#i wanna be his possession with legal documents | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yanderespamton78 · 8 months ago

Text

APR 28

11:25 am : Turnon wakes up back at seraphim, chained to the bed and confused on why he is there, stating that hes supposed to be home.

5:17 pm : Turnon is acting weird. He is weirdly insistent to get home despite never complaining about the facilities at Seraphim, and says that he would break his leg to get home. At one point there is a font change. This is implied to be slick possessing him.

5:30 - 6:30 pm : Theres a whole thread thats very important. Despite there only being two accounts, there is obviously three people in the conversation. Turnon, Addon, and Slick. Addon seems insistent on getting Slick out, even if it involves hurting turnon (“You should be more carefully you signed the contract years ago now I can legally do whatever I wish to you to get the task finished. Parasite” “If not I can feed you to Melody, at least someone should benefit from your pathetic existence.”). Turnon seems scared and confused. POOR FUCKING WET TOWEL I WANNA HUG HIM SO BAD POOR CREATURES BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH

APR 29

5:18 pm : Pinup meets up with addon and they have a chat. Pinup describes addon as looking a bit tired and hurt.

7:37 pm : Addon is asked about the current state of clickon. He tries to tell us to fuck off once again but his text glitches out. It translates to another medical document (wow really)

7:49 pm : Slick makes a post. Half of it is in alphabet code and half is in turnon code. Its a conversation between him and turnon.

APR 30

7:09 pm : Turnon is confirmed to be alive!! Along with the first Turnon code. It reads “HELP ME. HELP ME. HELP US.” FUN!! He is in some kind of void, but its unknown exactly how he got there. Something to do with Slick. He doesn't know how he got there either. (MAY 3 9:25 pm)

8:41 pm : Clickon is confirmed to be alive. He says that it hurts to move and hes still chained to the bed. He expresses distrust towards Addon. He ends the post asking if Turnon is ok.

8:53 pm : Clickon is told that turnon is dead, but he doesn't seem to believe it until 9:13 pm when he is given proof

11:22 pm : Turnon reaches out to Clickon. This is when he realised we were just being mean

MAY 1

12:22 am - 5:53 am : between these times there are a few conversations between Turnon and Clickon which involve a lot of apologising and “I love you”s.

7:22 pm : Turnon calls Slick his husband. Or at least its implied to be slick. This is the first time Turnon calls Slick his husband, but slick has called Turnon his husband many times.

8:34 pm : A conversation is leaked between a few addisons who work at seraphim, one of which being Crypton. They seem to be talking about the current state of Seraphim, with the “virus” that's going around. The conversation is readable on its own but there are dots in between each message that could indicate another code.

MAY 2

8:30 am : Pinups search history is leaked. The three searches are “How to cover up hickeys” “How to cover up bite marks” and “How to cover up bruises”. Unfortunately I can't link to the post because it was deleted later.

4:27 pm : Pinup is questioned on the post. He seems confused before realising and deleting the post.

9:12 pm : addon replies to the ask questioning the post and said that we should keep out of Pins business and if pin wants help he should get it from people who can physically help him. There is a secret code here that spells out “loadi” but its still unknown what this means.

10:37 pm : we find out that the name of Pins boss (and presumably also his attacker) is Citron through a secret code in one of his posts

MAY 3 (Spamtons birthday!!)

8:19 pm : We remember that turnon exists and send him an ask. He responds by asking where we were (there were no interactions with Turnon for 2 days between MAY 1 ad MAY 3)

9:54 pm : Someone brings up Turnon's husband, referring to Slick, and Turnon replies questioning who they meant by his husband. Keep in mind that Turnon referenced his Husband MAY 1.

MAY 4

9:31 am : Someone tries to remind Turnon of his “husband”, and links him to where he said it. He responds with confusion, saying that he didn't remember typing this out and hes not sure what “it” means.

MAY 5 & 6

Nothing significant. Nothing from Clickon, Addon, Maskon or Turnon and some chit chat from Pin

MAY 7 (Turnon’s birthday!!)

10:27am : someone points out the effect of the black goo on Turnons memory. Turnon responds with fear, asking who we are.

6:57 pm : From this point onwards someone else is in control of Pins account. We dont know who it is, but its likely Citron. You can tell this from the sign off on the posts (Pin puts 🤎💛❤ and whoever is in control of the account is putting ❤💛🤎) and by the use of Emoticons (Pin often uses more complicated emoticons such as (≧∇≦)/ while whoever is in control of the account is using much simpler emoticons like :D). We do not know where Pin is.

7:11 pm : Here it becomes much more obvious that the person who is using the account is citron. Someone sends in an ask questioning how Pins day went and “he” replies saying that he spent the day with his boss and it was fun.

7:50 pm : Another leaked search history. This one reads “How to find someone who doesn't want to be found, How to turn on a tracker, How to arrange a marriage”. Like the other it was quickly deleted so no link.

8:37 pm : Addon realises whats going on and questions Citron on the location of Pin

8:57 pm : Citron drops the facade completely and just tells addon to fuck off

8:58 pm - 9:52 pm : it'd be pointless to add in an individual entry for everything that happens in this thread, so i’ll summarise it. Addon continues to try to get Pins location out of Citron, who states that Pin is working and pokes fun at addon for not knowing where Turnon is. In response Addon questions Citron on the location of “Needon”. Citron says that needon is dead, but addon reveals that Needon is with “money bags”. He also says that Pins tracker shows that he cannot possibly be with Citron. Citron asks where they both are but Addon doesn't tell her. The thread ends with Citron saying that she is coming for addon. Nothing has been posted from Pin’s account since then.

MAY 8

7:55 am : we start off the day bright and early with turnon saying that he can't breathe and calling out for help from “Prince” and his “Husband”. From this point we have 48 hours to save Turnon or he will die.

MAY 9

6:34 am : Turnon is told that he will probably die. I wouldn't add this normally but interestingly enough the response is in english, rather than the turnon code that hes been speaking in since he got into the void.

7:40 am : Turnon mentions feeling tired. This is important.

7:53 am : We find out that it was actually turnon’s birthday on the 7th. He is very upset about missing it (and interestingly enough when he realises he missed it he goes back to talking in english)

8:32 am : After finding out it was turnons birthday someone gives him a cake and a party hat. We get a little drawing of him and he does not look too great. His arms and legs aren't even visible and his whole body is gloopy and dripping. Nonetheless he is happy for the cake and thanks us.

4:21 pm : We manage to keep turnon awake a lil bit longer by telling him a knock knock joke, but he starts to get tired again. This starts a whole thing which lasts for roughly 2 hours of us trying to keep turnon awake as if he sleeps he will die.

6:13 pm : Turnon is dead set on falling asleep from 4:21 to 6:13 pm despite all of our frantic screaming until someone brings up clickon. Turnon immediately starts worrying for turnons safety and no longer wants to go to sleep.

7:31 pm : Addon makes a post. It seems to be some kind of journal entry detailing the last few weeks. Addon talks in alphabet code about how the last few weeks / months have been with Turnon and Clickon almost dying. Curiously, in between the paragraphs of alphabet code there are bits of morse code. This morse code seems to be a conversation between Addon and another unknown character called “M”. they are talking about a tracker that has gone offline. M mentions them not being able to go too far. Its unknow who “they” is.

for those following @turntableart's addison arg!! (sorry for the tag)

TIMELINE

APR 16 :

6:32 am : Turnons blog opened :D

APR 20 :

8:35 am : Turnon makes the poll about whether he should investigate smth weird addons doing (this shows that addon has been slightly suspicious since the start)

8:35 am : First morse code!!! With the poll

4:39 pm : “I miss my past” post (possibly relevant??)

4:53 pm : Maskons first post

4:54 pm : First interaction with maskon (through a comment on a post - he didn't yet have a proper blog)

7:24 pm : Addon makes a blog

8:01 pm : First interaction with the morse code entity

8:10 pm : Addon first translates what the morse code entity is saying

8:15 pm : the giftday party incident (i added this bc it makes me laugh a lot)

8:37 pm : rainbon mentioned. Possibly significant?

9:24 pm : We find out the morse code entity is actually turnon (im guessing right after the acident but i could be wrong) (the addisons never find this out)

9:47pm : First time the alphabet code entity speaks through turnons posts. Says “i think that's enough. you're scaring him. he's hurt, you wouldn't want him to dust would you?” presumably referring to the morse code entity. Right after this the morse code entity disappears, and any further interactions respond with “but no one came”

9:57 pm : Second interaction with alphabet code entity who says “stop talking to him you're giving him a headache”. Turnon complains about a headache. This is the first signs of a decline in his health. In the next post he says that hes going to go.

10:04 pm : Addon has been translating bits of the morse code for a bit now. The forth analysis ends up being corrupted, and all the characters are just black blocks.

APR 21 :

9:26 am : First post says that he got a nosebleed and passed out on his desk the previous night. He also mentions that when he woke up there was a cup of tea on his desk which he presumes is from addon but it was never confirmed.

10:59 am : Mentions that the strange people are back (mentioned in the poll) and that hes getting a nosebleed. Mentions in the next post that he feel really dizzy and is going back to his desk

11:34 am : Turnon describes a building pressure in his head like bugs.

11:50 am : Turnon says that the nosebleed stopped. Alphabet entity gets accused of being slick. It ignores the question and instead tells us to leave turnon alone as he’s stressed with work.

12:00 noon : This post from maskon? Not sure the relevance of the song. definitely creepy tho.

6:14 pm : Here addon confirms that turnon is in the medbay. This is later contradicted by addon himself.

6:14 pm : “turnon” says that he woke up and has no idea where he is. At 6:23 he tags addon for help.

6:19 pm : Addon says that he opened a zipped file and it shut down his pc. This is presumably what causes the medical documents to get leaked.

6:29 pm : “Turnon” says that he knows where he is and isn't happy about it. What??

6:52 pm : A few posts later “turnon” tells addon that he got hurt really badly. He says hes going to try to walk home against addons advice.

7:42 pm : Something happens and “turnon” starts making disturbing posts. They are in english but don’t have spaces. He seems frantic and scared and at 7:54 pm he doesnt respond to his own name, despite the fact that he mentions his goggles and crypton, which are obviously things that are unique to him.

7:50 pm : Addon responds to the first spaceless post and comments on how turnon couldn't be making the posts as he is unconscious in medbay

8:03 pm : When not-turnon is questioned on his name he says it is presson and seems confused. He says he found the phone in queens palace (if he is telling the truth, it would make sense why turnon was unhappy about where he was. Obviously he fell into the acid lake in queens mansion so its unsurprising that he would be on edge.)

8:20pm : Presson denies that it was him who typed the weird spaceless posts.

9:34 pm - 9:59 pm : Presson comments on how dark and run down seraphim is. When questioned on it addon says its probably something interdimensional or timeline based. At this point, his text starts glitching out. Addon tells presson to put the phone in the big machine, but presson says that it looks dangerous and he doesn't want to. He seems genuinely worried about dying, but addon insists he returns the phone. Finally, he puts it in the machine and you are no longer able to contact presson.

10:52 pm : when questioned on the weird glitchy text, he again chalks it up to interdimensional lag

If we go by addons version of events (which he talked about a few days later on the 24th) at about 6-7pm turnon went out and got badly injured. At about 8 pm some kind of entity (presson) took his phone, who addon electrocuted. At about 9 pm Turnon was found in an alleyway with some kind of black fluid gushing out of his nose.

APR 22 :

5:37 pm : confirmation that Maskon is Slick

8:28 pm : The first leak of Turnons medical documents.

9:07 pm - 9:53 pm : this whole saga... Look i know i put way too much trust into maskon and i apologise BUT ADDON STILL ISN’T TRUSTWORTHY!!

10:06 pm : Maskon refers to Turnon as his husband

APR 23 :

11:04 am : Turnon wakes up!! In a bad state but alive :3 also at 11:08 am he says that hes missing a few parts

4:08 pm : turnon is told about the (made up) debt issues

4:37 pm : turnon is shown his medical document. At 4:57 pm hes told not to tell addon about it.

5:24 pm : Turnon is told about presson. He also says that his last phone is blown up.

5:25 pm : Turnon talks about maskon

5:42 pm : Turnon mentions his legs feeling numb D:

7:20 pm : Turnon secretly spells out help !! wow !!

7:47 pm : second Turnon medical document leaked!! (at 8:23 pm i made fun of addon for being bad at stopping important docs from getting leaked)

8:34 pm : we find out about the hats

APR 24 :

12:51 pm : Click gets a blog!!

10:30 pm : Turnon makes a post asking how long is legs are supposed to be numb, and asking why his fingers are turning black. Click reblogs the post and says that hes coming over. After that turnon starts typing his posts really,,, bad,, theres no better way to describe it. After a minute Surf (ambyu-lance) takes the phone and click demands to speak to him and addon

APR 25 :

6:57 pm : the third medical document leaked. This hasn't been decoded yet, but the first bit seems to be in nihilistic cipher. IMPORTANT : instead of having Patient 25 : Turnon.G. Addison at the top, it has Patient 24 : Crimson.K.Addison. This means that there could’ve been other addisons that click infected.

8:16 pm : Turnon makes a post, a picture he drew of himself with the caption “im a little sad, i'll get better”. When questioned on it he says that hes not used to the feeling of being useless.

8:32 pm : THE TAGS. THE TAGS. LOOK AT THE TAGS turnon makes a post. In the tags it says “hes getting worse” “oops did i say that? oh well.” My dumbass cant tell if this is turnip or turnon saying this but worth mentioning anyway.

9:15 pm - 9:37 pm : Clickon is questioned on whether he talked to Surf and Addon. He says that he did, and no one is completely sure whats up with Turnon. Clickon says that Turnons condition is worsening. Hes paler than usual, his fingers are black, and Clickon accidentally pulled out a clump of his hair. Click says that Turnon is a survivor, but even this makes him worried. After this, Addon reblogs the post saying that he didn't talk to clickon last night and theres no footage of Click entering the building. Click is obviously confused, to which Addon tells click to wake up and to stop living in his fantasies. After this Clickon says he feels weird.

9:20 pm : cool lil drawing. Not really relevant but i thought it was neat lol

9:35 pm : TURNON STANDS!!!! He mentions that his legs are black and hurt like hell but hes standing!! (at 9:53 pm he falls over D:)

9:37 pm : Click makes a post that simply reads “Somethings wrong.”

9:57 pm : When questioned if he's ok, clickon replies saying he never made it, before a wall of binary. It reads “Everything feels stuffy, Shadows I'm in my car, I think I'm being watched”. At 10:02 pm Addon reblogs the post saying “get out. Now.” before a string of numbers that haven't been decoded. At 10:09 pm Clickon reblogs the post again with another binary code, this time reading “I don't know where I'm going, My eyes, My eyes, I can barely see, Is it following me”

10:15 pm : Maskon makes some kind of post about Cotton candy. It translates to “i do like cotton candy dont you?”

10:23 pm : someone asks maskon / slick if he did anything to Clickon. Slick said he didn't want yellow to hang out with someone like that, but he deserves his freedom.

10:40 pm : Clickon makes a post in binary. It reads “The stars are beautiful tonight, The stars are beautiful tonight, The stars are beautiful tonight, The stars”

APR 26 :

Nothing from turnon all day.

7:35 am : Ice cream blog opened

2:07 pm : The runner of the Ice cream blog says that he uses the alias pinup (but for some reason, he can't disclose his real name. Could be for privacy reasons though.)

2:32 pm : Pinup gets a coat!! He comments on how it doesn’t have a tag for some reason

5:12 pm : Pinup mentions addon. He says that he sees addon as a friend but he isnt sure if addon feels the same.

3:39 pm : Clickon mentions he just woke up in the woods with a massive headache. He doesn't know how he got there.

3:42 pm - 4:26 pm : Complaining about various things. He mentions having frozen joints, so he probably slept in the woods all night. He says “at least hes alive” which means he probably thought he was genuinely going to die (or hes just being dramatic)

4:33 pm - 10:11 pm : lots of things happen in this thread. Firstly, Clickon says that it was him making the posts in binary. He says he vaguely remembers typing something out on his phone, and that he was very scared. The first two are relatively self explanatory, he was scared. The third one he said he remembered looking up at the stars. He describes everything feeling trippy and disorientating as he was running, and feeling like he was being chased. He ends up being told all about Slick and all that. He isnt actually too surprised?? He says that he is nearing the city and he can see buildings in the distance. Anyways Important Shit Happened Go read it

11:38 pm : Its confirmed that the reason why Turnon didn't post anything is because addon took away his phone.

APR 27 :

6:37 pm : Clickon updates us saying he got back to the city and after a rough night and is driving to seraphim, presumably to check on turnon

6:44 pm : Turnon makes a post saying hes going to walk home and addon doesnt know. At about 6:55 pm he passes out in the middle of the road. At this point he is disoriented from the pain medication and thinks he is back home.

6:58 pm : Clickon finds addon in the road and mistakes him for roadkill. By 7:04 pm turnon is in his car and they were going back to seraphim. At 7:14 pm he says that turnon is speaking gibberish.

7:15 pm : Addon says a taskforce has already been sent out to try find turnon

7:29 pm : no matter what turnip says, addon finds out that clickon has turnon and sends out a bunch of shit to stop him, presumably not realising that he has good intentions.

7:36 pm : Clickon gets fucking SHOT !! 2 mins later turnon also presumably gets shot. NICE!! Later addon confirms it was a tranquiliser dart.

7:51 pm : at this point both clickon and turnon have been captured. Addon refers to them as ”two ominous individuals” at 8:04 pm Addon reports that they have been hooked up to an experimental piece of darkner equipment that hurts them when they move.

8:19 pm : Clickon makes a post saying he doesn't want to die. Addon replied a few minutes later with what is essentially a threat (8:22 pm) and at 8:28 pm he ends up confirming that he knows about Slick

#turn off the lights arg

7 notes · View notes

phoeebsbuffay · 2 years ago

Text

Imagine you are seduced by Lord Vader, eventually being catapulted into the Dark Force as his empress…

Warnings: smut and fluffy; unburnt Vader.

Recommendations: this is (loosely) based on Cobra Starship's "Good Girls Go Bad."

***

Somehow your innocence survives the fall of Republic and the rise of Empire. You content yourself in adapting from one side to another, the only concern is finding you job.

You are an orphan and lost many of your friends to the war. A deep and overshadowed part of you blames the Jedis for this: had they not been corrupted by their vanity, the Siths would have never come so far.

But this is not something you overthink about it. Life is what it is and all you wanna do is spend your life without finding trouble.

However, trouble inevitable comes to you. The day where you are off to the market, a guard of the Empire stops you by and discovers you have no documents.

“What do you mean?” You ask him, stupefied. “I am registered in the Empire yes. Why, I’m a legal citizen.”

And that’s how it begins. Next thing you see, you spend at least a whole month trying to prove the bureaucrats that you are not a liar or worse, a spy for the rebels.

“Look, all I wanna do is live my life without causing trouble ok?” But then you bluntly add. “By the way, since you have given me so much a headache in the last thirty days, could you give me a job?”

The captain H/N looks at you with disdain at your blunt request. Paradoxically, however, he conceeds you a job. You have to clean the ships.

“All right, if it’s worth good credits, I’m in.”

“Hey, do you wanna a job or not?”

“I still have dignity, my man.”

And there you are. Finding yourself a new job, eh? It’s not that difficult…

***

Vader is watching you, in between bewilderment and perplexity because, apparently, you had no idea who Darth Vader is and why people around the ship fears him so.

His eyes linger in your appearance: your hair is black but with shades in blue and red; your face is oval and your eyes possess some lividness that he’s never seen in anyone before. They are colored blue, the same shade that once colored his.

Vader swallows when noticing that. You stamp innocence and he hates it because some part of you reminds him of his old self. He breathes in, unwillingly to be seen.

He notices your hair is tied in a pony tail, though a few locks come to your forehead. His eyes linger again at the color that paints your lips. Red. Such strange choice.

He then notices your curves, which makes him aroused. Vader hasn’t felt like this for a long time. A sly smirk crosses his lips at the thought of you, completely bared before his eyes, begging for him. Not out of fear, but out of desire.

His breath hitches. He stops watching you for now. For his own sake.

***

It’s Friday night and the corridors of this great grey ship are empty. Your hands are begin to callous as a result of wetting the cloth and rubbing against the window in order to remove the dirt.

Sometimes you wonder if you didn’t deserve more. It’s when a man hidden beneath a dark cape comes close. You don’t pay him much attention until the two of you are engaged in a conversation.

“Feeling unsatisfied with your task?”

His voice gives a hint that he is not a good person, or someone with good vibes, but did you really care? He couldn’t be different from others who came accross you—all of them a victim of your fists.

“Not really”, you tell him. “I am just tired.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find something else to do?”

“Nah. I’m fine with the credits I get. They pay me enough.”

There’s silence. Vader is still baffled by how you do not recognize him at all. Perhaps he should force his signature upon you, but part of him is amused by this.

“Perhaps you should be promoted. You have a lot more guts than many men I know.”

You chuckle softly.

“You are kind, sir. But I’m good with what I have.”

Vader doesn’t like the answer. However, something about you prevents from you suffering a bad destiny. If only you knew…

“I insist. Your dedication should be better paid. It’s Friday night, and yet here we are.”

He steps closer to you. His breathing is slow, patient even. You feel it, you hear it. It gives you chills. Slowly, you turn your head to face his. You look into his yellow eyes. You forget how to breathe.

He is devilishly handsome, pure tentation. Damnation itself. But the barely look makes you wet. Vader feels it and presses you against the wall.

“What’s it I see in you, Y/N?”

How does he know your name? But you find yourself spreading your legs. His hand, methalic, runs over your thighs and rests right in the between them, not forcing any entrance upon it. He makes small circles, smirking as you squirm lightly.

“Fear?“ he whispers. “Do you fear me?”

“No.” You speak bluntly. “Who are you? And what are you doing to me?”

The two of you lock your gazes. You are invited to get to know him, just as the same he is to you. Usually, you are not the one to give in so easily but his power is alluring.

He presses your body against the wall. His hand slowly unzips your pants. You find yourself barely breathing again, butterflies going on your stomach. You don’t realize you are in silence until your mouth parts and you moan loudly. Because he inserts his hand on you.

“Hmm. The power I have over you is alluring.” He smirks at you, sensing his own arousal pulling against his leather pants. “Corrupting you has made me greedy.”

He whispers against your ear as he stimulates you. He knows you are a damsel in every single meaning of the word, hence why he said what he said. You used to think you’d have no interest in men or anything related to intercourse because wars took away any hopes you had of forming a family. But now as you are about to come so uneasily, you find out this stranger you desire has taken away your repressed feelings.

“Come to me, Y/N.”

And you did. Willingly so. It is when you recognize him. His hard features are softened when his lips look for yours. As you kiss him, you come to know this is not anyone. It’s Anakin Skywalker, the chosen Jedi who descended into darkness. And you just fell for him.

***

But you wake up panting. How can this be a dream? No. No. But you feel yourself wet, your nipples hard. Damned you are.

You decide to have a cold shower. It helps you to let go of that strange dream. You dress yourself for the job, going earlier than usual. Its 5 in the morning when you get there.

“Y/N”, the captain of the guards is surprised to see you. “A bit early don’t you think?”

“Keeping my mind and my body occupied is a good way to myself defy”, you smile as he chuckles at you. You do enjoy making people laugh. “It is what it is.”

And you walk in. You are about to begin your day, however, when you sense that breathing. The very same one of your dreams. Oh fuck. You pitch yourself. You are not dreaming.

The figure in dark cape steps into your direction. You can’t see his face, though weirdly enough you are familiar with him.

“Y/N”, he greets you. “You are early today.”

“How’d you know that?” You hear yourself saying.

Lord Vader chuckles.

“I’m a very observing individual, attentive to details.”

You swallow and lower your eyes. He moves closer, eyeing you intently. You feel exposed under his linger gaze. Especially when he says:

“I hope you’ve slept well”, earning you a blush.

You try to excuse yourself from him. But Vader does not let you. Instead he asks you a deadly question:

“Is this what you want? To be a cleaner all your life? You have ambitions, Y/N. Why don’t you bring them to me?”

Vader is entertained by the mix of your fear and defiance that conflict you. He tempts you, and you know it. But so far you resist it. This is only the beginning. The game is not over yet. So he leaves you free for your work. So far.

***

The next day, he visits you again. You somehow expect that… and somehow there is a part of you who is eager to see him. You wonder whether you’ll ever see him in trouble, an idea you are only entertaining when he steps inside the room you are cleaning.

“I am not one easily into trouble so I am rescued, Y/N.” So says Vader, but you detect an amusement in his voice.

You turn at him, emboldened as you say:

“Looks to me you want to be rescued from yourself. Otherwise why’d you be here?”

You test yourself and as Vader uses the Force to grip around your neck, thus impending the air going through it, you gasp. But somehow you don’t fear him. You hate his actions. This misleads Vader into thinking you are prompted to darkness. Perhaps you are, or perhaps you are more complex than you think.

The next thing you know he presses you again the wall. You dare to remove his cape and you gasp in surprise when seeing his handsome features. Vader laughs at your surprise.

“What? You were expecting differently?”

“Yes, my lord.”

How can you feel so bold before a man who inspires fear and hate everywhere? Yet, you know there’s more than this. But your thoughts are interrupted when you find yourself caressing his cheeks before moving down to his neck.

“I was a man once”, Vader confides you, mesmerized by your beauty and boldness. You don’t know what you are doing by locking gazes with him, but damn you enjoy it.

Your hand slips right to his pants. You are tired of playing this game, and you put your hand right into it. Vader’s breath hitches—the only sign that tells you he’s enjoying.

“You are more than a man”, you tell him, your voice melting with pleasure when holding his erect member for the first time.

How weird this connection between the two of you. His eyes never leave yours and you feel your body reacting to him almost instinctively.

“Down.” He commands you. “On your knees, Y/N.”

And you obey. You wait for his orders, you are but his subject. Vader smirks as he overpowers you. And you ever so eager to please him do not take any more time than using your mouth to do so.

He watches as he corrupts you, a sensation that only highlights the pleasure you give him. He feels you, not physically but mentally as well. It’s been a while he’s been so captured by someone…

Vader pushes away this thought out of his mind. I am in control here. The goodness in her will disappear.

He forgets about it when he reaches the climax and you swallow the warm seed that goes right into your throat. You feel hypnotized. But in fact because you’ve never felt desired before gives you a new empowerment feeling.

“Be mine”, you don’t ask him. You command him.

Vader smirks.

There change is coming. He knows it, he feels it. Right there where both of you are, he removes your clothes. Vader watches aroused as you feel so comfortable in your skin, spreading your legs at him.

Fuck. He’s trapped in you.

And you know it well because you smirk at him. You take his hand and place over your neck. There’s little need for words. He complies to you. He steps forward and lifts both legs around his waste all the while he kisses your neck. A smirk twitches in the corner of his lips as you respond him eagerly.

His lips burn your skin all the while his fingers run right into the between of your legs. You react like he expects you to: noisy and melting. It does not take much of a time before he begins the act of fornication.

“You are mine”, somehow it is ironic how his sense of possessiveness appeases his dark side. Breaking the hypnotic sensation that envolves both of you, you realize the complexity of Vader’s character.

It softs your heart. It makes him human before his eyes. All these games you both have been playing show a deeper meaning that goes beyond the temptation of corrupting your soul.

“I am, my lord.” You tell him gleefully. “I am indeed. As you are mine

You beam when his lips clash into yours. You are surprised to feel his gentleness in thrusting you, aware this is your first time. How he claims you is far from what you imagined. It’s even better.

“My empress”, he whispers against your lips.

He knows he wins the game, but as your moans echo loudly in that room, Vader also knows he lost. He may have brought you to his side, the dark side, but you are also the one who rescued him from the depths of his darkness.

***

“All hail Y/N!” You smirk when being introduced by all those men. Dressed in a long black dress with few details in red, your hair is braided and you feel yourself every inch the empress you are.

With Palpatine gone, the empire is your husband’s. And yours.

The taste for power is like a poison. You enjoy it even though it’s deadly. But somehow… you remain good. Not entirely bad.

When looking back at Vader, you feel the designs of your hearts have been aligned all the time. You step to where he is after your coronation ends and kiss his lips.

“I love you, my darling.”

In moments like these, he’s vulnerable and gentle. Not the cruel tyrant the circumstances force him to be. He smiles at you.

“And I, you.”

The two of you lock loving gazes before he engulfs you in his embrace, possessive as always. Possessive like you want him to be. Possessive…just exactly like you are.

And you both smile to each other because you know it.

#Star Wars #Star Wars imagine #imagine Star Wars #Darth Vader #Darth vader smut #darth vader #darth vader x reader #darth vader x you #darth vader x y/n #cobra starship #good girl gone bad

101 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 years ago

Text

Yanois - Second Impressions Can Bring Misfortune

Read Part One here, or check it out on AO3!

Though their first meeting could have gone better, Illinois might be a little fond of the mystery prisoner. Let’s just hope his famous luck doesn’t run out…

Warning: There is an instance of deadnaming under the read-more. It’s accidental, but be mindful if that might cause a little upset. (I promise this doesn’t end on a bad note)

Word Count: 2,448 (sorry, it’s four hand-written pages)

After his encounter with the brash prisoner, Illinois found he couldn’t get the other man out of his head. It was hardly an attraction (no, shut up! It wasn’t!), but he accepted that there was a level of interest in the unknown. Perhaps it was the prisoner’s standoffish attitude, or how he seemed utterly disinterested yet keenly focused. He didn’t heckle during the lecture, so he wasn’t there for the sole purpose of causing trouble.

But the question that plagued Illinois was painfully simple: what was the prisoner’s name? He hated how badly he wanted to know. Ah, the curse of the archaeologist - insatiable curiosity! With no starting point, Illinois took inspiration from his work and fetched his laptop to start the research.

Most prisoners were from Texas, but not all. The stranger’s accent suggested he was potentially from New York, so Illinois decided to sieve through articles that made reference to a transferral to a Texan prison first. His abundance of good luck meant that it only took an hour to find a result that was most fitting. The article was several years old and discussed the outcome of a rather tragic case. The information was put to the back of his mind - Warden Murderslaughter always said to never talk about an inmate’s crime unless they bring it up first - as Illinois instead took the important information. The photograph used of the criminal was old, but it matched. Which meant… He had a name! All he had to do was wait until the next time he was set to visit Happy Trails Penitentiary.

As luck would have it, he merely had to wait a week. When he wasn’t travelling as part of archaeological trips, Illinois would volunteer two Saturdays a month to teach the inmates. Unlike his history lectures, these consisted of smaller groups of prisoners undertaking a short course on several points in history; which would be rounded off with each prisoner completing a short research project on something that interested them in the course. All he needed was to put his possessions in the room he used for classes, and then he would be free to find the right prisoner if he arrived earlier than usual. The inmates followed a set schedule with minor variations depending on when their work shifts were. He had been volunteering long enough to know when one of the crossover periods would take place. It would be easy to find him!

The rec yard was fruitless, as was the library. But it was upon leaving the chow hall that Illinois spotted the man of the hour. He seemed in a hurry as the prisoner dashed toward the hall.

“Ah! Can I have a moment?” Illinois called out. The tattooed man screeched to a halt, bemused once he realised who wanted his attention. Unfortunately, no one else was around, so it had to be him.

“Sure. Fine. What?” His eyes didn’t stay on Illinois, but instead darted to the clock.

“I know this is likely a bad time, but I’d like a chance to talk. We got off on the wrong foot last time.” Even Illinois knew it didn’t go well. “Are you free after your shift?”

“U-uh…. Yeah?” Thrown by the turn of events, it appeared the bold prisoner was willing to cooperate. “I know I’d never hear the end of it if my friends heard I refused. They’s is always singing youse’s praises. ‘Sides, second chances is always a good thing, right?” He looked as though he was about to say something else, but decided against it. Regardless, Illinois was elated.

“Excellent! In that case, I’ll be in the classroom just opposite the library until seven this evening. Call by when you’re free. Even if there’s a class going on, sit in on it anyway.” The prisoner nodded and hurried past once he knew he was dismissed. Before the other disappeared into the chow hall, Illinois belatedly realised he should be more polite about this. He guessed the other might be swallowing his pride in accepting the invitation to chat, given their first meeting. The least he could do was show some manners.

“Thank you! I look forward to chatting, █████!”

Whatever progress had been made was instantly thrown aside. The prisoner froze in the doorway. Though his back was to Illinois, the archaeologist could see that the other was rigid. It wasn’t a reaction Illinois associated with hearing one’s own name…. Unless it was a name they didn’t use anymore.

“O-oh my God, I’m so sorry, I had no -” For once, Illinois found himself stammering in a frantic attempt to get an apology out. It was to no avail, as a fistful of his shirt had been grabbed and he was slammed against the wall.

“I don’t know what sorta shit game youse is playing,” the prisoner hissed, “But if youse is gonna act like youse is better than me by being such a sly bitch…. I really wanna beat the shit outta youse, but I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

“Yancy! That’s enough!” The prisoner - Yancy? - dropped Illinois without hesitation and didn’t struggle when two guards rushed over and restrained him. “Bring him into th’ chow hall to calm down. I’ll speak to him in a sec. As fer you…” Yancy was led away by the guards, and it was hard to ignore how withdrawn he seemed compared to minutes earlier. With heavy guilt, Illinois pulled his attention away to finally acknowledge Warden Murderslaughter, who had been the one to stop the disaster in its tracks. His lips were pursed and his arms crossed as he shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Illinois. Out of all our volunteers, I thought you would’ve known our most important rule better than anyone else: don’t provoke th’ inmates with topics that are touchy fer ‘em.”

“But I didn’t know -” Illinois’ head turned toward the chow hall’s entrance. “I only wanted to get to know him. I didn’t mean to…”

“Who told you that name?”

“No one?” He looked back at the Warden with confusion. “I read it in an article covering the trial online.” The Warden pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh.

“Son… You could’ve saved yourself a whole lotta bother if you’d thought to ask someone here, even over the phone. It isn’t like you to mess up like this.” He put an arm around Illinois’ shoulder and began guiding him toward the staff breakroom. “The name you used is correct, if you go by legal documents or the press, but it’s not the name he goes by. Everyone calls him ‘Yancy’. See, his birth name has links to pretty painful memories that I don’t think he’ll ever recover from, and he’s been striving to prove he’s a better person as ‘Yancy’. So to turn ‘round and use th’ wrong name is like a slap to the face and a surefire way for him to hate you. Now, I know you had good intentions and it was an honest mistake, but you need to be more careful. Next time you see him, give him a good, proper apology. Just know he’s probably gonna be frosty toward ya. I’ll go talk to him and check if he’s okay, let him know you didn't mean to use the wrong name.” The Warden threw a glance over his shoulder with a hint of a smile. “Yancy’s a good kid, despite how he acts sometimes. He’s been through some rough times, but his heart’s stayed in the right place. If he can have a friend outside the prison… I think it’ll do him some good. Now, get yourrself a coffee before you start classes.”

Illinois blinked, genuinely surprised to realise they had arrived. Murderslaughter gave him a hearty slap on the back of the shoulder (Illinois had learned long ago the art of hiding the wince from the strength of such actions) before making his way back to the chow hall.

---

In the chow hall, Yancy was a mess. He sat far away from anyone else who might have been there. A cup of water had been given to him, but it was used more as a stress ball rather than a drink. He didn’t know what to think. How could someone act like they wanted to be a friend, then turn around in the same breath and say something that implied the complete opposite? Why remind him of what he did long ago? The cup was put aside so he could slump across the table with a defeated groan. █████… Was that all he was ever going to be to the outside world? Would the attempts he has made to be a better person forever go unnoticed under the large, looming shadow of his crimes? Then again, prisoners like him were locked away to be forgotten about by the world.

His form tensed the moment he spotted the Warden sitting opposite him. This was it - he was going to be scolded and sent to Solitary, and probably lose other privileges on top of that. How dare Yancy lay a finger on the visitor everyone worshipped!!

But it was nothing like that. Murderslaughter checked if he was okay. They sat in silence for a few moments so Yancy could try and collect himself without anyone else approaching. Then, the Warden praised him for not completely lashing out, but then took time to explain Illinois’ side of things.

“- He’s not like the reporters or anyone else who comes to ‘visit’ you. He was a moron who didn’t ask th’ staff for your name. It seems like he wants to try an’ be friends…. But it’s fine if ya don’t wanna see him today. An’ if you’d rather go lie down instead of working, that’s fine too.

“N-no… I’d rather work. Don’t really wanna be left alone with my thoughts just yet.”

Yancy spent the rest of the morning washing dishes. The work wasn’t ‘busy’ enough to keep his mind distracted, but it was labour-intensive and he could work out his frustration on the crockery. By the time he finished his shift and lunch, he returned to his cell with an idea - he needed to get rid of the White Jaguar model. It had to be the source of the blame.

But just like a blasted boomerang, the clay figure kept returning to him in ridiculous manners throughout the afternoon. Yancy dropped it in the trash on the way outside, only to be tapped on the shoulder by another prisoner who thought it was dropped by mistake. Trying to gift it to anyone in the Gang had them refuse - Bam-Bam had initially accepted, but changed his mind when he held the tiny model and handed it back to Yancy with the excuse that it ‘belonged’ to him. He then hid it in the long grass in the rec yard. When no one immediately found it, he went to the bathroom, returned to his cell… And was greeted with the terrifying sight of the White Jaguar sitting on his pillow, staring at him. Overcome with frustration, he decided to simply break it. He threw it at the wall with all his might. Instead of smashing, it ricocheted off the wall and toppled his radio that had been on his bed, before landing neatly on the pillow. Yancy picked it up, he swore there was a look of smugness on the Jaguar’s face, which reminded him of… Wait.

He could simply return it to Illinois and ask him never to speak to Yancy again. It would solve two problems at once.

---

“Come in!” Illinois’ voice was upbeat as he tidied the classroom after a day of workshops. The guilt from earlier had been put aside in favour of professionalism. He did have a reputation to uphold, after all. However, that professionalism immediately slipped the moment he saw who entered.

“Yancy!” The name was blurted out with relief more than pleasantry. Whatever Illinois had been putting into his briefcase was unceremoniously dumped as he gave Yancy his full attention. “Before you say anything…. I want to apologise for this morning. I made the mistake of not checking with the staff what name you prefer to go by. It was careless of me. I know I upset you, and I am truly sorry. You don’t need to forgive me, as I know it’s something that hurt you… But I just want you to know I didn’t mean to use that name, and I’ll never use it again, Yancy.”

Yancy was dumbfounded. No one who deliberately used that name apologised. They never cared that it made him uncomfortable and upset. Emotions stung him for the second time that day, but polar opposites to the anger that had nearly consumed him in the morning.

“I-I, uh… Thanks. For apologising, I mean. Takes balls to admit youse was wrong ‘bout something. But it means a lot that, y’know, youse said sorry. So… If it’s okay with youse, we can consider it forgiven and forgotten.” Yancy looked ill at ease, but Illinois couldn’t blame him. It would be better to find a new topic to talk about before Yancy decided to swiftly dismiss himself. At that moment, Yancy adjusted his stance, drawing Illinois’ attention to his hand.

“Is that the White Jaguar model I gave you?”

Yancy blinked and looked at his hand like he didn’t know it had existed until that very moment. He opened his mouth, only to snap it shut with a quick shake of his head. When he did speak again, there was the faintest hint of a smile.

“Yeah, uh… Had a few people asking ‘bout it, but I don’t remember shit from that talk so… Is it too late to join one of these class things you is doing?” Yancy mentally slapped himself for doing the opposite of what he had intended, but it wasn’t met with a cocky reaction. Instead, Illinois’ face lit up like the Fourth of July and invited Yancy to the desk so they could check if there was a class that would fit neatly into Yancy’s schedule. There was a hint of awkwardness between them, but Illinois was optimistic that this could be the start of a better chapter for them.

However, he did get a little ahead of himself and winked at Yancy just before the prisoner left. Yancy rolled his eyes, but the dismissive look had a trace of amusement in it as he left. Once the door closed, Illinois found himself staring at it for several long moments.

Okay… Maybe there was a bit of an attraction toward Yancy after all.

#yanois #deadname tw #illinois ahwm #ahwm yancy #yancy x illinois #writersofmark #cocky adventurer (Illinois)#dramatic prisoner (Yancy)#(I... Think I'm getting a little better at writing Illinois?)

24 notes · View notes

inkribbon796 · 3 years ago

Text

Not So Baby Brother

Summary: Tubbo is trying desperately to bury his past, if only everyone around him wasn’t interested in digging back up in front of him.

A/N: Warning for hinted child abuse and endangerment. Both to Tubbo, Puffy, Schlatt, and to Michael. I try to keep the majority of it off screen or undetailed but it’s still there. These events coupled with his time with the SMP makes Tubbo in this AU who he is in the present. Which is emotionally withdrawn and prone to pushing people away.

Tubbo in the first flashback was about four, while Schlatt and Puffy were about 10.

~::~ 13 Years Ago ~::~

Tubbo was in his bed, hiding under the covers, hands over his ears as he heard the arguing and smashing of things across the house. The little four year old was so scared and he didn’t know what to do.

Then his door opened and Tubbo hiccuped in fear. He tried to stay quiet and still, hoping that if he did the person would just leave him alone.

A hand came down where his shoulder was.

Tubbo flinched.

“Tubster? You awake?”

The little boy let out a breath of relief, it was his big brother. Still scared, Tubbo peeked his head out from underneath the covers to see both his siblings there: Schlatt and Puffy.

Schlatt looked bad but he still smiled at Tubbo. “Hey don’t cry, c’mere[1].”

Tubbo was already crawling his way over to Schlatt and crying, and he couldn’t stop.

“C’mon,[2] you know what he’s gonna[3] do if he catches you crying,” Schlatt tried to calm him down.

Puffy came to sit next to them, her own eyes wet. Schlatt slightly rocked Tubbo to try and comfort him.

“Hey, T-Man,” Schlatt tried to soothe him. “Kinda[4] loud isn’t it?”

“We’ve got you,” Schlatt held Tubbo tightly, the younger brother still shaking and sobbing. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

Tubbo nodded his head, clutching onto his brother. A little embrace of safety for a young boy whose life was so turbulent and scary. Tonight nothing would hurt, and that was what mattered to the young boy.

~::~ Present Day ~::~

“I was just thinking about it Tubbo . . . we like to have fun.”

“Schlatt, I can’t get out.”

“I know what you’ve been up to.”

“Uh, what have I been up to?”

“Everyone knows what you’ve been up to!”

“Do you know what we do to traitors, Tubbo?”

“. . . No?”

“Techno, you wanna come up here for a second?”

“Let’s just send a message, real quick.”

“Techno, if you would be so kind.”

“Murder him right now, on this fucking stage, and make it hurt!”

“Tubbo, I’m sorry, I’ll make it quick.”

“Techno, what the hell!”

“Wilbur!”

Tubbo shot up in bed, his eyes wild and heart racing. He was disoriented at first, expecting himself to be in some hole somewhere, still in pain after pulling himself together from a discorporation and desperate to escape before Schlatt found him again.

Tubbo surged out of bed, trying to get away.

Then he heard ruffling behind him and disgruntled child sobs.

And Tubbo came back to himself, he looked back to see Michael crying and Ranboo sitting up in his own bed. Tubbo mentally chastised himself.

“Mikey? Daddy’s sorry, did I wake you up?” Tubbo walked back to his bed, his pace quickening when Michael reached up and made grabby hands towards Tubbo.

Ranboo was already getting out of his bed and walking over to them. He looked like he was going to collapse in a heap of limbs on the floor. “Hmmm,” Ranboo hummed.

The two-toned teen stopped right outside the bed and gestured with his tail, “Can I join?”

Tubbo scooted over a bit, and Ranboo sat down as Tubbo tried to rock and soothe their adopted son. Ranboo making little cooing and odd vwoop noises, while Tubbo was humming some lullaby, that helped Michael fall back asleep with the familiarity.

A little family the two teens had carved for themselves.

Tubbo and Ranboo had found the small boy thrown away by some demon hunter as a “disappointing failure” and after Tubbo left Ranboo to tend to the scared and crying boy, Tubbo went to “fetch the adoption papers” and the mage was never seen again. Ranboo didn’t question what Tubbo had done but they took the boy, bundled him up in Tubbo’s jacket and got the boy some food before taking him into the Bee ‘n Boo before spending the next couple hours finishing the attic store room and Ranboo used their downstairs storage for all the establishment’s storage.

That day Ranboo busied himself around their bed and breakfast as Tubbo kept the boy entertained and fed. Michael immediately bonded with Tubbo, and Ranboo found himself falling in love with the boy as well.

The attic was immediately barred from all entry that wasn’t either of the owners. Tubbo made the announcement and was very firm. Beforehand it was frequently used as a temporary living space for Ranboo and Tubbo and they just didn’t want anyone in their personal space anymore.

Which was true but now Michael was there and Tubbo desperately didn’t want people like Quackity and Techno to find out about Michael quite yet. The boy had been through enough and . . . Tubbo wanted a little slice of peace.

He didn’t think that was too much to ask.

Right?

And it certainly didn’t help that bonds and possessions were treated like weaknesses to be exploited and used as currency. Sapnap and Dream had long since set a precedent for that.

So as Tubbo sat in the dark attic bedroom, holding his son in his arms, he pushed down his fear and focused on Michael, who needed him right now.

Soon the little boy was back asleep, tucked back into bed, and Tubbo threw up his arms. He got up because, after his nightmare, there was no way he was getting back to sleep.

So Tubbo changed into his suit and made sure he wasn’t wearing his horns before he left to go down to the staff lounge for a coffee.

“Tubs,” Ranboo called out, shifting in his suit and looking human. “You okay?”

“Yeah, go back ta[5] bed, bossman,” Tubbo dismissed.

“You sure, you’ve got a big day, and we got a lot to do here,” Ranboo looked uneasy.

Tubbo didn’t trust his voice at first, but when he did he told him, “Go back ta[5] bed. I’m grabbing a coffee.”

“Oh, okay,” Ranboo looked away and slowly went back into the room. Tubbo knew he wasn’t going to go back to sleep. But at least it gave Tubbo time to clear his head.

After three coffees, four hours of paperwork, and bullshiting around with Tommy for a bit; Tubbo was overjoyed to put on his Bomble Bee costume and start running around town with Tommy like a maniac.

It was freeing, the suit went on and he wasn’t Tubbo anymore. He was free.

Logic and Jackie were less than enthused to find them by themselves, and Tubbo didn’t appreciate the babysitter, but at least Logan didn’t talk down to Tubbo during it.

They went on a patrol around Brighton, and they were halfway through when Logan brought something up, “You have a sister?”

Tubbo flipped up his visor to glare at Logan, “Thought we agreed family wasn’t shit?”

“There was no agreement on that matter, that was merely a comment you made,” Logic sighed. “If you feel unsafe around your blood related family that is one thing, but demon magic or not you are still underage and the Coalition is bound to follow the law as far as it is actually protecting people.”

“I legally emancipated,” Tubbo countered, flicking his visor back down. “Tommy’s an idiot who doesn’t know how ta[5] do shit. I don’t need anyone ta[5] sign anything fer[6] me.”

“Do you have copies of those legal documents?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, at the BnB,” Tubbo told him. “You wanna pop on over?”[7]

“There’s no rush at the moment, you can email me those tonight when you get home,” Logan offered Tubbo an out. “However, I would like to know the nature of your relationship with your family. You don’t need to go into detail, I trust you had your reasons for emancipation if that was the route you chose to follow.”

“Don’t talk with my parents, if you can call ‘em[8] that, and I haven’t fer[6] years, I only really talk ta[5] my older sister?” Tubbo told him. “She lives in Gainesville with her girlfriend.”

“Are you on good terms with her?” Logan asked. “I wouldn’t want you in communication with someone who is hostile emotionally or physically to you or your family.”

“Nah, she’s alright, she’s part ‘a[9] the Server though, you wanna[10] meet her?” Tubbo smiled.

Logan thought on that, “We might want to send some kind of warning if we go over. Last I checked, several of them had sent me death threats. Does your sister know you’re working with us?”

“Oh yeah,” Tubbo lifted himself up with his bumble bee wings, looking quite proud of himself. “I got several pissed off texts from some ‘a[9] the guys after they saw me an’[11] Big Man on the news. It was great, Quackity screamed at me fer[6] at least five minutes.”

“Are you certain you will be safe when you visit your sister?” Logan asked again.

“Oh yeah,” Tubbo promised. “Come on.”

The logical Side continued to ask questions, letting Tubbo use his phone to send a supervised text to his sister: Puffy. Then they started making their way over.

When they got to the condo Puffy lived at, Tubbo didn’t even knock. In fact he practically kicked the door open.

“Puffy!” Tubbo cupped his hands over his ears and called into the townhouse, calling out at the top of his lungs. “You fuckin’[12] Niki in here?”

“Fuck you, Tubbo! You little gremlin piece ‘a[9] shit!” Someone shouted from upstairs.

Tubbo chuckled and announced loudly, “I bought company.”

“Hide the good kush[13]!” Someone else yelled and Tubbo laughed even more.

“Hey Hannah,” Tubbo greeted as he walked in and motioned for Logan to follow him. “Alyssa in?”

“Don’t care,” Hannah was on her phone, sitting in an armchair. “She’s probably off with Callahan.”

“Yeah, prolly[14],” Tubbo replied. He started walking towards the kitchen, he quietly motioned for Logan to follow him.

Tubbo immediately went for the fridge, leaving Logan to just look around the little space. It was obviously lived in, and on the far wall were some pictures of several women with various people Logan recognized as being from the Server. But there was one almost hidden, almost completely tucked behind a bowl full of different colored rocks. It was a small framed picture in the corner of the kitchen, almost hidden from view, of a much younger Tubbo surrounded by some people that Logan didn’t recognize.

Logan didn’t have long to inspect the photos and start making inferences that he would most likely never ask, because someone stomped into the kitchen.

She had fluffy hair that was a chestnut brown on one side, and white on the other. Flecks of rainbow hairs interspersed on both halves. She was one of the people in the picture, Logan quickly realized. She resembled Tubbo a little bit, and on prolonged examination, Logan noticed that her fluffy hair was hiding a set of thick, curled ram horns. The kind that looked capable of crushing someone’s skull if they made an impact.

Logan figured that Tubbo’s would probably look like that in a couple years, just a bit more like a goat’s.

Tubbo glanced at her before asking, “Where are those rad fuckin’ ice lollies yeh bought?”[15]

“You took them last week for Michael,” Puffy snapped.

“Ohhh, yeah, he loved those,” Tubbo smiled, closing the freezer. He gave her a smug look. “So you didn’t buy more then?”

“No,” she gave him the stink eye. Then she glanced at Logan. “Who’s your friend?”

“Pardon me,” Logan spoke up. “My name is Logic, from the Coalition, I believe I texted you a little bit ago.”

“Yeah, I did get something,” Puffy agreed hesitantly. “Who’s this?”

“My mentor,” Tubbo pointed at Logic as he closed the fridge

“Huhhh,” Puffy hummed. “Hey, Tubbo, why don’t you go into the next room and watch some Adventure Time?”

“Don’t kill him,” Tubbo told her pointedly.

“And take that fight from Bad and Big Q, are you insane?” Puffy told him. “Oh, wait, you build bombs, of course you are.”

Tubbo held up two fingers, his middle and index, and flipped her off before walking off.

“You asshole!” Puffy told him and Tubbo was already cackling in laughter. When he’d completely turned his back, Puffy rolled her eyes and smiled. “Ehhh, he’s a good kid.

“He is,” Logan agreed, “Tubbo is intelligent and resourceful. Even if he is threatening to set off explosives under the guise of experimentation.”

“Yep, that’s Tubs alright,” Puffy chuckled. “He always liked figuring out how stuff worked, even as a little kid. He’s like a baby mad scientist.”

“Excuse you, I am a full blown mad scientist, I e’en[16] have the arrest record ta[5] prove it!” Tubbo boasted from the other room.

“From what Tubbo has told me, you seem to approve of him working with us,” Logan commented.

“Hell yeah,” Puffy told him, leaning against the counter as she watched him. “Between Ranboo, the Bee ‘n Boo, and working with you guys; Tubbo’s happier than I’ve seen him in a while.”

“That is good,” Logan agreed. “Tubbo’s mental and physical well-being is of primary importance.”

“You talk like a textbook, you sure you’re not a robot?” Puffy asked.

“I do not classify as an inorganic being,” Logan answered.

“Sure you don’t,” Puffy smiled. “So what brings you to the neighborhood? I’m guessing you didn’t come over just to stand in our kitchen and look like Apple’s version of Robocop?”

“No, that’s not the reason I came to visit,” Logan agreed. “The Coalition prefers, if possible, to have a good working relationship with the families of our apprentices. So that in the case of emergencies they can be notified. While I am glad you and Tubbo seem to have a positive relationship, the more important question is are there any safety risks that any other members of your family would pose to Tubbo or his family?”

Puffy looked uneasy, “What has he told you?”

“Not much,” the logical Side admitted. “I haven’t known him for long enough, but when I asked him about his extraneous family, Tubbo mentioned he was emancipated, and that he was not in communication with his parents. He only mentioned you, and I have seen his son once.”

“We had an older brother,” Puffy frowned, looking over at the half-hidden picture. “Started turning into a demon around the same time as Tubbo and I, and he was . . .”

She looked down, “Well he was the type of demon you keep your kids away from, and I wasn’t there to keep my eyes on them.”

“That must have been a difficult experience for everyone,” Logan tried to offer his sympathies.

Puffy looked in the direction of the hidden picture, “I should have been there, it would have never happened if Phil and I had been there to stop them. But the real problem is Dream has something that can apparently restore a demon. I don’t know how thorough it is, or if it’s just something he tells Tommy and the others to make them afraid of what he can do. But he apparently needs some of the original demon’s essence or aura and both Schlatt and Will left those behind. Wilbur left Ghostbur behind, and Quackity cremated everything but Schlatt’s heart and five of his bones. Meaning if Dream gets his hands on even one of those bones then he could, if he does have that power, bring Schlatt back any time he wanted. And I’d ask you to get those bones from Quackity and Dream but that means going into the Server and there’s no way Dream would allow you in. Just, if Wilbur and Schlatt come back, promise me you’ll keep those three safe?”

“With my life,” Logan promised. “The death and manipulation of children are unacceptable.”

Puffy smiled, a breathy little snort coming from her, “You know, I always heard that legates were buttfuck insane. Glad to know you’re not.”

“I am not in the Coalition for fame and vainglory. Others might be, but I strive to make the world a better place, and such can only happen through the acquisition of knowledge and reason over fear. Of fact over fiction. Tubbo is, despite his demon aura and insistence to the contrary, still a child. And regardless of all of that he is a person who deserves to be in a safe and loving environment.”

“Yeah the Server’s never been that kind to minors,” Puffy scoffed. “It’s kinda[4] like taking a box of kittens and turning them into robotic war machines. Tubbo and Purpled just took to it better than the others.”

“How many minors are in the Server still?” Logan was concerned. The trio the heroes were dealing with already had their pasts marred by trauma and death, he’d never considered there were others still trapped in the same unsafe environment.

“You have three,” Puffy began counting. “Quackity still has Purpled and Fundy in Las Nevadas so they’re doing slightly better than they were before when they were working directly under Dream. You guys also got Jack, who just turned nineteen. But I would not trust Jack alone with Tommy, he threatened to kill him several times.”

“Thank you for the information,” Logan told her. “Anything else you can tell me about the other two minors?”

“So, Purpled is from a league of assassins and he loves money too much to defect,” Puffy dismissed. “You’d need to start paying him the big bucks to make him switch sides and Quackity already gave a good price. While Dream is paying his older brother through the nose to keep him out of Quackity’s hands as well. Punz is older than me though, so if Purpled went anywhere else it would be back with him. But Fundy is a different story. He’s Wilbur’s spawnling and Fundy is kinda[4] a basket case already. If you can get him away from Quackity, good, but I don’t imagine he’d go all that easily and Big Q’s only gonna[3] clamp down harder on him. Fundy and Tubbo were kinda[4] the server mascots back in the day since they were the babies of the group.”

“Everyone loved Tubbo,” Puffy smiled fondly before frowning sadly. “But that’s not the case anymore. He’s made himself a lot of enemies.”

“I see, thank you, I will relay the message to the others and we’ll do what we can for them,” Logan promised.

Puffy came off of the counter. “Thanks, no one in the Server really thought twice about those kids, they kinda[4] just tossed ‘em[8] around and personally I’m really glad you got the ones you do out of there. All three of ‘em[8] have been through enough.”

Then she went to poke her head out of the kitchen. “Tubbo, take yer friend and get out of my house, I don’t want you in here while we’re out.”

“Sure,” Tubbo kicked his feet up and already started for the front door. “Whate’er, go back ta snoggin’ yer girlfriend, I’ve got shit ta blow up.”[17]

And he was out, leaving Logan to immediately rush off after him, which got both of them out of the condo. Puffy watching them with a smile.

Tubbo, as it turns out, did not make good on his explosion test threats, he continued on his patrol, and then went back home to the Bee ‘n Boo. Walking in with a suit and his usual business-friendly smile. Logan, meanwhile, returned to the base to communicate with, especially Ethan, about what he had heard from Tubbo’s sister.

To clear his mind, Tubbo immediately went into his apiary to make sure his bees were alright. Which is exactly where Ranboo found Tubbo.

“Hey, Tubs,” Ranboo smiled and Tubbo managed a small smile back.

“Hey, bossman,” Tubbo was looking at him through the fringe of his hair, “how have things been?”

“Been alright,” Ranboo sat next to Tubbo, crossing his legs as he sat down. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Tubbo denied, trying to ignore what had happened in the morning.

“Because,” Ranboo mentally halted, “this morning you screamed and you looked really scared, and I didn’t know how to help.”

“C’mon,[2] big man, I’m fine,” Tubbo lied. “E’eryone[18] has the occasional nightmares, I was just jumpy. Happens ta[5] e’eryone[18].”

“Y—” Ranboo looked away. “Yeah, I guess, but you know you can talk to me? Right?”

“Yeah, of course, same fer[6] you,” Tubbo told him, both teens knowing that they kept secrets from each other.

“I’m thinking,” Tubbo redirected, “pizza fer dinner. Wanna order somethin’?”[19]

“Sure, yeah,” Ranboo agreed and after Tubbo finished caring for the apiary, and the pizza was delivered, they both retired to their dwelling and Michael was very happy to settle down with both his dads for the night. The little boy stuffing his face with pizza, and trying to feed some to his stuffed toy chicken. The three of them watched cartoons until Michael fell asleep and Tubbo tucked him into bed.

Tubbo and Ranboo hoped that tomorrow would be a better day for all three of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. come here

2. come on

3. going to

4. kind of

5. to

6. for

7. You want to head on over?

8. them

9. of

10. want to

11. and

12. fucking

13. weed

14. probably

15. Where are those really fuckin’ good ice lollies [popsicles] you bought?

16. even

17. Whatever, go back to kissing your girlfriend, I’ve got shit to blow up.

18. Everyone

19. pizza for dinner. Want to order something?

8 notes · View notes

xxisxxisxxis · 4 years ago

Text

Deleted Scenes: Gateway Drug

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @edwardtriggerhandzz @lemmyjelly @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @scarecrowmax @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @cruecifymesixx @meetthesixxter @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg @girlnight-terror

@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @blowinmeupwithherlove @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14 @str4nge-haze @reigns420 @sixxseconds2love @leatherandheels @dogmom2014 @allyouneedislove-mp3 @n0-self-c0ntro1

"What's Love Got to Do with It?" -- [1987]

I stare at the wreckage of my house after I've rained hell down, pictures scattered off walls, glass shards from the ceilings on the floors, every possession of Nikki's broken and torn--including clothes…

Every minute I'm taken back to seeing Vanity tell me and the world she's been sleeping with my husband, engaged to him, even.

My jaw is clenched so tightly from anger it begins to cramp, my lips shaking slightly with oncoming tears, the tremor traveling down my arm, to my hand that grasps the Jack Daniel's bottle that I've been nursing from.

My mother would have a stroke if she knew I were drinking. But I've got a pretty fucking good reason to be drinking.

I exhale sharply and grit through the burning in my throat, wiping my tears, my hand falling to fumble with the crucifix around my neck.

"Damnit." I mumble, trying to pull myself off the floor, only to stumble back, causing me to make myself laugh uncontrollably, before tears cloud my vision once more.

I crawl to the phone on the coffee table, trying to focus on the multiple numbers to type out the one I shockingly remember.

"Hello?" Axl answers.

"I wanna go out tonight and I can't drive my car." I tell him and the line is quiet for a moment.

"What?"

"I want to go out and I can't." I repeat.

"Viv, I can barely understand you." He replies.

"Fuck you!" I hang up angrily, deciding he just doesn't feel like coming to pick me up and take my anywhere.

More like he couldn't speak slur.

I manage to change clothes, and go to grab my keys, carrying my heels in my hand as I head to my car outside.

I wasn't thinking about Razzle, and what drunk driving had done to him at the hands of Vince. I wasn't thinking at all.

I sloppily shut my door when I park on the side of the street, at least I think I'm parked far enough over that traffic can pass, before I more so stomp into the club, not having to wait in line.

I heard Nikki comes here almost every night and I need to scream at him some more.

I haven't seen him since we got home after the Vanity bullshit.

My eyes go to Robbin who's tall enough to be a dead giveaway as to the company he's keeping when I see the mass of black hair beside him.

Taking a sip from the flask, I stole from Nikki's closet, in my purse, I put it back in place and start to them.

I'm quickly taken off guard when I'm stopped by an arm hooking around my waist and I turn to see Steven talking to Adriana, a look of confusion on his face upon seeing me.

"Viv? What're you doing here?" He asks me, and I shove his arm away from me.

"Fuck off." I sneer, and his eyes widen when he gets a whiff of my breath.

"Are you drunk?" He asks me, obviously not expecting it from me.

I just get away from his as best as I can, nearly losing my footing as I head to the table Nikki's at once more.

I'm stopping when I see the soft, pretty face of Vanity sitting beside him, coming up from snorting a line, laughing at something Robbin says as Nikki looks all too relaxed, his eyes half shut, that lazy, plastered smirk on his lips.

I can't speak, I can't move, I can just look at them.

I was at home, wrecking the house, chugging hard liquor, crying, completely losing myself, while they were having a night out on the town while the ink of the tabloids reporting on the bombshell she'd dropped hadn't even dried yet.

"Viv?" Izzy's voice rings in my ears like background noise.

I want to peel my eyes off the sight before me, but I can't.

"Viv." He repeats, tugging at my arm, but like I did with Steven, I snatch away.

I'm hell on heels as I head to the table, sadness being taken over by pure, unadulterated, furry.

I'm throwing the flask, and it knocks against Vanity's glass, startling her, causing Nikki and Robbin to look at me as I start screaming.

I don't even know what the fuck I'm saying, I just know I'm screaming and crying, the words slurring from me getting the reaction I wanted because Nikki's standing up and yelling over me.

"I hope you're proud of fucking my husband and embarrassing me in front of everyone, you sick bitch!" Is what I had yelled first, then added, "I hope you both die, the drugs just rot your fucking organs in!"

Then Nikki said, "go back home and make the bed I'm gonna be fucking her in, you crazy cunt!"

I just remember being overwhelmed while shouting, "I love you, and you don't even care!" with Steven and Izzy trying to get me out of there as fast as they could while clubgoers looked on.

Nikki looked shocked...I don't know if it's because that was the first time I had said "I love you" or the fact I was drunk…

I realized I wasn't married.

Nikki couldn't have a drink, he had to drink the bar dry.

He couldn't have a hit of blow, he had to have an entire eight ball on one sitting.

He couldn't just date a girl, he had to marry her, not because he wanted to but because he had to take it to the extreme...we weren't married.

We were just playing house with a legal document attached to it, and had been for years.

There was nothing genuine to it.

#gateway drug

35 notes · View notes

jawnloxk · 4 years ago

Note

I wanna know about IM FUCKING DEPRESSED because yeah

here’s a quick look at what the actual fuck is going on there:

“I have come into possession of evidence concerning the innocence of Lysandra Emmich. She had been indicted on exactly 27 acts of corporate disobedience, yet it can be proven that she was not the prime mover in any of the cases mentioned.” he spoke, his glazed expression causing unrest amongst the jury.

He stood upright and still, undisturbed, just like every single time he was giving out an order that could lead to someone’s demise. She clenched her jaw, looking away. Why was he lying for her sake? What was he getting out of it?

“I have completed a file of all collected evidence along with a written testimony of mine and a witness by the name of Catalyn Maria Sallow. Catalyn and her legal partner are known to be close with the suspect. All conversations that the three of us had concerning the subject of Lysandra’s disobedience were recorded and documented. You can find them in the files, too” he said and sat down at the defence table yet again without a glance in her direction.

2 notes · View notes

sm-entertain-me · 6 years ago

Text

Bad (M)

Contains: Na Jaemin x (f) reader, adult language, smut, depictions of sex, bondage kink, use of handcuffs, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, degradation, dom!Jaemin, sub!reader, criminal!Jaemin, interrogator!reader. Pure filth tbh.

Synopsis: It's time for your first real interrogation without your supervisor breathing down your neck. No biggie, right? That is, if you weren't dealing with such a tempting criminal so late at night.

(A/N: Before any of my followers come at my neck for “sexualizing” the ‘00 line, I would like to inform you guys that they are all legal. They are all adults. They are all able to fully consent to sex. So please refrain from any negative comments or inboxes, I’m only human. Thank you.)

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE PROTECTED BY COPYRIGHT LAWS, DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPRODUCE WITHOUT CONSENT FROM AUTHOR.

“Are you ready?” You supervisor, Lee Taeyong, asked as he rested his hands on your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze to calm your nerves. He knew how important this night was going to be for you. All throughout your career, every one of your male colleagues has made a few snide remarks at you for not being able to do an interrogation all on your own, claiming that women aren’t nearly as effective at extracting information out from renowned criminals like men were. You were here to prove them wrong.

Taking in a deep breath, you rested your hand on one of Taeyong’s hand that cupped your shoulder, turning slightly to face him directly, “Ready as I’ll ever be. I just wanna say thanks for being the only guy in this place that actually believes in me. It really means a lot coming from someone in such a high place as you.”

Taeyong smiled softly at you as he gave a firm nod at the person behind you, looking back into your eyes to show that everything that needed to be done prior to the interrogation was set. All that needed to be done was getting you in that room without any help from any of your colleagues. Taeyong knew your potential; he knew how special you were when he first laid eyes on you at the academy. And now here you are, ready to finally branch out and do things on your own.

“You’re going to do great in there, kid,” Your captain, Moon Taeil, said to you as he held the door open for you, offering you a kind smile as you walked into the dimly lit room. A simple nod was offered in exchange to his smile as you allowed him to shut the door, turning around promptly to face the person you were set up to interrogate for a possible burglary charge.

Case file in hand, you walked over to your subject who was handcuffed to the table, his eyes trekking your whole entire body before his eyes bore into yours. He had light brown hair that tickled the tops of his eyebrows, a sculpted jaw that clenched tightly to make him seem as terrifying as he could given he was in restraints, and eyes that could make any girl weep. He was... gorgeous.

“Aren’t you a little hot to be an interrogator?” The man’s voice called out, grabbing you and yanking you from your thoughts that were all but professional. Shaking your head to bring you fully back into reality, you tiled your head at him and let your eyes wander his perfect face, taking a mental note to have him tell you his skin care routine because he seriously knows how to keep blemishes off his face. The man sat there twiddling his thumbs as he stared up at you, waiting for an answer to his rather straightforward question.

“Aren’t you a little young to be burglarizing houses?” You retorted, combing over the information in his case file, noting his younger age than most of the perps you had to deal with around here.

“Ahh, answering a question with a question. Smart girl,” The man said as he stared up at you, watching as you pulled the chair out from in front of out and plopped down right in front of him. As you sat down in front of him, you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes dart to the tops of your breasts in that semi-scandalous blouse you were wearing. Taeyong even told you about appropriate work attire being way more important in interrogation rooms, but you figured he was just being protective of you.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” You muttered as you folded your hands and placed your chin on top of them, focusing all your attention on the man in front of you. It was somewhat of a tactic to focus on the facial features of the person you were questioning, to get a sense of their tells and how comfortable they are with you. You most definitely wanted him to feel comfortable around you since that was one of the best ways to get accurate information... And you kind of just wanted to stare at his face a little longer.

A little bit more of researching led you to find out the man’s name is Jaemin, he’s 18, and he has a knack for being a little trouble maker. “It says that you’ve been in a lot of trouble as a kid. Juvie three times, anger management, four court appearances... Are you doing these things for attention or do you do them for the hell of it, Jaemin?” You asked with a curt tone, flipping through the multiple court documents that you had in your possession, unimpressed with his record. He had a little bit more on his plate than you thought he would, and you never thought Taeyong would throw you in a room with someone that dangerous by yourself.

No matter, Jaemin didn’t seemed fazed by your question as he cocked the sexiest eyebrow at you, running his tongue over his lips before he spoke, “None of those actually. I love the rush it gives me. Being so bad feels so good. I’d tell you to try it but you seem a bit uptight. Shame, you look like you could use a little loosening up.” Jaemin ended his words with a quick wink and then raised his eyebrows, signalling there was a deeper meaning to his words. Of course you picked up on it because you could feel a wet patch forming in your panties from his sinful words.

Jaemin watched with amusement as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to suppress the mild throbbing sensation that was steadily growing the longer you sat in that room. How the hell was he affecting you so much? Was it the deep tone in his voice, how he exuded pure sex with that goddamn smirk of his? You didn’t know, and you didn’t know if you wanted to find out for sure as you tried your best to keep your thoughts to a minimum. Until Jaemin chose to test you further.

“Haven’t you ever wanted to be bad? Just to try it?” Jaemin asked as he leaned forward, watching the way your pupils dilated and how your tongue slid out to coat your lips. “I’d say fucking a known criminal in front of all your supervisors is the perfect way to do that, huh? If you think all that stuff in that little file of yours is bad, just wait until I get my hands on you.”

The throbbing in your core was getting too much for you as you simply threw the folder down on the table in frustration, opting to get up from the table and make your way to the door. Jaemin was someone you couldn’t handle, not by yourself. He was so tempting, so sexual, so vulgar. Jaemin’s words had such a hold on you that as you were grabbing for the doorknob to leave, you had a quick change of heart and decided to lock it instead. Wouldn’t want anyone coming in to ruin your new interrogation technique.

Once Jaemin saw your figure come closer, he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk, “Just couldn’t keep away from me. I tend to have that affect on women. Now, get me out of these cuffs and I’ll show you how bad I can be.” But you weren’t willing to give yourself up that easily, you were wanting to have the same amount of fun as Jaemin was having getting into your head. You wanted to see him break.

As Jaemin held his wrists out for you to unlock his cuffs, you shook your head while wearing a devilish grin on your face, pushing his hands back to him, “Nope, you’ve had your fun. It’s my turn now.” Before Jaemin could quip back at you, you threw your legs over his lap and sat down on his lap, straddling him against the metal chair. A small gasp fell from Jaemin’s lips as he looked at you with hooded eyes, wondering what you had in mind.

You started off slow, rolling your hips against Jaemin’s crotch as he panted, wanting nothing more than to grab your hips and force you to go his own pace. But he was rendered useless thanks to the handcuffs, letting you take full control as you pressed your heat firm against his steadily rising erection.

“Fuck, baby. Don’t do this to me,” Jaemin begged as you leaned forward and sunk your teeth into his neck, licking the skin and kissing it softly when you knew you bit too hard. You ignored Jaemin’s pleas as you continued to grind down onto his throbbing cock, feeling yourself getting wetter and wetter the longer you slid against him. Jaemin was getting desperate for some kind of release as his hand tried its best to grip onto your waist, but failed as you rolled faster against him, trying to chase your high. You were so close, so very close.

However, in your lust driven needs, you failed to realize that Jaemin wasn’t trying to grab onto you hips to get you to go faster. No, he grabbed at your hips because the key to the handcuffs were in your pocket because now Jaemin hand the handcuffs off and was lifting you onto the table behind you. As you sat pert on the table, Jaemin smirked as he dangled the keys in front of your face, “My turn.”

Jaemin was swift as he grabbed onto your hips, pulling you forward to have your abdomens touch briefly before he spun you around and forced you to bend over the table. The sound of Jaemin fidgeting with the belt he was wearing filled your ears as you tried to turn around and look at him, but were met with Jaemin’s hand coming down on the side of your head to keep you forward as he tsked at you, “Ah, ah, ahhh. None of that. You’re going to stay right here and do as I say. Understood?”

All you could do was nod at his question, keeping the side of your head pinned to the cold metal of the table as you waited patiently for your next instructions. Once Jaemin deemed your answer satisfactory, he managed to slip his belt out from his pants and wrap a small portion of the expensive leather over his knuckles while still keeping a a lengthy section exposed. He had to teach you a lesson for being so naughty earlier and this seemed like the way to do it.

Jaemin’s fingers slipped into the waist band of your pants, yanking them down the swell of your ass in a quick motion, groaning out from the look of your ass in those barely there panties. “All this for me?” Jaemin asked as he couldn’t resist grabbing your cheeks in his hand, pushing himself against you so you could feel his length in between your cheeks. “Too bad I have to ruin them.” Before you could turn and ask him what he meant by that, you felt a burning sensation on your ass that left you breathless.

“Count for me baby,” Jaemin demanded as he drew his belt back and whipped you again, watching the way the skin became instantly red from his punishment. “One!” You screamed as your hands gripped the edge of the table, bracing yourself for what was to come but still unsure of how long you were going to be taking such a hellish spanking. Jaemin never specified how many you were going to take.

“T-Ten!” You sputtered as your knuckles had become stark white from how hard you were gripping the table, tears starting to run down your face from the burning in your ass. Again, you braced yourself against the table, waiting for another smack from Jaemin’s belt but it never came. Instead, you felt Jaemin grab your skimpy underwear and rip it from your body, snapping the fabric in two.

“You were such a good girl for me, but now it’s time to fuck you like the needy slut you are,” Jaemin growled as his hands kneaded the reddened skin of your ass, watching the way the color of your flesh contrasted with his hands. All you could do was moan out from his words, feeling the way your arousal was sliding down your thighs. Jaemin noticed a particularly interesting sheen on your thighs and proceeded to take his finger and trace upward, reaching your slit and pushing his fingers deep inside.

“Fuck you’re so wet,” Jaemin groaned as he rested his free hand on your back, acting as leverage as he went knuckle deep inside of you to get a feel for what spots had you arching up for him. Whenever Jaemin curled his fingers up into you, he had you seeing stars, moaning his name out shamelessly. You honestly weren’t remotely concerned with how loud you were being, the only thing you care about was getting fucked so hard that the table would be moving across the floor.

Once Jaemin was satisfied with his fingers opening you up for him, he took his spot behind you, teasing at your entrance with the oozing tip of his cock. The sight of Jaemin’s precum mixing with your arousal had Jaemin throwing his head back in sheer pleasure, cursing silently to himself as he wasted no time ramming himself deep inside of you. His cock parted your walls significantly, giving you a delicious stretch as he bottomed out in you, a soft groan coming from him.

“You take me so well,” Jaemin groaned as he looked down to see your pussy swallowing his cock, watching how your pussy would suck him right back in if he drew out too far. His hands found purchase on your hips as he held you in place, rolling his hips against your ass to tease you.

“Jaemin! Do something!” You cried out as you tried to push yourself back and fuck yourself on his cock, but Jaemin kept a firm grip on your hips to prevent you from doing that.

“Patience baby. I’m just getting started. By the end of this, everyone in your whole precinct will know how good I fucked you,” Jaemin snarled, his grip on your hips tightening to the point you were sure you would have little crescent marks by the time you were done. No matter how badly you wanted Jaemin to pound you into the table and have his name permanently etched on your lips, you were at the mercy of Jaemin now.

Jaemin’s thrusts were slow at first, but they were calculated as he dug his fingers into your hips, slamming his hips against your ass to feel how deep he could go. “So tight,” Jaemin grunted as he pulled himself halfway out just to thrust himself back in, relishing at the feeling of your walls clenching hard around his cock. He knew exactly what he was doing when he entered you fully, making sure to have his cock rub harshly against the best part of your body.

“Oh god, right there,” You cried out as your hands gripped the table again, knuckles forming a pale white color from the hellish grip you had. Jaemin took notes of your pleas as he continued to pound into you at a faster rate, him throwing his head back from how tightly your walls squeezed. It was like your pussy was meant for him.

As Jaemin fucked into you faster, his hand came up to grab a handful of your hair and yank you flush up against his torso, him leaning down and allowing his lips to ghost the shell of your ear, “I want you to look in that double mirror and scream my name. Let your bosses know how much of a slut you are to be taken by such a lowlife like me.” You simply whimpered at Jaemin’s request, not knowing if you could do it, but Jaemin had ways of making you.

His grip on your hair got tighter and his movements deep inside of your slowed to the point there was no stimulation, causing the harsh throbbing in your pussy to become painful. “Jaemin, please,” You begged as you tried to wiggle your hips but were met with a harsh slap from the hand that wasn’t wrapped tightly in your hair.

“I said, scream my name,” Jaemin commanded as he stilled his hips, the only thing moving inside of you was the throbbing of his cock. He was perfectly fine with denying both of your orgasms unless you fed into his ego. He knew he could get himself off anytime he wanted, but it would be worse for you since your fingers didn’t even come close to the feeling of having Jaemin’s cock deep inside of you.

“Fine!” You screeched as you let your hormones get the best of you, looking directly at the double sided mirror that was right in front of you two. Through the mirror, you could see Jaemin’s lips form a devilish grin as he began to move his hips again, waiting to see if you would come through with his sexual demands.

“Oh god! Jaemin, yes. Jaemin!” You cried out as promised, fueling Jaemin’s ego as he continued to fuck you harder, grabbing onto your hips as support. The lewd sounds of skin on skin slapping together and the smell of pure sex filled the room, causing your head to spin from such a lust filled experience, feeling yourself let go in the process.

Another shriek of Jaemin’s name flooded from your lips as you arched your back against him, granting Jaemin better access deep inside of you to feel your walls pulse around him. “Oh fuck, you’re clenching! F-fuck!” Jaemin groaned as his grip on your hips became the tightest it got all night, followed by the warmth of his seed spilling into you without so much as a strangled moan.

As the two of you came down from your highs, you lay flush against the cold metal that was somehow steaming from the sinful act you two had committed. Jaemin had collapsed on top of you, his rapidly rising and falling chest laying completely on you back as he tried to catch his breath.

“I think... You’re the best fuck... I’ve ever had,” Jaemin whispered quietly, clearly out of breath from exerting so much energy into proving how great he was in bed. “I think I’m in love.”

You busted into a small fit of laughter underneath Jaemin after his comment, ultimately having Jaemin join in as well. This was the first time you had ever seen his be genuine without putting on this bad boy facade since you met him thirty minutes ago. He was quite charming and humorous, you’ll give him that.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you responded, pushing your body off of the table to stand up and reach your hand around to guide Jaemin out of you. He gladly obliged as he slid his now softened cock out of you, watching in amusement the way his cum glided down your thighs but you were quick to wipe it up with your hands, not wanting your bosses to question why there’s cum on the floor. Then again, they probably already know since you were forced to scream Jaemin’s name so loud that you’re pretty sure the pigeons outside could hear.

As much as you hate to admit it to Jaemin, he was right. Being bad feels so good.

#Na Jaemin #Na Jaemin smut #Na Jaemin fanfiction #Nana #NCT #NCT Dream #NCT smut #NCT Dream smut #NCT fanfiction #NCT Dream fanfiction #'00 line #'00 line smut #'00 line fanfiction #Kpop #Kpop smut #Kpop fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

detectivejigsawpines · 5 years ago

Text

Hideous Creatures part 4 (Day 1-Ford)

The first day of the competition dawned with the brothers Pines standing in the clearing, in front of two large golf carts which had been decorated with a number of protective spells and wards, and had large red question marks painted on the roofs (an extra decorative touch on Stan’s part).

Both of them had dressed up to the nines for the occasion: Stan had used some of his unicorn gold to actually buy himself a tailor-made black suit, complete with scarlet bow tie, and slicked his hair back off his forehead. He was also still wearing the fez, which had been brushed and cleaned to perfection, making him look like a rich carnival barker.

Ford, on the other hand, went with a nice dress shirt and slacks and (despite-or perhaps because of-Stan’s opinions) a wine red sweater vest, all under a long brown trench coat-fortunately the weather had cooled down enough that he wasn’t in danger of having a heat stroke. His own mess of curls had actually been combed as neatly as he was capable of, and he’d remembered to shave and trim his sideburns today. Tucked in his pocket were notecards to help him remember the lines he’d carefully rehearsed, and under his arm was a spare journal filled with useful notes about the doings and history of mankind.

The two men were decidedly not looking at each other as they waited for the group of tourists to come.

“Guys, come on!” Dan, who was standing next to the golf carts, said for the umpteenth time. “This is stupid! If you really wanna settle your differences, do it with something MANLY-like arm wrestling, or a caber tossing competition! There’s no need for any of this!”

Neither of them even acknowledged him.

Dan sighed, and rolled his eyes.

“I’m gonna go split a few trees into firewood with my bare hands,” he muttered, stalking off towards his truck.

********

No sooner had he driven off than a crowd of unique creatures came out of the woods, many of them species that neither of them had ever seen in Gravity Falls Forest before. Stan looked gleeful, probably pleased that the word about these tours appeared to have spread. Ford just adjusted his collar and went over his lines in his head again as his brother stepped up to greet them.

“Welcome, ladies and gentle-tourists, to the Tours of Mystery, where you can unlock the secrets of humanity by observing real live humans in their natural habitat! Who’s ready ta have their minds blown?!”

A blonde woman standing at the front of the crowd, wearing a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head and a whole lot of aqua eyeshadow, burst out laughing.

“Oh man, you’re a riot!”

Stan’s mouth widened in his “oh man after all this time I still got it” grin. “Anything for you, gorgeous!” he told her with a wink; she simpered and giggled. Just for an instant, however, Ford thought he could make out a flash of mandibles in her mouth, and stifled a smirk.

Stanley has no idea what he’s getting himself into flirting with her kind.

“And over on my left you’ll see Dr. Mystery, the dumbest smart person that ever lived!”

“Hey!” Ford protested, glaring.

“I’m just callin’ it like it is, doc.” Stan’s smile was unrepentant. He looked back at the crowd. “He’s gonna be givin’ the other tour today, so if you’d just form inta two groups, please-one’s gonna go with the boring tour, the other’s gonna go with me!”

Ford whirled on Stan. “Or, to put it another way, if you come with my tour group you’ll be on the one that will give you genuine, factual information!”

The group, probably thinking this was all part of the show, laughed. But they did start splitting up and getting into the two separate carts.

Ford stood by his cart, waiting as the various monsters entered his cart, accepting their payments as they climbed in.

And then his blood ran cold as his final passenger approached: an ancient birdlike woman (literally, her arms were wings with clawed hands at the ends, and her feet were webbed like a duck’s), still handsome and straight-backed in her old age, and peering down her hawklike nose at him.

“I look forward to your little presentation, Stanford,” she said, her accent faintly Greek and clipped, and still enchanting despite the disdain behind it.

Ford groaned inwardly as the grandmother of the siren he’d briefly dated climbed into the cart, sitting in the seat right behind his.

Great. Just great.

********

Ford really did not understand Parthenope. The whole time he had dated her granddaughter, she had made her disapproval of him quite clear. But she seemed to view his breaking up with her as even more of a personal insult, regardless of it being a mutual thing for them.

“Eleni is doing well,” she said icily as he drove towards the town hall.

“That’s good, Ms. Parthenope,” said Ford with an inward sigh (the sirens did not have surnames to speak of).

“She says she’s thinking of going to the Gulf of Mexico for school this fall, instead of the Mediterranean as we were expecting.”

“Mmm.”

“I suspect outside influences have affected her judgment; she never acted out like this before she dated-”

“THE TOWN OF GRAVITY FALLS was founded in 1842, supposedly by a man named Nathaniel Northwest. My research, however, has led me to the conclusion that he was not the true founder, but I have yet to discover who he replaced or why the truth has been covered up.” Ford parked, and removed some of his notes from his pocket, ignoring the old siren's outraged stare. He cleared his throat, and began reading from them.

“Part of my suspicions come from some of Gravity Falls’s more absurd laws and precedents, such as the ‘Finders Keepers’ law, in which anyone who possesses a legal document corresponding to a property can claim legal ownership of the property. As unstable and greedy as Mr. Northwest was, as exemplified by his death by attempting to eat a tree, I don’t think-”

“What’s that mean in English?” called a voice from the back; several others laughed.

“...If you can get ahold of the deed for a property, even by theft, then the property is yours.”

“Sounds good to me!” the same voice boomed; by turning around Ford saw that it was a large manotaur with a bone through his nose and muscles the size of cantaloupes. “My bro Mascular told me about this place where they have tons of magic Idiot Boxes-can we go there so I can take the deed for it?”

“No!” Ford snapped. “Those are not Idiot Boxes, they’re called televisions! And I’m not going to assist you in stealing the deed for the store!”

“But you said it was legal!”

“That doesn’t make it right!” He stuffed the note cards back into his pocket, seeing that the opportunity to teach them some of Gravity Falls’s history had been lost. “Next we’re going to visit the library!”

********

The rest of the tour was more or less the same. The manotaur kept arguing with him that he should show him where the electronics store was because he wanted easy access to Idiot Boxes, until Ford finally drove to a barbecue restaurant and let him get some ribs to shut him up. And then of course everyone else wanted some ribs too, and he had to keep track of what everyone took so he could secretly pay the owners back later.

There were members of the group who asked honest questions about the human world, and seemed genuinely interested in things like how electricity worked, or how humans got along without magic, but most of them seemed to be bored out of their minds at his explanations (he actually saw several of them falling asleep while he was describing the invention of the lightbulb).

And Parthenope’s scornful commentary in his ear the whole time didn’t help at all.

By the time Ford drove back to the forest and the tour group departed, he was mentally and physically exhausted from being around so many people.

He leaned his head against the steering wheel with a sigh, feeling a headache beginning to blossom.

I need to up my game if I ever want to beat Stanley.

#flipside au #stan pines #ford pines #mystery tours #stan being mr mystery #ford being dr mystery #both boys being stupid #and stubborn

12 notes · View notes

jetblackpayne · 5 years ago

Text

𝒾. 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝑀𝓊𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇𝐻𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒

summary: In which Arden Keaton (OC) and her family move into the infamous “MurderHouse.” Along her stay, she meets the victims and 2 teenager in particular. Together, they help her uncover truths and mysteries of her abilities. [shitty description don’t @ me]

wc: 4k+

pairings: (OC x murderhouse)(OC x Michael Langdon!soon)

warning: brief mention of descriptive cutting and marks, swearing/language, blood.

° :. *₊ ° . ☆ ✮ °: .*₊ ° . ° . • ☆ ✮　°:.*₊ ° . ° . •

I never knew if what I've experienced was real. Recurring thoughts of them being nothing more than illusions. Everything Ive known my whole life seemed normal to me. After all, I've been doing it forever; so it seemed almost frightening that it was abnormal to people like my sister and my father. I didn't figure it out on my own. I was told but something that was once living; Beyond the walls of the house with a gruesome history. Sometimes I feel like I belong in a different world with people like me. My mother said she felt the same; seems as though she's about the only one. Unknowing of what I could possess, I was frightened. Frightened of what power would do to a person who couldn't harness it. After all, fear of a name or ability only increases fear is the thing itself. Why should I start to fear things now when I should have been of myself the whole time?

° :. *₊ ° . ☆ ✮　°:.*₊ ° . ° .

A light breeze swept through the creaking floorboards of Murder House. The history of the house was horrid, beyond imaginable; or so the retail lady, whom the youngest daughter, Arden could never remember the name of, told her family. The Keaton family certainly didn't know why they were getting themselves into. If they were getting themselves into. Arden slowly trailed behind her family as she made her way up the path to the front doors of their new house. Chills ran down her body as she view the exterior of the house; Arden didn't know how to feel. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. When she stepped in, she felt as if she were being swallowed whole. Her vision then began to flicker like lights. She shifted her eyes as she saw dozens of people doing their own thing. Some were watching television. Most were just talking to one another as they walked around the house as if it were theirs. Once. The mysterious people, all at once diverted their sight from their previous activities to look in the direction of their seer. Slowly, they walked toward her in a steady manner. Vacant expressions on their faces which somehow felt hollow. She hesitantly walked back as she hit the wall behind her. Hands reaching out to grab her as if they were contemplating her existence. Her breathing pace quickened; unable to yell for help. Just as they were about to touch her, the light flickered again. She gasped as her gaze reverted from the dull wallpaper that looked like it was put up in the 1800's; to the chandelier that look like it was a few screws loose of colliding with the floor; then back to her family and the retail lady who walked in like the sight was ordinary. She looked at them in disbelief, "Did you see that?" She gasped at them walking in as if they hadn't envisioned the horrific sight. The retail lady shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes diverted to the cherry-wood floor beneath them and began to click her short heels lightly.

"See what?" James Keaton, her father spoke as his hand rested on her shoulder blade. The sudden impact sent her flying a few feet away from her father. She looked around the room one more time to see if the people would come out again. Nothing. She couldn't tell what saw. The illusion lead her mind into a spiral, "The people?" she stated pointing to mid-air. Although she couldn't convince her self if it was more of a question or not.

"People?" Her older sister Mary Keaton started to question her younger sisters silly accusations. "What people?"

"The people—." Arden began to loose her mind. She could have sworn there were others present in the house the moment she walked in. "I could have sworn there were people walking around. They were doing things."

"What kind of things?"

"Like I'd know!" She exclaimed as she walked back to the front doors of the house. She reached the already open doorframe and turned around to face her family and the retail lady once again, "Normal house things. Now please. Can we look at another house?”

"We don't have a choice Ar." Nancy Keaton, her mother, spoke up, "We already put a down payment on this house. It was half the price we would have payed in the valley." Arden glanced up at her with disbelief. Her mother was a different story when it came to family. She felt a connection with her. Her aura, Arden felt, resembled hers the way her sister and fathers could never. Despite the mutual similarities, it was always clear when they weren't on the same page. Like now; Of course her parents purchases a house without her consent. It wouldn't come as a shock to her as if it were true. Her family, to her, usually left ger out of discussions. Claiming she was was too young; as if 17 were too young. She was practically an adult to the world. Sometimes she contemplated that it was more than just age. Maybe it was just her. Her mom looked at her for a brief second before continuing to conversate with the retail lady.

Her older sister glaced in her direction. She could have sworn a smirk rose on her lips. "I should know. After all, I came with them."

Arden's body shuttered in annoyance. Her head turned slowly, trying to regain her thought process to face her older sister. "So while I was at Camp Redwood, you looked at and placed a down payment without my say?" Mr. and Mrs. Keaton avoided eye contact with their youngest daughter. She couldn't tell if it was out of guilt or simply not caring. Arden turned to face the retail lady and gave a snarky smile in her direction. She could feel the lady's uncomfortable stance in the midst of their debacle. Her face stayed static as she looked over to her family, "The less I know the better right? I mean them I won’t feel too bad in the long run.” Her family shared a glance with each other.

The retail lady walked over to the parents with her cream coloured clip board in her hand. A pen in between her frail fingers and she motioned for Mr. Keaton to retrieve it. He took both from her; skimming the paper of the house details when his eyes fixated on one section; the history of the house section. "Now would be as good as ever to tell you behind the walls of this house."

"You mentioned some people got murdered." James Keaton spoke up taking the pen and clipboard from her, beginning to sign the legal documents of the house. Arden's stomach dropped as if she were riding a rollercoaster. She felt eyes burning on her on the back of her head. Glancing around, she found nothing but dark corners of the unlit portion of the house. Her feelings were rarely incorrect. It was both rather scary and brilliant.

"37." The lady spoke up making the fours heads spin fast. Thier hearts dropped at the big number of deaths in the house they stood in. Arden didn’t wanna know where either. She was afraid as it was and didn’t want it radiating off her. 37? What kind of butchery is this?

"And let me ask you something," James tapped the paper with the end of the pen. His lips pursed in gas his eyebrows cocked, "H-How many people, per say, owned this house?"

"37." Arden shook her head in disbelief as the absurd words left the ladies mouth.

"Don't you think after every single person whose owned this house got murdered, they wouldn't put it out on the market?" Arden spoke stating the elephant in the room. "And how do we know there's no dead people roaming around this place. Pretty sure what I saw wasn't a coincidence. I feel like Raven Baxter." Her mother have her a look without Arden's knowledge. A stinging sensation at the back of her head caused the girl to hissed. Her eyes divertaed at her mother. Her eyes gleamed a darker green then her original. Her teeth bitin the inside of her lip. Arden looked at her with a frightened look. Her mother didn’t act this way. It was like something was controlling her body; or was it? She didn’t know what to think after what she saw and felt. Her eyes swapped shades like a mood ring.

”Yeah dead people kinda freak me out." Mary said to Janet as she scratched the back of her neck. She bit her lip as she looked away from the retail lady.

Arden scoffed, "Please," She walked slowly up to her sibling with her arms crossed over her chest. She huffed out a breath she was unaware of holding and rolled her eyes at her sibling. She looked at her dead in the eye as her venomous worlds rolled off her tongue, "You practically live with one," and she was off. Her steps took her up the stairs where she's would 'claim' her new room. Her footsteps creaked up the old-floorboards; one louder than the next on purpose. She couldn’t deny the houses beauty despite looking straight out of a Stephen King novel. The wide-set hallways were nothing more than an illusion to Arden. It felt to her as though it were getting longer in distance to the several doors on the walls. Each door looked like it were the same but a different story lied behind the hinges. Arden looked at several doors in the hallway seeing different scenarios occurring before her eyes. A woman in agony crying over a baby. Two nurses covered in blood. Her mind was spiralling as she felt her eyes roll back into her head stumbling onto a door she had yet to look into. She looked around the room and took long drags of oxygen into her lungs. The room smelled of fresh paint and cigarette smoke. The walls coated in light grey paint that looked like it wasn’t even. The paint dried rolling off the side of the windows and bottom corners. Her eyes landed on the ceiling; only to stumble to the ground backing away slowly clutching her arms tightly. Her heart skipped a few beats; that or it dropped to the bottom of her stomach. Above her in her we're the words written in red, 'Welcome to MurderHouse.’

° :. *₊ ° . ☆ ✮　°:. *₊ ° . ° . •° :. *₊ ° . ☆ ✮ °:.

Her mother and father eventually came up after not hearing from thier youngest daughter and despite the many apologies to her, she knew it would happen again. They saw her state and cleaned up the red lettering. Unable to tell what it was, Arden wanted to believe it was red marker; no matter what her mind was bebunking. The movers eventually came when Mr. Keaton convielntly, yet idiotically signed the papers. Mr . Keaton was a man of many things; he was titled, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. The title obviously getting to his head, he thought he knew everything. Arden knew he wouldn’t have been able to live a day knowing what she knew. If he had saw what she did, he wouldn’t have stupidly signed the papers claiming their rights to the house. Mrs. Keaton definitely had her fair share of suspicion. She knew her youngest daughter wasn’t crazy for envisioning the people she claimed to have seen. Her eyes saw the same. Dead people roaming around the house; some radiating a more dangerous than the other. She knew her husband was trying to do what was best for his family, and the house so happened to be in the heart of Los Angeles and conviently cheap for its condition. Dispite is foolis actions, his wife knew he meant well. After all, she knew he couldn’t be able to live a second as her. Arden to her knowledge, was very similar to her. Mirroring almost. She would grow up to be powerful.

Mrs. Keaton walked into the room they claimed as the family room. She came across a black leather couch set up sandwiched around a rectangular coffee table. Just as the movers were about to take the set away, she stopped them hastily, “No, we’ll keep that. Everything in this room. The rest else can go.” The men obliged and quickly left so the family could settle. Meanwhile, Arden began to decorate her new room. Her white walls paired with dark purple curtains. The bed coated with lilac sheets. The cherry wood flood boards covered continuously by a light grey rug. Delicate fairy lights strung all along the top corners of her walls, cascading to the frame above her bed.

"Nice fairly lights." A voice spoke behind the girl. Chills ran down her spine to the voice that seemed unrecognisable. She turned around to find a dirty blonde-haired girl a little taller than her looking around with a cigarette loosely hanged from her lips. Arden looked at her with disbelief and fascination. How did she get in? "But I prefer it a little dimmer. Im not a big fan of rethinking if the suns in my room or not.” The girl walked up to her and inhaled the smoke from her cancer stick. Her eyes peering dead in Arden's soft ones. Something, to her, didn't feel right. The beats from her heart began to quicken its pace as her mouth felt like a desert. The girl exhaled the smoke directly in her face. The fumes travelled up Arden's nose and in her eye sockets. Her eyes clouded as her vision got narrow. She saw a girl walking down a trail. Teenagers parting ways with friends. The girl was the same girl in her room. She looked the same. She inhaled smoke from her cigarette as she passed by a group of three other girls. The leader of the group kept yelling and taunting her for smoking on school grounds. The leader, who finally had enough of the other girls half-ass responses, tried to shove the cigarette down her throat. The struggling girl who she just met, spat in her face running away with a victorious smirk. "YOU ARE DEAD! YOU ARE DEAD!" She screamed after her. Arden took a deep breath to only find her nose dripping. Her hand went to touch it to pull with blood under her fingernails. The crimson streak fell between her teeth as the taste of metal lingered in her mouth. A shaky breath huffed out of her lungs and into the cold air. Arden's heart was rapidly pumping in and out of her chest as if she ran a marathon.

"Holy shit! What was that?” The blonde girl who was in her flash/vision asked Arden. The girl reached a hand to Arden. Her arm accidentally moving across her collarbone to hold her shoulder in comfort. The sleeve of her darl blue shirt rode up to reveal marks on her delicate skin. Some cuts deeper and fresher looking than others. The red lines making her skin look like it were drained from every drop of blood in her body. She began to feel nauseous. Her head bobbing down, bouncing back up every so often telling herself not to give in. Her eyes rolled around the room landing on the opened door. From her spot, a clear view of the bathroom came into sight. She began to see tunnel vision. She saw the girl next to the sink with a razor in her hand. Gradually pushing the sharp object into her wrists, pressing lightly and harder over different spots on her arm. Reopening new cuts as blood tan down her arm dripping onto the marble floor. Tears streaming down her face as she looked at herself in the mirror. Arden stumbled back placing her hand on the back of a rolling chair near her desk; she fell back on the floor; the carpeted spot brawling her fall. What was the sight I saw? Gasping for air, her hand came up to her heart as a whimper arose from her throat. Tears clouded her eyes. Her hands went up to wipe the tears in her eyes, when she felt them thicker than usual. Her finger tips pulled away to see blood. "You're fucking bleeding out of your eye sockets!"

“You say it like I don’t know.” Arden scoffed at the girl stating the obvious. Propping her feet on the ground as she slowly stood up, Arden brushed off the dirt from her skirt faced the stranger in her 'room.' "Not to come off as paranoid, but what are you doing in my room?"

“Oh do you do speak?” The girl challenged, "I'm Violet." She stepped forward and shook her hand ignoring her question at hand. Arden took a step back as the hairs on the back of her neck and arms stood up like needles. The girl was cold. Like dead winter. "I used to live here but," she paused and she looked at the inside of her forearm that brushed against Arden, “Something happened."

"What?" Arden questioned. She wanted to know the meaning behind the flash.

"None of your business." Violet scoffed snapping at the girls ridiculous question.

"Okay well it's not my fault that you decided to wander into my house, then decide to tell me your life story then give me no answers to why you're in my room."

Violet was taken aback as her eyes flickered between her clothed arms, cigarette then to the girl in front of her. Taking etched out strides towards Arden, Arden slowly backed away, "I never told you anything new girl."

“Sup I'm Tate," A voice said off in the far corner of her room. Arden's heart thumped out of her chest without her body physically moving. She had gotten pretty good at it. The boy, 'Tate,' movedcloser to her as she stood still, unsure of why this is happening to her. Not one, but two people entered her house of 15 minutes. Tate finally stood in front of her, eye averting to hers. His head bent down as his lips gently graze Arden's ear. Her breaths hitched slightly as his large hands came in contact with her wrist. He used the advantage to lean forward, "Wanna hookup?" Arden's eyes saw shapes in what looked to be a kaleidoscope effect. Her mind hurt. Not again.. Her thoughts swirled as she saw a blonde boy sitting on the bed. His wavy blonde hair framed his face and chiselled jaw line. This boy had to have been a creation from the Gods themselves. His piercing blue eyes looking i'm the direction of Arden's vision as if he knew of her presence. Smirking as he looked to her distinct direction. He looked about her age, if not older. He turned his head from her direction to the floor playing with his hands, to what looked like agony. Who hurt him? To his right, a man who looked to be in his late thirties and the shaggy blonde boy who asked her to hook up. The boy muttered something about Tate being his father. They looked the same age. This boy might be pretty, but must be on something.. Tate lost it and sprang forward; only to be caught by the man. The boy, startled, leaned back on the bed a little. "You didn't spring from my nutsack; GOT IT!" Tate spat at the boy harshly making Arden wince. Tears threatening to spill from the boys ducts. His lip quivering slightly. "Not even I could create something as monstrous. As evil as YOU." Tates pupils darkened at the sight of the boy in front of him. Arden's mind came back to reality and yanked her wrist from his tight grip. The warm feeling of blood trickling down both sides of her face. The base of her ear socket felt cold as the stillness in the room coated her sorrows. Tate gave her a look of disbelief, "Why the fuck are your ears bleeding?"

"That's not all," Violet stepped forward, briefly sharing contact with Tate. She took another drag of her cigarette as the boy looked over his shoulder. He saw what once was his, diminish behind the smoke. It was all his fault. His lifeless heart ached for hers, and although being as stubborn and misleading as ever, Violets did too. She turned her head to look away from his captivating stare, "Her nose and eyes were too. Fucking mental.”

"Fucking wicked" Tate gasped as he looked at Arden struggling to wipe the blood from the four holes it came dripping down.

“You two aren’t like anyone Ive met. It’s like don’t belong here but you do in a way..” Arden trailed off as she pressed a tissue to wipe and absorb the blood the best she could.

“So you noticed?” Tate asked the girl with a small smirk. Violet gave him a look powerful enough to kill. She shook her head back and forth taking a hit of her cigarette for the hundredth time it seemed. Arden closed her eyes from the smoke. She didn’t want to have another flash. She’s experienced them before but not as triggering as the ones in this house. The house harnessed negative energy. She could feel the pain embodied in her as if it were attached to her soul. It seemed quiet in the room. Still air and white noise from the curling fan were heard. Not even breathing from the two teenagers in her room. Her eyes opened to find lingering smoke and the two gone.

° :. *₊ ° . ☆✮　 °:.*₊ ° . ° . •

17 notes · View notes

panfictional · 5 years ago

Text

Some Choice DYFAM!Content

(Its been ages since I’ve written so I might as well give y’all something. This is half discussion on some DYFAM exclusive lore I’m sure you’re gonna go rabid for. The other half is some quick writing blurbs in that respect. If you wanna go full ham with it feel free. I will 100% answer questions.)

THE HISTORY

When Chuck was first coming up with the ideas for humans he decided to get the angels involved in the creation of their souls. Of course after awhile he took the reins (specifically after Lucifer fucked over everyone with his rebellion) but for those that created the souls and remember them it had a pretty profound effect. Chuck realized quickly that the angels who created a soul were linked to that soul indefinitely. He didn’t see it as a problem until the Nephilim. That’s because he failed to realize that the angels used parts of themselves to create their human’s soul. While the angels were limited to only making one human ever many of them poured their hearts out into their creations. All or nothing right?

When Castiel created Dean’s soul they thought of the brightest stars, how they flickered and yet never extinguished. They wanted this human to be like that. Something that could be bent but never broken. It was the first time the angel known as Castiel had bled but they happily pricked and burned their fingers on their righteous man. Father hummed and chuckled over their enthusiasm. The way they lovingly smoothed what counted at their fingers over that soul until it shone. It became a comfort in the newly formed nights when darkness seemed to stretch out endlessly. That righteous man was all theirs and nothing anyone said could change that.

Gabriel had been quiet since Father had put that little bit of Creation into their hands. It worried their siblings. Gabriel was almost never quiet, filling up the space with their voice or being rambunctious enough to make up for the lack of sounds. But now they were quiet- focused. Careful fingers shaped and smoothed the pieces. Cutting themselves on the jagged edges. The cuts formed silvery scars along the tips of their fingers. It stood out starkly against the golden glow of the rest of them. Was it wrong to cherish such things? They kept the soul jagged so that it might protect itself. Such a small thing needed as much as an advantage as it could get. They snapped at their siblings if they came too near, the soul was fragile- a stained glass mirror, they didn’t want to see it shattered by the carelessness of their siblings. Gabriel kept it tucked close, their most prized possession.

Bobby and Crowley met shortly after Bobby’s wife died. Bobby wanted to make a deal to bring her back. Crowley said he couldn’t do it as she was in Heaven’s hands now. But he found Bobby amusing enough to stick around. It wouldn’t be the only time Bobby summoned a crossroads demon but he quickly learned that no matter how he summoned them it would always be Crowley that answered.

The demon wasn't interested in his soul. No, he was more interested in how petty and annoying he could be to the human. It started as little things, let me have this, let me do this, you have to do this now, so on and so such. Really it was only a matter of time before Crowley thought to make unannounced visits. He reveled in the outraged shock. The surprise on Bobby’s face. Oh he’d ruined more than a few quiet nights and amateur hunts. It was cheap entertainment at Bobby’s stake and no amount of traps could keep Crowley away. A game of cat and mouse. Pity that fondness had a way of creeping up on him...

Lower class angels prefer to possess the terminally ill. Single father Jimmy Novak knew his time was running short so when Castiel asked to use his body as a vessel? He just wanted him to look after his little girl. Of course Castiel was put off by this but it was a small price to pay for what he needed the vessel for. At least Claire wasn’t a problem child. (that was until she became a fucking Winchester)

Hunter’s Wills exist. While hunters have to stay largely off the radar and travel constantly many of them know their lives are going to be cut short. Its a risk they take and a reason having children become hunters young is a taboo. While its encouraged to teach your kids how to defend themselves against what's out there it is highly frowned upon to just chuck them out into that world before they can make the decision themselves. From this the Hunter’s Will surfaced. A hunter will write down where or who gets their worldly possessions and/or orphaned children. Most keep a journal to update the will when needed. While it isn’t an actual legal document it is strictly abided by in the hunter community. A hunter’s will is sacred.

That’s all I can crank out for now. If I think of anything else I’ll add it but my brain is tired and I’m officially moving into potato status.

18 notes · View notes

ariadnelives · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 19 -- The Parting Gifts

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

“I just don’t really have any use for a bunch of church junk,” Ariadne said, pulling the lumpy duffel bag out of the safe. “It’s not like I believe in this stuff— weird, it’s lighter than I expected— but it feels wrong to sell it on the black market.”

“We could give it to a museum,” Pilar suggested. “It’ll probably do a lot more to reclaim our legend than attacking the cult, I mean, think of how it looks, the cult stole all those priceless artifacts and hoarded them in a basement for decades until real Ariadne’s Angels liberated them and gave them back to the people?”

“Legally speaking, it’s probably for the best that the museum not be linked to a known criminal syndicate,” Ariadne replied, “but you know how rumors are, I’m sure people will talk.”

“Now,” Pilar said, “let’s look inside and see what we’ve won.” She carefully zipped it open and peered inside, then immediately snapped it closed again.

“What is it?” Ariadne asked, “something good?”

“Nope,” Pilar said, “we are definitely not donating this to a museum.”

“What is— let me see,” Ariadne said, snatching the bag away from her, “oh my god?!”

“What do we do with this?!” Pilar tried to maintain some semblance of calm. She was no stranger to fear, of course, the life of a pirate usually gives one a certain tolerance for danger. Surprise, on the other hand, is something that can’t really be trained away. If you have some reason to expect a surprise, the ensuing response can be avoided, but as Pilar had never quite found herself in this situation, she had no reason to expect the contents of the bag and, reasonably, found herself beginning to panic.

“Go… Go get your sister… Sweettalk too… And a bucket.” Ariadne dry-heaved. “Bucket first, time is a factor on the bucket.”

“Was it scary?” ViLaz asked Deathsbane and Sweettalk, who’d come to visit her with a large tub of graham crackers and cannoli cream.

“Was whuh scary?” Sasha asked, her mouth full of cannoli cream.

“The larceny,” ViLaz replied.

“Well, that’s the fanciest word I’ve ever heard for a Stealy Burgle,” Sweettalk said, but ViLaz didn’t seem to register the joke.

“It was scary seeing Sweettalk get shot,” Sasha admitted.

“You got shot?!” ViLaz asked with a mix of genuine concern and somewhat macabre fascination.

“That was my role in the robbery,” Sweettalk explained. “We didn’t want to hurt anyone for real, but we needed the security team to think we were a real threat, so Sasha here gave me a few doses of her healing serum and we let Spacebreather shoot me.”

Sasha hesitated. “I knew she’d be okay, but it was still scary to see my girlfriend shot, you know?”

ViLaz scooped too much cannoli cream onto a single graham cracker. “It wasn’t scary getting shot?”

“I’d trust Spacebreather with my life, even though she hates me,” Sweettalk explained, and created a small sandwich out of the crackers and cream.

Sasha moved to reassure Sweettalk, “She doesn’t hate you, she—”

“Babe, she despises me.”

“I thought she was unaware of your relationship?” ViLaz asked.

Sweettalk laughed. “Yeah, that’s why she didn’t shoot me for real.”

ViLaz looked somewhat disheartened. “Does she have a problem with your… lifestyle?”

“I mean...” Sweettalk seemed confused by this, “we work for her, so I’m pretty sure she knows we’re criminals.”

“Hey, speaking of,” Sasha asked, “you seem pretty chill with us being criminals.”

“Well, casinos are dens of sin, right?” ViLaz said, “so, it isn’t really bad if you steal from them.”

Sweettalk and Sasha exchanged a glance.

“I have problems with… like maybe half of that,” Sasha said.

“I was sorry to hear about Prescott, though,” ViLaz said, twiddling a graham cracker between her fingers.

Sweettalk chuckled. “Why?”

“I assume his death brings you sadness,” ViLaz explained, “you’ve known him for a long time.”

“I don’t even fully believe he’s dead,” Sasha replied casually, “I mean, we just saw how easy it is to fake a fatal shooting, and Prescott’s nothing if he’s not a slippery bastard.”

“He made my life hell, I’m glad he’s gone,” Sweettalk would have elaborated more on this, but she didn’t get the chance, since at this moment Spacebreather came barrelling into the mess hall.

“Sasha, Sweettalk, you’ve g—” she gagged, collected herself, and continued, “—you’ve gotta come to the mess hall right away.”

“Everything okay?” Sasha asked.

“Oh, no, you’ve eaten. Grab a few buckets. ViLaz, you come too, we’re gonna need your input when we pick apart Prescott’s dossier on the Zealot.”

The girls rushed up the stairs to find Ariadne holding the Jumper in her hand and heaving over a bucket, with an open safe on the table and Prescott’s duffel bag laying open in front of it.

None of them blinked for a moment.

“Well, I guess I was wrong,” Sasha said, “Prescott is definitely dead for real.”

Sasha was right, as they could all see, as they looked into Prescott’s lifeless, glazed-over eyes staring back at them sideways from the inside of the bag. His head had been cleanly severed, but there was still a fair amount of blood coming from the area where a screwdriver had been driven through the side of his skull, firmly pinning a blood-stained note to his remains.

The note read, “YOUR MOVE. XOXOXO NICKS”

The head was quickly moved to the infirmary and placed in a stasis jar, with a cloth over it so nobody had to look at it. Sasha, fearing that someone would be curious and peek under the cloth with no way of guessing what was underneath, decided to stick a note to the cloth reading “SEVERED HEAD - DO NOT TOSS.”

Shockingly, the crew had very little experience dealing with human remains. For the most part, Deathsbane was very good at keeping them all alive and, for the most part, functioning. Most of the actual corpses that had seen the inside of the station were medical cadavers that Sasha had gently scammed into her possession for academic purposes. There was at least one instance where Spacebreather had killed an assailant in the station, but in that instance the body didn’t stay onboard for very long.

However, for the most part, the human remains Sasha had to deal with were mostly things like amputated limbs or fingers that had been lost in tragic but absolutely unavoidable fireworks accidents. It rarely fazed her, since she was skilled enough to regrow most lost limbs and damaged organs. The regenerative serum she invented helped, but there were injuries where they would need assistance from lab-grown transplants or, in very extreme cases like ViLaz, she would enlist Ariadne’s help in crafting cybernetic replacements.

This shook her a little more than any of that, though. She briefly wondered if she’d be able to build a life support system that could sustain Prescott if she could heal his injuries, but she knew the deep wound to his brain would prove too much for her to repair to working condition. The serum would be able to repair the physical damage, with a helping hand from Sasha’s own equipment, but the brain was a unique organ.

Most human tissues and organs, even bones, can heal back the way they were before if they’re configured properly, given enough time. Set a broken bone or stitch up a laceration and leave it for long enough, it will eventually heal. Treat it properly and there won’t even be a noticeable scar. Sasha’s serum just changed that process from a matter of weeks or months to a matter of minutes or even seconds. With a quickly-applied dose of her serum, someone could survive a stab to the heart or exposure to the vacuum of deep space, and walk away feeling nothing more severe than a hangover.

What the serum could not do, however, is restore information lost when extensive damage is done to the human brain. If someone, for instance, sustained damage to the part of their brain that allowed them to create and store memories, if applied carefully, the serum could theoretically repair that damage and allow them to create new memories. It could not, however, restore the memories destroyed when their spouse’s lover leapt at them from behind with an icepick.

If Sasha were to build a life support system, she could potentially use the serum to heal the bullet wound to the brain and restore the processes of life in the head. However, she dismissed this thought quickly. It would have no memories or consciousness, no cognitive abilities whatsoever, and no potential for quality of life. Reviving it would be a waste of time and resources, and more importantly, it would be completely inhumane. There’s really no point, Sasha figured, in cheating death at the expense of life.

Once the head was covered, she hurried back to the War Room just in time to hear Ariadne tell her that she and Pilar would be taking ViLaz back to their quarters to discuss Prescott’s dossier on the Zealot, and that they would brief the rest of the crew after dinner that night.

“Oh,” Ariadne added in a hurry. “You might wanna go keep Sweettalk company, Prescott left another document on the drive and addressed it to her. I don’t know what it says, but I doubt it’s something she’ll want to be alone after reading.”

“Roger,” Sasha said, and filed into the War Room to join Sweettalk.

12 notes · View notes

scripttorture · 7 years ago

Note

I'm currently in the process of writing a sci-fi fanfic, where it follows the life of a homeless person through her teenage years to her early 20's. In the early chapters I intend to include a street gang that her older brother joins for her benefit, and when they both plan to leave Earth for the military in later chapters the gang attempts to force them into staying while one of them are home and the other in town. I guess what I trying to ask you is how do you think the gang would go about it?

That’s a pretty neat question and I think you’ve got a lot of scope withwhat you pick.

Now I am not an expert instreet gangs, so the vast majority of things I’ll be talking about come fromeither international people smuggling groups, police or the armed forces.That’s partly to do with the legal definition of torture: legally torture issomething that’s carried out by government officials while they’re on duty.

Street gang members can be legally criminals and abusers but bydefinition they can not be legally torturers.

I take questions on a lot of things that aren’t legally torture. Butwith something like this I think the distinction is important because whatarmed insurgents and trafficking groups do isn’t necessarily what street gangsdo. And my knowledge base skews more towards armed insurgents than streetgangs.

One of the patterns that come up in the UK is gangs threatening people’sfamilies.

This is particularly prevalent among people smuggling gangs enslavingpeople to grow cannabis. Young people (sometimes children) are smuggled intothe country having been promised a job and a new life in the UK. Theirpassports and identity documents are taken and they’re forced to work longhours in an occupation that means they’re at risk of arrest.

Many of them don’t go topolice or attempt to escape because of the credible physical threat the gangsgive to their families at home.

The fact they’re in a foreign country, with a marked lack of support,community and people who speak the same language also doesn’t help.

Following that pattern there doesn’t need to be any violence against thecharacters- instead the gang members need to show they’re a credible threat.

An easy way to do that is pictures. Having anonymous messages containingphotos of whichever sibling is in the gang’s territory would be reallydisturbing for the other sibling. There’s no obvious crime, nothing for apolice force to really pursue. But there is not only an implicit threat but ‘proof’the threats could be carried out.

Photos of the vulnerable sibling going about their daily routine. Photosof the places they commonly sleep. Photos of the places eat or hang out.Perhaps photos of the sorts of places the gang might commonly dispose ofbodies.

That’s a low-violence route that I think you could easily write asincredibly frightening.

A higher violence route that they still have the potential to escapefrom is- wellsomething I’d write more along the lines of what happened to this man.

It’s an unfortunately common scenario: he went to see his parents inanother country and they tried to take his passport and send him to so called ‘conversiontherapy’ to ‘cure’ his sexuality. (This basic pattern is also often used inforced marriages).

In your story the way I’d approach using that sort of scenario is havingone of the siblings ‘invited’ somewhere by a gang member they personally trustslightly more than the others. Something that appears to be a frivolous socialthing with few people would be perfect. It can be as simple as ‘do you wannahang out in this park and drink a few beers?’

Once the character arrives they find more gang members than theyanticipated and are taken away somewhere enclosed and in the heart of the gang’sterritory.

I’d suggest playing this with threats rather than actual violence. Havethe gang get the captured character to call their sibling. Have them pretend toappease the gang. ‘Oh no we’d never dream of leaving or betraying you. Ofcourse not. This is all a huge misunderstanding and of course my brother/sisteris coming back here soon.’

When the gang is convinced have them either release the captive siblingor have them escape.

Both scenarios are realistic and things your character could reasonablywalk away from (with no injuries that would prevent them joining the militaryafterwards).

From a writing perspective they play out very differently and requiredifferent amounts of space in the plot. A kidnapping is probably going to takeup a lot more narrative space than a series of death threats and consideringwhat works in the larger story is important.

And you can of course vary both of those basic scenarios.

If the pictures seem too impersonal than having the character who staysin the gang territory being stalked and harassed by aggressive gang members demandingthey bring their sibling back is also a reasonable way to write this. Verbalabuse, ransacking or stealing their belongings, verbal threats, destroying orsoiling their possessions or the place they sleep could all work in context asforms of harassment.

So is having a much more overtly violent kidnap attempt. Peoplesmuggling gangs have been known to force victims to phone their families, thenbeaten the victim in an attempt to extort money from the family.

If the gang has enough local clout they might be able to turn ordinarypeople in the town against the remaining sibling, creating an incrediblyhostile atmosphere which again, does not have to be violent. Being sociallyshunned can be incredibly traumatic and affecting. But how possible that is depends on how your gang functions. It’smuch more possible with a Mafia-style organisation with strong links to localcommunities then it is with a biker-gang type organisation.

I’m trying to avoid too much violence in my suggestions: partly becauseyou want the characters to be able to join the military afterwards and partlybecause the gang members presumably want both siblings to be physically healthif they’re working for the gang. If they still think they can bring thesecharacters round to their side then they’re unlikely to be too brutal. At thispoint that would against their aims.

Given that I think variations of the above two scenarios are probablythe best way to go.

If you feel like that potentially downplays the gang’s violent naturethen you could emphasise the reasons why they took these approaches with theseparticular characters. You could also mention much more violent consequencesbeing inflicted on characters the gang had given up on converting. Someone inthe past who tried to ‘get out’ of the life and was murdered or mutilated forinstance. A scare story that the gang can use to show your characters they’re acredible threat and the characters can use as an additional motivation to getaway.

I hope that helps. :)

Disclaimer

#tw torture #tw kidnapping #tw homophobia #gangs #people smuggling #forced labour #coercion #threats #harassment #stalking #duela-quinzel

35 notes · View notes

ertuomamort1981 · 4 years ago

Text

usaa insurance claim number

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare quotes from different companies :insuretips.xyz

usaa insurance claim number

usaa insurance claim number = 1-877-678-4357 In the following states, car insurance claims can be reported anonymously and processed in real-time. The reported date is usually within 24 hours of the estimated time period. Reporting a claim with a security system is not recommended, but it can be done. Car insurance companies generally try to get as much as possible to resolve the claim without any investigation. In some instances, the payout may seem too little, and that’s just not the case. When companies have an investigator looking over any evidence, the claims adjuster may simply ask for some estimate of the damages. A standard auto insurance claim pays out $10,000 — or $1,500 — before the insurer pays the claim. Insurers use this portion of the claim to help settle the claim on the insured’s behalf. Once the repair shop receives the total amount that “has” been paid, the adjuster will decide what to do with the debris that fell and. usaa insurance claim number. My husband has life insurance through his job with the company. My question is does the company have to put his life insurance on the employees for the coverage to pay his funeral? As we’re only 100 miles from my home, was there any way we could get the money we had our entire life. It seems like you have an idea as to why they are making such a big deal about your husband’s insurance, but from some accounts, his insurance premiums are just as high as someone who has a regular policy. For example: Last month I was in a collision with someone on my policy. The claims representative told me she was not in my insurance policy in the accident. She told me I have to file a claim with the insurance company and had told me she didn’t know that. If this is true, the claim representative may be calling my husband every so often and wouldn’t call him to tell him the facts. I have the policy number. usaa insurance claim number How is it based? What is you have to file? How do i choose I How does What is an insurance association. How do I find a I just wanna help or please help How can I get help how can i go to Is it any kind of insurance? Does my wife insure us in my name? That depends on the state you live in. Is there a different insurer or two? In most states, the insurers are owned by the owner Can I get it listed as one of the insurers? Yes Can a male insure I’m 21yrs. or older or have an accident? I am a a small business owner. My parents have been policy holders.

Wife’s Death Results in $10 Million Dollar Judgment Against USAA Insured

Wife’s Death Results in $10 Million Dollar Judgment Against USAA Insured Car Insured, But, In 2013 This is also true if you can be sued by the same car (or auto, is it?) for over 4,700 years of driving and don’t want to drive. But this applies when you have the liability limits and your friends are the third party. No matter, insurance company’s there can’t always be a bad outcome. So if you have to go through these steps, it would definitely be the wrong decision. This is the next step, the final one. First, I’m going to explain why that might not work. And a lot of people still think that that is the next step. Remember, in order to get a vehicle you just need an insurance policy that covers at least liability and no coverage should be possible. I mean, to take the state’s minimum liability of any vehicle. When you take a vehicle out on the.

USAA insurance claim topics covered here:

USAA insurance claim topics covered here: If you are caught by police or charged with driving without insurance, you may have to pay: if you are not able to provide an estimate of damages or medical expenses to those injured in an accident, unless you do not have physical injury coverage. If you are charged for driving without insurance, there is an excess $250 in fees for failure to provide a copy of your statement, to obtain a copy of the judgment, and to file an affidavit to establish liability on behalf of the party who is liable for an accident. An article is a statement in possession of the driver, passengers or the articule of a vehicle. When a police officer catches a driver with no insurance (or no financial responsibility), he is also allowed to photograph the driver with the insurance information requested by the police officer for the police officer(s). In this instance, the officer may provide him with the insurance information directly and via an.

SECRET #5—USAA Lowballs Its Own Insureds on Uninsured Motorists and PIP Claims

SECRET #5—USAA Lowballs Its Own Insureds on Uninsured Motorists and PIP Claims If you don’t believe that the USAA is the best company, you should never settle for the cheapest rate from USAA. The USAA website is a little limited in terms of its services, but it’s still a popular name in the . But if you haven’t heard of… » MORE: USAA car insurance covers you for personal property damage caused in the event of an accident by someone who does not have insurance. However, you do have to be aware of any policies that specify this limit. The coverage is limited, but if you are a legal driver, you should be able to get such a policy. You can choose to carry liability limits that are below the amount of legal coverage you would be required to buy. Here are common insurance limits most drivers should aim for, in the event they are sued for any car accidents they are sued for. USAA s auto insurance discounts USAA offers a few car insurance discounts.

Is Garrison Property and Casualty Insurance Company the same as USAA?

Is Garrison Property and Casualty Insurance Company the same as USAA? What company is best to work with for the money? What is most important to make the job easier? Please, read our blog of the same and others. The best way to start is to take an online course. I am still learning every day and writing so I can better understand the benefits and drawbacks of the job. I will start working for insurance. What can I do to save money, and what do I do with the money. When I am working, I am not in a place to work? What do the things within me and my work mean for my job insurance policy? If I don t have any work, I m not in the exact field. So for any job, I m very limited to insurance. I need more for the life insurance alone. I am doing my part and will not be working, that means I will not get paid. My family will be in another family for five or 10 years when I turn 65. What can I do about insurance? I.

Driver Gets $200K Settlement with USAA (and Another Insurer)

Driver Gets $200K Settlement with USAA (and Another Insurer) New insurance claims go up $11.3% in 2017 New state claims go up $27.3% Lowest rate for any age Unemployed drivers: $1,200 per year, up to age 25 Unaffiliated drivers: $7,400 per year A high schooler: $4,230 per year, up to age 25 A New Mexico resident on Medicaid: $8 a month (or $100 per month) New Mexico residents who are on Medicaid: $4,230 per year, up to age 26 New family member on Medicaid: $5,700 per year, can sign up at any age A New Mexico driver who was rear-ended and was uninsured paid a settlement check of $23,711 for a total of $40,871.48, the annual rate for the year. This sum comes to a total of $88,680, or $86.76 a month — that’.

USAA May Not Be Able to Remove an Uninsured Motorist Insurance Cases To Federal Court

USAA May Not Be Able to Remove an Uninsured Motorist Insurance Cases To Federal Court In Missouri, Drivers Can File Insurance Claims on their Own Auto Insurance Claims. If you have a claim and insurance company files against you, you will have to show it to the Department of Revenue. And you may have to pay court costs and legal fees. If you can t afford the amount it takes to go to court over a claim, bankruptcy may be in your best interest. In addition, if you have too little money you may prefer to look for an insurance company that you can trust. You can check your car claim history by working with an independent agent. If they work with a regional company who can help you compare policies and benefits, they know more about you and the companies they represent. They will offer you products from established insurance companies. They also may shop around, which provides a wide range of policies in one place. If you have a car insurance policy with Missouri car insurance, you can pay high premiums. That means you will likely have to pay higher premiums for the time you insure.

Hit by a Drunk Driver Insured With USAA (Claims and Settlements)

Hit by a Drunk Driver Insured With USAA (Claims and Settlements) We’d assume the customer was at fault and the driver’s policy will cover costs and possible damages. In some cases, they may be required to carry additional . Contact a USAA spokesperson to discuss your rights. A USAA representative will help you determine your specific coverage needs. Do any of the following: • Find an insurance company who’s available on a network to quote for a policy. • Provide your phone number and billing information to an insurance company. • Inform the broker by telephone whether their broker will have the coverage that is appropriate for you and your car. • Report suspicious or reckless driving and address the problem to the insurance company. • Report the incident to their insurance office or the police. • Provide a copy of your arrest warrant. • Provide the police officer with written and serial number information. • Verify insurance coverage with the police. • Make copies of your legal documentation. • Write identification cards for the driver. .

0 notes