heels From Wearing Down.

How To Make Shoe Heels Softer And Last Longer

The good news is that it's possible to extend the life of your shoes by slowing down the process of their shoe heel wearing down quickly. How? That is what we will discover in this article. We will see how we can help you with the prevention of shoe heels wear out. We will round off important ways that prevent uneven wear of your shoes. Be it leather shoes or rubber heels, this article will help you with all.

Let us begin. First, we need to understand why heels wear out. Understanding the reasons will help us better solve the problems.

Why Do The Heels Of Your Shoes Wear Out?

The pressure from your body weight while walking or running causes the shoes to wear out eventually.

The impact of each step you take is more significant on the heels as they are designed to protect your feet from the ground. Over time, all this impact begins to show on the heels, and they start wearing down. Another reason for shoe heel wear and tear could be due to an incorrect size. Wearing shoes that are too big for you can cause blisters and also make the shoes feel slipperier. This slipperiness increases the chances of you losing balance and falling, which again causes more wear and tear on the heels. Walking on uneven surfaces is another reason why your shoes might be wearing out faster than usual. Walking on gravel or any other sharp objects can cause scuffing on the heels, which leads to a decrease in their overall life. Due to these reasons, your shoes wear quickly.

How To Stop Shoe Heels Wearing?

Now that we know the reasons, let us look at some of the ways to stop the shoes wearing out.

Choose The Right Size This is one of the most important things you can do to extend the life of your shoes. Wearing shoes that fit you perfectly will not only make them more comfortable but also help in preventing any damage that might be caused by an incorrect size. Use Heel Plates Heel plates are metal or plastic plates that are attached to the bottom of your shoes. They act as a barrier between your shoes and the ground, which helps in decreasing the impact on your heels and, as a result, prevents them from wearing out quickly. Buy Quality Shoes Opting for quality shoes will save you from all the hassle. However, going for top-quality shoes might not stop the shoes from wearing. Still, they will largely prevent uneven wear and last way longer than. Plus, quality shoes will let us walk freely without worrying about uneven wear Here is a guide for choosing the best quality shoes. Polish Your Shoes Regularly Polishing your shoes regularly will help in protecting them from water and other elements that might cause damage. It also gives the shoes a new lease of life and makes them look good as new. Read our article of the best electric polishers for shoes. Keep Your Shoes Clean Clean shoes always look better and last longer than dirty ones. Make sure to clean your shoes regularly, especially if you live in a dusty area. This will help in preventing any dirt or dust from damaging the shoes. Use Wooden Shoe Trees Shoe trees are devices that are placed inside your shoes when you're not wearing them. They help in maintaining the shape of the shoes and prevent them from creasing or wrinkling. Here you'll find a guide to the best shoe trees for different shoes. This, in turn, helps in extending the life of your shoes. Take Care Of Your Shoes Treat your shoes with care, and they will last longer. Avoid walking on rough surfaces and keep them away from any sharp objects. Store them in a cool, dry place when you're not using them. These simple steps will help in preventing any damage to your shoes and will make them last longer. Buy Shoe Sole Protectors The solution to preventing your shoe heels from wearing down is to apply some shoe soles protectors. Sole protectors are cut to fit any type of shoe heel and can be readily fitted into any shape, making them ideal for use in a variety of shoes. The benefit of these solutions is that they are simple to fix and do not always necessitate the services of a shoe repairman. It's crucial to note that sole protectors wear down with time and must be replaced. Sole protectors serve as barriers between the ground and the actual heel material, preventing it from wearing down. That is how you can stop your shoes wearing down.

How To Care For High-Heeled Shoes?

High heels are a woman's best friend. They make you look taller, thinner, and more confident. But they also come with a price: sore feet, blisters, and bunions.

Here are some tips on how to care for your high-heeled shoes: 1. Choose the right size. Ill-fitting shoes are the leading cause of foot problems. Make sure your shoes fit you properly before you buy them. 2. Do not wear them all the time. Give your feet a break by wearing flats or sneakers every once in a while. 3. Wear socks or tights. This will help prevent blisters by reducing friction between your skin and the shoe fabric. 4. Invest in comfortable shoes. The more comfortable your shoes are, the less likely you are to get foot problems. 5. See a podiatrist. If you have any foot problems, see a podiatrist as soon as possible. Following these tips will help you avoid foot problems and enjoy your high heels for many years to come!

Final Thoughts

Shoes are an important part of our lives, and it's important to take care of the shoe heels. By following the tips above, you can extend the life of your shoe heels and prevent any shoe wear and tear.

Share this helpful guide with your friends and family as it can benefit the masses. Good luck! How To Make Shoe Heels Softer There are a few ways to make shoe heels softer. One way is to use a heel pad or insert to cushion the heel and add some extra comfort. You can also try rubbing the heel with a little petroleum jelly or cream before you put your shoes on. Another option is to put your shoes in the freezer for a few hours; this will help to harden the material and make it less stiff. How To Stop Shoe Heels From Wearing Down? One way to stop shoe heels from wearing down is to apply a coat of clear nail polish to the heel. This will help to protect it from wear and tear. You can also try putting your shoes in the freezer for a few hours; this will help to harden the material and make it less stiff. How To Take Care of High Heels? Use Heel Plates Buy Quality Shoes Polish Your Shoes Regularly Keep Your Shoes Clean Use Wooden Shoe Trees Take Care Of Your Shoes Buy Shoe Sole Protectors Read the full article

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gvfmarge · 2 months

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Lighthouse of my Soul

(Ghost)Jake x Reader Coming soon!

“Could you be the lighthouse for my soul, could you be the guiding light, tell me everything’s alright? Could you be the one I love so?”

Some chapters will contain smut and difficult topics, MDNI 18+

Little sneak peak (this is unedited, apologies in advance):

#jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka fic #lighthouse of my soul #gvf smut #jake kiszka fanfic

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bekaroth-reads · 2 years

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Margit x reader 5

[Here it is finally! Not the most pleased with it, but it will have to do so I can keep the story moving. Also, I noticed on the last one there was a LOT of misspelled things and it’s as good a time as any to mentioned, that neither my dyslexia nor my spellcheck like fantasy words that much, so it’s gonna happen sometimes even if I proof read it, haha. Also also putting the whole thing under the cut as there will be some spoiler stuff for the actual game.]

Your mind ran a thousand directions as you made your way back to Altus Plateau. You were sure to keep your wits about you as you knew that Margit was most likely up here somewhere as it seemed like he was working directly for Morgott. That meant that running into him was going to make things more complicated than they were before as you could imagine that he wouldn’t take too well to you wanting to dig around Lydel capitol and look for personal information about for the king’s personal life. You could only hope that he was somewhere else on the plateau and that you could look around the city freely; something that you were not particularly looking forward to as your map made it look more like a maze than a city. There was still things that you were dying to know about what Rennala was talking about. The things that she couldn’t bring herself to verbally say. What was the secret of the king of Lydel and why was it so ardently hidden? There seemed to one real place to find out these facts and that was somewhere buried in the city before you.

It was correct thinking on your part when you assumed that this place would be difficult to navigate. You were having a hard time figuring out what was where and how to even get to some of the places that you saw in the distance. Eventually, you managed to find yourself on one of the lower levels that seemed to be more toward the center of the city, again if you had your bearings correct. As you looked around the many halls that honeycombed under the glossy topside of the city above, you found a large and heavy metal door with a large bar holding it shut on the front. Your adventurer instincts told you that you needed to go into the door even though it would be a pain to get open. You were also keenly aware that there were dents in the thick metal of the door, so you were hoping that whatever was strong enough to put those there was either no longer in there or no longer alive. The first thing that you needed to do was to get that bar off of the hinges it was on; nothing was going to budge while that was there.

After looking around for a bit you fund a wooden beam that wasn’t rotting from water damage as much as some of the others that were around. It was just light enough that you could move it around, and you used it to push against the underside of the bar locking the door. It took some effort, but eventually you were able to get the bar off the door. The door still didn’t want to move easily, and you had to slam your whole body weight into it multiple times to get it to move just enough for you to fit through, albeit with a tight squeeze. Based on the disrepair of the door and the thick, almost dirt-like layer of dust that covered everything in the thankfully empty room it was clear that no one had been here for many, many years. There wasn’t much in the room either. There were no windows and the only way you could see was because of the lantern that you kept tied around your waist. There were two stacks of hey and cloth on either side of the room that seemed to be horrid attempts at beds and near each were small chests. With nothing else to do, you decided to check the inside of the chests starting with the one on the right.

The chest was as difficult to open as everything else down here, but eventually you managed. On the inside there wasn’t much other than a ratty set of cloths that looked to have been a child’s once, but worn, torn, and stretched much past their intended age of wear; like they were the only set of cloths someone had for years. Other than that there was only a few papers. Most of the writing was faded on them, but you could make out certain passages. “…saw the child again. He said that he was only a few years younger than I. He was the same in appearance as he was when he first visited Morgott and I all those years ago. But now, he says something has happened. That he must leave now, and perhaps never return. I cannot lose the one light of my dark life. Miquella, I shall find thee once more! I shall find thee if I must destroy all of the Lands Between to do so!” The rest seemed too smudged or torn to read, at least in your dim lantern light. That might explain the dents in the door. Whomever was in here once upon a time must have broken out. But, that lead to the question: why close it up again?

You made your way to the other side of the room to look at the contents of the other chest. In there was another set of clothing much like the first, which made your heart sink even more than it did before. It would have been horrid enough to put one person in this room for years, but two, especially if they were children as the size of the clothing might indicate was beyond what you could comprehend. The papers in this one looked a bit more gently handled, but age and must damage seemed to have taken their part out of the parchments and the ink on them. There was one that felt a bit more frail than the others, so you figured it was the oldest. The writing on it looked to be that of a child’s based on the size of the letters and spelling. There was also a little doodle of something in the corner. It looked like a person standing by something, but you couldn’t tell what it was. There were some clear words above the drawing. “…said that they are made of wood. And, that there was a giant one right above here. It shines like thousands of torches. I wish to see the tree some day.” You could now recognize the thing drawn was a tree, albeit made by one who had never seen one before. It was then you noticed that there was actually a signature by the drawing. You almost dropped the papers in your hand when you read it; there in large, wobbly, child-like letters was written, “Margit.”

There was a sudden pull at your memory of Rennala mentioning twins. That couldn’t be this room’s occupants though. Even though all of the evidence was pointing to that being the case, you were still unable to accept that what was looking to be the truth actually was. You started to quickly shuffle through the remaining parchments to find information to the contrary. Most of the writing was too faded or washed out by moisture damage or other forms of decay to make much sense of it. You went from what seemed like the oldest page to what was the last based on the facts that it was on the top of the stack when you opened the chest. The little bit that was legible let you know everything that it could. “Mohg has left. I have no reason to remain. I wish to never see this abysmal place nor anything from it again. I will seal it myself once I leave and pray it remains that way for the rest of time. If any open this accursed placed and read this letter, my curse upon thee! Thou shall know the wrath of Morgott, the Last of Kings!” It didn’t take much at this point to piece together what was going on. If you thought that Margit, or Morgott rather, didn’t really like you before, you hoped that he would never find out that you had found this place. There was one more thing that caught your eye as you turned to leave the room. The light of your lantern danced onto the bed next to the chest and you noticed there was something sitting on it. There was a doll made of wood and cloth, and it very much looked like a certain omen that you knew.

You made your way out of this level and then out of the capitol city entirely; the whole place not matter how large and labyrinthine seemed to be claustrophobic now that you knew the dark history of its king. It felt as if he would be around any corner ready to learn what you had discovered. The oak trees and the fields covered in golden leaves had never been so inviting to you. You went as far as your legs could stand to take you and almost collapsed when you found a place for shelter for the night which was rapidly approaching. The cool wind was mixing with the shivers of your anxiety, so you couldn’t build a fire fast enough; your shaking hands making your task difficult. You looked at the doll that was sitting next to you, picking it up again after a time. There was no reason that you could actively think of for bringing it with you. Something just compelled you to grab it; it felt wrong to leave the doll in that dark room alone again. It was almost like it was your chance to show a child the care that he never received when he needed it. Saying it that way made you sound like Rennala and her egg. You chuckled to yourself at the thought as you looked over the doll in your hand.

“What unfortunate circumstance has forced me to be in thy presence once more?” You froze when your heard his voice behind you. There was an entire plateau of possibilities that he could have been at, and yet he still somehow managed to be right next to you. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought that the doll in your hands summoned him somehow. Speaking of the doll you pulled it closer to you chest, hopeful that Morgott didn’t notice that you had it, seeing as the note he left all those years ago promised that he would take personal vengeance on anyone that opened that room once more. He noticed the change in your posture, however, and knew there was something going on. Morgott took a step closer to you, and asked, “And, what is it that thou’rt so keen to hide?”

#margit the fell omen x reader #margit x reader #margit the fell omen

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kiki-shortsnout · 3 years

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For intimacy prompts: #27 hugs from behind for Ironstrange! ❤️💙 I’ve been loving all of these fics so far!

Me again! I swear, you're all going to get sick of me writing all these snippet prompts! 🤣🤣

Another warning for Alpha/ Omega and Mpreg!

***

‘There you are.’

‘You say that like you don’t know where I am at every given moment of the day,’ Tony grumbled, not moving from where he was hunched over the desk in the bedroom, tinkering with his latest project. Stephen ignored his irritability, knowing his Omega was uncomfortable and exhausted.

Switching his Kamar-Taj robes for a worn t-shirt and sweatpants, Stephen directed the Cloak out of the room with a head nod, wanting some alone time.

‘Of course I know where you are. I wouldn’t be a very good mate if I didn’t,’ Stephen answered, placing his hands on the back of Tony’s chair and hooking his chin over his shoulder. With gentle hands, he encouraged Tony forward in the wooden chair, stroking his fingers up and down his Omega’s spine, counting each vertebra as he went. Magic pooled in his hands as he swept his hands over a muscled back, trying to ease whatever tension Tony was carrying.

‘I swear, Wong is worse than all of your ninja minions you have shadowing me,’ Tony laughed, groaning at the touch.

‘Apprentices, Tony, not ninja minions-’

‘Ninja apprentices then. You’ve got good timing, I think I’ve finished, You want to see?’ Tony asked, curving his head back against Stephen’s shoulder, exposing his vulnerability in such an effortless way. It created feelings of contentment, which spread through Stephen like fine lace, soft, delicate, subtle. This was an intimate spot for Omegas as it held their bonding glands, but for Tony, who had been seized and strangled in such a fragile area time and time again, it held a deeper meaning.

Omegas did not relinquish their trust easily, did not offer themselves to any Alpha they did not deem worthy, and Tony had more reasons than most not to trust any of them. Reaching down, Stephen ran the edge of his nose down the column of his throat, kissing the bite mark in the hollow of it with an infinitesimal brush of his lips.

‘Show me,’ he whispered against Tony’s skin.

A delicate clinking noise made him look up, and he felt his eyes widen at the complexity of the crib mobile Tony had made. He knew his mate had been driven to boredom constantly during his pregnancy, trying to hide his frustrated tears while biting down on the angry retorts he wanted to inflict on those who cared about him.

The safety of their pup came before everything else in Tony’s mind. They had known pregnancy would put stress on Tony’s body, that it would be difficult because of his age and the lasting repercussions that had come from having the arc reactor wedged inside his ribcage. Still, Tony had wanted to try, and Stephen had never been able to deny his obstinate mate anything.

It pained him watching Tony give up the things he had loved, the Iron Man suit, his place on the Avengers team, creating in his workshop. Stephen had tried to find safer ways for him to invent, but the Omega was having none of it, his singular focus keeping their pup safe.

Reaching down, Stephen cupped a fragile-looking wing in his hand, tilting it so the sunlight caught the turquoise glass, sending little splinters of sea-green light over Tony’s hands. Every individual butterfly was intricately wrought, the shimmering metal lattice encasing the glass membrane of wings.

‘Tony, it’s beautiful,’ Stephen whispered, picking up the steel ring the glass butterflies were all attached to by delicate chains, lifting it above his head so he could hear the jingling of the mobile as it moved in the wind, marveling at the cascading butterflies that Tony had spent months crafting.

‘Only the best for our little butterfly,’ Tony told him, preening and turning in his chair so he could point at the hook above the crib in the corner of the bedroom.

It had become a shared joke between them, Tony ridiculing Stephen’s superpower ability to create butterflies.

You were the one who tried to stop Thanos with butterflies!

To something more meaningful.

What does it feel like? The pup moving inside you?

I don’t know… like I’ve swallowed some of your magic butterflies.

‘I’d do it but I’m sure I’ll get told off for trying, and the last time I handed the Cloak something it dropped it,’ Tony laughed, waving Stephen away.

He did as his Omega bid, holding his cargo with care as he walked over to the crib, hanging the mobile and then looking back, crossing his arms over his chest as he made a thoughtful noise.

‘I dunno, Tony, what if the pup prefers little cups of coffee or something?’

‘Bite me, asshole,’ Tony grumbled, getting out of his chair. ‘You said coffee was fine while I’m pregnant.’

‘One cup a day I said. I heard all about your screaming match with Wong the other day,’ Stephen chuckled, reaching into the crib to reposition the cuddly elephant Peter had gotten the pup.

‘You’re all working against me…keeping me from my coffee,’ Tony spat, grimacing as he took a step forward, swaying on his feet.

Stephen immediately reached out for him, leaping forward before he froze, cowering under the glare he received for his trouble.

‘I’m not trying to be overprotective. I know you can look after yourself, but I’d feel better if you were off your feet, douchebag. I know you’re uncomfortable-’

‘Understatement of the year,’ Tony growled.

‘Sweetheart, you’re handling it so well, honestly. Come on, come sit down with me on the couch. I’ve not seen you in a while and I missed you, please?’

Tony relented at that, not because of any Omega instinct to please their Alpha, but because he knew Stephen did miss him when he was away with the other Masters of the Mystic Arts. They both understood that Stephen was keeping the world safe from interdimensional threats, but that didn’t stop the pain at being apart, especially now Tony was carrying.

‘You big softy,’ Tony relented, walking across their bedroom to the couch and sitting sideways on it, patting behind himself. Stephen settled in behind him, resting his back on the armrest of the couch before encouraging Tony to recline back into his chest, cradled by his legs.

His chest rumbled in something akin to a growl, nothing close to the noises an Omega could make when they were content and happy, but the meaning behind it was the same. Tony let out a satisfied sleepy noise, going boneless in Stephen’s grip, all but purring as trembling hands reached down to stroke over his stomach.

Stephen felt something nudge back against his touch, and he smiled, kissing the crown of Tony’s head, using the same spell he had earlier to sweep across the swell of Tony’s stomach. The Omega’s skin glistened gold where magic seeped into his muscles, relaxing any of the strain.

At times like this, Stephen couldn’t believe his good fortune. He’d never wanted an Omega in his younger days, obsessed with his standing and career path, and he hadn’t wanted to be tied down by an Omega, hadn’t wanted a committed relationship. He had been satisfied with being alone, of not being beholden to his impulses, his baser desires. Even if a little voice had whispered at him during the melancholy afternoons of playing piano by himself, that had been soon drowned out by work and social obligations, a quick fling with whoever took his fancy.

After his accident, the idea of being damaged, of being a fractured Alpha, had been too much for him to bear and he couldn’t consider finding a mate. Tony thrust himself into his life after their battle with Thanos, had demanded that Stephen stop thinking such detrimental things. Tony knew how it felt, how the societal expectations placed on Omegas mirrored what Stephen struggled with.

Omegas were meant to be caregivers, produce children while caring for their Alphas. Times had changed since then, but not the pressures or the expectations. Now, they were meant to have careers while producing offspring, juggling multiple obligations while still caring for their Alpha.

There were the toxic Alpha expectations too. Alphas were meant to provide for their mates, to guard and protect, offer support, financial security. Any deviation from this, any feelings of caring or nurturing projected an image of an unworthy Alpha. It was just as restrictive, just as demeaning, but none of them spoke up about it.

Tony nuzzled closer to him as he let out a sleepy whine, twisting so he laid on his side, trying to get closer but his stomach preventing it. Stephen accommodated his mate the best he could, allowing Tony to rest his head against the gland in his neck, as close as he could get to his natural scent.

He couldn’t smell himself, but Tony had once told him he smelt wonderful. It wasn’t something he could put into words, just like Stephen couldn’t explain his. Scents weren’t easily defined by a simple word, they were complex, evoking memories or feelings within individuals rather than smelling like everyday objects.

‘Safe,’ Tony muttered, exhaling heavily, succumbing to his exhaustion. Gentle, puffing snores fanned over Stephen’s chest from where his Omega’s head drooped on it, and he gently repositioned Tony’s head so it could rest flat on his chest. He was determined to let his mate rest, especially knowing it was in such short supply at the moment.

The idea that this Omega, this remarkable man had come to him, a broken Alpha made Stephen want to weep. It was Tony who began the courtship ritual, a complicated dance of gift giving and demonstrations of worthiness that the Alpha should have initiated.

Tony had never been conventional.

‘Tony, I can’t give you what you want, I’m-’

‘What? Broken? Newsflash, Doc, I’ve been shattered and remade so many times I’m not sure how much of me is left. Tell me no if you don’t want me, refuse my advances if you don’t want me to court you, but don’t tell me how I feel, or decide your worth because of what society tells you.’

Tony had trusted him with his heart, a rare gift considering those who had hurt him in the past. A snarling growl ripped its way out of his throat at the thought of those who had betrayed him, those who were meant to care for him and tried to forge him into something new, a creature neither Alpha nor Omega. His rational mind quickly suppressed his baser instincts as he felt Tony react to it, drawing away from him, his hands reaching down to protect his stomach.

‘Easy, sweetheart, it’s just me. You’re safe,’ Stephen whispered, reaching down to rub his jaw over Tony’s forehead, scenting him, reassuring them both that everything was fine.

Seeing movement at the door, he glanced up, suppressing his initial annoyance. The Cloak slipped through and shut the door silently behind it, gesturing towards the bed.

Nodding, Stephen watched as it floated over to pick up his novel, bringing it over and pushing it into his palm. It turned, appearing to regard Tony for a moment before gesturing with its hem. Chuckling, he nodded, allowing the Cloak to move closer. The edges of it fluttered over Tony’s stomach, not enough to wake him, communicating silently that it was here, that it would guard their pup.

You can rest on him. You know he likes it, Stephen sent telepathically, flicking his fingers at the book and making it levitate beside the couch, turning to the page he’d been at days ago. The Cloak settled over them both, cocooning them, the warmth unbearable for Stephen but a reassurance for Tony, who snuggled closer to them both, falling deeper into sleep.

Tangling his fingers in Tony’s messy hair to hold him steady, the other hand resting on his stomach in protection, Stephen began to read his story, basking in the contentment of having his family nearby, the chimes of the butterfly mobile soon lulling him off to sleep.

#ironstrange #fanfic #thank you for the ask!#writing prompts #alpha/omega #mpreg #stephen strange #tony stark

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draconic-ichor · 3 years

Text

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 22: Reservoir House Call

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, body horror

Summary: Moraue needs Heisenberg’s help.

Feedback appreciated, 18+

Movement tripped the alarms, something deep in the factory stirred the sensors. Heisenberg and Juniper entered the control room. He sat in the chair, looking over the cameras.

“What the fuck it that?!” Juniper pointed to one of the screens. Heisenberg turned to look where her finger led.

Down on the lowest reaches of the factory, where water from the reservoir flowed through the factory a large shape lumbered out.

It was a mass of fat and eyes, pulling free of the water with multiple legs.

“Aw Christ…” Heisenberg sat back in his chair rubbing the bridge of his nose, “it’s Moreau.”

“That’s Moreau??” Juniper said in disbelief.

By the time they made it down to the lowest level, Moreau had changed back into his more humanoid form, coughing near the edge of the waterway.

“H-Hello Juniper.” The man croaked. Seeing him now, without his usual coverings was a sight to behold. His back was covered with bulbous, pulsing growths. Damn, some looked to be monstrous eyes. A vestigial aquatic tail poked out from the mass, moving on its own accord. It looked painful, forcing the man into a hunchback.

“H-Hello.” Juniper managed.

“Yea Yea, fish.” Heisenberg stomped up, “What do you want, I’m busy.”

Moreau seemed to worry his hands, glancing down, “Brother…I…I need your help.”

“I fucking know that, what is it?” Heisenberg interjected, annoyed.

His tone made the other flinch a bit, “My television…i-it broke. I can’t f-fix it.”

Heisenberg signed, thinking over the situation. “I’ll come fix it.” He finally spoke.

Moreau’s face lit up with hope, shuffling his feet a bit. He turned towards Juniper, “You’ll come too?”

“Sure.” She nodded tentatively, hearing Heisenberg groan behind her.

“I can take you over!” The man gestured to the water excitedly.

Juniper felt a shiver, remembering what emerged from the water, until Heisenberg cut in again. “Thanks but…uh…fuck that.” He waved his hand, “Well take our own way.”

Slightly dejected, Moraue nodded, “I’ll meet you there.”

“Mhm.” Heisenberg shrugged tightly. Before anyone would speak again the fish man turned and jumped back into the waterway.

“Is that a purse?” Juniper asked amused. They walked towards the Reservoir, the ground muddy from the melted snow.

“It’s a tool bag.” Heisenberg answered through gritted teeth. He pulled the bag closer, it was letter and hung around his shoulder at hip level.

“It looks like a purse.” Juniper snickered, earning a growl of annoyance from Heisenberg.

As they drew nearer, past the town, the ground grew more sodden. The air slowly began to gain a certain smell, like the rotting of waterlogged plants. Juniper wrinkled her nose.

They walked through a narrow passage between a cliff face, Heisenberg holding back a bramble patch for Juniper to safely squeeze through.

She could see the windmills now, old and groaning as they slowly turned. Most of the land surrounding them had long since been lost to the rising water. The roofs of houses and other debris could be seen floating on top of the murky water.

“This is it.” Heisenberg announced, “The beautiful Reservoir, perfect place to cool off in the summertime. Just watch out for the fish!” His voice mimicked an old radio announcer as he split his face into a cheeky smile.

Juniper brushed him away, walking towards the edge to look into the swirling water.

“Be careful, buttercup.” Heisenberg came up behind her, “Won’t be able to fish you out if you sink in that.”

She felt a little shiver run down her spine.

She stepped away from the water, “So where does Moreau live?”

Heisenberg gestured for her to follow, easing his tool bag more comfortably on his shoulder. They entered the closest of the windmills. The old wooden mechanism slowly turned and groaned as they took stairs deeper into the underground. They came to a lift, resembling ones in the factory, but this one was wooden.

They rode it down into what looked to be an old mine. Juniper’s eyes caught the glittering flecks of crystals embedded into the rocky ceiling.

Going deeper still, with the far off shuffling of Lycans in abandoned mining shafts, they finally came to a metal door.

It bore the crest of Miranda.

“Don’t touch anything.” Heisenberg warned, “I don’t want you getting any diseases.”

Before Juniper could scold him he knocked at the door.

They heard mumbling and the scraping of feet across the wooden floors before the door opened. Moreau was a mixture of joy and apprehension, greeting them inside.

His ‘house’ was one of the mine shafts that had been converted into a living space. There were wooden floors and walls, and some furniture about. It was definitely sparse, save for some shelves with old books and storage containers.

Everything looked to be heavily damaged by water and the goo that Moraue would produce, not to mention the off colored stains that Juniper didn’t want to ask about.

It smelled about as one would expect, given the circumstances.

“I’m sorry…about the mess.” Moraue picked up a pile of old magazines, their covers warped and faded.

“It’s alright.” Juniper tried to sooth.

“So where is the tv?” Heisenberg asked with disgruntlement.

“Oh!” The twisted man exclaimed, “It’s right over here.” He padded around a corner into another small room. An old television set was staked on a crate, some soft things and boxes of films close by. This room looked to be the space he spent most of his time.

“Thank you, Heis-Heisenberg.” Moraue stammered.

“Yea, yea.” Heisenberg strode forward, kneeling down behind the machine. He placed the bag of tools beside him, pulling out a screwdriver.

Juniper wandered back to the entertainment room, Moreau curiously following her.

Heisenberg, busy with his task, took no mind of them. He wanted to finish this job as quickly as possible.

Getting all the screws loose he was able to free the back panel. It came away with an odd sucking sound, goo oozing out with it. The slimy substance hit Heisenberg’s boots as the television gave small sparks.

“Fucking hell!” Heisenberg grimaced at his boots, shaking the panel free of the muck.

“The TV is full of your green shit slime!” Heisenberg yelled into the next room. He heard more apologies from the room over. Grumbling, he began to clean out the inside of the box.

Juniper walked along the wall, looking at various things that were hung alone it. Most of it was old gushing memorabilia but a few worn picture frames peaked her interest.

One photo in particular stood out. It was faded, the edges being ate up with mold. But she could still make out a man, stocky with jet black hair. He stood proudly in front of a clinic. She squinted her eyes to read the sign in the photo: Moreau’s Clinic.

“Sal?” Juniper turned, pointing to the photo, “Is this you?”

Moreau came closer, looking to where her finger led. His wide mouth parted in a smile as he spoke, “Oh yes!”

“Were you a doctor?” Juniper turned back towards the photo. Looking now she could see the shadows of his features hidden away under all the twisted flesh.

He nodded, “Yes, I took over the clinic. It was my Father’s. I helped people…before…before all..”

His voice trailed off, but Juniper understood.

He shook his head a bit, his smile returning, “But I help Mother Miranda now! I try to make her proud of me.”

Juniper gave him a small smile, knowing that nothing she said would sway his devotion.

“Heisenberg said you were sick.” Moraue looked up at her, his good eye full of worry.

Feeling her stomach she answered, “I went through a lot recently, but I’m feeling much better now.”

“Mother’s gifts hurt sometimes.” He tried to sooth, “But it’s worth it, she wants us to be strong.”

She tried to nod, her gut turning a bit at the memories.

“You are Heisenberg’s helper?”Moreau tried to change the subject.

Heisenberg’s voice sounded from the other room, “She’s my wife!” He corrected.

Moreau gave a small ‘oh’. Juniper’s cheeks bloomed with a rosy blush.

“I’m trying to teach him some manners.” She whispered mischievously, earning a warbling chuckle from Moreau.

“I heard that!” Heisenberg yelled again making the two snicker harder.

It was a good few hours before Heisenberg was able to get the inside of the machine clean and in working order once more. He had to use his powers with electricity to rewire some parts, replacing one of the tube bulbs and showering it with a plethora of curses for good measure during the whole ordeal.

Juniper kept Moraue occupied and out of Heisenberg’s hair. He had convinced her to look at his collection of finishing lures. Given his simple speech patterns and twisted visage one would think him very dim; but he was surprisingly intelligent and talkative with certain topics. Fishing was one of those topics, Juniper discovered.

The sound of boots tore them from their conversations, Moraue closing the old wooden tackle box to look up.

“Well I got it working again…but damn your slime mess is really fucking it up.” Heisenberg announced, holding his tool bag.

Moreau took Juniper’s hand excitedly, “Would you want to see one of my movies?”

“No, no.” Heisenberg interjected.

“One movie?” Juniper looked at him with big puppy eyes, “Just to make sure it’s working properly.”

The two looked at Heisenberg expectantly. After a long moment Heisenberg pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed, “Jesus fuck…Fine!”

As Moreau excitedly went through his box of films Heisenberg pressed, “Only one.”

“Thank you.” Juniper whispered, hugging Heisenberg softly.

Rolling his eyes, Heisenberg hisses, “I don’t know why you humor him.”

“Because it’s a nice thing to do.” Juniper snapped under her breath, “Don’t be so mean.”

When he didn’t speak she gave a little huff, wandering closer to the crouched Moreau.

The man was sifting carefully though the films, mumbling things to himself.

Juniper made a sound of surprise pointing into the box, “You have ‘The Secret Garden’?”

Moreau nodded, pulling that film free. It was the 1949 version, in black and white.

“I used to love that book.” Juniper spoke excitedly, “Can we watch that one?”

Moreau, just overjoyed to have company, instantly agreed.

Heisenberg leaned against the far wall, watching them set up the television. Moreau apologized profusely for not having proper seating, while Juniper shrugged and sat on the floor.

He smiled as the two became quiet when the movie started, walking quietly up to sit besides Juniper. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer as he settled in.

The movie wasn’t his cup of tea, liking westerns or thrillers more himself, but the quiet was nice. Even if the place was damp and smelled.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #re8 oc #heisenberg #in the steel steeds heart #resident evil

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