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othernicknameisgaslighter · 1 month ago

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The Wisp pt. 1

(Cross posted on tumblr and AO3)

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Masterlist - Next Chapter

Clink, clink, clink

Porcelain joints clinked together as Y/N walked. It was a soft sound, like little china tea cups clinking against each other. She smiled to herself at the smell of wet air from the recent rain, breathing in deeply before exhaling.

As she walked through the streets, some people stared, it wasn’t everyday they’d see such a small girl walking alone in the city. Especially with some of the people living there. Or, maybe it was because of the uncanny look she had.

Clink, clink, clink

Y/N’s skin looked like glass, similar to a porcelain doll. Her eyes had a shiny gleam in them even though it seemed as if they were soulless. Her smile was… Nice. She was smiling as if nothing was wrong in the world! Even though the smile never reached her eyes.

Clink, clink, clink

She had black gloves on that made the handle of her umbrella slightly slippery. The porcelain doll had a long-sleeved, white, ruffle blouse underneath a black suspender jumpsuit. Almost as if Y/N stepped out of a vintage magazine.

Earlier, she found a small crack in one of her hands and her mask underneath her eye hole. Even though she didn’t need to wear a porcelain mask, she preferred to. Her face was ugly.

Clink, clink, clink

That was the reason why she was out (not to fix her face), the cracks troubled her and kept her awake. So, she went to her personal repairwomen and asked her to fix her. Thankfully, Hela did the job well. Hela ended up fixing her mask and hand pretty well.

She repainted the red lipstick and green-blue eyeshadow. Y/N was thankful because she had noticed earlier that week that her paint was chipping off of her mask.

Clink, clin-

She suddenly stopped in front of a TV storefront, which was weird since most of those weren’t even around, and her slight smile turned into a frown as she watched the news.

Moments ago, police reported the death of the most eccentric and reclusive billionaire, Reginald Hargreeves.

Y/N was Number Eight, The Wisp or The Doll. She preferred her original title over her most recent one. It reminded her that she was no longer fully human and sometimes it was better to bury things deep down.

_____________________________________________________

The mansion was designed in a Gothic style with dark, looming stone walls, high-pitched roofs, and ornate detailing. The tall, narrow windows that give it a somewhat eerie appearance.

The building is massive, with multiple stories and wings, making it feel more like an academy or institution than a typical family home. Y/N supposed that was why it was called ‘Umbrella Academy’ and not ‘Umbrella Family’.

Y/N’s hands clinked together as she removed the gloves from her hands and opened the front door hesitantly, as if something or someone was going to jump out at her at any second.

Upon entering, the familiarly large and dramatic foyer, Y/N sighed, nothing had changed throughout the house. The foyer had a sweeping staircase that led to the upper floors. The space was adorned with dark wood paneling, heavy drapes, and antique furnishings.

“Ah, Miss Y/N. I’m glad that you’re doing well.” A familiar voice called out to her. It was a soothing voice, one that calmed almost everyone down. It was nice to hear her fathers ape assistant, Pogo.

Y/N turned and smiled, “Hello, Pogo.” She smiled, her shoes tapped on the ground as she walked up to him, “How are you?”

“I’ve been doing well, thank you Miss Y/N.” Pogo said, “I wasn’t expecting you to come knowing that you were very busy with repairs.”

“The cracks come and go, my family won’t wait for me.” Y/N said.

“As graceful and elegant sounding as ever.” Pogo nodded as the door opened to reveal… Luther.

“Am I… Early?” Luther asked awkwardly, his gaze staying on Y/N for a few more seconds than it did with Pogo.

Y/N’s slight smile became a bit wider, “I suppose you are, Luther.” She said, “How was the moon?”

“It was… The same old moon as always. Sent some stuff to dad, almost ran out of food.” Luther smiled slightly, “I’m gonna go up to dad’s room.”

“Luther,” Y/N said, “Are you doing well?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just that I can see my father's experiments.” Y/N said, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well it’s not gonna change anything.” Luther said, his voice getting defensive.

“I know what that’s like, Luther.” Y/N smiled, tapping her finger on the side of her face, making a clink sound. “It’s good to see you again.” She said as Luther walked up the large wooden staircase.

“... Good to see you too, Y/N.” Luther eventually said.

After a moment of silence, Y/N turned to Pogo, “Pogo, do you know where Mother is?” She asked.

Pogo nodded, “She’s upstairs, looking at the paintings.” He said and Y/N thanked the ape before going into the parlor.

The living areas in the mansion were grand and old-fashioned, with large fireplaces, vintage furniture, and an overall sense of formality. Despite the fanciness, the rooms always felt cold and lacked the warmth of a typical family home.

Of course, this living area wasn’t much different. Y/N walked upstairs to the main landing before seeing her Mother sitting down, looking at one of the paintings with eeriness.

“Hello, Mother.” Y/N said, walking up to her chair with hesitation. Grace snapped her head to the side to see Y/N and smiled.

“Darling, welcome back home.” Grace said and stood up, hugging Y/N tightly.

“Um, everyone’s going to be downstairs. So, if you’d like to greet everyone when they come in, maybe you’ll…” Y/N’s voice trailed off.

“Of course I’ll meet everyone downstairs. Don’t you worry, darling.” Grace said before sitting back downstairs.

Y/N frowned, her Mother was acting weird, but shrugged it off and went to go back downstairs to the parlor. Maybe she’d see Vanya or Klaus first.

As she came back down to the parlor, she sighed to herself as she saw the portrait of Five above the fireplace. She pursed her lips as she remembered the boy. It was such a long time ago when she came here…

_____________________________________________________

“Please, we cannot take care of our daughter.” Y/N’s father pleaded to Reginald. The old man pursed his lips.

“I have no need to have another child in this household. I already have the designated children that I need.” Reginald said sternly, “I cannot help you two. You said you wanted a child, there you have it.”

“She’s different.” Y/N’s mother explained, “She has… She does weird things.”

Reginald, although skeptical, asked the desperate woman to continue. The parents both looked at each other before exhaling slowly.

“She controls things. Whenever she plays with her toys, they move on their own. She moves things around the house, we can’t find anything.” Y/N’s mother explained, “We’ve always wanted a child but… Not this one.”

“And it’s been five years. Surely you’ve had enough time to discard the child.” Reginald said. The parents widened their eyes, shocked by the man’s heartlessness.

“We’re not going to kill a child.”

“I did not mean that. I meant that you could put her in every other orphanage and household.” Reginald crossed his arms, “Why mine?”

“You warned us, we ignored you. We thought-”

“Well, you thought wrong.” Reginald frowned, “Now, get off my-”

“Mama…” A small voice whispered. Reginald snapped his head towards the five year old girl tugging on the woman’s red skirt. The five year old girl had a black suitcase with her. “I wanna go home…”

“This is our daughter.” Y/N’s mom pushed the five year old girl from behind her and in front of Reginald.

Reginald pursed her lips, “What can you do?” He asked. Y/N looked at her parents nervously.

The couple nodded with tight smiles before Y/N turned back and dug through her pocket to reveal a pen. She opened her hand and the pen slowly floated up and started spinning.

Reginald paused before nodding, “Very well.” He said and opened the door behind him. Circe looked at her parents with a confused look.

Y/N’s dad knelt down to the girl’s level, placing his hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to be staying here. It’s a new school, a… Special one for kids like you.” He explained.

Y/N blinked before turning to look at the old man once again, “I don’t wanna go with the scary man.” She whispered.

Y/N’s dad smiled, “You’ll be alright. It’ll be just for a little while.”

Y/N knew it wasn’t going to be for ‘a little while’. She heard their conversation, she wasn’t stupid. The girl knew that they were throwing her away like some doll.

Something in her gut told her that something was wrong, but brushed the feeling off as she saw the grand foyer of the Umbrella Academy Mansion.

“This is where you will be staying.” Reginald placed his hand on the girl's shoulder and guided her up the steps of the foyer.

She looked up and down the halls as Reginald stared at the girl, observing her expressions. “Down the hall to the far left is Number One, Number Three, and Number Seven’s rooms as well as the bathroom” Reginald pointed down the hallway, “These two rooms next to us are Number 4’s room and Number 2’s room.”

He walked down the hallway and the both of them turned to walk up green stairs. “The two rooms up here are Number Five’s and Number Six’s. Your room will be this empty one.”

“Um, sir, where is everyone?” Y/N asked. Reginald turned to look at the girl.

“They are on a mission, Number Eight.” Reginald said. Y/N frowned at the name.

“My name’s Y/N, not-”

“Think of it as a nickname, everyone is assigned these nicknames and everyone will be called these nicknames unless I say so, Number Eight.” Reginald said, walking down the hall and leaving her alone, “Get used to your new home.”

Y/N sighed and opened her room, it was fairly empty with a single window. A plain bed, a small dresser, floor-length mirror, and desk were all that sat in the room. She frowned and dragged her suitcase in.

Y/N decided that this place needed some decorating and opened her suitcase to reveal a small stuffed bear. She placed it on her bed with a slight smile.

_____________________________________________________

“We have a new member of the Umbrella Academy, Number Eight.” Reginald stepped aside to reveal the girl. She breathed in and out slowly, standing up as tall as she could and raising her head slightly.

She wondered who Number One was. The kids in front of her, probably her age, were in a straight line as Reginald walked beside each of them.

“Number One.”

Blonde, probably the leader.

“Number Two.”

Second tallest, impatient looking.

“Number Three.”

Curly haired, probably the prettiest.

“Number Four.”

Third tallest, looks like he’s antsy to move

“Number Five.”

He has a sort of smug looking smirk, probably arrogant

“Number Six.”

Nervous looking, might be the kindest

“Number Seven.”

Quiet.

Y/N pursed her lips, looking at all of them nervously. “And this is Number Eight children.” Reginald said, standing next to the girl.

“What does she do?” Diego asked. Reginald turned to the girl and Y/N shrugged, she wasn’t sure what she could do exactly.

“Today’s agenda is to test exactly what she can do, Number Two.”

_____________________________________________________

Y/N breathed in and out harshly, “I wanna take a break, I’m tired.” She complained.

“Taking a break won’t be possible out in the field, Number Eight!” Reginald barked, “Now, fight.”

The six children were watching through the glass windows, they were intrigued with the new guest. After losing to Number Three, Number Five, and Number Six, Y/N didn’t seem to have much hope left.

Y/N and Number One looked at each other before Number One charged forward. He swung a mighty fist toward Y/N, aiming to end the fight with one powerful blow. But just as his fist was about to connect, Y/N's eyes flashed with a yellow light.

Number One was suddenly pushed back into one of the glass walls at lightning speed, shattering the glass.

Y/N blinked, her eyes going back to e/c as Number One groaned and got up. There was a moment of silence before Reginald spoke.

“That is quite enough, all of you go back to your rooms.” Reginald said. The children awkwardly shuffled past each other and went upstairs, going to their separate rooms. Y/N breathed in harshly, biting her lip to stop tears as she sat on her bed.

She was so tired, she just wanted to go home to her mom. She missed her dad’s warm hugs, their nice meals, and the rest of her stuffed animals.

She clutched onto the small stuffed animal she had brought with her and hugged it tightly, burying her head into her arms. Y/N heard a strange sound, looking up to see Number Five.

She wiped her sudden tears and sat her back against the wall. “What do you want?” She asked, her voice shaking violently.

“How’d you do that?” The boy asked. Y/N buried her head back into her stuffed animal. The boy sighed and sat down next to her on her bed.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it.” Y/N said, her voice muffled.

"Well, maybe you could talk about it with me.” The boy said. Y/N lifted her head to get a good look at him and slightly smiled.

“My mama tells me it’s not good to use it.” She said, her voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“So you can control people?” The boy asked. Y/N shook her head.

“I can control objects... Not people…” Y/N dug into her pocket to reveal the pen from earlier and spun it around with a slight smile. “This and…” She raised her stuffed animal and brought it back down with her hand. The boy smiled slightly as Y/N leaned forward to get a good look of his face. She looked at him before stating, “You have dimples.”

T he boy looked at her with a weird look. “Yeah, so?”

“I think it’s funny.” She said as the boy frowned. “So, if everyone here has a cool power, what can you do?” She asked.

“ Okay, I’ll show you. But only if you’ll help me with something after.” The boy said. Y/N nodded and Number Five held out his hand, she hesitantly took it as the air around them whooshed and she was suddenly in the parlor.

“Woah! Teleportation’s your power?!” Y/N exclaimed, smiling as if it was the coolest thing ever. The boy wasn’t used to someone being so excited about… Him before.

“No, it’s spatial jumping. It’s the ability to instantly move from one location to another without physically occupying the space between.” The boy said.

“Oh! I… Guess that makes sense?” Y/N frowned. The boy snickered before holding her hand and jumping to his room.

“This is my room.” Five smiled, sitting down on his desk chair. Y/N looked around, sitting on his bed.

“ So, what’s the deal with spatial jumping? Like, the whole thing.” Y/N asked. Number Five thought about it before speaking.

“Spatial is the transfer of matter or energy from one point to another without traversing the physical space between them…” Number Five rambled before turning red, “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.”

“Why’d you stop? I wanna know more.” Y/N smiled. Number Five brightened up as he sat down next to the girl, continuing to talk about the scientific theories around it such as quantum tunneling, quantum teleportation, and wormholes.

_____________________________________________________

She missed him. It was hard for her to admit it but she did miss him. Y/N let out a small breath before turning to see her mother was sitting down and looking deeply at the fireplace.

Y/N shrugged off the weirdness of her mother before the wooden door of the mansion opened to reveal… Vanya.

Vanya looked around to see Y/N and smiled nervously, “Hey, Y/N.” Vanya smiled. Y/N walked over with a wave.

“Vanya, it’s nice to see you again.” Y/N said with a genuine smile, not the polite one she gave to Luther or the default one she had masked on her face, but a genuine smile.

Vanya looked hesitant, she wasn’t sure of how her sister would react to her. She thought she’d be angry, or sad. But she felt a bit relieved as she hugged her sister tightly.

#umbrella academy x reader #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #viktor hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves

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ju1cyfru1t · 1 year ago

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the hourglass ⏳ (rise! leo x reader)

prologue

pt.1

rottmnt x reader (Leo centered)

gn reader, platonic???, arguing, leo being stupid 🤞

takes place in the turtles finding mystic metal era 🤭

Today had just not been your day at all. From the moment you woke up, everything was going wrong.

You woke up late because you had stayed up last night to study for a math test, April was sick so you were alone in most of your classes, and you had so much homework to do tonight. You know when you’re having a bad day and all the little things just seem to add up? It was one of those situations.

Now you’re walking home through the busy, noisy New York streets, absolutely exhausted but you knew you weren’t going to get to rest anytime soon.

That’s when it caught your eye in the window of an old, run down antique shop; an hourglass filled with pink sand a golden frame. It had a glow to it, willing you to go into the shop and look at it. There was just something about it…

You picked it up and observed every detail, turning it over. That’s when you saw the small piece of mystic metal wedged into the base. You knew you couldn’t just rip it out or you would damage it. Ugh.

You whipped out your phone, listening to it ring a few times.

“You’ve got Donatello.”

“Hey, Donnie,” you looked around to make sure you were alone except for the small old woman behind the counter but she was deep into a magazine, “listen, I’m at this crusty antique shop and I think I found a piece of mystic metal.”

“Perfect! Great!...What’s the catch?”

“Uh…Well, it’s wedged into the bottom of this hourglass.” You sighed.

“Hourglass?...Hm, just bring it by and I will extract it.”

“What? But I’d have to buy it and it’s…” You searched for a price tag, “Oh my god, it’s 20 dollars!”

Donnie laughed on the other side of the phone, “Don’t even worry about it! I’ll reimburse you…Maybe.”

Oh, the things you do for them. You thought for a second and took a deep breath, “Ok, fine. But you owe me…See you soon.”

The old woman set down her magazine as you placed the hourglass on the counter and digged through your wallet, praying you had enough to buy it.

“Alluring, isn’t it?” She smiled at you with a wink. You had a bad feeling about this.

“Oh, yeah…Haha.” You laughed awkwardly.

You looked very awkward as you carried your newly-owned, oversized hourglass down the sidewalk and you were definitely getting some weird looks. Hey, it’s New York City, right? Surely, they’ve seen weirder things anyway. I mean, you certainly have.

The worst part of visiting your mutant friends is having to crawl down into the sewer and hoping to god no one saw you. But…I guess if it would help them then it’s fine. They definitely owe you though.

You didn’t even bother to knock and just let yourself into their underground lair, which both you and them were used to by now. You looked around, but you didn’t see any of them around. Alright, guess you’ll just head up to Donnie’s lab and see if he’s there. Honestly, you just wanted to get this over with and go home. You loved visiting them, of course, but you were undeniably overwhelmed and not in a good mood at all.

“Whatcha got there?” You jumped and swiftly turned to face Leonardo who had a curious expression.

You sighed in relief, “It’s just you.”

“What is that?” He snatched the hourglass from your hands.

“Hey!” You reached to grab it back, but he moved it out of your reach, “Be careful, Leo. That’s not a toy!”

Leo smirked at you, raising an eyebrow (that he doesn’t have but you know what I mean), “Uh huh, I’m very careful, trust me.” He tossed the hourglass from hand to hand, observing it like you had in the shop.

“I’m serious, Leo, it’s fragile. Just give it back, ok? it’s got a shard of that metal you guys need in it and I need to give it to Donnie.” You groaned in annoyance.

“Come on, lighten up!” Leo scoffed, “What’s got you in such a bad mood?”

“Sorry,” you breathed out, “I just…Had a rough day at school.”

There was silence for a moment before Leo burst out laughing, “Seriously? School? Rough? Yeah, ok.”

“What?” You narrowed you eyes at him, confused. What the hell was he laughing at?

“I’m just saying…What’s so rough about it? You go to school, you learn or whatever, you go home. Seems pretty easy if you ask.” Leo snickered.

Now it was your turn to scoff, “And how would you know, Leon? It’s so much more than that. I mean, it’s so socially draining! All the work at school, and then the homework when you get home. It is hard. I don’t get to just relax all day like you. And put down the damn hourglass before you break it!”

“Woah, woah, woah! Protecting the city don’t just happen on it’s own, you know. I train super hard, I wouldn’t have time for pointless schoolwork. I just don’t see what’s so important about it. You act like school is all that matters to you” Leo’s smug smile faded and he shrugged, still carelessly playing with the hourglass.

“It’s not that easy! I have to care. I mean…God, you couldn’t walk a day in my shoes.”

“Oh, yeah? I’d love to see you walk a mile as a hero.” Leo challenged, smirking.

“If you knew what I go through and how hellishly unfair it is for you to even say that! Put that down!” You grabbed the other handle of the hourglass, trying to yank it away only for Leo to yank right back and leaving you in a tug-of-war.

“Puh-lease! I’d love to be in school all day without a care in the world besides some homework!” Leo’s smile turned into an annoyed, offended look.

“If you only saw the world my way for one day.” You laughed in disbelief at his dismissive, arrogant attitude, “Let go!” You pulled harder at your side of the hourglass, closing your eyes tightly.

A bright pink light filled the room and there was a buzzing sound, but you both were too angry to pay much mind before it faded away.

The hourglass hit the floor, but the glass didn’t shatter. The only part that broke was the small shard of glowing mystic metal, it fell out onto the floor with a small clink.

“Look what you did! I swear you act like such a child!” You groaned, looking back up and seeing…yourself?

“Oh, really, Y/N? I’m a…” Leo looked up and saw…himself?

You both rubbed your eyes and looked back up, blinking a few times, but you were seeing correctly. Whether you believed it or not, you had switched bodies and were staring back at yourselves.

“WHAT THE FU-”

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persevereforahappyending · 6 months ago

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Maybe in Another Life |9|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight Titans Curse Spoilers

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

You and your sisters packed up camp, it had been about a week, and you had travelled all the way back to New York. You talked to Clarisse the night before she left on her scouting mission but hadn’t heard a word from her since. You and the Hunters got information about Luke or one of his lackeys in the area and made your way back to the city but came up with nothing, no trace of Luke, demigods, or monsters in general.

“You’re not coming with us,” Thalia said, as you finished packing up your bag.

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brow.

“We’re close to the city.” You followed her gaze; from the spot you made camp you could see the New York skyline. “We might as well do a supply run.”

You sighed but nodded, it made a sense, for all you knew you’d end up out in the middle of nowhere next. “Where should I meet you?”

Thalia gave you the area they’d most likely be making camp next. It would take you a couple hours to get the supplies you’d need but you shouldn’t have a problem catching up to them by the time they were all settling down for bed. If they made it further or if anything changed their plans in any way Thalia would send a message letting you know. With that you were off, making your way to the city.

It wasn’t a long trek to the city and luckily you blended in, the mist made your pack look like a normal backpack, which many of the commuters were carrying. You had been to the city many times, but you never got over all the lights and amount of people, you only ever came for errands, otherwise you spent most of your time on the outskirts of cities, away from civilization.

You entered a shop that stood out against all the skyscrapers and neon signs. To anyone who couldn’t see through the mist it looked like a normal antique shop but to a demigod or anyone else of your world, you knew what it really was. You approached the counter, smiling at the nymph behind the register.

“How can I help you?” The nymph asked, without looking up from the magazine. You sighed before dropping down a sack of gold drachmas. The nymph glanced at the sack before setting down her magazine and straightening her back. “Ooh a Hunter,” she smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Nectar and ambrosia,” you said, smiling.

“Coming right up.”

You waited as the nymph disappeared into the back to gather what you asked for. Nectar and ambrosia were a rare commodity, but there were a few shops a wandering demigod could get it from if they knew where to look. You had been to this shop in particular many times, almost every trip to the city. You weren’t sure how they got what they did but given they were located in the city that had the door to Olympus you were sure they had connections of some sort. They never failed to have what you needed, whether it be celestial bronze weapons, nectar, ambrosia, or other various potions and items from your world.

You glanced out the window during your waiting, furrowing your brow when you saw a familiar head of hair walking down the street. You got closer, squinting through the window and across the street as best as you could, a small smirk appearing on your face when you confirmed what you thought you saw, Clarisse. She was on a secret mission no one was allowed to know about, you were gathering supplies and needed to get back to your sisters, but there was no reason you couldn’t pop over and say hi. You watched as she turned down an ally next to the hotel across the street.

“Here you are sweetly,” the nymph said, placing a lovely little box of ambrosia and a jar of nectar down on the counter.

You turned your attention back to the nymph, opening the box to look at the ambrosia. The ambrosia was cut into little squares, perfectly placed, and stacked in the box, not leaving an inch of empty space. “Thank you,” you said, offering the nymph a kind smile. You carefully slipped the items into your pack and made your way out the door.

You glanced both ways before darting across the street. You peered down the alley way you saw Clarisse disappear down, seeing her still in the alley, pacing back and forth and staring at a wall. You smirked as you slipped into the alley as well, silently laughing as you watched her feel around the brick wall as if she were looking for something.

“So, this is your super-secret mission,” you said when you were right behind her.

Clarisse whipped around, pointing her spear at your neck. You leaned your head back, looking down at the spear before raising an eyebrow at her. Clarisse sighed, then dropped the spear back at her side. “What are you doing here?” She asked.

“Wow, here I thought you’d be happy to see me,” you fake pouted. She only glared at you. “I was resupplying,” you sighed. “We were back over this way because we got word Luke was around but no sign of him anywhere.” Clarisse’s eyes widened at the mention of Luke. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Do you know something?” You tilted your head, crossing your arms. “Is that what your mission had to do with?”

“The less people that know the better,” she whispered. “We don’t know who to trust.”

“You don’t trust me?” You looked at her like a kicked puppy. You understood logically that they needed to be careful about who they shared information with, but you couldn’t ignore the pang you felt in your chest at the implication of Clarisse not trusting you.

“I do,” she sighed, running a hand down her face. “I can’t believe I’m doing this she mumbled.” You furrowed your brow but before you could question her, she stepped forward. “I’m looking for an entrance to the labyrinth,” she whispered in your ear.

Your eyes widened. “Are you insane?” You stepped back.

“Annabeth says there’s multiple entrances all over the world. She thinks one might be in Camp Half-Blood.”

“Why?” The labyrinth stretched all across the country, if you went in one door there was no guarantee what door you’d come out of, if you came out at all. It made perfect sense for an entrance to be at the camp though.

“We think Luke is trying to use the labyrinth to get around.” You sucked in a breath, which could explain why he disappeared so quickly in some places and now he left no trace. “We think he’s trying to learn how to navigate it so he can sneak into camp.”

You nodded; you were liking Clarisse’s secret mission even less now. If Clarisse happened to find an entrance and entered the labyrinth, there was not telling if or when she’d make it back out. You hadn’t ever been in it, you only heard the stories over the centuries, none of them ended well, people went mad, people ended up lost, or dead. The labyrinth constantly changed and shifted, redirecting you to your demise, time was rumored to move differently down there, five minutes could be five hours or even days on the outside. There were endless passageways and rooms, the majority of them led from one horror to another.

“You think ones here?” You asked, looking up at the side of the hotel, Clarisse had been poking around.

She shrugged. “Don’t know,” she sighed. “Based on Annabeth’s research one is supposed to be in the city, it’s heavily implied to be in a hotel. It just didn’t mention which hotel or where.”

“Did you check inside?” You already started walking around to the front of the hotel.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She ran after you.

“Helping.”

“I don’t need your help.” She continued to follow you through the fancy doors of the hotel. “This is my mission. I’m supposed to do it alone.”

“I’m not here to look over your shoulder,” you sighed, turning around to face her. “Or takeover your mission. I’m just…” you shrugged. “Here, and have some time before I have to head back. If you don’t want me around, I can leave.”

Clarisse looked down at the floor clearly having a serious debate with herself before she looked back up at you. “No,” she mumbled. “If this is the only way to spend time with you, I’m not passing it up.”

You smirked at her. Your smirk quickly turned into a frown when you noticed the concierge looking at you questioningly. “We have to go,” you grabbed Clarisse by the arm and quickly dragged her towards the elevators.

You pressed the button and quickly pulled her into the elevator when it arrived. You were grateful that no one else was in it or had been waiting. The doors closed right as the concierge approached, his mouth opening to question you.

“I know you’ve probably never been to a place like this,” Clarisse took a jab at you. You glared at her but didn’t deny it, it was true you had never been in a hotel before, you just knew of them from all your trips to the city. “But we need a key to use this.”

You look at the various buttons on the side panel, there were over fifteen floors in this building. “Not if we go down,” you said, pressing the button that said ground and had a little ‘associates only’ sticker next to it.

“Why are we going down?”

“Well, the labyrinth is an underground maze.” When the elevator doors opened you peeked your head out making sure the way was clear, then motioned for Clarisse to follow. “So, it makes sense that the entrance would be underground.”

You slowly made your way through the hallway, the two of you pressing yourself up against the wall when you heard someone pushing a cart of some sort. When it sounded like the cart was getting further away you peeked around the corner to see a maid pushing a basket of dirty towels in the opposite direction.

“And how would we know which way to go?” Clarisse asked as the two of you continued to move through the halls.

“The camp is protected, a boundary that doesn’t allow monsters to pass through,” you whispered. “The labyrinth was designed by a god; it radiates magic which monsters can’t help but navigate to.”

“We’re wandering around, hoping to spot a monster, to help point us in the direction of the door?” She raised an eyebrow. You shrugged, giving her a nod, you would admit it wasn’t the best plan in the world. “That’s a terrible plan!” She whisper shouted as if she could read your mind.

You started to roll your eyes as you rounded the corner only to stop dead in your tracks, making Clarisse bump into you. “What’s wrong with you?” she snapped, flicking you a glare. You pointed ahead, she turned to see the maid from earlier was standing in the middle of the hallway, staring daggers at the two of you.

“Sorry,” Clarisse said, forcing a smile. “We got lost, we were looking for the pool?”

The maid continued to stare at the two of you. You slid your foot back, bumping into Clarisse again. “Something isn’t right,” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at the maid.

The next thing you knew the maids neck snapped to the side, then her legs twisted in an inhuman direction, her arms following soon after. You pushed Clarisse back, trying to get her to move. Your eyes widened as the skin began to melt away, steam rolling off the monster as the creature shed its disguise.

“Run!” You shouted. You pushed Clarisse back down the hall, grabbing the nearest cart and pushing it into the path of the monster.

“We can take that thing!” Clarisse shouted, trying to look back and face the monster.

“Not if that stinger hits us!” You glanced back seeing the monster looked like a giant scorpion, its stinger a glowing golden yellow as it was filled with venom. You might have had ambrosia and nectar on you, but it wouldn’t help for a wound from the stinger.

The scorpion quickly crawled over the cart you had shoved in its way. It was close enough that when it stabbed its stinger you had to duck, watching as the stinger got stuck in the wall, causing cracks throughout the concrete. It let out a high pitch squeal in anger as it ripped its stinger out of the wall, along with a few chunks of concrete.

You spun around, quickly whipping out your bow, and shooting an arrow into the monster’s eye. The creature squeezed again, then raised its pincer and snapped the arrow in half, leaving the tip still in its eye. It brought down its stinger towards you, causing you to jump back before you could get another arrow off. With its stinger impaled in the ground now you pushed Clarisse to continue forward.

After running for another moment down the hall you glanced back, seeing the scorpion nowhere in sight. You didn’t have to consider where it could have gone before taking the next turn down another hall. You and Clarisse took the turn at full speed, turning right into the scorpion.

You ducked just as it swung its pincer at you. You saw Clarisse holding up her spear, using it to keep the other pincer from getting her. You drew your bow again, your fingers brushing against your arrows before finding the one you wanted. You quickly notched the arrow and fired. It opened midair, releasing a net that latched around the stinger.

While it released Clarisse’s spear to cut itself free the two of you took off down the hall you had just come from. The two of you continued running, taking turn after turn, all the similar looking hallways starting to blur together. You had just made another turn, once again running into the scorpion. This time as it shot its stinger at you, Clarisse gripped your arm and pulled you into the nearest room. The two of you fell back into the storage closet, the door slamming behind your right as the stinger was impaled into the wood instead of your chest.

You held your breath as you stared at the crack in the door, waiting for the scorpion to mark its next move. When nothing came and you realized it was completely silent outside the door you finally released a shaky breath. You pushed yourself off the ground, holding out your hand to help Clarisse up. You kept your eye on the door, not trusting that the monster was truly gone.

“Where the hell are we?” Clarisse asked.

You turned around, your brow furrowed but your eyes quickly widened at the sight. “What the…” you started, unable to finish your sentence. You weren’t in a storage closet at all, or any room for that matter, you were in a dimly lit hallway. The hallway was all dirt and stone, a couple torches lining the walls were the only thing lighting the tunnel. You narrowed your eyes when you realized it wasn’t just normal fire on the torches but Greek fire.

“Oh gods,” you whispered before turning back around. You ran your hands up and down where the door had been, searching for a handle of some sort but only feeling the cold stone the rest of the hallway was made out of.

“What?” Clarisse asked. “What’s wrong?” She searched your concerned face.

You turned to her, your eyes wide and face pale. “We found the labyrinth.”

Clarisse’s face fell at your words, her eyes widening as she quickly spun around again. You watched the color drain from her face as she realized the situation the two of you were in. You sighed, you and Clarisse were in the labyrinth and the door you entered through had disappeared meaning the only way out was forward through the maze that was always changing, filled with monsters and traps that wanted to kill you at every turn. At least the two of you had each other, you couldn’t imagine having to navigate the maze on your own.

Taglist: @cxcilla @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @danonered

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse x reader #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #maybe in another life

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serenpedac · 2 months ago

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Tulsi

For the prompt "Forget" of the first day of F Hauville Appreciation Week, @happyhauvillebday ^^

Words: ~1500 Rating: Gen Relationship: Female detective/Farah Hauville Warnings: None

A scent brings back memories from Farah's life in the Echo World, memories she thought she had forgotten.

Read on Ao3 here or below.

“Thank you for your help.”

One corner of Jada’s mouth curls in a smile. “Even though I couldn’t tell you anything?”

Gabi shrugs as she gets up from the chair. “No information is also information. It means we can confirm they haven’t tried to make contact here.”

“Wise words. Good luck with tracking those fae down.” Jada accompanies Gabi and Farah to the backdoor when the bell of the antique shop rings. “If you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course, see you later, Jada,” Gabi says.

Farah only gives a subdued smile. She has been unusually quiet this entire visit. At first, Gabi thought it was because she didn’t know Jada and was giving Gabi the lead on one of her first official assignments as an agent, but as the conversation had shifted from the fae rumoured to have arrived in Wayhaven to more generic topics, Farah had remained quiet. And that is nothing like her.

Gabi is about to ask if she’s okay when Farah halts.

Farah’s nostrils flare, her eyes growing wide. She turns to the right, where an opened door provides a glimpse into a dark room.

“Farah? Everything alright?”

Farah doesn’t seem to hear her, walking into the room as if in trance. Neatly labelled jars in various sizes are lines up against the wall, sea salt, chamomile, volcanic ash, but Farah walk past those without giving them so much as a look. Instead, she goes over to some bunches hanging from the ceiling. Herbs, Gabi realises as her eyes adjust to the gloomy room. They must be hanging there to dry. Farah reaches out a hand, nearly touching them.

“You have good taste.” At Jada’s voice, Farah snaps her hand back. A guilt-stricken look crosses her face, but Jada offers her a warm smile from her place in the doorway. “That’s tulsi, it’s one of my favourites.”

Jada’s loose clothes brush Gabi’s bare arm as she passes her to join Farah.

“Would you like—”

“Sorry. I— I have to go.” Farah rushes out, past Gabi and through the hallway. The backdoor falls shut with a loud thud right after.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what is going on,” Gabi says.

Jada gives her a thoughtful look. “There’s nothing to apologise for. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay?” She touches the tulsi that is swaying lightly. “I will keep some on hand just in case.”

She finds Farah down the street, browsing the magazines displayed in front of the general store.

“Did you see this?” She points at a glossy cover of a fashion magazine. “I just know that Nate has something exactly like this in his closet.”

“Ehm, Farah…”

Without looking away from the model on the cover, Farah continues, “Do you think he’ll let me borrow it? It’ll be too large, sure, but I can work with that. Oversized is also a cool look, don’t you agree?”

Gabi places her hand on Farah’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“Sure!” Farah’s smile falters when she meets Gabi’s eyes. “I mean, maybe not really…” Her shoulders drop as she puts the magazine back in the stand. “Wanna walk for a bit?”

Clouds chase across the sky, and Gabi draws her jacket tighter against the wind. The gusts of autumn chill don’t seem to bother Farah, who stares into the middle-distance as they walk in the direction of the forest and the warehouse. Once they reach th edge of the forest and the street turns into an unpaved path, Farah’s shoulders sag and she sighs.

“She reminded me of my mother.” Farah gestures back towards where they’d come from. “Not that my mother was like— I mean, Jada is a different person of course, but the way she spoke and just… You know, the aura she has, calm and wise and, well, you know.”

For a moment, Gabi remains quiet. Farah talking about her mother is a rare occasion, and while a part of her wants to know everything about Farah, everything about her previous life and how she came to be who she is, it’s not hard to see how these memories hurt Farah. And hurting her is the last thing she wants. So, Gabi merely hums and brushes her hand against Farah’s. When Farah doesn’t withdraw, she takes her wind-chilled hand in hers.

It seems to be enough, because Farah moves a little closer, until their shoulders touch, and continues talking. “And then there was the— those herbs.”

“Tulsi.”

“Yes, tulsi.” Farah says the words as if she’s tasting it on her tongue. “We didn’t call it that, but it’s the same, I think. No, I know it’s the same. She used to…” She swallows, her voice growing very quiet as she continues. “She used to make tea with it.”

“Ah.” A look to the side to try to determine what Farah may be thinking shows that she is frowning. Not at Gabi, she doesn’t think so, but at herself or maybe a memory. Gently, Gabi rubs her thumb over the back of Farah’s hand.

“No. No, that’s not it.” She shakes her head. “The thing is that I forgot. She used to have that tea all the time and I forgot what it even smelled like.” Her eyes are brimming with tears. “If I could forget something like that, something she did almost every day, how much more do you think I’ll forget? How much did I already forget?”

A tear rolls down her cheek, followed by another, and something in Gabi’s chest constricts. “Ow, Farah.”

She wraps Farah in a hug, holding her tight. Her body shaking from sobbing, Farah returns the hug, face buried against Gabi’s chest.

Being around Farah it’s so easy to forget that she used to have another life in another world. Sure, there are glimpses here and there—small things she says or slips of tongue—but with how fully and eagerly she throws herself into living life, the fact that she never chose to be here, that she was ripped from her old life, is easily overlooked.

Running her hands up and down Farah’s back, Gabi feels tears burning in her own eyes.

What else did she have to leave behind? How many memories does she have about things and people that no one here will ever entirely understand?

Farah’s neat braids press against Gabi’s cheek. There is so much she doesn’t know and may not understand, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be here for Farah in the here and now.

After some time, Farah’s sobbing subsides and she relaxes into Gabi with a sigh. They stay like that, Farah’s head tucked against Gabi’s neck, her breathing steadying a little more with each inhale and exhale.

Eventually, Farah draws back. Looking at the spot where she’d been leaning against just now, she wrinkles her nose. “Sorry I ruined your jacket, babe.”

Gabi stops the soothing circles she’s been rubbing on Farah’s back to cup Farah’s tear-streaked face. “No ‘sorry’ needed for that. You can ruin my jacket whenever.” She briefly touches her lips to Farah’s forehead. “I’m here for you, Farah.”

Farah sniffles, golden eyes threaded with red and shimmering, but the hint of a smile lifts up the corners of her mouth. “Always, yeah?”

“Always.”

*~*~*~*~*

Some days later they’re sitting in Gabi’s apartment, Gabi leaning back between Farah’s legs, while outside the trees are swaying in the wind and raindrops patter against the window. Her eyes are closed, all her attention on Farah’s fingers running through her hair. With each stroke, she catches a whiff of the floral perfume Farah chose to wear. It’s bright and summery, just like her and just like the summer that is now officially over. Like a memory capsule.

“What’s it, babe?” Farah asks before Gabi even realises she has an idea.

Chewing her lip, she sits up straighter. “There’s this thing we could do, you could do.” She falls quiet. Is this really the right thing to say? What if her idea only makes things worse? Not to mention she’s unsure of how to execute her idea. But Farah gives a questioning hum, fingers carding through Gabi’s hair, waiting for her to continue. “Memories and smells are tied together very closely. A scent can trigger a certain memory, like you experienced. I was thinking you could make a collection of smells that remind you of the Echo world. That way, you can come back to them whenever you want. If you want, that is.”

For a moment, Farah stays silent and stops playing with Gabi’s hair.

Gabi twists around so she can face her, an apology ready on her lips. She should not have been the one to bring this up. It would have been better to wait until Farah was ready and had broached it herself. But something in Farah’s expression makes her stop. Her usually bright eyes are more serious than Gabi has ever seen them, watching her with a wisdom belonging to the years she has lived, rather than the age she looks.

“I think you’re right.” She pushes aside a strand of hair from Gabi’s forehead. “Will you help me?”

Gabi exhales with relief. “Yes, I would love that.”

#happyhauvillebday #the wayhaven chronicles #serenwrites #sorry to start this off with angst #i promise there's a far happier fic waiting for later this week!#i'm a little rusty writing f but i hope this still feels like them

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hoperays-song · 3 months ago

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Named Businesses/Brands in the Sing Franchise: Sing 2

In a recent rewatch of the movies, I tried to find all the named businesses and brands that are in the movies for world building sake (minus bands and entertainment acts cause thats a different list). So here is, in semi chronological order, all the ones that appear in the second movie! There should be minimal overlap between the lists as I only included old ones if we learned new info. Anyways, I'll try to finish the shorts soon!

-------

New Moon Theatre - The new rebranding of the old Moon Theatre, including a name change!

Dusty’s - I did mention it last time but the color scheme has now changed from orange to green.

Sun’s Up! FM - A radio station seen on a billboard when Suki is in taxi. Also seen advertising on Redshore’s main strip.

Drama Club - An organization advertising on the street the taxi drives down.

Canal Promenade - The riverwalk and canal area that Buster falls into.

Antiques - A business along the Canal Promenade.

Laundry Service - A business along the Canal Promenade. Funnily enough, it is also seen later advertising in Vacation Newspaper.

Gophers & Associates - A law or real estate group advertising along the Canal Promenade.

Tanning Lotion - A product advertising along the Canal Promenade. Also seen advertising on Redshore’s main strip.

Lounge - An establishment along the Canal Promenade.

Bee Rich - The magazine Eddie was featured on on Buster’s coffee table. I'm not kidding, that's the name.

Rick’s Club - The club Ash performed at.

Pop Soda - Also has returned but now we know it has a lime flavour! That’s my second favourite soda flavor so it gets a shoutout.

Stage Left - A brand of storage for stage props and band equipment we see at Rick’s. We later see it at Crystal Theatre.

Safe Travels LTD - A travel company seen advertising behind the Canal Promenade and the Bus Station. It is then seen throughout Redshore.

Redshore City Bus - A bus line that seems to run from Calatonia to Redshore, though it is likely to have lines to other major cities nearby.

Critter Deli - A deli in front of the Bus Station.

Ginny’s Chips - A type of chips shaped like smiley faces.

Chips Potato - A type of chips in Mrs. Crawly’s supply box.

Babilonia - A hotel/casino on Redshore’s main strip.

Catty’s Bar - A bar on Redshore’s main strip.

Zeus - A hotel/casino on Redshore’s main strip.

PawJack - A hotel/casino on the Redshore strip, it has several advertising billboards.

Raincow - A hotel/casino on the Redshore strip, it has several advertising billboards.

Atlas - A hotel/casino on the Redshore strip, it has several advertising billboards.

Sand-Witches - A sandwich chain advertising on the Raincow billboards.

FireRock - A hotel/casino on the Redshore strip, it has several advertising billboards.

Soda - A drink that has a new lime hibiscus flavour that was advertising on Raincow’s billboard.

Eclips Gagaming - A business on the Crystal Square bus stop, seemingly an arcade of sorts.

O4A Fashion - A fashion brand advertising on a billboard next to a Loopee sign.

Karaoke Party Club - A business on the Crystal Square bus stop.

Money Exchange - A business on the Crystal Square bus stop.

Dony’s - A business on the Crystal Square bus stop seemingly associated with the Atlas casino/hotel.

KeyLight - A business on the Crystal Square bus stop seemingly associated with with the Atlas casino/hotel.

PNJ Agency - Another building behind Crystal Tower.

Crystal Entertainment - The entertainment company owned by Jimmy Crystal.

Crystal Tower - The seemingly main offices of Crystal Entertainment.

Mist - A cleaning product seen in the supply closet the troupe hides in.

bog - Another building behind Crystal Tower.

Hot News - A news station heavily focusing on gossip and celebrity culture owned by Crystal Entertainment.

Crystal Tower Hotel - A luxury hotel heavily featuring an indoor water park along with several restaurants and stores that is owned by Crystal Entertainment.

Ice Cream Paradise - An ice cream store in Crystal Hotel’s main lobby.

Donuts - A donuts and pastry shop inside Crystal Hotel’s main lobby.

Cherry Blossom - An establishment inside Crystal Hotel’s main lobby.

Tea Salon - Seemingly a tea parlor and spa in Crystal Hotel’s main lobby.

Crystal Tower Theatre - The theatre that is within Crystal Tower Hotel. It has a minimum of six stages. Out of this world was located on said sixth stage.

Lift-Bub - A construction equipment brand used by Crystal Theatre.

Redshore News - A newspaper used during the hunt for Clay Calloway.

Rock News - A newspaper used during the hunt for Clay Calloway.

Facilisi - A fashion magazine displayed in the costume and design studio.

Scene - A fashion magazine displayed in the costume and design studio.

Cars - A newspaper the tech crew frog is reading during rehearsal that is entirely about cars.

Vacation - A newspaper the tech crew frog is reading during rehearsal that is entirely about vacations and only costs a dollar a year to get. Guys, this dude is like constantly reading these. I’m starting to think he doesn’t like his job.

Sylvia’s Bakery - A cake and coffee shop advertising in Vacation Newspaper.

Air Sun One - A airline advertising in Vacation Newspaper

Marock - A music store near the Crystal Hotel.

Eclips - A hotel/casino near the Crystal Hotel.

Newshore - A hotel/casino near the Crystal Hotel.

TV underdog - A TV studio near the Crystal Hotel.

Royalty Rental Cars - The rental place Mrs. Crawly got the red car from that specializes in luxury vehicles.

Loopee - The shop where Johnny buys his new skateboard, though we also see it advertise on the main strip as well.

StarTV Channel - A tv channel seemingly about celebrities that is advertising in the square where Nooshy is performing.

Digital Seeds - A company/brand that is advertising in the square where Nooshy is performing.

Canyon Cafe - The cafe that Johnny and Nooshy got to to discuss the training contract. It has a vintage western style.

Lunch Paris - A brand on one of Porsha’s shopping bags.

Alfonso’s Ice Cream - Alfonso’s ice cream truck that he has seemingly been running since he was a kid, which is super cool cause I knew a kid to do the same thing.

Raadio - The brand of speaker that Nooshy has.

Fruity Juicy - The food truck behind Alfonso’s that serves smoothies.

Sweet Jazz Cafe - A cafe near Crystal Hotel.

Community Food Service - The organization that the gang are working with during their parole.

Lantani Car Rental - A rental spot right across from the garage.

WOAW - A brand that Porsha has a shopping bag for in her bedroom.

Flowers - An establishment along the road Jimmy is driven down to get to the theatre.

Orion - An establishment along the road Jimmy is driven down to get to the theatre.

Deckard Inc - An establishment along the road Jimmy is driven down to get to the theatre.

Beckaro’n Hotel - An establishment along the road Jimmy is driven down to get to the theatre.

Xendary - An establishment along the road Jimmy is driven down to get to the theatre.

Boom Vinyl Records - A records store right behind the Crystal Square bus stop.

Tattoo Shop - An establishment advertising on a billboard seen along Redshore’s main strip.

XEND - An establishment seen along Redshore’s main strip.

The Majestic Palace Theatre - Apparently a famous theatre and hotel combo, commonly shortened to ‘The Majestic’.

The Majestic Palace - The hotel side of the Majestic Palace Theatre.

#sing 2 #sing 2021 #whoever designed redshore has a vengeance against my eyesight #making everything glow makes it so blurry #anyways! marcus 100% has that Cars newspaper #lets be so honest here #also whoever named some of this stuff #you and i need to have a talk #cause its either just what it is or not a real world like 96% of the time

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labellenouvelle · 2 years ago

Photo

VICTORIAN PERFUME BOX

Masterfully brass inlaid Victorian mid 1800s wooden perfume box with stunning hand painted back mirror and reads “ MRS PEARL HAY JAHANS “ With five crystal containers and a sun catcher ball. If you believe in bad luck and broken mirrors this is not for you.

Item No. E5671

Dimensions: 5.25″ x 4.25 x 4″ high ( closed )

List Price: $ 750

504.581.3733 / t

[email protected] / e

#antiques #antique boxes #perfume #perfume boxes #brass inlaid #boulle #victorian box #victorian mirror #broken mirror #victorian #nola #new orleans #magazine street antiques #curiosities #oddities #rare #no bad luck

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mangoshorthand · 10 months ago

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Arrow of Time: Chapter 4 [Five Hargreeves/ F Reader]

(Hard Feelings Part 5)

SUMMARY: When the mother of all teenage tantrums causes time itself to fracture, Five has to travel back to 1831 to repair the damage. But will he be able to cope with what he finds there?

On to Chapter 5 >> << Back to Chapter 3

Five makes plans to rescue you, but it's been far longer for you than for him.

Chapter 4: At Home With Reginald Hargreeves

Five chose a Glock 19 and filled his jacket pockets with as many spare pre-loaded magazines as he could carry. At 33 rounds each, he prepared to leave sitting on a respectable level of firepower; he just hoped he wouldn’t need it .With any luck, he thought, he’d arrive in something like the early 2000s and she’d be there waiting for him. He hoped for the best but prepared for the worst.

The heavy coat was a just-in-case choice. He knew from bitter experience: a decent coat was worth its weight in gold if you were stuck in some wasteland away from people. On the off-chance that Five wouldn’t be stuck in some wasteland away from people, some of Reginald’s gold antiques could be easily sold to help him get by. While Five was in the armory, Diego had searched him out a spyglass, what looked like a snuff-box and a pocket watch, all in gold or gold and enamel.

“That should keep you going, hermano,” he said, giving Five’s shoulder a squeeze. Apparently, he’d chosen to forget Five’s meanness earlier. Despite Five’s favourite taunt, Diego wasn’t dumb: just then, he could see past his brother’s bluster of confident action to the just-veiled panic within.

“You’ll find her.” he said, reassuringly, “she’ll probably be standing right on a street corner in 1970 or somewhere yelling about how Nixon’s a fascist.”

Five had cracked a smile at this before looking down again at his shoes.

“Diego…I don’t know for sure what’s going to happen. And…”, he’d sighed fitfully, indecisively, “what the hell am I doing? If I go, she could be losing both parents.”

Diego squeezed the hand still on his shoulder.

“If you don’t go, she could die. We all could. You know it, Five.”

Green eyes met brown as Five looked up.

“If we don’t come back, then-” he couldn’t finish the request, voice squalling as he choked on the words.

Diego shook his head, laughing softly at the fact Five thought he even had to ask.

“Like she’s our own. Tu hija es mi hija .”

Five nodded, some of his worry removed and, in a move as rare as it was heartfelt, hugged Diego. They broke apart after much throat-clearing and back-slapping.

“Come on, Number Two,” Five said then, throwing off gravity with as much irony as he could muster.

Back in the study, Lila was trying her best to extort a smile from Aoife- to keep her relaxed despite Uncle Luther’s grave expression.

“Honestly, sweetie, that’s got to be the most epic teenage meltdown in history. Whacking your Mum through a rip in time? That’s genius : that’s the stuff of teenage dreams. I just wish I’d thought of it when I was your age.”

As Five and Diego walked in, her father dressed to leave, Aoife began to leak from the eyes again.

The others tactfully averted their eyes as Five beckoned her to him for one final hug, giving them a little privacy .Aoife whispered unintelligible apologies and Five loving reassurance. Though it was mostly in Italian, the tenderness in Five’s voice was enough to let them know that this was for his daughter’s ears alone.

Five tried to put as much as he could into that hug: years of love, guidance and comfort that he might now never be able to give her.

“ Ti voglio bene. Tua madre ti ama.”

“Dad, I’m sorry!”

“Stai sempre al sicuro, sappi che ti amiamo e comportati bene. Sono orgoglioso e non smetterò mai di esserlo, ok?”

He held her tight for a few more precious moments before letting her go and stepping backwards. He was nervous or, more accurately, terrified. He hadn’t wanted to suggest that Aoife may not be able to replicate what she did; he didn’t want to plant even a shred of doubt in her mind. He knew it was entirely possible that she wouldn’t be able to send him after his wife but he had to go on pretending: for himself as well as for their daughter.

“Go on, cara,” he said, mustering a grin as if this was just a game of soccer and she was preparing to take a penalty against him, “send me wherever you sent Mom. Just do exactly the same thing.”

“Okay.”

She took a couple of deep breaths and shook out her limbs, bracing herself against the floor.

“That’s my girl.”

She rubbed her hands together and he felt her power up. This was a good start.

“Come on now,” he encouraged, buoyed himself, “just a big push and we’ll be back before you know it.”

She nodded, fervently, eyes still sparkling with tears. Did she believe him or was she nodding with the force of how much she wanted it to be true? She closed her eyes and sprang at him.

He breached the film-like seal easily. She’d done it: he spiralled into senseless static storm. He fell (or maybe falls?) through time, screwing up his eyes against the turmoil.

And he lands, amazingly, on his feet. His knees buckle only slightly. Straightening his back, he looks over his shoulder at the tear, watching it disappear in a sag-like collapse. No problem: it’s still there, only invisible.

He hurries out of the alleyway, brain much cooler than he’d imagined it would be, and scans the crowded street for a glimpse of his wife. Nothing. A setback, but only a slight one. He calls her name experimentally. Nothing but a few haughty looks from passers-by. Okay: reconnaissance time.

It’s old-timey times, that much is clear. He doesn’t know much about fashion but if that woman’s hat is anything to go by, it’s certainly pre-20th century. Carriages on the road: definitely 19th century. There’s a chill in the air: so winter, maybe early spring? He’d be thankful for the warm coat were it not attracting so many stares. So where is he?

He strolls into the street, still scanning the pedestrians for a glimpse of your face. The accents of the passers-by certainly sound American and this is clearly a city, so he decides to work on the assumption that he’s traveled further through time than he has space. Those accents weren’t precisely what he’d expect from local New Yorkers, but he knows enough about linguistic change to know that accents shift over centuries. If these people sound a little more Irish or English or Italian or whatever, it’s to be expected.

He takes off the coat and drapes it over his arm. In exposing his suit, he hopes to look slightly less out of place than he does in the coat with its obviously modern fabrics. At least a suit will be a recognizable garment to these people, even if he’s wearing one that looks completely bizarre to them.

Though Five doesn’t know it, his next move mirrors yours when you arrived here, although he has less care for being polite. Across the street, a man slightly more down-at-heel than the relatively affluent people around him carries a newspaper under his arm. Five blinks across to him, appearing directly in his eyeline and causing him and several others to call out in shock.

“Is that today’s newspaper?” Five says, abruptly. He’s unwilling to tread softly: he wants to find you and get the hell out of here.

The man nods and Five holds out his hand expectantly. He thrusts it towards him and hurries away. Five knows he and the others will already be trying to rationalize what he saw: of course that strangely dressed man didn’t appear out of nowhere, he just stepped out from behind that carriage extremely quickly.

Five shakes out the front page. It’s a copy of the New-York Evening Post, dated March 6th 1831. That answers two questions: yes, he is in the nineteenth century and yes, he is still in New York. But none of this answers the more important question of where the hell his wife is.

Stuffing the newspaper into his back pocket, he blinks back to the alleyway, checking the walls for the hope of some sign: some calling card you might have left. Nothing.

Hell, is he in the right place? Did Aoife somehow send him somewhere else? He didn’t think it was possible but he would have expected to have seen something by now if you were here. You knew how things went down in Dallas: you knew how he’d had to find his siblings like a trail of more-or-less idiotic breadcrumbs. You’d leave him some way of finding you again, he knew it.

Tracking people down was never a huge part of his skill-set, either when Dad was training them or when working for the Commission. Indeed, the job that had made his name in the Commission, (Paris: 1938) had been notable because he’d had to improvise after being unable to track the target down in time. Nevertheless, he’d had enough experience with it to know how to begin in a situation like this.

He walks back to the alley where he arrived and puts himself squarely in your shoes. Knowing you almost as well as he knows himself by now, he’s at an advantage: it’s time to reconstruct your first moments here.

You were a first time time-traveler without the aid of a briefcase and his supportive arm…you’d be disorientated. You’d have fallen onto the cobbles. He crouches down, trying to get to the level you’d be at. You’d be scared, obviously. He looks into the sky behind him, where the portal would have just disappeared: you’d be looking for help, looking for him… but clearly he wasn’t there.

Still immersed in your headspace, Five looks around into the street. You’d probably panic, maybe run into the street and cause a stir. People would stare at you like they’d stared at him…except you were in your pajamas and robe: braless and exposed…you probably wouldn’t get much help from people on the street. They’d think you were mad.

His stomach lurches at this. If there’s one thing he knows about the 1830s, it’s that mentally-ill people were not treated well. So that puts asylums firmly on his list, unless he can find a better lead. Shit, a woman on her own in 1831?

The realization makes him pause, blood running cold; if you’re here, then you’re probably in serious danger. He needs to find you, and quickly. He doesn’t want to think about what might happen if you’re here alone for even a few days. He bats away the thoughts for now and returns to his process.

Vulnerable, unsure where (or when), you were and attracting stares from people dressed like a period drama. He crosses his arms over his chest as you would likely have done, to hide prominent nipples. Inside…you’d want to go inside and get off the street.

He hurries into all the establishments on the street: he blinks from church to pawnbroker and bookstore to butcher: neither the preacher nor the store’s clerks can recall a woman of your description.

In the pawnbroker, he makes his first mistake. He’s so distracted by first enquiring after you and then selling the antique spyglass that he doesn’t notice something in the window: something that could lead him to you much more quickly. As it is, he walks straight past that item, folding the two hundred and ten dollars he got for the spyglass and placing the notes in his jacket pocket with two of the Glok’s spare clips.

If Five hadn’t been concerned with concealing the ammunition, he might have caught the sparkle of rubies and spotted your engagement ring in the window for sale.

He’d initially overlooked the Milliner’s shop right beside the alley entrance. When he blinks inside unexpectedly, the two women comparing the shade of ribbon on two bonnets give little screams of surprise.

Ignoring them, Five focuses his attention purely on the shop’s startled proprietor:

“Did a woman come in here? She’d be dressed strangely. In a pair of pajamas and a robe?”

“Pajamas?” said the clerk, clearly not understanding the word.

Five tries to keep his frustration under the surface, “Like a cotton shirt and pants? With a floral pattern and a white robe on top? Probably panicking.”

There’s a spark of something like recognition in her eyes. Her disposition towards him, (already chilly), seems to cool even further on learning of his association with her.

“Yes sir, though it was a long time since.”

“How long?”

“About a year now, I’d say.”

A year? Five rubs a hand down his face. A year? While he collects himself, the clerk looks him up and down.

“You wouldn’t be her husband, would you?”

His eyes snapped back to hers, heart leaping,

“Yes. What did she say?”

“As I say, it was a long while ago now and I’m afraid I shooed her out right quick. I can’t say I can remember all she said.”

Five leans threateningly over the counter.

“Well, think.”

The shop’s customers behind him whisper among themselves. He ignores them, eyes boring into the clerk’s. She stammers slightly as she responds,

“I didn’t set much store by it. She seemed mad to me, I’m sorry to say. She was raving about being separated from her husband.”

Five tries extremely hard not to snap, “She was separated from her husband. What else?”

She quails under his look, backing up towards the door to the back of the store.

“S-she said to tell you where she was staying if you came enquiring for her.”

He raises his eyebrows expectantly. Why this woman can’t just get to the point , he has no idea.

“Yes, and where was she staying?”

“At the tavern,” the clerk said, as if this was evidence in itself of his wife’s ill-repute. “The Bull’s Head. It’s a block away and it’s got one or two rooms overhead.”

As the church clock strikes four, Five starts to lose his cool; he found the Bull’s Head and the owner had remembered a woman matching your description stayed a few nights until she could no longer pay and then vanished without a trace. He’d pressed the guy as much as possible, but that’s all he seems to know. Combing the immediate area had also yielded nothing. He has no leads: nothing, zilch.

…and after all the time he spent packing ammunition, he forgot his pills. No Zoloft or Prozac in this time period. He’ll need to go cold turkey.

He’s spent one of his dollars on a night’s room and board on the understanding that he may be staying longer. He’d asked specifically for the room you hired: he doubted it would help, but it makes him feel closer to you somehow. The bed is saggy, the mattress filled with some kind of husk and the thin feather-filled bolster on top does little to compensate. Sure, the room isn’t exactly the Ritz, but Five’s had worse accommodations in his time. He’s spent most of his life without plumbing; at one time, he’d have thought pissing into a chamber pot the height of luxury, and the latrine in the yard out back meant that he at least didn’t have to bury his shit.

He was used to slumming it, but you weren’t. In your fifteen years together, Five had never known you to be anything other than prissy about your bathroom habits. The reflection made him feel a strange squirm of amusement and pity. How you’d cope in this environment, he had no idea…but you would have adapted; you’d have had to.

Now, he drums his fingers erratically on the bar, drinking beer that tastes like warm piss. He shifts uncomfortably, realizing that he’s sitting on the newspaper still in his back pocket. He’s exhausted all his options for today: it can’t hurt to scour the news for some sort of clue.

He’s surprised by how much of the paper is taken up by advertisements. The entire front page is full of bullshit like: ‘Doctor John Ashton’s most efficacious elixir for relief from ladies monthly courses’ and how ‘Miss S. Campbell is pleased to announce her opening of a store for the wholesale and retail of fine silks and muslins’ but Five scours through them all nevertheless, hopeful for anything, anything at all.

And then, when he gets to the ‘society’ page, his prayers are answered and his worst fears confirmed in one fell swoop:

…and after all the time he spent packing ammunition, he forgot his pills. No Zoloft or Prozac in this time period. He’ll need to go cold turkey.

And then, when he gets to the ‘society’ page, his prayers are answered and his worst fears confirmed in one fell swoop:

AT HOME WITH SIR REGINALD HARGREEVES Newcomer to the Manhattan set, Sir Reginald Hargreeves, will be entertaining to a select group of Ladies and Gentlemen on March 9 at his home in LeRoy Place. Though one of the latest of an increasing number of British arriviste, Sir Reginald has made quite the impact on Manhattan society, and is already acquainted with the finest people. The evening will be devoted to music, dancing and social chat and promises to be a most fashionable occasion...

It makes him double-take. He can practically feel the blood draining from his face and into his extremities. Dad? Here? Throwing a party!? It just seems too much of a coincidence to not be significant. And how? How old was he? He knew he’d been around in the 20s, but to be here nearly a century earlier?

He knows time’s in a fragile state right now, and if there’s one place he shouldn't go, then it’s that party, (the last thing he needs is to kick off another Sparrow Academy scenario), but he also can’t not go to this party. His Dad and his wife, appearing in a timeframe where neither of them had any business being? This wasn’t a coincidence: it simply couldn’t be.

…but he couldn’t just burst in and scream: ‘Hey Dad, where’s my wife and what are you doing here?’ It was essential to travel under Hargreeves’ radar and if he was going to do that, he had to be disciplined. No blinking, no yelling, nothing that could make him stick out. He hoped this ‘select group of ladies and gentlemen’ wasn’t too small so he had half a chance of blending in.

And if he were even to have a quarter of a chance of blending in, he needs to look the part.

Then, Number Five makes his second mistake: He tears the society page out of the newspaper, folds it and hurries to the bar to ask for the nearest tailors or gentleman’s outfitters. When he hurries out of the door, he leaves the rest of the newspaper on the table. If he'd kept reading to the personals section, he would have seen something even more useful than the piece about Reginald.

NUMBER FIVE - If a certain gentleman wishes to correspond with an old acquaintance, then he might apply to the editor of this newspaper.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88, @nevillescomslut (sorry for double tag Nev this is just to aid with my creation of the next post!)

On to Chapter 5 >> Masterpost

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mikelogan · 5 months ago

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maybe i'll do them in the order of the results for funsies

synopses below the cut:

i am legend

Robert Neville is the last living man on Earth...but he is not alone. Every other man, woman, and child on Earth has become a vampire, and they are all hungry for Neville's blood. By day, he is the hunter, stalking the sleeping undead through the abandoned ruins of civilization. By night, he barricades himself in his home and prays for dawn. How long can one man survive in a world of vampires?

the black phone

Jack Finney is thirteen, alone, and in desperate trouble. For two years now, someone has been stalking the boys of Galesberg, stealing them away, never to be seen again. And now, Finney finds himself in danger of joining them: locked in a psychopath's basement, a place stained with the blood of half a dozen murdered children. With him in his subterranean cell is an antique phone, long since disconnected . . . but it rings at night anyway, with calls from the killer's previous victims. And they are dead set on making sure that what happened to them doesn't happen to Finney.

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo

In this entrancing novel "that speaks to the Marilyn Monroe and Elizabeth Taylor in us all" (Kirkus Reviews), a legendary film actress reflects on her relentless rise to the top and the risks she took, the loves she lost, and the long-held secrets the public could never imagine. Aging and reclusive Hollywood movie icon Evelyn Hugo is finally ready to tell the truth about her glamorous and scandalous life. But when she chooses unknown magazine reporter Monique Grant for the job, no one is more astounded than Monique herself. Why her? Why now? Monique is not exactly on top of the world. Her husband has left her, and her professional life is going nowhere. Regardless of why Evelyn has selected her to write her biography, Monique is determined to use this opportunity to jumpstart her career. Summoned to Evelyn's luxurious apartment, Monique listens in fascination as the actress tells her story. From making her way to Los Angeles in the 1950s to her decision to leave show business in the '80s, and, of course, the seven husbands along the way, Evelyn unspools a tale of ruthless ambition, unexpected friendship, and a great forbidden love. Monique begins to feel a very real connection to the legendary star, but as Evelyn's story near its conclusion, it becomes clear that her life intersects with Monique's own in tragic and irreversible ways.

and then i woke up

In a world reeling from an unusual plague, monsters lurk in the streets while terrified survivors arm themselves and roam the countryside in packs. Or perhaps something very different is happening. When a disease affects how reality is perceived, it’s hard to be certain of anything… Spence is one of the “cured” living at the Ironside rehabilitation facility. Haunted by guilt, he refuses to face the changed world until a new inmate challenges him to help her find her old crew. But if he can’t tell the truth from the lies, how will he know if he has earned the redemption he dreams of? How will he know he hasn’t just made things worse?

exit west

In a country teetering on the brink of civil war, two young people meet--sensual, fiercely independent Nadia and gentle, restrained Saeed. They embark on a furtive love affair, and are soon cloistered in a premature intimacy by the unrest roiling their city. When it explodes, turning familiar streets into a patchwork of checkpoints and bomb blasts, they begin to hear whispers about doors--doors that can whisk people far away, if perilously and for a price. As the violence escalates, Nadia and Saeed decide that they no longer have a choice. Leaving their homeland and their old lives behind, they find a door and step through. . . . Exit West follows these remarkable characters as they emerge into an alien and uncertain future, struggling to hold on to each other, to their past, to the very sense of who they are. Profoundly intimate and powerfully inventive, it tells an unforgettable story of love, loyalty, and courage that is both completely of our time and for all time.

a certain hunger

Food critic Dorothy Daniels loves what she does. Discerning, meticulous, and very, very smart, Dorothy's clear mastery of the culinary arts make it likely that she could, on any given night, whip up a more inspired dish than any one of the chefs she writes about. Dorothy loves sex as much as she loves food, and while she has struggled to find a long-term partner that can keep up with her, she makes the best of her single life, frequently traveling from Manhattan to Italy for a taste of both. But there is something within Dorothy that's different from everyone else, and having suppressed it long enough, she starts to embrace what makes Dorothy uniquely, terrifyingly herself. Recounting her life from a seemingly idyllic farm-to-table childhood, the heights of her career, to the moment she plunges an ice pick into a man's neck on Fire Island, Dorothy Daniels show us what happens when a woman finally embraces her superiority.

just for the summer

Justin has a curse, and thanks to a Reddit thread, it's now all over the internet. Every woman he dates goes on to find their soul mate the second they break up. When a woman slides into his DMs with the same problem, they come up with a plan: They'll date each other and break up. Their curses will cancel each other’s out, and they’ll both go on to find the love of their lives. It’s a bonkers idea… and it just might work. Emma hadn't planned that her next assignment as a traveling nurse would be in Minnesota, but she and her best friend agree that dating Justin is too good of an opportunity to pass up, especially when they get to rent an adorable cottage on a private island on Lake Minnetonka. It's supposed to be a quick fling, just for the summer. But when Emma's toxic mother shows up and Justin has to assume guardianship of his three siblings, they're suddenly navigating a lot more than they expected–including catching real feelings for each other. What if this time Fate has actually brought the perfect pair together?

you like it darker

“You like it darker? Fine, so do I,” writes Stephen King in the afterword to this magnificent new collection of twelve stories that delve into the darker part of life—both metaphorical and literal. King has, for half a century, been a master of the form, and these stories, about fate, mortality, luck, and the folds in reality where anything can happen, are as rich and riveting as his novels, both weighty in theme and a huge pleasure to read. King writes to feel “the exhilaration of leaving ordinary day-to-day life behind,” and in You Like It Darker, readers will feel that exhilaration too, again and again. “Two Talented Bastids” explores the long-hidden secret of how the eponymous gentlemen got their skills. In “Danny Coughlin’s Bad Dream,” a brief and unprecedented psychic flash upends dozens of lives, Danny’s most catastrophically. In “Rattlesnakes,” a sequel to Cujo, a grieving widower travels to Florida for respite and instead receives an unexpected inheritance—with major strings attached. In “The Dreamers,” a taciturn Vietnam vet answers a job ad and learns that there are some corners of the universe best left unexplored. “The Answer Man” asks if prescience is good luck or bad and reminds us that a life marked by unbearable tragedy can still be meaningful.

a death in door county

Morgan Carter, owner of the Odds and Ends bookstore in Door County, Wisconsin, has a hobby. When she’s not tending the store, she’s hunting cryptids—creatures whose existence is rumored, but never proven to be real. It’s a hobby that cost her parents their lives, but one she’ll never give up on. So when a number of bodies turn up on the shores of Lake Michigan with injuries that look like bites from a giant unknown animal, police chief Jon Flanders turns to Morgan for help. A skeptic at heart, Morgan can’t turn down the opportunity to find proof of an entity whose existence she can’t definitively rule out. She and her beloved rescue dog, Newt, journey to the Death's Door strait to hunt for a homicidal monster in the lake—but if they’re not careful, they just might be its next victims.

disturbance

As the sun sets on a feverishly hot July evening, a young woman spies on her teenage neighbor, transfixed by what looks like an occult ritual intended to banish an ex-boyfriend. Alone in a new town and desperate to expel the claustrophobic memories of her own ex that have followed, the narrator decides to try to hex herself free from her past. She falls in with the neighbor and her witchy friend, exploring nascent supernatural powers as the boundaries of reality shift in and out of focus. But when the creaks and hums of her apartment escalate into something more violent, she realizes that she may have brought her boyfriend’s presence—whether psychological or paranormal—back to haunt her.

the bell jar

Esther Greenwood is brilliant, beautiful, enormously talented, and successful, but slowly going under—maybe for the last time. In her acclaimed and enduring masterwork, Sylvia Plath brilliantly draws the reader into Esther's breakdown with such intensity that her insanity becomes palpably real, even rational—as accessible an experience as going to the movies. A deep penetration into the darkest and most harrowing corners of the human psyche, The Bell Jar is an extraordinary accomplishment and a haunting American classic.

city on fire

New York City, 1976. Meet Regan and William Hamilton-Sweeney, estranged heirs to one of the city's great fortunes; Keith and Mercer, the men who, for better or worse, love them; Charlie and Samantha, two suburban teenagers seduced by downtown's punk scene; an obsessive magazine reporter, Richard, and his idealistic neighbor, Jenny, - and the detective trying to figure out what any of them have to do with a shooting in Central Park on New Year's Eve. The mystery, as it reverberates through families, friendships, and the corridors of power, will open up even the loneliest-seeming corners of the crowded city. And when the blackout of July 13, 1977, plunges this world into darkness, each of these lives with be changed forever.

#ramblings #taylor reads books #my polls

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rreskk · 2 years ago

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The motel

Set in the North Yankton era!

Summary: You have been trying hard to keep your sexual relationship with Trevor secret. One risk blew it all. And it all happened in one motel room.

Pairing: Fem!reader/Trevor

TW: -Smut

The motel was dim and hallow.

The 70s wallpaper was barely attached as the remainder would be faded due to the unkind years of passers and criminals (like you). The curtains struggled to reject any outside light source as the street lights would burn your awakened eyes, alarming you of movement that erupted from outside your motel door. It was still, silent, all in solitude despite the figure beside you. Trevor was lied on his side with a cigarette effortlessly stationed between his cracked lips. He was reading a magazine while Michael and Brad claimed the other double kings sized bed. They were fast asleep as minutes would past, almost an hour. The clock reminded you of the night falling and Trevor was still distracted by the pages of printed ink.

You sighed, pulling the covers over your shoulders and reminisced of the past few weeks that was full of mayhem and chaos. Another situation, another trip to a whole new town. You barely see any familiar faces apart from the guys in the room with you. They are the only people you trust, throughout the thick and the thin. Trevor was the closest. Admitting there is sexual tension that resolves during nights of lonely clouds and broken sighs of distant dreams; you’d meet with him for a night together more than once. Stress relief to it’s finest but there is feelings aside. You fear of his behaviour and unpredictive flaws. He fears nothing of you, yet, you have found comfort in his eyes and touch… Not so much with his mouth.

“Fuckin’ reality TV shit.” Trevor judged, smoke evaporating from his mouth as the cigarette wobbled through his words. He was eyeing up the latest news in the magazine.

“Shhhh,” Not wanting to cause disturbance with the sleeping men beside you both, “Lower the tone…” You whispered.

He raised an eyebrow like it was a challenge before hogging the duvet, leaving you attentive and exposed to the cold air. You scoffed at his childish antiques. He stole the warmth and snuffled deeper into his pillow, sending you a devastatingly handsome smirk. You couldn’t hate it.

“I’m cold.” You complained with a smile.

Trevor reached for the ashtray and tapped away some of the ashes built upon his blunt. He grunted as a result of underestimating the distance between him and the nightstand. You watched him with fascination.

“Gimme a reason why we should share the covers.” He soon spoke after retreating the nicotine to his lips. Observing the smoke syncing from his nose and mouth, you were left to realise his offer to debate. He always had a reason to make it a competition.

“Why shouldn’t we?” You questioned.

Trevor looked at you for a minute. He gazed down to the skin revealed from your baggy pyjamas. His eyes lit up with an idea.

“How about this,” He muttered lowly (thankfully following your advice and being quiet), edging closer to your side of the bed, “We both don’t get em. We warm each other up like cavemen, yeah?”

Unfazed as it seems! You were used to these riddles that often preoccupied irrelevant history that doesn’t even apply any reliable facts. You allow him to run his mouth because that’s his only talent besides aggression.

“Why can’t we share?”

“One of us will end up hoggin’ it anyway.” Trevor smirked.

“Look at Brad and Mike… They’re fine with the duvet. Why do you struggle?”

“Struggle? The only thing I struggle with is containing myself when you are lying right beside me.”

Your cheeks submerged in shades of red and pink. It was lucky there were limited lights as you were shamefully blushing.

Trevor breathed out the smoke again, “I don’t suppose you like the idea of fuckin’ when the guys are here.”

The idea was painful… Painfully good. You wanted to justify your opinion but you didn’t want to give yourself into his attempt of gaslighting. He jokingly blackmails you in getting a reaction and you fall every time.

“No, I don’t.”

Not expecting that answer, he exchanged a surprised glance. The cigarette dropped from his mouth and smothered it’s ashes onto the white shirt he wore. Trevor cursed as he wiped it away and threw the wasted blunt across the room, easily agitated that there was no more nicotine streaming through his system.

“I think we should go to sleep instead.” You suggested.

“You kiddin’, right?” Trevor almost begged, “The mood is right, sugar. If we keep it low-“

“Hush!” He immediately stopped his sentence. He rolled his eyes as you double checked that Mike and Brad was still asleep.

“You killjoy.”

You sighed, “Better safe than sorry.”

“Sorry for what? It ain’t our fault we are cramped in this shitty square room.”

“Technically… It is.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Trevor mumbled, holding eye contact through his eyebrows, “Can we please… I’m desperate.”

Slowly averting your eyes to the duvet that covered his lower body, you measured the pros and cons of the situation. He was fidgeting with his shirt like it was suffocating his body. You held your breath and nodded.

“Fine…” His eyes went wide with anticipation, “But!” His pupils dilated at your warning, “We are quiet. Almost silent.”

Trevor frantically nodded, “Quiet, vanilla, kinky, I don’t care.”

“I’m serious. They don’t know about us yet.”

“They’ll find out eventually, even if it’s tonight.”

“Trevor.” You insisted.

He threw his head back and groaned to minimal volume, “Fine…”

“Please, we’ll be quiet, promise?”

“Promise.” A small smile plastered across his compulsive frown.

Moments like these were treasurable. The room was peaceful and well. Brad’s heavy breathing and Michael’s light snoring. You felt Trevor move closer… A gasp left your mouth when he laid sloppy kisses across your jaw and neck. It was mesmerising. He sneakily threw his arm around your waist and tugged you into his neck kisses, applying more heaviness and passion, deciding to use his tongue and scratch the surface of your skin. You groaned silently before turning your head and meeting him.

“Don’t leave obvious marks.” You whispered against his wet lips. Your eyes were closed yet you felt him grin.

His hot breath penetrated your mouth, “I’ll leave em where they can’t see.”

Grasping for more air, he hooked his pinkie to your shirt, dragging it down so your breasts were on display.

“No bra… You wanted this to happen.” You could hear him murmur before taking a nipple into his mouth, tormenting it’s skin with his drool and saliva.

“Trevor…”

“Perfect… Oh, mama, you got the finest tits of em all.”

“Shh,” Secretly loving his risk, you didn’t want to shush him… But you knew this would rile him up more.

His mouth was owning the tip of your breast. He was making love to it with squalled moans of satisfaction. You held back a plea, suddenly feeling like you were making more noise than you hoped.

“I’m so horny for you.” He muffled with your tits in his mouth.

The sight was arousing for no reason. You lied there in the hands of this desperate man and he’s sucking your breasts, talking sweet and drooling uncontrollably. There were lines of his saliva dripping down your stomach. His eyes were maddening, wide, staring into yours. Now you couldn’t hold back.

“S-Stop, they’ll know!” You hissed.

Trevor chuckled breathily and moved away from your bruised torso. He was now hovering over you, a beast in action, a hunter searching for prey. The tongue slivered out of his mouth and circulated around your lips before he finally kissed you, fighting away your shame and anxiousness.

Drowning in the kiss, you broke away and panted, “Fuck you,” His smile growing wild and teeth showing. You gripped onto his shoulders, “Fuck you, fuck you… Just fucking fuck me,” Hushed whispers disturbed the silence of the room.

“Easy, tiger.” The torturer sieved.

You frowned and he shook his head.

“You have some spike, girlfriend,” Trevor adjusted his bulge, “Fuckk, I’m so horny.”

Trevor leaned onto his elbows, head sunken against your chin as he watched you take off your panties. They were entangled around your ankles, you couldn’t kick them off considering he was already feasting upon your sex. He laid two fingers and rubbed across your wetness, pleased with the sight of it.

“Come on.” You whispered.

Trevor pulled out his boner. It was twitching and red with tensity. His tip was crying bloody murder as it looked strangled with his unleashed orgasm. You placed your arms around his shoulders again and waited for the push.

“Shit.” He whined. Trevor pushed himself in and you both jolted at the impact. The bed squeaked, even though he wasn’t at his hardness yet. You cringed when it kept on slamming against the thin wall.

“Fuckin’… Hold on…” A pillow was snatched from your neck and shoved in between the gap that created the banging and squeaking. Trevor thrusted to test the sound and when you couldn’t hear anymore obvious bangs, his face lit up with exaggeration and sped up his pace.

“Shit, Trevor.” You eyes fell to the others until he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, and only him.

“Pay attention to me, [Y/n]. Don’t worry about them.” The command was exotic, distinct, intimate.

The silent grunts he made was heavenly. The seductive charm he held while holding eye contact as he fucked you, it was hard not to squeal and open the closed mouth of yours. Instead, he did it for you.

“Fuuuckkk!” Trevor sturdily increased his pace when a large moan escaped. You gasped and slammed a palm against his lips, refraining any echoes of your devilish activity to wake the peace of Michael and Brad. His eyes flew back as your dominant hand restricted his moans. He loved being a menace and having the consequences.

“R-Remember…” You struggled, “Be quie- fuck…”

He was rigid now. The thrusts turned into longing grinds and you both arched your backs in neediness. Your legs were shaking against his ones. Trevor’s tongue met the palm of your hand, almost as though he forgot it was there. He licked you animalistically while slamming more power into fucking you. You had to bite your lip and plead him with eyes to not make a single sound.

“Mhmmm, Trev…”

He panted against your hand.

“Trevor, fuck.”

The slapping sensation of your skins bounced off the walls.

“F-Fuck… Fuck…”

Trevor, having his right of speech taken away, watched you with tears in his eyes, rapidly beating against your clit like it was pleasurable pain. His nose was scrunched up and tongue was numbly licking between your fingers. He muffled grunts and lonely effects that his eyes portrayed everything he wanted to say.

“Keep going.” You begged.

The foulness of sweat pasted it’s scent into the air. It was so strong that even you could smell it. However, you’d think of an excuse when morning comes but rightfully so, you were too intense in his physical friction that feeling an orgasm rise was the only think pestering your ungodly mind.

“I’m close.”

He nodded.

“I’m so close.”

Trevor threw his head back from your hands and gurgled a everlasting whine.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU!” He cried.

You felt him break character as he’d thrust one more, hitting the sensitive part of your sex and suddenly, you body shook in ecstasy and white cum dribbled out of your clit. Trevor coughed due to lack of air and pulled out just in time to violate your sweaty stomach with his fluids, preaching it’s place on your body and staining the coloured sheets. He collapsed onto you.

Now it was silent again.

You kept an ear out and heard Michael and Brad’s sleepiness before letting yourself sink into the mattress in relief. Trevor perched his face up and looked at you.

“Fuck, I can’t breathe.” He smirked.

“They didn’t wake up, thankfully.”

“Are you warm now?”

You chuckled, “Yes, yes I am.”

Trevor remained snuggled onto your nakedness and nuzzled his nose into your jaw. You assumed he wasn’t going to move so you closed your eyes and let sleep creep up, a whole world of imagination knocking on the door. With warmth of his love and physical affection, it was easy to fall asleep. No duvet, no pillows, just him.

“Why’d we leave so early?” Trevor complained with a hot coffee in his hands, sitting beside Michael and people stalking from the cafes window.

“The motel wanted us out before 10,” Added Michael, “It was in the rules.”

The café was quiet and the four of you claimed the dark corner. Both Mike and Brad ordered some breakfast but… You felt quite full up, especially from last night. You guessed Trevor wasn’t eager for food either. He kept close eyes on you and a hidden smirk that embedded the memories. You couldn’t warn him so you had to ignore him.

“Next time we are in a motel with 2 beds, I’m sharing one with [Y/n]. Your bed breath kills me, Mikey.” Bradley laughed.

The mention of your name took Trevor by surprise and he immediately glared over. You hoped he wouldn’t say anything obvious. He was known for having a loud mouth… You could prove it by the times you’ve slept with him.

“If you think I want to smell that rotten piece of shit in the mornin’!” His hand gripping harder on the mug, “You can shit on my dick. I’m stickin’ with [Y/n].” The humour being disturbing.

Michael raised an eyebrow, “That’s not the only reason.”

You all looked at him. Trevor’s eyes widened in curiosity while you could easily hide under the table and hibernate from embarrassment.

“Oh, right.” Brad simply said.

“What?”

“We all know, Trev.”

“All know what?”

Mike rolled his eyes, “Last night. We heard.”

You closed your eyes and grimaced.

“Oh,” Trevor hummed, “Well, in that case, me and [Y/n] need to confess something.”

“We do?” You choked on your drink.

He grinned, “Oh yeah we do.” The table washes over with suspense as he locked eyes with you, “We’ve been doing it for about a year now.”

Michael’s reaction was appalling. He scoffed in disgust and refused to look in Trevor’s direction.

“What! Don’t act like a virgin. What makes this weird?” Trevor frowned.

“Jesus… Is this an official relationship?” He inquired.

You thought to yourself and found no answer. Neither did Trevor.

Brad sighed, “That answers it.”

#trevor philips x reader #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips #trevor gta #gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #trevor philips fanfiction

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foundmywei · 2 years ago

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Here are all 6 instances that the word "gay" is used in the goldfinch. For research purposes.

1. Theo, on his way to the Hobart & Blackwell shop, pointed out that he got lost and had to stop to ask for directions in a news shop that had gay porn magazines.

How did he even notice them? Bestie was lost but still had time to see them and it felt important to point out. Thank you for this information, Theo.

2. Theo, while saying goodbye to the doormen of his building in New York, wanted to tell them that he would miss them but stoped himself because it seemed gay.

This is one of the stupidest things he's said and he has said A LOT of stupid things. Apparently telling someone that you'll miss them is gay, you've heard it here first, fellas. Important to point out that he was 13 at the time and god knows 13-year-olds say a lot of stupid shit, but still. Theo, baby, what the fuck.

3. Theo called Popper gay unprovoked and mentioned that he felt embarrassed to walk him on the street.

He's so stupid it's hard to find excuses for him. Just admit that you find the damn dog cute and that you love him, I promise you got far better reasons to worry about looking gay. Like kissing your guy best friend for example. It's not the dog, babe.

4. Theo very kindly informed us that some of his clients were gay men.

This was very important information, thank you Theo. Who could have imagined that the gays would be interested in antiques? Truly shocking. Theo, do you also want to tell us how you have such an excellent gaydar? Hmmm.

5. Theo told us that gay guys were the ones that mostly noticed that he was high at work related events and that a guy at the Accounts department at one of the auction houses was always hitting on him.

Again, his impeccable gaydar appears. God, can this man go to therapy to start processing why gay men hitting on him makes him feel that way? Bestie, bestie, bestie... please go kiss a man, I'm begging you at this point. I also love how after this whole section about gay guys into antiques hitting on him he had to point out that he sleeps with women. Congrats?

6. Gyuri mentioned that he momentarily mistook a gay couple as a threat for their plan.

This is not very interesting as Theo isn't the one saying it, but here it is. Important info.

#the goldfinch #theo decker #boreo #theo is fighting demons and those demons are internalized homophobia #gay gay homosexual gay

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allylikethecat · 16 days ago

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⋆˚࿔ october prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The second to last prompt lets goooo. Thank you so much again to any and everyone reading these!

³⁰⁾ incensed prayer beads

Matty looked over the shelves of the antique store George had dragged him too with interest. He couldn’t find any type of rhyme or reason, any kind of logic to the organization. There were picture frames and incensed prayer beads on one shelf. Vintage Playboy magazines and coffee cups on the other. Across the store, paired with woodland creature figurines were teacups.

The energy in the store was the most peculiar, and Matty wasn’t sure if he was intrigued or unsettled by it. He had lost George almost instantly, the other man bolting to the back of the store, following the signs for musical instruments and records. Matty, though just as, if not even more, passionate about those types of things than George had hesitated at the front, something telling him that he wasn’t meant to venture further into the bowels of the building. He hovered near baskets of pictures, and started thumbing through the black and white prints, the white yellowed with age and the corners bent.

It made him sad to think that he was holding a family’s history in his hands, a family that he didn’t and wouldn’t ever know. A family that had come to some kind of end, with no legacy to be passed on, their memories gathering dust on the shelves of a random antique shop off the beaten path. Matty refused to admit it, but he wasn’t even fully confident he knew what city they were currently in.

He loved being on tour, but it also felt like being stuck inside a time loop, like the movie Groundhog Day or that episode of Supernatural. It was the same thing every night, the same scripted show, with more outlandish ad libs as the days went on to bring himself some kind of amusement, because in the end, it didn’t really matter, he would just wake up in a new hotel room that looked the same as the one before it and do it all, all over again.

The pictures unnerved him, as he looked into the eyes of a young girl in a frilly white dress. He wondered if she had died young or if she had grown to adulthood before passing of old age. He felt like she was looking into his soul, like she was the one pulling the strings in the repetitive loop of his life. He shivered, putting the picture back into the basket.

He froze, before picking up the next one and holding it in front of his face, squinting as if his eyes were deceiving him. He swallowed hard, shaking his head. It couldn’t be, he thought hysterically, it was all just a coincidence. There were two men in the photo, standing in front of the very same antique shop George had seen from across the street. The picture was old, a clearly worn polaroid, the corners soft as if he had been there for ages. But it was Matty and George in the photo, staring back lifelessly. Matty swallowed hard, his hands shaking. They were wearing the same clothes in the photo, as they wore that day. He put the picture back in the basket. He wasn’t sure how, or why, but they needed to leave. Now.

Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 |

#allylikethecat #keep it kind #fanfiction #matty fic #gatty #fanfic #promptober #promptober75 #october prompts #october prompt #october prompt fill #october prompt fills #prompt fills #prompt fill #thank you for reading!!#i cant believe we only have one more left #this was fun

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omegaremix · 5 months ago

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Rosie’s Vintage shopping list, 2018.

Two more stops to go before the music shopping spree is history. Whatever locations are on the list seems to be further away each time. Today’s theme is the record annex which is picking up on Long Island. It started a year-and-a-half ago when Hideaway Vinyl set shop in Rosie’s Vintage in Huntington. Looks like they have an online presence still despite nothing being updated in a few months, so why not take the trip to see what it’s all about?

It’s been quite a while since being in Huntington. I do have some personal history there. My ex- Yenny brought me over to work there (our second job working together) for several years and it’s where she used to live. And let’s try to forget a dreaded miserable summer post-rain day out with former friend and staffer Molina, who took me through a cemetery, burger place, and an isolated park in an attempt to get close to me. No dice.

I walk in to Rosie’s and it’s bonafide vintage. Looks like the owners took over a small Fifties-style house in white-bread suburbia. Walk in and you’ll certainly feel the loud creaking of the all-wood floors. Its’ living room, dens, bedrooms, and many closets are filled with tons of kitsch, knick-knacks, and collectibles from the mid-century. Street signs, old threads, compasses, jewelry, board games, wardrobes, dolls, salt-shakers…I can go on. There’s many stories and tales to be told by each and every object that survived its’ era; all neatly organized, piled, and sorted. As an added touch, there’s the classics played on the overheads. Collections were posted on its page and testimonials from its customers recall their purchases: old vials and medicine jars, pill and spice tins, matchbook collections, sports pennants, dishes, and the occasional naughty glassware. I can still go on if you want me to.

The guy behind the register greets me and asks what he could do for me. I’m here for Hideaway Vinyl, I say. He tells me that they left shop a few months ago. Could’ve fooled me. They no longer exist. They’re still present online on social media but it all made sense why the lack of updates. Had Hideaway stayed, there’d be a presence of punk, hardcore, surf, ska, and rockabilly. He did show me where all the vinyl is now deposited by Vinyl Paradise. Remember them? There were twelve shelves top and bottom of pre-owned vinyl, four of the same across from those bins of newly-pressed and Record Store Day releases.

Of the first twelve were plenty of rock, pop, dance, and 12″ dee-jay singles most for $10.00 and less with the occasional new hardcore pressing. I found a lot of 12″ hip-hop and dance singles; Nice & Wild and Harold Faltermeyer were two hits New York’s Z100 played growing up during my single-digit Eighties youth. Everything else in Shabba Ranks, Mad Skillz, Boogiemonsters, and Blahzay Blahzay were all summer hits going to Brentwood. WBLS, Hot 97, and Kiss FM played them all. As always, there’s the pop-rock quotient from Genesis and Dire Straits. Hello, nice to meet you again. Also relieved to find was the complete Malcomb McLaren & The World Famous Supreme Team’s “Buffalo Gals” in a die-cut label sleeve.

In comes Thea, co-owner of Rosie’s Vintage in her rockabilly / Rosie The Riveter motif. She says hello and sees the stack in my hand. She offers to put it aside for me which I obliged. I kindly ask if there would be more vinyl and does tell me there might be some upstairs. That’s where I’m going. Heading up is possibly one of the steepest set of steps I experienced walking. I also had to dodge a heavy-set punk couple decked with gauges, tattoos, low-cut tank tops and tees coming from downstairs. I walk up and there’s a closet with a secret crate of records on the floor containing The Talking Heads’ 77 for $20.00 and its’ sister Tom Tom Club’s Close To The Bone for $15.00. Shucks. I scour the upstairs to find many more antiques. Compasses, typewriters, old magazines, books, brochures in one room with very little traces of 7″ records in one crate. The kitchen was full of dishes, glasses, and silverware stacked in the sink and on its’ counter but no records to be found.

Thea rings me up and I’m golden. This became the shortest time spent in any store with the smallest stack and the least amount of money paid. 45 minutes to look through 16 bins of records for a total of $29.00 and I say good-bye to Rosie’s Vintage and Huntington until next time. Only two more stores are on the list to go before calling it quits on record-shopping for a while: Sunday Records in Riverhead and Innersleeve Records in Amagansett.

Genesis Abacab

Nice & Wild “Diamond Girl” 12″

Shabba Ranks “Mr. Loverman” 12″

Dire Straits self-titled

Mad Skillz “Nod Factor” 12“

Boogiemonsters “Recognized Thresholds Of Negative Stress 12″

Blahzay Blahzay “Danger!” 12″

Harold Faltermeyer “Axel F” 12“

Spyro Gyra self-titled

Malcomb McLaren & The World Famous Supreme Team “Buffalo Gals” 12″

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