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hazelfoureyes · 1 month ago

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A Doe in Fall (Part 12)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie📍

Part 12 Eddie

Brady tried to cut some corners to bring you and Alastor down but ends up just hurting himself.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, still not smut cuz we’re waiting for the special moment, po-po, 5-0, down at the gun club, not an accurate portrayal of 1930s New Orleans Leadership, mystery kisses, brief thoughts of violence, illiteracy, @minkdelovely」

MDNI 👮 🚓

Edward Freeman met Kenneth Brady when the younger man was partnered with him. He was bright eyed, and had a sense of justice Freeman appreciated. He was already tired of the rigamarole of police work, so the fresh energy reinvigorated his early days and long nights. It was rather pointless though, police work, given the people in charge weren’t fans of cracking down on the illegal booze business. It was making too much money under the tables and in handshakes.

The nation was still reeling from the crash of the market nearly two years prior. Any way to get ahead, to stay with your chin above the rising waters, well… what harm is there really in feeding your family? The end justifies the means, right? And Brady didn’t seem to disagree too much with that sentiment.

So when the typically stringent, but otherwise soft spoken and relaxed, Brady began to…devolve into someone a little too myopic, Freeman wasn’t quite sure how to handle him. They’d been rather laissez-faire about the morality of things for so long. They tried to keep violence at a minimum so their fellow citizens could enjoy their city. That was the extent of it. But, Brady was becoming obsessed.

It started normally enough. Brady bringing up a missing husband. Later on, a missing bartender. Soon he was snooping on to other’s cases, convinced something was connecting them.

But, given the times and the character of such people, well, Freeman couldn’t quite understand Brady’s fervor. Sure. Some of them probably ended up under backyards and in the water. Hell, quite a few of them he’d have helped do away once he got the real dirt on them. A conspiracy? Or a mass killer? That seemed implausible at best. There was simply no indication of a grande scheme.

Brady kept pushing. Walking the streets at night with ears open and eyes peeled, for any inkling of what was going on.

He just couldn’t accept that sometimes people leave town or jobs. Very few of them were actually reported by loved ones, even the ones that had them.

Then came along the widow Dupre, watery eyed and shaking about her missing adult son. Who, from what they’d uncovered, was a real piece of work.

Freeman let Brady start his investigation, but as it became clear he was adding it to his pile of random disappearances, Freeman had to step away. He could see the obsession ruining his friend.

At a rare dinner with the families, the stress on Brady’s wife’s face was visible for all to see. She cornered Freeman in the kitchen when he went for more coffee, asking if Brady was stepping out on her or if he truly had been working so hard on something big.

He hardly knew what to say. Neither were true. He’d been working late, but on a wild goose chase.

When he dragged a clean cut and confused woman into the station, Freeman knew he’d really lost the fucking plot.

“She’s his accomplice. I know it. Her fella is the man. I’ve got him fingered.” Brady pointed at you through the closed door. You weren’t listening to their voices in the hall, the name still ringing in your head. The name you'd both sacrificed to keep secret.

Alastor.

Freeman hissed, “You can’t arrest people for knowing a guy! A boogie man at that, Kenny. Come on.”

“I have her confession for prostitution. It’s all clean and by the book. And, I have a witness.” Brady tapped Freeman’s arm with the back of his hand and led him down the hall to another room, “He saw her and her guy throw a body in the river.”

Well, shit.

“You found a body? The Dupre son?” Freeman considered what he’d said. The river? Why the river? Bodies didn’t always make it to the sea. It’d be a sloppy misstep for this supposed murderous mastermind.

Brady sighed, his parade a little rained on. “...No, but I have a witness right there. And, I got the name of her fella. I just need to find which station he’s at and I’m off to the races. I bet you my house this guy’s good for it.”

Ah, so. He had next to nothing. Freeman just nodded and took a calming breath. “Alright, are we starting with the woman or this guy?”

“Oh, for sure her.” Bready turned to open the door, but Freeman shot his hand out to stop him.

“And this is the one who gave you the runaround?” Freeman had heard so much about you already, he wanted to prepare himself for whatever tricky shrew was waiting for him. He followed his partner through the door and took you in fully. Your stare was distant and glassy. You’d been crying and you seemed to be shaking slightly from the cold of the room as fall’s night air slipped in through the window.

You could, reasonably, be his daughter. A similar age for sure, similar build, same hair color. Same penchant for the wrong kinda guy, apparently.

He recalled all of the ways Brady had spoken about you. The image in his head was a bird faced woman with sharp eagle eyes and tight lips. Someone decidedly ugly with a permanent scowl and mischief behind quick glances.

And here was a woman, vulnerable and quite nice to look at it. Hair obviously groomed well when not manhandled by cops, and a rather handsome dress which indicated a good personality by the current standards. The shoulders had flat bows that let their ribbons fall onto your bare shoulders. Feminine. Suitable. Not much skin showing. otherwise. A burlesquer seemed to the kind who didn’t wear clothes often, but he supposed everyone has a work uniform after all. Even the nude dancers. Who was he to judge you for your professional clothing requirements? You were here and modest and that’s what mattered.

He took a seat, sliding the folder Brady had set down into the space in front of him. “I hear you’re not too fond of disclosing your personal information.”

It had been several hours since you’d arrived, and now they chose to grace you with their presence? You’d been tossed into a room and left alone for so long, it seemed more like punishment than bureaucracy.

Brady’s bright blue eyes only get clearer and darker with every ounce of anger you inspired in him. An angry sea churning up violently behind his mean mug. He was practically sneering at you.

“Can you blame me? The men in this city are certifiable. Case in point, this hound you call a cop.” You had the forethought to keep your shoulders pulled inward, gesturing with your chin.

“Detective.” Brady corrected.

“Same thing, jackass.” Eyes rolling, you pushed back against the chair causing the front legs to lift for a second. Returning your glare to him, you honed in on the messy details. You remembered his hair well from that first meeting in front of the cafe. It clearly had become oily and weighed down from less frequent washing. The skin under his eyes was looking dark and thin. “You look like shit, by the way. Should sleep instead of bothering honest performers.”

“Ha, there you are. True colors shining through finally.”

“How was my mom? Not much of a talker.”

“Fu-,” Brady flinched forward, chair squeaking against the linoleum floor. It took a tensing of your arms to keep from openly reacting.

“Ya’ll, enough. Now, don’t be too sour with us. We’re just working off your own words,” Freeman opened the folder to find your confession. It had been typed nice and neat and labeled DOE, JANE. He turned it to you briefly, eyebrows hitching as if to ask if you remembered it. You glanced at it long enough to see the conversation and names and nodded. Yes, you’d had that conversation. Brady must have typed it mostly from memory, you thought, or he had some quick shorthand. He brought it back to face him and as his eyes roamed the sheet, his shoulders stiffened. He wasn’t seeing what he was expecting. “Could you-?,” he motioned for Brady to point out the part of your last conversation that constituted a confession. Brady tapped a line of text.

BRADY - Tell me about the dates Tommy arranged. DOE, JANE - Apparently many of the dancers agreed, got a cut. I had no idea about it until he introduced me to a man who was very forward. I insulted him and ran off. Lost Tommy good money, apparently. BRADY - And who was that? DOE, JANE - S something. Mister Stein? I honestly wasn’t listening much after I realized what was happening. BRADY - And then he knocked you around? DOE, JANE - Yeah. Got me good. BRADY - And… the next date. Last time anyone saw Tommy. Tell me about that. DOE, JANE - Tommy said he’d kill me if I didn’t go. So I did. Promised me he’d stay with me for protection. But as soon as he got his money he left.

Freeman’s head lifted slowly from the paper to look at you over the folder, across the table. Your arms were crossed, makeup smeared and running with long dried tears. Your hair mussed. His head turned with a crawl, weighted down with a steel ball of apprehensive horror, to look at Brady. He was leaning on the table with both elbows, staring at you like you’d busted out his car window and shot his dog.

“Can I speak to you for a moment?” He pushed back, resting his hand on Brady’s shoulder and walking out. In the small room that looked into the interrogation room where the male witness fidgeted, he set the folder and your words down.

He motioned for Brady to close the door behind him. As soon as the latch clicked into place, he smacked the table.

“That isn’t a confession! It’s a fucking victim statement, Kenny.” He looked through the one way glass at the man seated, “And he wrote a witness report?” He gestured with his head, the man Brady called Joseph sat quietly waiting for their return. His clothes were pulling at the seams, his fingernails crusted with dirt.

Brady nodded, “Yeah. He came in yesterday and after he told me what he saw he wrote it down there and signed.” He was pointing to a piece of paper he’d left on the same table Kenny was now trying to use for stability. Trying was the keyword. His disbelief was dizzying.

A small laugh, petulant and bordering annoyed, left his lips. He grabbed a pen, wrote something down, and brushed past him. Freeman marched into the witness room, Brady closely following behind.

“Sir, do me a favor and check I’ve spelt your name properly on this paperwork please.” He held it up. The man looked, found where Freeman's finger was pointing, and nodded.

Freeman looked at Brady with dead eyes, the shutdown of his feelings was an automatic attempt by his body to try and keep from grabbing Brady by the shirt in a fit rage, and turned the paper to reveal the name written to Brady.

Josanna. Written neatly in block letters.

Without breaking eye contact with Brady, “And just refresh my memory, sir, what was your statement in regards to again?”

Joseph cleared his throat, “I saw it happen. Down by the river.”

“Saw what happen?”

“The crime.”

“What crime?”

“The one with the guy and the girl. It’s all in there.”

Freeman shoved the written statement into Brady’s chest, “You have half a second to get to the captain’s office before I do.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“That man can’t even read his own name let alone write. From what I can tell he’s a random homeless you plied with confiscated booze. What is going on with you?” The gray haired man bellowed from his chair, hands resting on a large pot belly.

“What does that matter! It’s an illegal hooch den! Naked dancers! Race mixing! She admitted she-,” Brady was pacing a small three foot by three foot square in front of the desk. Freeman had his arms crossed while seated.

“A victim told you she was assaulted. And I-,” the captain leaned back in his chair, “You know exactly how we feel about the wet spots in this city. The, uh, race thing is another issue but— Kenny, you’re one more rogue act from losing your beat. Do you not get that?”

“Rogue? I’m doing legitimate police work. I’m investigating crime! What the fuck is happening here?!” He stopped pacing long enough wave an apology to his boss for the language.

Freeman sighed, long and heavy. A huff of breath that somehow conveyed his disappointment better than words.

“I decide what constitutes police work and this is not that.” His boss shook his chair side to side, thinking about how to get Brady in line. “It comes straight from the commissioner and the mayor above him. We aren’t to hound the bars under our purview.”

‘I’m not!” He started up pacing again, hands up and open in genuine confused frustration.

“You’re harassing their dancers! Stalking around their establishments at night freaking people out!” He laughed in disbelief, “Her manager is outside now. Had to shut down for the night because of your little show.”

Brady put his hands on his hips and faced away from the captain. His face enough alone to have him dismissed.

“I know she’s involved. I know her guy did it. And I know someone’s killing people. Lots of people.” He said it confidently into the corner of the office.

“Kenny. Enough.” Freeman shook his head and stood to leave.

“One complaint about you and you’re being chained to a desk. Cut her loose, apologize, and go home. I don’t wanna see you anymore tonight. Your freaky little eyes are getting under my skin.” His captain removed his small rounded glasses and rubbed his hands down his face, exasperated his life had come to telling men to stop doing their jobs.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

While you were here anyway, and Brady shooed off Joseph, Freeman decided to speak with you again. He offered you a nod and took Brady’s seat.

It was hard to be friendly, you found. Every minute or so you had to sniffle, nose running long after the tears dried up. Your eyelashes stuck together when you blinked.

“I’m afraid I didn’t get your name, sir.” You sniffled again, hands warming your arms.

Freeman leaned over and offered you his hand, “Detective Eddie Freeman.” You shook it, keeping your hand rather limp to give the appearance of weakness.

“I just-,” he laughed as he set his hand on the table, clicking his ring twice out of habit, “I gotta ask. Did your fella kill Tommy? Are you in some kinda trouble?”

With a scoff and a shake of your head, you found yourself, “No, but I wish he had. What’s the point of being good if people assume the worst of you anyway?” Reaching out for his hand again, you held his large one in both of your smaller ones, “At least if he’d killed him I’d be sure Tommy’s never coming back to keep his promise.”

Your mother always taught you to make yourself small. Remind the people you needed to believe you that you were not a threat. Play the part they always pigeon holed you into. It was easier than fighting the assumptions. There was power in deception.

“Your pal is really ruining my life. Even more than Tommy.” You squeezed, 30% strength.

When you looked up at him, he could only find you to be the image of pitiful girl, “Let me check some things and I’ll have Kenny sending you on your way, miss-?”

“Doe.”

“Right.” His ring rapped against the bright wooden door frame, two times, and your brief time knowing Freeman ended.

The paralysis set in as soon as the door was shut. You could hear Alastor’s name echoing around in your head, the sound so sharp it made fresh tears well. Brady had heard it, of course. It was for nothing. You worked so hard, kept his name off of your tongue despite the way it always felt so good there.

Conjured images of Alastor barging into the police station haunted you. What would he say in anger? Brady wasn’t crazy, he was smart and lucky. Nothing could be worse. Alastor could say anything while mad, and Brady could make conclusions he had no business jumping to.

And then he was there in the room with you, and you had to return to the moment and try to calibrate yourself. Who were you now? He already knew you weren’t the damsel in distress, he knew you weren’t weak and frail. Right?

Maybe you’d just be yourself, like you’d let slipped earlier. Your mouth opened and his hand flew up, “Don’t. Shut it.”

“Excu-”

“I’ve been told to apologize and send you home.”

“Oh? And are you?”

Brady smiled, and for a moment you forgot how scary that should be. “No. You’re a liar and you’re aiding a criminal. But you work in a place I’m not supposed to bother. Luckily for me, Alastor’s work surely isn’t one.” Your eyes rolled. Hearing him say the name was like hearing a dog sing opera. Unsettling and unnatural. Perhaps a little impressive from a distance. Unfortunately you were front row and center.

Time with you felt so rare, he wanted to keep you a little longer but couldn’t think of what to say or do. Briefly he entertained grabbing you and violently shaking you until you confessed. He managed to find the strength to bury that down, mouth opening instead in preparation for words he didn’t have yet.

“Can I go home now?” Rubbing your arms to make it clear how uncomfortable you were, you cut him off like he had you. Not that he had anything to say.

Brady motioned with his thumb down the hall and said, “Your guy isn’t here to pick you up. Funny name by the way. I got a complaint for an Alastor last week. Socked some man for no good reason. Sounds like a violent fella, kinda guy with a temper when someone speaks I’ll of his lady, or fiancée, I’m told…Anyway, dropped the case since the guy wouldn’t give any more information but maybe I should follow up.”

“Are you so sure I have one, a guy that is?” You simply couldn’t admit Alastor was yours. Never. Not for Brady. “No one’s coming for me. No one’s punched anyone for me either. Though, I’m flattered you think I’m worth the charge. Am I free to leave?” The little tug of your lips into a halfhearted grin warmed you. It was thrilling, lying to his face when you both knew the truth.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t let you take this moment from him. He’d made a massive victory in this personal war and your nonchalant attitude was making something in the back of his skull itch. Somewhere beneath his bone. A new sensation.

A brief and violent flash of knocking the smirk off your tear stained face startled him. You noticed him swallow hard, expression shifting from amused to bewildered. From the outside, all you could read was a frightened widening of his eyes.

“Brady…? If you’re waiting for some man to collect me, I’ll be here all night.” Your voice was softer now, while you couldn’t uncover what was happening in his head, you could tell he was in some kind of turmoil.

A man unable to control his face was often a man unable to control his hands.

His legs lifted his body up and dragged him over to the door. He opened it, slowly, before leaning against the wall beside it to ensure you passed him in close quarters. He knew he couldn’t keep you there forever.

Maybe this Alastor was a real rough fellow. So cruel he wouldn’t even care if his dame was in a bind. The kind of man to abandon his closest allies when cornered. Maybe he really wasn’t coming for you. Which was fine, he told himself. He’d be seeing him soon.

Following you out, he took the walk as an opportunity to warn you again.

“This won’t end like you think it will.” He said it too loudly for how close he was to you, “It never does for the women.” He stopped at the station’s front desk and leaned into the glossy wooden counter, “Oh! I almost forgot! Congrats on the engagement.”

Turning to say a harsh good night, you caught yourself and turned back, exiting through the station doors without another word to him. No need for polite pleasantries anymore. The game was well and truly over for you.

“Oh thank god,” Johnny was sitting on the steps of the station and jumped to his feet when you came out, a sight you weren’t expecting. You stopped, confused. He smiled seeing your brows knit and eyes wander past him in search of someone else, “I was going to bail you out but they said there wasn’t any need. Alastor is waiting for you.”

Like a leak in the hull of your iron-sided ship, it seemed the second Ruth so sweetly dripped that name into Brady’s waiting maw the ocean was spilling in. Every time you heard it fall from another person’s mouth the breach in your metal barriers tore wider. If the Titanic could sink in calm weather what luck did Alastor and you have in the tempest of Brady’s fervor?

“Oh…,” you tried to hide the dejection. He sent Johnny? That was smart, but, why did it sting?

Perhaps it was his six sisters, or maybe he was genuinely a good man, but Johnny’s heart ached at the pitiful tone. He leapt up two steps, “He wanted to come! But I told him it was a bad idea. Tempers and all that. Don’t need any more issues for you tonight. Though admittedly he didn’t seem mad, necessarily.”

A slow nod. Johnny told Alastor what to do? Your eyes looked to the left, that was an odd mental image.

“Thanks, Johnny. I need to return to the theater first.” Your hand reached out for his arm and gave it a squeeze, “I appreciate you.”

“Dont mention it. And your bag is with Alastor.” He let his hand come to yours, “He’s kind of a mess, that one.”

You tensed, accidentally pinching his arm in a flit of panic before drawing it back, “Did he drive home like that?”

He shook his head and handed you the card, “He said,” a pause as his eyes rolled up to search for the exact words, “to tell the host you’re there for him. Called it the Golden Dish, but the card doesn’t mention anything like that…. Sorry, I didn’t think to ask more questions. Like I said, he seemed out of sorts.”

You looked down to inspect it, nervous at the sudden introduction of a paper trail. Nodding, you finally took it with both hands. The face was rather plain: an address in the corner with just the number and street, and an interlocked G and D in the center. Turning it over, you found a pink lipstick kiss stained haphazardly across the back and a small squiggle. Your thumb ran over the clipped right bottom corner.

What was the Golden Dish? And who was kissing Alastor’s business cards?

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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The moral injury of having your work enshittified

This Monday (November 27), I'm appearing at the Toronto Metro Reference Library with Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen.

On November 29, I'm at NYC's Strand Books with my novel The Lost Cause, a solarpunk tale of hope and danger that Rebecca Solnit called "completely delightful."

This week, I wrote about how the Great Enshittening – in which all the digital services we rely on become unusable, extractive piles of shit – did not result from the decay of the morals of tech company leadership, but rather, from the collapse of the forces that discipline corporate wrongdoing:

https://locusmag.com/2023/11/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-dont-be-evil/

The failure to enforce competition law allowed a few companies to buy out their rivals, or sell goods below cost until their rivals collapsed, or bribe key parts of their supply chain not to allow rivals to participate:

https://www.engadget.com/google-reportedly-pays-apple-36-percent-of-ad-search-revenues-from-safari-191730783.html

The resulting concentration of the tech sector meant that the surviving firms were stupendously wealthy, and cozy enough that they could agree on a common legislative agenda. That regulatory capture has allowed tech companies to violate labor, privacy and consumer protection laws by arguing that the law doesn't apply when you use an app to violate it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But the regulatory capture isn't just about preventing regulation: it's also about creating regulation – laws that make it illegal to reverse-engineer, scrape, and otherwise mod, hack or reconfigure existing services to claw back value that has been taken away from users and business customers. This gives rise to Jay Freeman's perfectly named doctrine of "felony contempt of business-model," in which it is illegal to use your own property in ways that anger the shareholders of the company that sold it to you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Undisciplined by the threat of competition, regulation, or unilateral modification by users, companies are free to enshittify their products. But what does that actually look like? I say that enshittification is always precipitated by a lost argument.

It starts when someone around a board-room table proposes doing something that's bad for users but good for the company. If the company faces the discipline of competition, regulation or self-help measures, then the workers who are disgusted by this course of action can say, "I think doing this would be gross, and what's more, it's going to make the company poorer," and so they win the argument.

But when you take away that discipline, the argument gets reduced to, "Don't do this because it would make me ashamed to work here, even though it will make the company richer." Money talks, bullshit walks. Let the enshittification begin!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/22/who-wins-the-argument/#corporations-are-people-my-friend

But why do workers care at all? That's where phrases like "don't be evil" come into the picture. Until very recently, tech workers participated in one of history's tightest labor markets, in which multiple companies with gigantic war-chests bid on their labor. Even low-level employees routinely fielded calls from recruiters who dangled offers of higher salaries and larger stock grants if they would jump ship for a company's rival.

Employers built "campuses" filled with lavish perks: massages, sports facilities, daycare, gourmet cafeterias. They offered workers generous benefit packages, including exotic health benefits like having your eggs frozen so you could delay fertility while offsetting the risks normally associated with conceiving at a later age.

But all of this was a transparent ruse: the business-case for free meals, gyms, dry-cleaning, catering and massages was to keep workers at their laptops for 10, 12, or even 16 hours per day. That egg-freezing perk wasn't about helping workers plan their families: it was about thumbing the scales in favor of working through your entire twenties and thirties without taking any parental leave.

In other words, tech employers valued their employees as a means to an end: they wanted to get the best geeks on the payroll and then work them like government mules. The perks and pay weren't the result of comradeship between management and labor: they were the result of the discipline of competition for labor.

This wasn't really a secret, of course. Big Tech workers are split into two camps: blue badges (salaried employees) and green badges (contractors). Whenever there is a slack labor market for a specific job or skill, it is converted from a blue badge job to a green badge job. Green badges don't get the food or the massages or the kombucha. They don't get stock or daycare. They don't get to freeze their eggs. They also work long hours, but they are incentivized by the fear of poverty.

Tech giants went to great lengths to shield blue badges from green badges – at some Google campuses, these workforces actually used different entrances and worked in different facilities or on different floors. Sometimes, green badge working hours would be staggered so that the armies of ragged clickworkers would not be lined up to badge in when their social betters swanned off the luxury bus and into their airy adult kindergartens.

But Big Tech worked hard to convince those blue badges that they were truly valued. Companies hosted regular town halls where employees could ask impertinent questions of their CEOs. They maintained freewheeling internal social media sites where techies could rail against corporate foolishness and make Dilbert references.

And they came up with mottoes.

Apple told its employees it was a sound environmental steward that cared about privacy. Apple also deliberately turned old devices into e-waste by shredding them to ensure that they wouldn't be repaired and compete with new devices:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

And even as they were blocking Facebook's surveillance tools, they quietly built their own nonconsensual mass surveillance program and lied to customers about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Facebook told employees they were on a "mission to connect every person in the world," but instead deliberately sowed discontent among its users and trapped them in silos that meant that anyone who left Facebook lost all their friends:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

And Google promised its employees that they would not "be evil" if they worked at Google. For many googlers, that mattered. They wanted to do something good with their lives, and they had a choice about who they would work for. What's more, they did make things that were good. At their high points, Google Maps, Google Mail, and of course, Google Search were incredible.

My own life was totally transformed by Maps: I have very poor spatial sense, need to actually stop and think to tell my right from my left, and I spent more of my life at least a little lost and often very lost. Google Maps is the cognitive prosthesis I needed to become someone who can go anywhere. I'm profoundly grateful to the people who built that service.

There's a name for phenomenon in which you care so much about your job that you endure poor conditions and abuse: it's called "vocational awe," as coined by Fobazi Ettarh:

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

Ettarh uses the term to apply to traditionally low-waged workers like librarians, teachers and nurses. In our book Chokepoint Capitalism, Rebecca Giblin and I talked about how it applies to artists and other creative workers, too:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

But vocational awe is also omnipresent in tech. The grandiose claims to be on a mission to make the world a better place are not just puffery – they're a vital means of motivating workers who can easily quit their jobs and find a new one to put in 16-hour days. The massages and kombucha and egg-freezing are not framed as perks, but as logistical supports, provided so that techies on an important mission can pursue a shared social goal without being distracted by their balky, inconvenient meatsuits.

Steve Jobs was a master of instilling vocational awe. He was full of aphorisms like "we're here to make a dent in the universe, otherwise why even be here?" Or his infamous line to John Sculley, whom he lured away from Pepsi: "Do you want to sell sugar water for the rest of your life or come with me and change the world?"

Vocational awe cuts both ways. If your workforce actually believes in all that high-minded stuff, if they actually sacrifice their health, family lives and self-care to further the mission, they will defend it. That brings me back to enshittification, and the argument: "If we do this bad thing to the product I work on, it will make me hate myself."

The decline in market discipline for large tech companies has been accompanied by a decline in labor discipline, as the market for technical work grew less and less competitive. Since the dotcom collapse, the ability of tech giants to starve new entrants of market oxygen has shrunk techies' dreams.

Tech workers once dreamed of working for a big, unwieldy firm for a few years before setting out on their own to topple it with a startup. Then, the dream shrank: work for that big, clumsy firm for a few years, then do a fake startup that makes a fake product that is acquihired by your old employer, as an incredibly inefficient and roundabout way to get a raise and a bonus.

Then the dream shrank again: work for a big, ugly firm for life, but get those perks, the massages and the kombucha and the stock options and the gourmet cafeteria and the egg-freezing. Then it shrank again: work for Google for a while, but then get laid off along with 12,000 co-workers, just months after the company does a stock buyback that would cover all those salaries for the next 27 years:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

Tech workers' power was fundamentally individual. In a tight labor market, tech workers could personally stand up to their bosses. They got "workplace democracy" by mouthing off at town hall meetings. They didn't have a union, and they thought they didn't need one. Of course, they did need one, because there were limits to individual power, even for the most in-demand workers, especially when it came to ghastly, long-running sexual abuse from high-ranking executives:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/25/technology/google-sexual-harassment-andy-rubin.html

Today, atomized tech workers who are ordered to enshittify the products they take pride in are losing the argument. Workers who put in long hours, missed funerals and school plays and little league games and anniversaries and family vacations are being ordered to flush that sacrifice down the toilet to grind out a few basis points towards a KPI.

It's a form of moral injury, and it's palpable in the first-person accounts of former workers who've exited these large firms or the entire field. The viral "Reflecting on 18 years at Google," written by Ian Hixie, vibrates with it:

https://ln.hixie.ch/?start=1700627373

Hixie describes the sense of mission he brought to his job, the workplace democracy he experienced as employees' views were both solicited and heeded. He describes the positive contributions he was able to make to a commons of technical standards that rippled out beyond Google – and then, he says, "Google's culture eroded":

Decisions went from being made for the benefit of users, to the benefit of Google, to the benefit of whoever was making the decision.

In other words, techies started losing the argument. Layoffs weakened worker power – not just to defend their own interest, but to defend the users interests. Worker power is always about more than workers – think of how the 2019 LA teachers' strike won greenspace for every school, a ban on immigration sweeps of students' parents at the school gates and other community benefits:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Hixie attributes the changes to a change in leadership, but I respectfully disagree. Hixie points to the original shareholder letter from the Google founders, in which they informed investors contemplating their IPO that they were retaining a controlling interest in the company's governance so that they could ignore their shareholders' priorities in favor of a vision of Google as a positive force in the world:

https://abc.xyz/investor/founders-letters/ipo-letter/

Hixie says that the leadership that succeeded the founders lost sight of this vision – but the whole point of that letter is that the founders never fully ceded control to subsequent executive teams. Yes, those executive teams were accountable to the shareholders, but the largest block of voting shares were retained by the founders.

I don't think the enshittification of Google was due to a change in leadership – I think it was due to a change in discipline, the discipline imposed by competition, regulation and the threat of self-help measures. Take ads: when Google had to contend with one-click adblocker installation, it had to constantly balance the risk of making users so fed up that they googled "how do I block ads?" and then never saw another ad ever again.

But once Google seized the majority of the mobile market, it was able to funnel users into apps, and reverse-engineering an app is a felony (felony contempt of business-model) under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to install an ad-blocker.

And as Google acquired control over the browser market, it was likewise able to reduce the self-help measures available to browser users who found ads sufficiently obnoxious to trigger googling "how do I block ads?" The apotheosis of this is the yearslong campaign to block adblockers in Chrome, which the company has sworn it will finally do this coming June:

https://www.tumblr.com/tevruden/734352367416410112/you-have-until-june-to-dump-chrome

My contention here is not that Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in personnel via the promotion of managers who have shitty ideas. Google's enshittification was precipitated by a change in discipline, as the negative consequences of heeding those shitty ideas were abolished thanks to monopoly.

This is bad news for people like me, who rely on services like Google Maps as cognitive prostheses. Elizabeth Laraki, one of the original Google Maps designers, has published a scorching critique of the latest GMaps design:

https://twitter.com/elizlaraki/status/1727351922254852182

Laraki calls out numerous enshittificatory design-choices that have left Maps screens covered in "crud" – multiple revenue-maximizing elements that come at the expense of usability, shifting value from users to Google.

What Laraki doesn't say is that these UI elements are auctioned off to merchants, which means that the business that gives Google the most money gets the greatest prominence in Maps, even if it's not the best merchant. That's a recurring motif in enshittified tech platforms, most notoriously Amazon, which makes $31b/year auctioning off top search placement to companies whose products aren't relevant enough to your query to command that position on their own:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Enshittification begets enshittification. To succeed on Amazon, you must divert funds from product quality to auction placement, which means that the top results are the worst products:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

The exception is searches for Apple products: Apple and Amazon have a cozy arrangement that means that searches for Apple products are a timewarp back to the pre-enshittification Amazon, when the company worried enough about losing your business to heed the employees who objected to sacrificing search quality as part of a merchant extortion racket:

https://www.businessinsider.com/amazon-gives-apple-special-treatment-while-others-suffer-junk-ads-2023-11

Not every tech worker is a tech bro, in other words. Many workers care deeply about making your life better. But the microeconomics of the boardroom in a monopolized tech sector rewards the worst people and continuously promotes them. Forget the Peter Principle: tech is ruled by the Sam Principle.

As OpenAI went through four CEOs in a single week, lots of commentators remarked on Sam Altman's rise and fall and rise, but I only found one commentator who really had Altman's number. Writing in Today in Tabs, Rusty Foster nailed Altman to the wall:

https://www.todayintabs.com/p/defective-accelerationism

Altman's history goes like this: first, he founded a useless startup that raised $30m, only to be acquired and shuttered. Then Altman got a job running Y Combinator, where he somehow failed at taking huge tranches of equity from "every Stanford dropout with an idea for software to replace something Mommy used to do." After that, he founded OpenAI, a company that he claims to believe presents an existential risk to the entire human risk – which he structured so incompetently that he was then forced out of it.

His reward for this string of farcical, mounting failures? He was put back in charge of the company he mis-structured despite his claimed belief that it will destroy the human race if not properly managed.

Altman's been around for a long time. He founded his startup in 2005. There've always been Sams – of both the Bankman-Fried varietal and the Altman genus – in tech. But they didn't get to run amok. They were disciplined by their competitors, regulators, users and workers. The collapse of competition led to an across-the-board collapse in all of those forms of discipline, revealing the executives for the mediocre sociopaths they always were, and exposing tech workers' vocational awe for the shabby trick it was from the start.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

#pluralistic #moral injury #enshittification #worker power #google #dont be evil #monopoly #sam altman #openai #vocational awe #making a dent in the universe

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sometimesmaybespoof · 2 months ago

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I forget I have Tumblr sometimes...

Oh hi everybody :3 hiiihii hello!!

I'm not dead !! I swear!!!

*suspiciously dead looking individual*

Erm... HEHEHE- WHAT? dirt under my fingernails?? PSSHH- I just like messing with ant piles HHH-

Uhhh- oh you guys are starving huh? Here's some treats!!

Postal Dudes :3 he's pretty sillie

Oh and here's some mor!!

Gordy!!! Gordon!!! Gordon Freeman!!! <3 (I'm love himb)

#Spoofsart!#Gordon Freeman #Half Life #Postal Dude #Postal #my art #sillie #yeah a post other than my ocs!#im very mixed media #i love HL sm <3 literally made me FEEL THINGS ITS SUCH A GOOD GAME- aaghg #i also love Postal :P!! never played it yet but my beloved friend CultRagoons introduced me <3 #this is actually the first time ive ever tried drawing humans before (drawn in a way that i liked at least- heh)#not bad tbh! i love it!#i love fictional white guys with trauma!!!!#yes i draw on a tablet and yes i draw on Ibis paint hehe #i swear ibis paint sometimes gets a bad-wrap :( guh. a good artists can draw in any art program!!!#anyhow lovley day today!! love yall X)#in my brainy dude and gord are like cousins thrice removed lol they should get grilled cheese sammys together

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shmorp-mcdurgen · 4 months ago

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Aftermath au: Red Letter Day

Barney gets a call that Gordon Freeman had been found after ten years of being missing in action.

Word count: 4382

Notes: Another fic for my au "Aftermath" because I think its neat. I'm not sure what else to put here, enjoy the fic

Barney was beginning to remember how much he hated Winter as he stared through the warehouse window in front of him. Despite it being the beginning of March, spring was yet to come, meaning the snow was still falling with the temperature following suit. Barney had always hated the season, and as much as he tried, he could never come up with a proper reason. Maybe it was the fact it was cold, wet, and dreary, making any trip outside miserable, or perhaps it was the fact he was mainly cooped up inside all day, leaving him to get cabin fever. Or maybe it was a mixture of those two at the same time, along with the loneliness that came from them. No matter the reason, Barney kept quiet about it, realizing he had no ability to change the weather. All he could do was drink his hot coffee and put on a few more layers than usual.

Barney took a sip from his mug as he looked away from the window, instead focusing his attention back into the room he was in. It was a storage room, full of random junk and scientific doodads Barney had no knowledge of. Boxes and crates were stacked up in piles taller than he was, stacked in such a way that it made Barney nervous even being near them in the case of them toppling over. Due to the lack of a radiator in that room, it was even chillier than the rest of the refurbished warehouse, making Barney glad he was wearing the warmest sweatpants he could find in his closet, along with a worn out grey hoodie, with the logo on the front being so faded that it was hard to make out as Black Mesa’s logo.

As he looked around, he was startled by the sound of a box slamming against the concrete floor, along with a short exclamation. “Oh, blast it!” “You alright, Doc?” Barney asked the other man in the room, watching as he bent over to pick up the fallen crate.

“I’m fine, just…hoping whatever was in here isn’t fragile…”

Dr. Isaac Kleiner, or “Doc” as Barney referred to him as, was wearing a white lab coat over a robin-egg-blue dress-shirt and black tie, trading warmth for safety at his place of work. His glasses were slipping off his face as he moved boxes and rummaged through everything in the storage room, making it even more of a mess than it was before.

“Where on earth could she have gone?” Kleiner asked, not necessarily expecting an answer. “There aren’t any vents she could have crawled in, are there?”

“I hope not,” Barney stated. “Last thing I want is that thing to fall on someone.” As Kleiner looked under a table, Barney spoke up again. “You think it ran off or something?”

“Oh no, I don’t believe so,” Kleiner stood up straight, “I’m sure she wouldn’t. After all, she needs to get fed eventually, so I imagine she’ll come out for that.” “If the thing didn’t eat someone's cat or something.”

“Hush!” Kleiner held a finger up to his mouth, causing both he and Barney to become silent as he listened closely. Barney attempted to hear what Kleiner was listening for, but to no avail, hearing nothing but silence. “Fie! I could’ve sworn I heard her moving around…”

Barney let out an exhausted sigh, “Doc, please, there’s plenty of those pests out there–”

“But there’s only ONE Lamar!”

“...Right.”

“Now, are you going to help me look?” Kleiner adjusted his crooked glasses, “Or are you going to simply stand there, doing nothing?”

“Uh…” Barney glanced away, thinking for a moment. “...No thanks.”

“Oh, you act like she’s some kind of wild animal.”

“It kinda is.”

“She’s been de-beaked and trained, and you know this!” Kleiner stated as he walked towards a filing cabinet near the corner of the room.

“‘Trained;’ I don’t think that thing is really…trained. My dog is trained, and I know you can train cats, but I don’t think you can train a literal parasite–”

“Oh! I think I’ve got something!” Kleiner said excitedly, “Help me move this cabinet, would you please?”

Barney reluctantly approached the metal cabinet as Kleiner positioned himself to the side of it, ready to move it as soon as Barney was. As soon as Barney placed his free hand against the side of it, he pushed, with Kleiner on the other side pulling it towards him.

Barney let out a loud yelp when something leaped at him from behind the cabinet, causing him to fall on his back and drop his mug on the floor. It was Lamar, the ��Pet” headcrab that Kleiner had lost, and it was even uglier up close. As it laid on Barney’s chest, its six small, beady eyes stared back at him as he remained absolutely still, afraid of it trying to attack him. Its teeth on its stomach prodded at his stomach, along with its chipped, large front claws, which had colorful duct-tape covering the tips of them to prevent them from being too sharp. After a few moments of tense silence, Kleiner came to the rescue, picking up Lamar from where it rested on Barney’s torso, allowing him to take a breath.

“LAMAR!” Kleiner exclaimed, looking at his pet with relief in his eyes, “Oh, delightful! I’m so happy to see you weren’t left out in the cold somewhere…”

“Mm-hm…” Barney lifted himself off the ground, looking at his feet to see his knocked over coffee cup, with its contents spilled over. “Ugh…”

Barney picked up his cup from the floor as Kleiner let Lamar go, watching as it waddled across the floor before jumping up onto one of the tables. Barney stared at it with contempt, the opposite reaction to Lamar’s rediscovery compared to Kleiner’s joy.

“Do you even have a license for that thing?” Barney questioned as Lamar sat down on top of some loose documents. “If you don’t and animal control finds it, they’ll kill it–”

“I’m…in the process of getting one,” Kleiner stated, voice stumbling slightly. “And I hope no one finds her, cause if they do…I’m afraid of what you said coming true. I’m sure it will be fine regardless, at least she knows to stay inside.”

“...Sure.”

“Is everyone safe?”

Barney and Kleiner turned towards the doorway that led to the rest of the warehouse, seeing a lone, albino Vortigaunt staring back at them with her four maroon eyes. She was wearing a similar lab coat to Kleiner’s, with a borrowed pair of black dress pants, along with a fitted light brown sweater, with a hole in the middle of her chest for her third pseudo arm. She stared at Kleiner and Barney for a little while before Barney answered her question.

“Yeah, we’re fine…” Barney sighed, glancing towards Lamar, “We just found Kleiner’s…pet.”

“Everything’s under control, Violet, you can get back to work!” Kleiner added.

“I see.” Violet’s gravelly voice seemed quieter than usual, making Barney’s brows furrow a bit.

“You alright?” He asked.

Violet seemed puzzled. “Hm?”

“Are you doing alright? I have noticed you’ve been a bit…closed off for the past few hours.” Kleiner inquired.

“We have been…distracted…” Violet responded. “I imagine it will be cleared up soon.”

“We?” Barney asked.

Violet didn’t answer. “I must get back to helping the others…the teleporter is nearly ready for its first test...”

“Oh! Wonderful. I’ll be there in a little bit.” Kleiner stated as Violet left the room. Barney remained puzzled, looking back at Kleiner with a feeling of unease in his chest.

“She said ‘we’.” Barney stated.

“I’m aware,” Kleiner responded. “You see, the Vortigaunts are able to tap into something they refer to as the ‘Vortessence’, and are thus all conne–”

“I know, Doc, I just…” Barney paused for a second. “If she’s talking about all the Vortigaunts, then wouldn’t that be a bit worrying?”

“...Maybe, but I'm not sure.” Kleiner stated. “Though, one of the members of the survey team we sent earlier today was a Vortigaunt, and that team hasn’t returned yet so…maybe there is a connection there.”

“Maybe.”

“Either way, I believe i’ll go and speak with her, just to make sure everything’s alri–”

Barney’s phone ringing from his pocket interrupted their thoughts, and when Barney pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open, he saw the number was from one of his coworkers at the hospital. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

“You’re fine, you go ahead and I’ll go check in with the others.”

Barney nodded, watching Kleiner leave the room before he answered the call and put his phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

Barney listened closely to the person on the other end of the phone, barely processing what they were saying.

“What’s going on?

Not going to believe what?

So what, why are you telling me this?”

Barney listened closely, all before he felt his heart skip a beat. The sinking feeling in his chest was enough to render him silent, all before he let out a meek “I’ll call you later.”

Barney rushed out of the room, running past Kleiner in the process, nearly pushing him over as he approached the exit. “Barney? What’s going on, are you alright–” “They found him.” Barney’s voice shook as he spoke, with him barely being able to make out the words from how tight his throat was.

“Found who?”

Barney was already out of the building by the time Kleiner asked the question, leaving it unanswered.

Barney saw his own breath clouding in front of his face as he sprinted across the parking lot of the warehouse, nearly slipping on ice multiple times but not giving any time to care. When he reached his car, he swung the door open and crawled inside, starting the engine and speeding off without a single word. His thoughts ran through his head faster than his car was capable of going, slurring together without a single cohesive thought coming through. He didn’t care if he was a few miles above the speed limit; he needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. He needed to see if what his coworker said was right.

If it was truly Gordon Freeman that was brought into the ER, he needed to be there.

When Barney made it to the hospital lot, he rushed through the front doors, looking around before approaching the front desk, out of breath from both the physical and mental strain that was put on him. Through harsh breaths, he asked, “Is Gordon Freeman here?”, with pleading eyes focused on the woman behind the desk.

“Oh, hello Mr. Calhoun, I can look through the system for a ‘Gordon Freeman’, if you’ll sit tight for a moment.” She looked towards the computer in front of her, typing in something and looking through files as Barney waited, his impatience building up inside of him.

“Fuck this.” He pushed himself away from the desk, storming down one of the hallways despite the woman at the front desk telling him he wasn’t allowed to as he was off duty. Barney rushed past hospital workers, asking them if they knew where Gordon was, only to be met with worried and frightened looks along with no answers. Barney’s frustration only grew as he ran through the hospital halls, with the familiar building beginning to feel like a maze meant to confuse him. As he ran further into the hospital wing, he slammed against one of the doctors in the hall, causing him to topple to the ground as Barney tripped over his own feet.

“Sorry, I just have to–”

“Barney? What the hell are you doing back here?” The man questioned as Barney sped past him.

“I’m looking for Gordon Freeman,” Barney answered, turning around. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s in the ER right now,” The man snapped back as he slowly stood up. “You can’t see him until he’s out of surgery.”

“Surgery? Is he safe? Is he alright?” Barney questioned, walking closer to the doctor.

“Yes, he’ll be fine, just…” The doctor let out a tired sigh. “Get out of here, you’re off duty and risking your job with a stunt like this.”

“I need to see Gordon, alright?” Barney explained. “He’s been gone for a fucking DECADE, and he’s been found again, I can’t just leave him–”

“Calhoun.” The man raised his voice as he glared at Barney with a look of both contempt and pity. “...Listen, just wait until he’s out and I’ll see what I can do, do you understand?”

Barney remained silent for a moment, letting out a sharp breath before nodding. “Alright,” He stated, defeated. “But he better be getting the best treatment in there.”

“I’m sure they’re doing all they can, they understand his reputation–”

“I don’t care about his reputation, if i’m right, that’s my goddamn friend in there.” Barney spat. “...Let me know when he’s out. I need to at least…make sure it’s…the right guy.”

“I’m sure someone will let you know.” The doctor stated. “...Now please go back to the waiting room before I call security.”

Barney did as he was told, reluctantly walking across the hospital premises and back into the waiting room, where he will stay for another few hours. He paced around the room, bounced his foot up and down, fidgeted with his hands; anything to try and pass the time as the minutes passed by agonizingly slow. After he had already been there for what felt like days within the timespan of a few hours, he saw a nurse walk towards him. “Mr. Calhoun?”

Barney’s head lifted up, looking towards the nurse before following her down a hallway. After a couple-minutes walk, they stopped in front of a door leading to a recovery room. “He’s in there,” The nurse stated. “He’s currently sleeping, so I ask you to be quiet and not attempt to wake him up.”

“...Yeah.” Barney hesitated before walking through the door, stepping into the room, seeing a curtain blocking his view of the bed. He paused, standing in place for a moment as he wondered if the face he was about to see was truly Gordon, or simply someone mistaken as him. He wondered if he wanted the answer, or if he’d rather live in ignorance, avoiding the crippling disappointment if it wasn’t the man he thought it was, but as he walked past the curtain, every worry in his mind ceased and his thoughts became silent as he looked at the man on the bed.

Sure, his body was covered with blood-soaked bandages, his right leg was in a cast, he had medical equipment around him, and he was missing his glasses, but his face was painfully recognizable. Barney choked back a sob, covering his mouth when he saw Gordon’s face again.

“Are you alright?” The nurse behind him asked, noticing Barney’s teary-eyed look.

“I’m fine.” Barney whispered before letting out a short chuckle and a forced smile. “It’s just…he didn’t change a damn bit.”

Barney hadn’t even noticed it had been an hour since he entered the room, being surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw it was nearing 10 PM. He sat on a chair beside Gordon’s bed, having moved it from the corner of the room to right beside it. His leg bounced up and down as he looked at Gordon, all before lowering his head and letting out a deep sigh. He wished to speak to him but he was out of words he could possibly say at that very moment, not to mention the wish to stay quiet so Gordon could recover without being woken up. He wanted to tell Gordon everything that had happened in his absence; how Kleiner started up another lab to continue Black Mesa’s studies, how Eli also set up one on the other side of the city, and how Barney had finished college and was able to become a nurse. Gordon missed so much, and even though Barney wished to dump every piece of information onto him, he realized that even the realization that it had been ten years would be overwhelming enough. Thus, Barney figured to start simple, and just talk, like friends, for the first time since the Black Mesa incident.

As Barney leaned back into his seat he felt the back of his head hit something that wasn’t there before, feeling bitter cold yet organic at the same time, like a corpse’s fingers curling around the top of the backrest. He swung around, half expecting someone to be there, yet he saw nothing of the sort, seeing only the beige wall behind him. Barney let out his breath, looking back at Gordon before realizing he should head back; his stress and emotional state must have made him paranoid, not to mention the feeling of his hair standing on end. He stood up, walking towards the door out of the room before taking one last look back at Gordon before he finally left.

Later that night, Barney paced around his living room, being watched by his pet rottweiler as he talked on the phone. “The Survey team were the ones that found him?” he asked.

“That’s what they said,” Kleiner stated from the other side of the line. “The Vortigaunt was apparently the one that found him, specifically.”

“I see.”

“Quite Miraculous,” Kleiner continued, “The fact that Gordon had survived there for ten years before being found.”

“Yeah…” Barney unsurely stated under his breath.

“Nevermind that, what are you planning now?” Kleiner asked. “Should we have some kind of party? A celebration should be in order for him being back, I’d say–”

“I think he needs rest, he’s…been through a lot.” Barney stated. “I’ve thought of him staying over at my place until he can find a place of his own or until he recovers, but we’ll see how he’s feeling.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure we can find a spare room in the lab for him.”

“I dunno if he’d wanna live in a loud lab with a headcrab, doc.”

“...I suppose you have a fair point.”

“It was just so…strange.” Barney stated. “They say it was a ten year coma, but I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it at all.” “What makes you believe that?”

“The fact he was bleeding. The fact he had fresh wounds from Black Mesa,” Barney elaborated, brows furrowed and his free arm crossing over his chest. “Not to mention the fact he was found with that…suit on.” “What kind of suit?” Kleiner questioned. “Oh, do you mean the Hazardous Environment Suit?”

“Yeah. Why would he be wearing it ten years after the incident was already over?”

“Who knows,” Kleiner sighed, “I’m sure I can talk with Eli to see if he has any ideas on–” Kleiner was interrupted by a loud crash and squeaking coming from behind him, audible through Barney’s phone. “Goodness gracious, LAMAR, NO–”

“You alright Doc?”

“I’ll have to speak with you later, Lamar got in the vents again–Lamar get DOWN from there, that’s not safe!” After that, the call ended, and Barney was left to himself once again. Barney sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket before he heard a deep ruff coming from his dog, who was laying next to the couch in the living room, with its white patches of fur on its snout showing its age.

“You hear that, Gordon?” Barney said. “You might get a new roommate…a…different Gordon.”

The dog yawned and rested his head on his paws as Barney walked towards the living room couch, sitting on it and resting his feet on the coffee table in front of it. He leaned over the armrest, scratching the top of the dog’s head. “Guess I’ll have to explain to him why you’re also named Gordon, huh bud?”

Gordon didn’t respond, instead just letting out a soft ruff again. Barney leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling before folding his hands on top of his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining why his pet was named after his friend, he realized. After all, it’s not very easy to tell someone you thought they were dead for years.

As soon as Barney received the call that Gordon was awake the following evening, Barney rushed back to the hospital to visit him once again. As he drove across the city, worries he didn’t think about before began to creep up inside his brain. Even though he didn’t necessarily believe the coma theory the doctors had, nor did he believe even they believed it fully, he thought of the possibility of it being true, and if Gordon would even remember who Barney was after a full decade of sleep. It would be a surprise if Gordon remembered anything after that amount of time, but Barney pushed down his pessimism, trying to be optimistic just this once.

After making his way down the hospital hallway once again, he found himself back in front of the door to Gordon’s room, with a nervous feeling deep in his gut as he prepared to walk inside. He took in a breath and stepped inside, looking towards the bed in which Gordon was laying on, only to have his gaze met by two bright green eyes, ones Barney hadn't seen since ten years prior. Barney froze in place, staring back at Gordon, who appeared to be surprised to see him. As Barney sat down in the chair beside the bed, he swallowed hard, wondering what he could possibly say now that Gordon was awake. As he thought to himself, a question left his mouth that he wasn’t initially planning on asking:

“Where were you?”

The question lingered in the air like a foul odor, with Gordon’s brows furrowing lip quivering slightly, all while he curled his hands into fists. He turned away from Barney, looking down at his feet, thinking of something to say, though his hands didn’t once lift up to sign a single word.

“You…disappear for 10 years without warning,” Barney continued. “Leaving everyone to believe you were dead.”

Gordon didn’t make eye contact with Barney as he spoke.

“I thought you were dead and buried somewhere, Gordon,” Barney choked. “But…You’re here in front of me now.”

Gordon glanced at Barney before he felt arms being wrapped around his shoulders, tight, but not too tight to make it hurt.

“I fucking missed you, Gordon.” Barney said as he hugged Gordon, feeling the gesture being returned to him. Gordon’s hands shook, feeling weak and cold, yet he didn’t want to let go of the single shred of kindness he had felt since what felt like eternity. After a few moments Barney let go, sitting back down with red, tear-filled eyes.

“...You…missed a lot.” Barney stated; Gordon nodded knowingly in response. “I’d tell ya’ everything, but…I don’t even know how to start.”

“Are they safe?” Gordon’s hands were shaking, but Barney could make out the message regardless.

“Who, like…Kleiner? Eli?”

Gordon nodded slightly, lips pursed in anticipation.

“They’re alright,” Barney assured, allowing Gordon to let out a breath. “In fact…they’re excited to see you again. Kleiner especially, he’s hoping to get you back into his lab…don’t know if you want to do that, but the offer’s there.”

Gordon appeared to have had a weight lifted off his shoulders at the news, but the cold yet somber gaze didn’t leave his eyes. Barney planned to tell Gordon that they were among the few survivors of the Black Mesa incident, but he bit his tongue for the time being.

“...Never thought you’d be in the history books, did ya?” Barney let out a lighthearted chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re a hero in everyone’s eyes, now.”

Gordon shook his head, looking down and away from Barney’s gaze as he clasped his hands together on his lap. Barney stared at him with a look of confusion and worry, all before forcefully clearing his throat.

“I’m just…happy to see you alive, Gordon.” Barney stated. “After…a few years I began to…to lose hope.” Barney paused for a second, realizing Gordon was still not meeting his gaze. “...Should’ve known you were a tougher son of a bitch than that, I guess.”

Gordon scoffed slightly before shaking his head again, still staring at his feet. Silence fell as Barney attempted to think of something else to say to ease the tense atmosphere, though his thoughts were blank and void of any ideas. Barney looked towards Gordon yet again, seeing he was raising his hands up to sign something:

“Missed you too.”

Barney smiled slightly, despite feeling as if he wanted to cry right then and there. He never anticipated he’d be this emotional in his life, yet here he was; about to cry for the second time that day. Seeing his legally dead friend after ten years of being missing in action was enough to warrant it, he supposed.

“I’m sure the others will be happy to show you everything they’ve been working on,” Barney said, with Gordon finally looking back up at him, before looking directly behind him, “They’ve been working on a new telepor–”

Gordon flinched, staring at something behind Barney before attempting to crawl backwards, nearly ripping off his IV in the process. Barney looked behind him, seeing nothing but the wall before he heard a loud thud coming from the bed. He turned, seeing Gordon had fallen off of the bed and onto the cold linoleum floor. “Gordon!” Barney quickly ran to his aid, holding out an arm for Gordon to grab, lifting him off of the floor. When weight was put onto his right leg, Gordon grimaced, using Barney as leverage as he was put back onto the bed. “Jeez Gordon, what got you freaked out so ba–”

Barney was silenced when Gordon hugged him without warning. Barney could hear him quietly sobbing into his shoulder, and as he returned the hug, he wondered if he had ever seen Gordon so touchy before; It was as if he hadn’t had human contact in days. This time however, Barney wasn’t quick to let go. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his best friend behind again.

Not this time.

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lesbianpepsi · 1 year ago

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Sweet Revenge in the Garage

pairing: Amber Freeman x fem!reader

request: Amber and reader recreate the infamous Tatum garage scene

words: 1.619k

warnings: mentions of murders, swearing, my writing

authors note: rip Tatum, you would've loved tiktok

“I’ll be right back.” You whispered into Liv’s ear as you stood up from the couch, Liv nodded her head wordlessly as her eyes stayed fixated on the horror movie playing on the Tv. Everybody’s eyes didn’t even glance towards you leaving the living room as they all stayed focused on the original Halloween playing.

You sighed as you walked through Amber’s crowded house heading towards the garage where Amber kept her good beer. Reaching the door to enter the garage you glanced down the hallway to see there weren't many people there except a few horny teens making out.

Opening the door you took a step inside as you blindly rubbed your hand against the wall until you felt the switch for the garage, you flicked it on which granted you light and a low buzzing noise coming from the bulb.

You took a few steps forward before glancing back at the door which was still wide open, you sighed as you strolled over to the fridge. Lowering yourself you opened the door and grabbed two beers, one in each hand.

Without any warning you heard a loud crash from behind you, you jumped at the sudden loud noise as you turned around. You saw a pile of random gardening tools had been knocked onto the floor.

You froze as you stared at the mess. Just then you heard a loud meow and a ginger cat rush past you, heading towards the kitty door in the garage door. You rolled your eyes as you kicked the fridge door shut.

“Fucking Stu.” You grumbled under your breath as you headed back towards the door. Skillfully you shuffled the beer from your right hand into your left one as you wrapped your fingers around the doorknob, you tried to unlock it but to no avail.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you attempted to open the door with more force this time. As you twisted the knob the light suddenly switched off. In record time you turned around to see if there was anyone behind you.

Nobody was there.

Fed up with whoever was clearly trying to play a prank on you, you pounded on the door twice. “Hey shitheads!” You yelled, leaning your weight against the door as you tried to listen in for any laughter behind it. It was silent.

“Hello?” You tried again but nobody said anything.

You clenched your jaw as you flicked the switch for the light and the one for the garage door below it. The sound of the old garage door rumbled through the dimly lit garage as it slowly opened.

Walking towards it, it had managed to reach halfway opened before it suddenly stopped. You stopped for a second before you shook your head, bending down to leave through it. As your back connected with the end of the garage door you felt it move back down, your eyes widened as you stepped hastily from under the door to escape from being crushed.

You turned around as your eyes naturally flickered back over to the door, but this time it was different. You cocked your head to the side as you saw someone in a Ghostface costume blocking the door, their hand outstretched for the garage door switch.

They slowly lowered their hand as you squinted your eyes confused. “Mindy? Is that you?” They shook their head slowly.

You scoffed as you walked over to the person in the costume, an amused look on your face. “What movie is this scene from then? ‘Sweet Revenge in the Garage’?” You said mockingly as you walked up closer to the person until you were only centimetres away.

Since the person was standing on the second step they had a height advantage over you. Looking up at the person you scoffed as you tried to push past them. “Lose the outfit. If Chad would see it, he’d flip.”

The person behind the Ghostface mask leaned over to where you were trying to move through, once again shaking their head slowly. As your annoyance reached its peak you looked at the person.

“Oh, want to play psycho killer?” You teased as the person nodded their head much more eagerly than their previous shakes. “Can I be the helpless victim?” You asked as you smiled sweetly up at them. They nodded their head as they glowered down at you.

You fought a laugh as you gave the most pleading look on your face, it breaking as you spoke as you tried to refrain yourself from laughing. “Okay, let's see.” Biting at your bottom lip momentarily you relaxed your features as you faked a look of pure terror on your face.

“No! Please don’t kill me, mister Ghostface, I want to be in the sequel.” You pleaded with fake innocence as you gazed up at the Ghostface mask.

The longer you stared up at the mask the harder it was for you not to crack a smile. Ghostfaice raised their gloved hand to their mask and placed a finger under the mask's chin to feign that he was thinking. At that you let out a chuckle as you took a step back, smiling up at Ghostface who’d dropped their hand as they stared at you in shock .

“Did that get your dick wet, Amber?” You teased playfully as you leaned to the side to put down the two beer bottles on the counter. The person in the costume, who was obviously Amber, froze as they stared at you. You cocked your head to the side as you smirked.

A gravelly sounding laugh came from behind the mask as they took two steps down until they stood directly in front of you. “If I had a dick then it definitely would’ve.” Amber remarked as she raised her gloved hand behind her mask, switching the voice changer off.

“What do you think of the costume? This is the first time you’re seeing me wear it, isn’t it?” You nodded your head as you placed a hand on Amber’s chest, looking up at her still hiding behind the Ghostface mask. “I’d say you look weirdly hot.” You whispered playfully to which Amber let out a dry laugh. She leaned down as she rubbed the mask against your face, you giggled at the cold texture on your skin. “Is that your way of wanting a kiss you asked?” You asked which Amber nodded her head at.

You smirked as you leaned closer to Amber and pressed your lips near the top of the black mouth where it was completely smooth and white, you stayed like that for a few seconds before you pulled away. Your red lipstick had left a stain on the white mask that made you beam with smugness.

“Okay, seriously now, did I scare you?” Amber asked hopefully, her voice becoming a bit more high pitched from joy. You couldn’t help but smile softly at your girlfriend's excitement. You debated whether you should lie or not since technically it was Stu - Amber’s cat- that scared you, not Amber.

You sighed as you nodded your head. “Yeah you did scare me.” Amber squealed as she gave a small jump, she clapped her hands together with excitement looking like an overjoyed seal clapping.

You laughed as you placed your hands on Amber’s shoulder to calm her down, smiling up at her. “As much as I love how excited you are, remember to stay focused.” She nodded her head vigorously, you gave a slow appreciative nod back. “Good. Now who do you want me to get here? Chad, Mindy or Liv?”

“Liv. Mindy won’t come to the garage but Liv will without hesitation.” She replied to your question with ease, her tone still excited. “I really hope I can kill her with the garage door just like they did in the original.”

You chuckled as you went to grab the two beer bottles from the counter. “Me too, that would be pretty fucking cool.”

“I know right! I’d be just like Billy when he killed Tatum in this very garage.” Amber beamed as her gloved hand went back behind to fiddle behind her mask, most probably putting the voice changer back on.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you grabbed the now slightly warm beer bottles. “I thought it was Stu?” Amber shrugged her shoulders as she leaned against the wall, taking out the Buck 120 Hunting Knife from her boot, playing with the blade.

“There’s a lot of theories on who it was but from what I’ve seen on reddit most think it’s Billy since when he appears at Stu’s house he gives him a nod and it’s right after Tatum’s death, probably signalling to him that the job is done.”

“You’re such a Stab nerd.” You teased as you walked up the two steps to open the garage door, the loud garage door slowly started to lift itself up. “I’m not a Stab nerd.” Amber defended in the Ghostface voice.

You gave her a ‘are you being serious’ look as you walked towards the now fully lifted garage door. “You literally use reddit to talk about theories and who’s the best Ghostface.” Amber rolled her eyes under the mask as she stayed silent, she couldn’t argue with that.

You let out a weak laugh as you walked out of the garage and into the open, turning back to look at Amber who was walking over to the dark corner of the garage. “Have fun.” You said as you gave her a little wave.

You watched as Ghostface raised their hand holding the knife as she shook it side to side mimicking a wave, a lipstick kiss mark still on the mask.

#amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x y/n #amber freeman #amber freeman x you #amber freeman scream #scream 5 #fic request #my fanfic #fanfic

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jinx-s-things · 7 months ago

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HEYY!!

first up. just wanna say how much i love your art work and writing! its so talented!

would you possibly write for amber x fem reader cuddling ? cuz let’s be real deep down amber gotta be a real softie i mean you saw how she was with tara at the start of the movie 😭😭 (minus the attempted killing part) thanks so much in. advance :))

Thank you you’re so sweet!! I hope you like it and thanks for the request ❤️

a Long day

Amber Freeman x Fem reader

Summary: after a long day you and Amber like to watch a movie and cuddle.

After a long day You finally showed up to Amber’s. Work was a nightmare and you just needing hugs. Amber had been waiting all day for you she had bought new some movies to watch while cuddling like you both did basically every day.

Once you got in the door you took off your jacket and shoes off. Amber was waiting she ran over for a huge embrace to welcome you. She took your hand and lead you to the sofa where there were pile’s of blankets, pillows and a lot of movies’.

Amber and you sat down and Amber pulled the blankets over the two of you and got comfy. You have your head on Amber’s chest while she had her hand running through your long hair.

You told Amber about your day, holding her hand and Amber whispered about how she loved you. “You look so pretty, baby” she said while kissing your head. You then blushed, Amber laughed then smiled.

After a while you and Amber were getting tired and there were no movies left to watch. Your limbs started to feel heavy and your eyes started to droop. Amber noticed and said “go to sleep baby” she whispered.

You nodded closing your eyes and slowly falling asleep, “love you” you managed to say before sleep took you “love you too”

Amber replied before going to sleep as well.

#scream #amber freeman #scream fanfic #mikey madison #amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x y/n #amber freeman fanfic #amber freeman x you #amber freeman imagine

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snailsdraw · 2 years ago

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[Start ID: 7 pages of HLVRAI narrative doodles about Benrey wearing skirts based on [this post here].

Benrey looks at his reflection in the mirror and the long skirt he's just put on. It's a purple vintage swing skirt from the 1950s, an unused item Dr Coomer had tucked away up until just recently. Dr Coomer stands behind Benrey, sporting a hawaiian shirt, with his hands proudly on his hips: "I think you look very handsome, Beppy! Would you say the same?" Either sides of the skirt are bunched up in Benrey's hands where he's lifting it up and away from brushing against his legs. His mouth is a tight, thin line. "it's, uhh…yeah. like it. looks. can i take it off now, please?" Benrey grits out. Tommy winces at the stream of flimsy red sweet voice bubbles slipping out from the corner of Benrey's mouth: "Uh-oh. Red like, like a brick means that's a bad, uh, ick."

Tommy leaves the shirt he's just finished folding and picks up a pair of comfy black pajama pants with a green grid pattern on it from off the pile of unfolded clothes next to him on the couch. "Here! This'll help!" he says, before launching the pants right at Benrey's face. Dr Coomer chuckles at him.

Sometime later, Gordon knocks on their open front door. He asks: "Hey, any of yall seen Capt- Joshie's stuffed horse? I think he might've left it here the last time we-" He's interrupted by an abrupt "hey" from Benrey. Benrey's dressed in his hoodie, playstation socks, and most importantly, the pajama pants and skirt from earlier. He leans forward, a hand on his hip while the other twirls a chullo string around his finger playfully. Benrey smiles smugly at Gordon, showing of his new skirt: "bet you're, uh, jealous you can't pull this off, huh?"

Tommy pipes up: "Oh! I was just about to go give- to return this to you. Hello, Mr Freeman!" Benrey looks displeased at Tommy's sudden entrance as the taller man pops into view behind him, a stuffed horse held in his hand. Gordon's smile is a grateful one as he passes Benrey to retrieve the toy: "Aw fuck, thanks man." "yo what the hell man? you ruined my moment…" Benrey pouts, arms crossed and side-eyeing Tommy. Dismissively, Gordon tells Benrey: "Dude, I've been rocking those since, like, preschool."

Benrey just grumbles and blows a rasberry, back stubbornly turned on the two behind him: "you're no fun." Gordon takes Joshua's stuffed horse from Tommy's hand. Not looking at Benrey, he mumbles with a shrug: "I mean…I didn't say it was bad or anything. Suits you, I guess." Benrey gives him an unsure look as Gordon passes him again on his way out: "/gen?" "Uh, yeah, /gen-" Gordon says distractedly, rushing out the door. "L-look, I gotta run. If Josh finds out Cap'n's gone, he's gonna freak. Thanks again, Tommy!" (Cap'n is the name of the stuffed horse) When he's gone, Tommy taps Benrey on the shoulder.

Tommy whispers sideways to Benrey: "Don't worry, Benrey. I think he liked it." "wuh?" Benrey says, looking up at him. Tommy does a series of ASL hand signs indicating that Gordon had been blushing. Benrey's eyes widen at him, and a couple of shy peach sweet voice orbs bubble from his mouth.

In the elevator, Gordon has his back pressed up against the wall, the horse plush clutched to his chest. "God, hope I didn't catch a cold or something," he thinks, mistaking the awkward heat in his face for an oncoming fever. He is, as Tommy had communicated, blushing.

End ID.]

Thanks to the op of the post this was based off for the inspo heheh.

Also, I don't know if Tommy's signing is accurate😬 (I never formally learned sign language so I could only look for references online).

#* writes the colour of the skirt and pj pants in the id even though it's not in the image *#this was supposed to be a short thing but hahA #hlvrai #hlvrai benrey #hlvrai coomer #hlvrai tommy #hlvrai gordon #snail's art #id #frenrey

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ultrone · 2 years ago

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🫀 ♰ ┈ motion sickness. vampire amber freeman

🎧 𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 decode by paramore | 𝘁𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸

synopsis. you and your girlfriend attend a party with the intention of having a good time, but unexpectedly encounter an attack by Ghostface. Will Amber choose to let you go, or will she sacrifice your humanity to protect you from danger?

vampire amber headcanon // requested by @geico-insuranc

cw. angst, stabbing, blood, mentions of violence, fluff.

wc. 5.1k

The Friday afternoon sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the suburban streets as you and Amber left school together. With backpacks slung over your shoulders, you made your way to Amber's house, chatting and laughing as you walked. But for a moment, you noticed that Amber looked a little pale and tired. You turned to her and asked, "Hey, are you feeling alright? You look a little drained."

Amber gave you a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little tired, that's all."

You didn't want to push the issue, but you couldn't help but worry about her. You knew that being a vampire wasn't easy, and you wanted to make sure that she was taking care of herself. So, you decided to bring up something that had been on your mind for a while.

"Amber, I know we've talked about this before, but if you ever need to, you know, feed on me... I'm okay with it," you said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Plus, it's like donating blood at a hospital, right?" You quipped, trying to persuade her.

Amber's expression softened, but she shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, babe, but we've talked about this already. I don't want to risk liking it too much."

You understood where she was coming from. Amber had told you that your blood was different from others, that it smelled incredibly sweet to her, and that she had trouble controlling herself around it. She had even given you a special ring to wear that dampened the smell a bit, not only because of her, but she was afraid that other vampires might target you due to its unique scent.

You nodded, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. "Okay, I understand. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help, alright?"

Amber gave you a grateful smile and leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the lips. "Thanks, you're the best."

As you arrived at Amber's house, you walked inside and were greeted by the warm aroma of home-cooked food wafting from the kitchen. Amber's mother was standing at the counter, chopping vegetables, and she looked up to see you both enter. With a bright smile, she asked, "Hey, you two! How was school today?"

You responded with a polite greeting and chatted with her for a moment before making your way up to Amber's room. The staircase leading up was old and creaky, but it added to the charm of the house. As you ascended the stairs, you could hear the sound of Amber's mother bustling about downstairs, pots and pans clanking together as she prepared dinner.

Amber had previously explained to you that as long as vampires consumed a regular supply of blood, their bodies functioned like those of humans. This meant that the dinner her mother was preparing was no different from what any other family would eat. However, if vampires went for a prolonged period without drinking blood, they could become lethargic and weak. In some cases, vampires could even become "ripper" vampires, which caused them to lose control and become excessively violent in their thirst for blood. As long as they maintained their blood intake, though, vampires could live normal lives, eating, sleeping, and drinking just like humans without any issues.

Once you reached Amber's room, you closed the door behind you and collapsed onto her bed, letting out a sigh. The walls were covered in posters of bands and TV shows that you knew she loved, and her bed was piled high with cozy blankets and pillows.

Once you were settled in, you started flipping through the options on Netflix before finally deciding on Twilight, causing Amber to roll her eyes at you.

"Really, Twilight?" Amber chuckled, her fangs glinting in the dim light of the room. "You know, just because I'm a vampire doesn't mean I want to watch vampire movies all the time," she teased, nudging you with her elbow.

You chuckled, "Well, excuse me for trying to be on theme."

As the movie played, you snuggled close to her, resting your head on her chest. Amber's fingers started to caress your back, sending a warm and soothing sensation through your body. The soft hum of her voice as she talked about the movie and the feeling of her body pressing against yours was all you needed to feel content.

As the credits rolled, Amber turned to you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Hey, I heard Liv is throwing a party tonight. You wanna go?"

"Sure, that sounds like fun," you replied, grinning at her. "But can we just stay like this for a little while longer?" You were in no rush to leave her embrace.

Amber smiled, pulling you closer to her and wrapping her arms around you. You snuggled into her embrace, feeling the warmth of her body mixed with the coolness of her touch, making you feel like you were in perfect balance. "I could stay like this forever," Amber whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You closed your eyes, feeling completely content in her arms. The two of you stayed like that for a few more minutes, enjoying the peace and quiet of each other's company.

Eventually, you reluctantly pulled away, sitting up and stretching. "Alright, let's go," you said with a smile, stretching your arms over your head. "Let me grab my jacket and we can head out."

Amber nodded, a playful grin on her face as she stood up from the bed. "I'll meet you downstairs," she said, making her way out of the room. You quickly grabbed your jacket and followed her, making your way down to the living room where Amber's mom was now sitting. "We're heading out to Liv's party, Mrs. Freeman," you said, giving her a smile.

"Alright, you two have fun," she replied with a smile, waving goodbye as you both made your way out the door.

As you walked a few blocks to Liv's house, you and Amber held hands, enjoying the cool evening breeze. The neighborhood was quiet and peaceful, with only the occasional car passing by.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed with an alert. You pulled it out to see a notification from the news app about a new killing from Ghostface. Your heart sank as you read the details. The body had been found just an hour ago outside of a bar not too far from where you were.

"Another one," you muttered to Amber, showing her the notification on your phone.

Amber's expression turned serious as she looked at the screen. "Do you think it could be someone we know?"

"I don't know," you replied, feeling a sense of unease creeping up on you. "But it's just scary to think that there's someone out there doing this."

Amber squeezed your hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, I won't let anything or anybody hurt you," she said, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on your eyebrow.

As you smiled at Amber, thanking her for her words of comfort, you both continued to walk towards Liv's house. The soft, warm glow of the streetlights illuminated your path, casting long shadows behind you. Finally, you arrived at your destination, Liv's spacious two-story home with its sprawling backyard.

The lively sounds of laughter and music spilled out from within, letting you know that the party was already in full swing.

As you walked in, you noticed that the living room was already packed with people of all shapes and sizes, some of them familiar faces from school and others complete strangers. As you and Amber pushed your way through the crowd, the sound of music blaring from the speakers drowned out any chance of conversation, and the smell of pizza and alcohol filled your nostrils.

You quickly scanned the room for any sign of someone you knew, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in attendance. But then, a familiar face caught your eye. It was Tara waving at you from across the room.

"Hey, guys! What’s up?” Tara shouted over the music as she made her way towards you both.

"This place is crazy," you replied, trying to shout loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Yeah, it's a bit of a madhouse. But it's Friday night, what do you expect?" Tara said, grinning.

As Tara led you towards the kitchen, you could hear the sound of music and laughter growing louder. As you approached, the sight of your tipsy friends made you smile. Chad caught your eye and you playfully wrapped your arm around his shoulder.

"Hey man, you started the party without me?" you joked, giving him a nudge.

Chad turned to you with a goofy grin. "What can I say? I couldn't resist the siren call of the tequila," he replied, his words slightly slurred. He then grabbed a bottle of tequila and started mixing it with some soda and gummy candies, creating a colorful and fruity concoction.

"This is my latest creation," Chad announced, holding up his drink for you and Amber to see. "I call it the 'Chad-a-rita.' It's sweet and tangy, with a little kick of tequila," he explained, handing each of you a cup.

"Chad-a-rita? Really?" Amber chuckled, teasing him about the name.

"Hey, it's catchy," he said, winking at the both of you.

You took a sip, and the taste of tequila hit you immediately, but it was quickly followed by a burst of sweetness. The gummy candies gave the drink a fun and playful twist, and you were pleasantly surprised by how well it worked. "Shit, this is pretty good, Chad," you said, taking another sip.

Amber, on the other hand, took a small sip and made a face. "It's too sweet," she said bluntly. "But it's a creative idea, Chad," she added, trying to be polite.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Amber's bluntness. Her straightforwardness was one of the things you loved about her, even if it sometimes caught you off guard. You laughed and nudged her playfully.

"Oh Amber, you always know how to make a guy feel good about his drink-making skills," he teased, taking a playful sip of his own concoction.

As you sipped on your drink, you caught Wes's eye from across the kitchen. The two of you had been best friends since childhood, and even though you didn’t have many classes together this semester, you still made time to catch up whenever you could. You were always excited to see him, and tonight was no exception.

The moment Wes noticed you were there, he grinned and made his way towards you. "Hey, you made it!" he said as he reached you and gave you a bear hug.

"Of course, wouldn't miss it," you replied, returning the hug.

Wes then turned to Amber and gave her a nod of acknowledgement, "Hey Amber, how's it going?"

Amber smiled and replied, "Good, thanks."

You and Wes then caught up on what you'd both been up to since you last saw each other. It had been a few weeks, but it felt like much longer. Between school and spending time with Amber since you started dating, you hadn't had a chance to hang out with Wes as much as you used to. But as you talked, it felt like no time had passed at all.

As you chatted with Wes, Mindy suddenly piped up from behind you, her eyes glued to her phone screen. "Guys, I just got a notification on my phone that a body was found at a bar a few blocks away," she said, her voice filled with excitement and concern.

You nodded, realizing that you had received the same notification on your phone about half an hour ago. "Yeah, I saw that too," you said, feeling a bit tense.

"Wait, what?!" Tara exclaimed, "I didn't get any notification on my phone."

"I just checked mine too, and I got it," Wes added, his eyes widening.

Mindy started speculating about who the murderer could be. "Sam is still the main suspect on my list," she said with a determined look in her eyes.

Tara rolled her eyes, "Mindy, you always think it's Sam. Maybe it's that Richie guy from Mr. Prescott's class. He's kind of a weirdo, I don't trust him."

Wes nodded in agreement, "Yeah, and didn't he always seem to have a thing for Sam?"

Liv chimed in, "Or maybe it's someone completely unrelated to our lives. The killer could be a complete stranger to us." The three of them continued to discuss different theories and possible suspects, trying to piece together the clues.

Chad couldn't resist adding to the conversation. "Who knows, maybe the killer is right here at the party. After all, that bar isn't too far from here, right?" he said with a mischievous grin, trying to spook everyone.

Everyone laughed, but you couldn't help feeling a bit tense. Sensing your turmoil, Amber spoke up, "Thanks for putting our minds at ease, Chad," trying to dissipate the tension in the air. Her words were a clear attempt to lighten the mood, and you appreciated the gesture.

As Amber made her sarcastic comment, you found yourself grinning, feeling the tension dissipate. Mindy's fixation on catching Ghostface had always been both amusing and slightly unnerving to you. "Yeah, Mindy's probably already created a whole crime board with pictures and a red string linking everyone together," you joked, earning a few chuckles from the group.

Mindy rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling. "Hey, you guys can laugh all you want, but when I catch Ghostface, you'll be thanking me," she said, with a determined look on her face.

Chad chuckled, "Okay, okay, enough ghost talk for now. Let's lighten up the mood, shall we? Anyone up for a game of beer pong?" he said, grinning mischievously.

Everyone seemed to perk up at the idea, and before you knew it, you were all making your way to the living room, ready for a round of the classic party game.

As you passed through the hallway, you noticed the eerie darkness outside, and shuddered. It felt like the perfect setting for a horror movie, but you shook off the feeling and focused on the game ahead. As you set up the cups and arranged the teams, you noticed that there weren't enough beers to fill them all. "Hey guys, we're running low on beers here," you said, looking around at the group.

"I have some more packs in a shed outside," Liv said, standing up. "I can go grab them."

"I'll come with you," you said, feeling a bit tipsy already from Chad's potent drink and wanting some fresh air.

Before leaving, you turned to Amber and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll be back in a bit," you said, smiling at her before following Liv through the hallway towards the back door.

As you and Liv walked towards your destination, a drunken douchebag suddenly jumped over a table in an attempt to show off. The table couldn't handle his weight and broke under him. "What the fuck, dude?" Liv yelled, clearly annoyed at the sight of the broken table.

Liv then turned to you and asked, "Hey, do you mind going to get the beers from the shed while I clean up this mess? My parents are coming home tomorrow at noon, and I don't want them to see this." She explained, her tone still tinged with irritation. Though you felt somewhat apprehensive about going out alone, you agreed and made your way outside.

As you stepped out into the cool night air, you couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. The house was situated in a secluded area, and the darkness added to its eeriness. You quickly made your way to the shed, and fortunately, Liv had left the light on for you. As you rummaged through the beer packs, you heard some rustling in the nearby bushes, which made you jump.

Cautiously, you peeked around the corner and spotted a group of teenagers walking down the street, laughing and shouting. You breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed the beers before heading outside.

As you were leaving the shed with the beer, you heard a rustling noise once again. Initially, you felt apprehensive, but then you thought to yourself that it was probably the same group of teenagers from before. However, before you could dismiss it entirely, you heard a voice call out, "Hey, Y/n." The voice made you jump, and you quickly turned around to face the source of the sound.

To your shock, it was Ghostface. You dropped the beers, and they shattered on the ground. "You gotta be shitting me," you thought to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest.

Ghostface chuckled sarcastically, "Oh, what's wrong, Y/n? Did I scare you?" Their tone was smug, and they took a step closer to you. You tried to back away, but before you could, they were already on top of you, ready to attack.

Your body tensed up, and you felt a surge of fear wash over you. You tried to fight back, but Ghostface was too strong. You struggled, but it was no use. You were trapped.

As Ghostface held you down, their cold breath lingered against your face. "I've been waiting for so long, Y/n," they whispered, his voice filled with malice. "But that Freeman bitch is always too close to you, and I couldn't find the right moment... until now."

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. Why was Ghostface attacking you? What did he want?

Suddenly, they pulled out a knife and began to stab you repeatedly. You tried to scream, but their hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries for help. You struggled to break free, but Ghostface's grip only tightened, making it impossible for you to move.

The pain was unbearable, and you could feel the blood seeping out of your wounds. You tried to fight back with all your might, but it was no use. Ghostface was too strong, and they seemed to be enjoying every moment of your agony.

As the world around you began to fade, you realized with horror that this was the end.

Amber started to worry as Liv and you were taking too long. She sensed that something was off and she didn’t like it, so she decided to go take a look. As she was walking towards the back, she saw Liv in the middle of the hallway scolding some guy. Amber quickly approached her and asked where you were.

Liv explained what had happened, and Amber's expression turned from concern to anger. "You sent her out there alone while there's a killer on the loose? What the fuck, Liv?" she exclaimed, looking at her with disgust. Without waiting for a response, Amber rushed outside to look for you.

As Amber stepped out into the cool night air, she called out your name. There was no answer, just an eerie silence that sent shivers down her spine. She felt her heart racing with fear as she walked around the dark yard, searching for any signs of you.

And then she saw you, lying on the ground, covered in blood. "Oh, my God," she gasped, Amber's heart sank as she rushed over to you, frantically checking for a pulse. She felt relieved when she found one, but the sight of your wounds made her feel sick to her stomach.

As she pulled out her phone to dial 911, she couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. The sight of all the blood on you started to weigh on her, making her feel dizzy and lightheaded. She tried to ignore it, but the hunger pangs became more intense with every passing moment.

Amber knew that she needed to stay focused and keep her mind on the task at hand, but the mouthwatering scent of your blood was overpowering. She felt a primal urge to sink her fangs into your neck and drain you dry, but she knew that would only make things worse.

Instead, she forced herself to stay by your side, using every ounce of her willpower to resist the temptation.

As Amber looked at you lying on the ground, she knew that time was of the essence, and that he couldn't afford to wait for an ambulance. She quickly thought about using her abilities to get you to the hospital faster. She carefully picked you up in her arms, feeling the weight of your body against hers.

With a burst of supernatural speed, Amber dashed through the woods, weaving in and out of the trees and undergrowth. She tried to keep a steady pace, but her hunger was starting to get the better of her.

Halfway to the hospital, Amber began to hear your heartbeat slowing down. She knew that time was running out, and she had to get you there quickly.

With a renewed sense of urgency, she poured all her strength into her legs and sprinted towards the hospital, carrying you as gently as she could. But despite her best efforts, your heartbeats continued to slow down until they were almost imperceptible.

Amber could feel the panic rising inside her. She didn't know if she would make it in time to save you. But she refused to give up hope, and she pushed herself even harder, running faster and faster towards the hospital.

As she ran, she was so focused on getting to her destination and suppressing her hunger that she didn't notice your heartbeats had stopped. It wasn't until she felt your weight go limp in her arms that she realized what had happened. She stopped in her tracks and dropped you to the ground. She cradled you in her arms, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded with you not to leave her.

"No, no, no, babe, don't do this to me," she cried, holding you tightly. She didn't want to turn you into a vampire, but she knew it was the only way to save you. The thought of taking away your mortality frustrated her, but she couldn't bear the thought of living without you. You were the most important thing in her life, and she couldn't imagine going on without you.

As she cradled you in her arms, tears streaming down her face, she couldn't help but feel selfish for making this decision on her own. She knew it wasn't fair to you, but she couldn't bear the thought of losing you forever. She held you tighter, trying to will your heart to start beating again, but deep down, she knew it was too late. The only way to save you now, her only hope, was to turn you into a vampire.

With tears in her eyes, she softly held your neck and leaned in to bite, feeling the warm rush of your sweet blood fill her mouth. The temptation was almost too much for her to handle, but she pushed through, knowing that your life depended on it.

After she had drank enough, she bit into her own wrist and held it to your mouth, letting the blood flow into your throat. She hoped and prayed that you would survive the transformation and that you would forgive her for what she had done.

As you started to stir, she held you even closer, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety wash over her. She knew that being a vampire would change everything for both of you, but she was willing to face whatever challenges lay ahead, as long as it meant that you would still be by her side.

As you began to regain consciousness, you felt a searing pain in your throat and your vision was blurred. Amber looked at you with a mix of relief and guilt. "I'm sorry, but I had to do it. I couldn't let you go," she explained. You attempted to speak, but your throat was dry and sore. "Don't talk, you need to rest," she said softly while gently stroking your hair.

You slowly sat up, feeling weak but oddly rejuvenated at the same time. "What happened to me? What did you do?" you inquired, looking at Amber in confusion.

"I turned you into a vampire to save you," she replied, her eyes brimming with concern.

You experienced a wave of emotions — shock, confusion, fear, and a peculiar thrill. "I'm a vampire now?" you uttered, still grappling to come to terms with the situation.

Amber nodded, "Yes, but it won't be easy. There's much for you to learn, and I'll be there every step of the way. I promise you."

As your senses gradually returned, you sensed a curious feeling, like a surge of vitality coursing through your veins. You were still disoriented and dizzy, but you knew something had changed, although you couldn't quite put your finger on it. You attempted to concentrate on your surroundings, and then you realized where you were: deep in the woods, surrounded by trees and shrubs, and covered in blood.

You looked up, and there was Amber, standing in front of you, sweaty and bloody, holding out her wrist. "Drink," she said, her voice gentle but urgent. You hesitated at first, feeling a mix of fear and uncertainty, but you trusted her, and you knew that she was the only one who could help you.

So you took her wrist in your hand, feeling the warmth of her blood against your skin, and brought it to your mouth. The taste was unlike anything you had ever experienced before: sweet and rich, with a metallic tang that sent shivers down your spine. You drank hungrily, feeling the liquid coursing through your body, filling you with a renewed sense of energy and exuberance.

As you drank, you felt your body changing, transforming into something new and unfamiliar. You felt stronger, faster, and more alive than ever before. You felt like you could run for miles without getting tired, like you could jump higher than the tallest tree in the forest. And yet, at the same time, you felt strangely empty, like something vital had been taken away from you.

When you were done, you looked up at Amber, and you could see the concern etched on her face. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft and soothing. You nodded, still trying to wrap your head around everything that had happened. You were alive, yes, but at what cost? You were now a vampire, like Amber, and that meant giving up your old life, your friends, your family, everything.

But in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was Amber, and the bond that you now shared. You took her in your arms, holding her tightly, feeling her warmth against your chest. You knew that things would never be the same again, but somehow, that was okay. You had each other, and that was all that mattered.

As Amber looked at you with tears in her eyes, she said, "I'm so sorry, baby. I had no other choice." She placed a hand on your cheek and wiped away a drop of blood. "But you're going to be okay now, I promise. I love you so much." Your heart swelled with emotion, and you managed to rasp, "I love you too." She leaned in and gave you a tender kiss on the forehead before scooping you up in her arms.

As she carried you through the woods, you felt dizzy and tired once again, but at the same time, you felt foreign. The world around you seemed to be sharper and more vibrant, and you could hear things that you never noticed before. You could even feel the pulse of the earth beneath your feet.

Amber's voice pulled you back to reality. "We're here," she said, entering her room through the window. She brought you inside and laid you on her bed, then went to her bathroom to run a bath for you.

As you lay there, you tried to piece together what had happened. You remembered being attacked by Ghostface, and then the sensation of Amber's teeth sinking into your neck. You felt a sense of fear and confusion, but at the same time, you felt a deep sense of love and comfort emanating from Amber.

When Amber returned, you noticed that she had changed and cleaned up. She helped you sit up, guided you to the bathroom, and gave you a warm bath, carefully washing away the blood from your body.

As she started to gently tend to your wounds, she reassured you, "You'll be sore for a while, but you'll heal quickly."

You gazed at her with a mix of love and admiration as she tended to your wounds, her hands moving with skilled precision. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Amber smiled at you warmly. "Anything for you, my love," she said softly.

As she finished tending to your wounds, she helped you dry off and get dressed. You were still feeling weak and tired, but you knew you were in good hands with your girlfriend. She led you to her bed and helped you lie down, pulling the covers up to your chin.

"You rest now," she said, her voice soothing. "I'll be here if you need anything."

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh, feeling a sense of relief and safety wash over you. You knew that Amber would always be there for you, no matter what. And with that thought in your mind, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

As Amber saw you drifting into sleep, her mind was still racing with anger and determination to find the person responsible for attacking you. She went back into the bathroom and picked up your dirty clothes, inhaling deeply. Her nostrils flared with anger as she instantly recognized the scent of the person who had attacked you. But she pushed the thoughts of vengeance aside for now, knowing that taking care of you was the priority.

Amber carefully folded your dirty clothes and placed them in a plastic bag before returning to the bed. She crawled under the covers next to you, holding you tightly and giving you a gentle kiss on the eyebrow. "I'm sorry this happened to you," she whispered. "But I promise you, I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

She nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck and closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of your body against hers. The events of the night had left her emotionally drained, but she couldn't bear to be away from you. She murmured softly as she drifted off to sleep, her arms wrapped protectively around you.

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