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blametheeditor · 2 years ago

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Jeremy Messed Up: Chapter 3

NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AGES

The Sequel To Mike Messed Up

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Mike was just a night guard waiting to be killed by the end of the week. Now, he is the proud, and soon to be sole owner, of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Business is booming, animatronics are teeming with life, and Foxy is back in the spotlight after so many years. Even so, the dark past of Freddy's is slowly encroaching upon them. One with more ties than they could ever imagine.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and murder, want to harm someone, cursing (lots of cursing), mentions of tracking someone down

___________________________

"Like we need to 'talk'."

Mike goes to rip his hand away, only to glare up at the man currently acting bipolar as fuck with the grip tightens even more so than before. More than he thought was possible. He doesn't attempt to apologize or act polite, though. Even with something that might be a bruise forming, he's dealt with goddamn animatronics turned zombie murderers.

This was nothing.

"You don't understand-"

"About what, Mr. Perfection? You left Foxy to rot? You forced the best fucking people to not do what they love? You wanted to leave them?"

He's playing a dangerous game. Mike knows it. He's seen that face so many goddamn times. Before Mr. Fuck ever hired him. Before he even went into the work force...

But that's why he's so comfortable. Henry can't hurt him. Que the growling man finally releasing his hand.

That's what I thought.

"Do you know where I've been?"

"Weird ass question in my opinion." The taller shakes his head slowly. What, so it's not a weird ass question? Sure seems like one to him!

"Mr. Schmidt. This is Freddy Fazbear's." A glance toward the doors that were built to keep out something more than just robbers. "A place you never hear anything good about. But we have the most stories drifting around than any other franchise.

"And yet no one knows where I've been? How about my partner? The famous William Afton who was an inspirational man. He started a revolutionary chain of restaurants for everyone to love and enjoy. Something that has slowly become the ground for rumors of haunted animatronics and murdered night guards without prompting. Yet neither of us has been reported for whereabouts."

...he has a point. The only reason Mike took this job was because he simply needed fast cash. This was the only dumb that had 'good' money and was really the easiest thing to do. Not only that, but no asked for a resume. Age. Qualifications.

But that doesn't mean the asshole goes and ditches his pride and joy. "So? You're a coward?"

"A coward hunting down my own partner," Henry states.

That's when Mike bristles as the man sits up, attempting to act pleasantly. Wanting to get on everyone's good side. Not to show he's better, at least, but it still pissed the younger off.

"There was a bite. A famous one. If someone smart enough figures out this restaurant's profits are going up, they're going to see why. They're going to see Foxy."

"So?"

"Mike they'll take him away!" There's panic in those eyes. Henry stands strong, but it was clear there was something nagging him. Even more so than when he spoke about 'hunting' his own partner down.

Where had William gone? Not even the news spoke about the man. No one actually knows anything about the business owner. A ghost to the deeds he did.

Wait...was Mr. Seal goddamn Afton!

Well, Henry doesn't seem panicked he let an apparently rouge man walk right past him. They were talking about something. Foxy. Bite. Shit happened.

"Don't you understand? He was one of my first creations? I'm close to them, I know they're sentient, Mike," Henry states, almost defensively. "He didn't do anything and yet I had to hide him. But at least he wasn't melted into scrap metal. Which he will if you continue this! All of them will!"

"Well that's better than the hell you placed them inside of!" Mike exclaims.

The man seems taken aback, confused, staring at the shorter with an unreadable expression. It makes the new owner want to snap and commit another 'bite' and rip his fucking perfect face off!

FOXY!

"They weren't allowed to free-roam! Something you fucking gave them! And yet where the hell were you when they stared longingly at the children! You might be 'saving' them, but you damned them to something worse than death! Perform on some stage after the gift you gave the assholes! It's like saying 'you won the lottery and you can finally pay all those bills and give your children the life you've always wanted for them' and then yell ‘pysche’ like some bitch! I gave them back what they deserve, Mr. Emily."

Henry moves forward, leering over the man with a fire burning in his gaze. "You don't know that. I love them."

"And I do too."

"You will get them killed."

"And you will make them suffer."

Glaring contest? Sure! Mike's up for that! He'll win. He always wins. Patience was key to the bastards who think it's their way or the highway.

He didn't see their faces when they were cleaned. They're actions toward someone they genuinely thought deserved to be murdered. Stop the want to help when before they couldn't simply because of a simple act of kindness.

Henry might've created them, but Mike was in charge now. The company owner lost the rights to Freddy Fazbear for disappearing for so long. He won't let Foxy get rebuilt and then sit in a corner for who knows how long, going insane. Chica deserves to make pizza. Bonnie deserves to start random shit. And Freddy deserves to feel as special as he makes the children he performs for feel.

There's a flicker of something as the man finally leans away from Mike. It was too fast to catch but it seemed something along the line of hope.

Yeah! Get that shit away! They're not some goddamn sappy love story!

"Mike, this is they're last day."

"Last day what?"

They both know he knows. But he's a smartass. "For free-roaming. They will be locked up tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow. Forever. And Foxy...he can't be seen by anyone."

"Like-"

"You will do this, Mike. Or I put you at the top of William's list."

Freddy quickly follows after Henry as the man leaves the office, offering a paw to the man after hearing the conversation. He wanted to stay with Mike, but the sound of breaths growing shorter and shorter meant a chair will be thrown at any moment now.

Locked up? After this freedom?

...Henry's right. It's the only way.

"When will we see you, Mr. Emily?" the bear questions. They stop in front of the doors, the owner smiling as a little kid is swept up immediately upon request.

"Take care, Freddy."

"Goddamn it!"

And there goes the chair. Not rolled into the hallway but grabbed and thrown over his head at the spot Foxy sprinted into.

That asshole! Telling him what to do after disappearing! What the fuck does 'top of William's list' even MEAN! It doesn't mean shit to anyone but Henry! And apparently his dickhead of a partner. Unless William is the name of his killer moth. Henry and Fucker's moths teaming together. Fuck them he knew it!

"What the hell am I supposed to-!"

"WAIT!"

Mike freezes. The air freezes. Because that didn't sound like anyone he knew. And no kid should be back here...

That's when he steps back from his desk he had been full intending to karate chopping in half. The man thought it had been his imagination, but it wasn't. There had been a cry from his desk.

But it wasn't the desk talking. Someone was underneath his desk. Seemingly hiding, too. Did Henry think he was dumb enough to see a spy like this? With a kid cowering in fear and staring at him like he'll hurt them?

"And who the fuck are you!"

#the Jeremy's back!!!#older writing #FNAF #Jeremy Messed Up #BTE writing #cw #content warning

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princess-adronitis · 5 years ago

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Frozen over

It only took 3 words

dripping from sorrowful lips

'I miss you'

The words reached out like warm hopeful tendrils

Returning to their sender hard and frozen

Choking out the heart, squeezing tight

Creating regret

That anything was said at all

- jm

09/02/19

#the i love you series #poetry #older writing #But still a mood

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lyriquediscorde · 5 years ago

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No one has the answer

I don’t remember when we said goodbye, or if we ever did. The last memory is of us in that apartment, the one above the coffee place and that kitschy junk store that never seemed to be open. Sometimes we’d stand out on the fire escape above that ever-closed junk store. It was rickety, the kind you see in movies set in New York, in the seventies. We’d share a cigarette. You didn’t smoke, but I…

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#creative writing #music #Noel Gallagher&039;s High Flying Birds #older writing #song #writing #writings

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albionscastle · 6 years ago

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Man or Beast Reprise

I have failed as a human, I posted the first part of this fic over two years ago and NEVER posted this second part. I honestly thought I had...I’m a dunce.

So anyway Part two of the best BATB fic I wrote back in the day.

NSFW

Part One Here

Masterlist

MAN OR BEAST REPRISE

The day dawned fresh and bright for your wedding. Flowers bloomed everywhere the eye could see and from your tower window you watched birds searching for their morning meal. Dusk was the appointed time for the ceremony, a small party planned for after...a fraction of the size the last celebration had been. Both you and Adam had been adamant that this most important of events be spent only with those closed to you, your loyal and beloved friends and your father. Humming under your breath you dressed and ate from the tray Mrs Potts had left. Your hands shook as they smoothed your skirts and tied your boot laces. You weren't afraid, far from it in fact but the fact remained that today….and tonight….would change you forever. The early morning sun was streaming into the library, you knew Adam would be there, sitting in the window like a cat. He sought sunlight and warmth now and after so many years in the cold and dark of the curse, you more than understood why. Looking around, you found him, stretched out on a chaise placed in the window just for him. For a moment you simply watched him, the sunlight glinting off his golden hair, his lips pressed together in concentration as his eyes scanned the words on the page. He forwent the garb he had once demanded as his former self, instead he was almost always to be seen in simple breeches and a billowy shirt. Stockings and shoes were reserved for meals or walking outdoors and waistcoats and jackets only donned for company. He had completely left that prideful, preening part of himself behind and instead was content to be a simple man who took pride in his people. “You know we aren't supposed to see one another before the ceremony.” he chuckled without looking up from his book. “ Do you really believe in that?” you queried, climbing the ladder to the landing where he lay. “It's tradition, but to be fair I think we have exhausted our share of bad luck for a lifetime, don't you?” He sat up long enough for you to take a seat before laying back down, his head resting in your lap. “I think it's all good luck from here on in.” you smiled down at him. “Well since we are throwing caution to the wind, will you read?” Taking the book from his hands you looked at the spine with a chuckle. “Shakespeare? This is getting to be a theme.” “At least it isn't Romeo and Juliet. Besides, I guess a little romance doesn't hurt.” He smiled widely up at you and your breath caught. Adam’s eyes were bluer than the sky outside the window and as a man, he was quite simply the most beautiful creature you had ever seen. Opening the book of sonnets you turned to your favorite and began to read, even though you knew it by heart. “Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove:” Absently the fingertips of your free hand traced over his jaw, revelling in the feel of his stubble. He had not gone so far as to grow a beard, and despite your initial joke about it you were glad. You had to admit that the feel of his rough jaw against your skin sent shivers down your spine every time. “O no: it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although his Height be taken.” Absently you caressed the line across his forehead, threading your fingers into his hair. You stopped reading at Adam’s slight shudder, your fingers stilling in his hair. The past weeks had done wonders for your comfort with one another, Adam no longer avoided the tough of others and in fact many times acted rather like a puppy when you touched him, which delighted you to no end. After so many years of being denied even the most basic of human touches, Adam now leaned into every one of yours with relish and you were in no mind at all to deny him any enjoyment. There had been no repeat of the interlude you had shared the night of the celebration ball, not from a lack of want, rather more because of. The feelings that had stirred between you had not abated and if anything you found that you longed for a repeat, to feel his lips against your skin, his hands. Oh you had laid awake so many nights imagining just how that night could have finished, wishing that you would hear his knock on the door to your room in the dark hours of morning. There had been moments, of course. Whispers in corners, stolen kisses in the library and long days like this, reading, with always some part of you touching him. Such comfort and security as you had never felt before. His voice took up where you had trailed off, apparently he too knew this one by heart. “Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle’s compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error, and upon me prov’d, I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.” You smiled down at him in the sunlight as his hand lifted to graze your cheek. Leaning down, you pressed your lips against the bridge of his nose. You were rewarded with a growl, much like he had given you that evening, a sound that sent a jolt through your body to settle warmly in your belly. “I can see us like this, years from now.” He murmured, wrapping a strand of your hair around his finger. “Sitting in the sunlight, reading to our children, our grandchildren.” “Can you see my grey hair and lined face?” you laughed. “You will still be just as beautiful to me as you are now, even more so because of a full life together.” Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as you pressed your lips to the palm of his hand.

“There you are Dearie! You know you aren’t supposed to see one another before the wedding!” You and Adam both flew up from the chaise looking guilty as Mrs. Potts dashed into the room. “Come along, Belle, time to get you ready.” You descended the ladder with a sheepish look back at Adam. “Will it really take 6 hours to get me into a dress?” you laughed as she took your hand and pulled you from the room. “It might, but there’s also a bath various other things to take care of, so hurry along now.”

It really had taken 6 hours, you thought later as you looked at yourself in the mirror. And 6 hours well spent, if not a little awkward. The gown was exquisite, simple as you had hoped, a stunning, graceful fall of bright blue with gold embroidery. Adam hated white now, the color reminding him too much of the parties he had once hosted. You would wear no veil, no extra trappings, nothing at all that would remind anyone of the life once led. This was a new life now. Mrs. Potts had taken it upon herself to act as your mother and your bath and subsequent drying had consisted of a conversation about what to expect later that night. After reminding her that you had, in fact grown up in the country and that you weren’t ignorant of the mechanics she simply laughed. “There’s a big difference between knowing a thing, and experiencing it, my dear.” she tutted as she brushed your hair. “It can be very overwhelming.” “I’m sure it will be,” you knew that to be true, his kisses alone left you breathless and trembling. “But I believe I shall manage well.” Mrs. Potts drew her lips together as if she had something unpleasant on her mind. “You know of course that, before….before the curse,” Mrs. Potts broke off. You understood immediately. “I understand, he had….lovers.” “If you can call them that.” she muttered. “In my reckoning his experience should make things go a little more smoothly.” your cheeks flamed, you didn’t like to think of Adam’s past, but in this case the idea was….strangely intriguing. That thought stuck with you for the rest of the afternoon and by the time you stood on the stairs by the gazebo you were in a quiver of excitement and anticipation. Adam stood there, looking splendid in his pale blue coat, his golden hair tied back with ribbon his smile wide. Everyone you loved stood around him and as you walked toward him they each handed you a white rose, a symbol of everything that had led you both here to this place. Such a rocky and terrifying start, to have such a happy and wonderful ending. You gave your vows in a daze, smiling and crying the whole way through. When Adam slid his arm around your waist and pressed his lips against yours you felt as though there was nothing on the earth that could ever be happier or more perfect that that moment. You were his wife. For better or worse, and forever. The evening party came and went in a whirl of laughter and dancing and before you knew it the candles had been doused and you stood with Adam outside the doors of your new suite. There was an awkward silence between you, a thick whirl of tension in the air. You shivered as his breath brushed your neck, his arm reaching across you to push open the door. “I hope you like it.” he whispered against your ear. “As long as I am with you.” “With me you shall be.” The tone in his voice caused a tremble to run down your spine. With him. Visions danced in your head as he followed you through the door. Visions that would soon become a reality. Very soon. The room was stunning in its simplicity, he had worked hard to make it perfect. Your father had been put to work painting a mural of summer trees and white roses along the walls which were interspaced with well stocked bookcases. A large canopied bed occupied the space in front of a large window, draped with royal blue and gold fabrics. A fireplace stood waiting for wintertime with rugs and chairs nestled snugly beside. “I don’t think I will ever want to leave!” you exclaimed, looking around in delight. His arms came around your waist, his nose grazing the bare skin of your shoulder. “If you like we can at least hide away here for a few days, I don’t know that I will be willing to let you leave.” His voice was deeper than usual, more as it had been in the early days. “Do you intend to make me your prisoner then?” you breathed as his lips pressed against your neck. “A willing one I hope, and a rather more lovely cell than before.” You allowed your head to fall back onto his shoulder as his teeth worked at your earlobe, his fingers trailing down the length of your arms to tangle with your own. “Very willing I would say.” With a groan Adam’s lips found yours, stealing your breath and bringing your heart to pounding in your throat. He devoured, took and gave in return. Your fingers left his to reach back and tangle in his hair, your skin breaking into goosebumps as his tongue slid across your bottom lip. You had wanted this, a kiss like this, a touch like the one moving across your shoulders. You wanted so much that you couldn’t put into words. His fingers met at the laces for your gown, pulling them free with practiced ease all the whispering in your ear. How much he loved you. How beautiful you were to him. How happy you had made him. Your gown loosened, you turned to face him, your fingers pulling gently at the snowy cravat he wore. You hated it, you told him so now as you struggled with the knot. Adam chuckled, grasping your hands in his and placing them at the buttons for his waistcoat. He, naturally, had the cravat untied in moments while your fingers shook against the fabric of his clothing. He noticed and his eyes shone with concern and desire both, boring into yours with an intensity that made you shudder. “If it's too fast we can sit for a while.” You shook your head. It wasn't too fast, it was your concern that your inexperience was going to make this...awkward. You wanted to stop thinking, to stop overanalyzing and just feel.

“We can wait, I won’t mind. We can read.”

You looked at him, standing a foot away. His cheeks were slightly flushed, lips swollen. He looked at you with such love, need and concern. The snowy cravat twisted in his fingers as his front teeth worried his bottom lip. He would do anything for you, no matter what, but what now the only thing you needed from him was to take control and ease your anxiety.

With a split second flash of intent, you stepped forward, thrusting a hand into his hair and pulling him down to you. You pushed all your need, want and love into your kiss. It was your tongue against his lips and teeth as you pressed yourself against him, never close enough.

His arms came around you and he groaned against your mouth, loud and low enough for you to feel the rumble of it in his chest. A shiver of delight ran through you as his lips met yours measure for measure, slowly easing himself into control. Your fingers untied the ribbon in his hair, tangling through the strands.

He broke away gently,his cheek resting against yours, his breath warm and ragged in your ear.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” he whispered, growling under his breath when you tugged at his hair. Pulling his head back he gazed at you, his hands sliding over your shoulders, knuckles running up and down your neck. There was a question in his blue eyes, a look of desire and even fear. Even now, a part of him still feared rejection, and loss. The Beast, your Beast, still lived on inside him. Your answer came as your fingers trailed over his jaw, down his neck and under the collars of his coats. Your palms slid over his shoulders and arms as the fabric slid away, leaving him standing in much the same condition as when you had first seen his human form.

His own hands followed suit with your gown, his eyes flaring as the silk pooled on the floor at your feet, leaving you in only your shift and a petticoat.

There was a moment, two deep breaths where time stood still and then…. He scooped you up in his arms like you were a feather, carrying you swiftly over to the bed. You were deposited on the edge so carefully and gently before he knelt on the ground at your feet.

He looked up at you with a smirk as his hand slid over your ankle, sliding off first one shoe and then the other. Rising up slowly, his fingertips blazed a trail up the back of your calf, your knee and the outside of your thigh. Lips marked damp spots along your shoulder and up your neck before crushing against yours in a kiss so full of want that it stole your breath away.

Wrapping your arms around his waist you pulled him with you as you fell back, giggling when he broke his kiss long enough to position you both fully on the bed, before capturing your mouth again. Languidly he pressed at your lips, opening them so he could slide his tongue deep into your mouth. Moaning into him, you felt the smooth, warm, wetness of his tongue stroking over yours, the heat and weight of his body as it pressed down onto you. Your hands tugged at his shirt, freeing it from his breeches so you could stroke the smooth skin of his back.

Adam shivered and growled as your palms caressed his bare skin, pressing his lower body more firmly against you, his hand on your thigh moving higher, adjusting your leg to cradle his hips. Your remaining clothing now felt cloying and cumbersome against your skin and you almost itched to have it removed, to be able to breathe, to feel his skin against yours. Almost desperately you pushed his shirt up his torso, unable to put into words what you wanted from him.

He knew, his lips brushing their way to your ear, his fingers easing apart the laces of your shift to expose more and more skin.

“God, I want you.” his voice was low and raspy in your ear, strands of his hair falling over your neck.

He rose over you, thumb rubbing your bottom lip, eyes catching yours. The intensity of his look made you shiver, your whole being ached to be closer, though you suspected that with Adam, you could never be close enough to ease the ache.

“Adam.” you murmured, your body moving restlessly beneath him. “I...I…”

“Shhhh.” he whispered, sliding the sleeve of your shift off your shoulder, fingertips following the path of newly bared skin across the swell of your breast, down the front of you to your waist and back again.

“This petticoat is in my way.” he chuckled. “Don’t move.”

He rose up, your hands slipping from under his shirt to lay helplessly on the duvet. Smirking, he pulled the shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side.

“That too.”

“Your eyes raked hungrily over his bare skin, golden in the candlelight. The muscles in his arms rippled as he unlaced your petticoat, pushing it down your hips. The offending garment found its way into a heap on the floor alongside his shirt.

Adam’s eyes blazed over you, from your bare thigh to your face, a languid look of heat and want that made your insides clench and your cheeks flush. He moved over you, catching your hands in his and lifting them above your head. His look could only be described as predatory...beastlike, his teeth bared in his famous smirk as he pounced.

On a gasp your breath was stolen as his lips came down on yours, tongue filling your mouth as his lower body pressed against yours. One hand held your arms in place, his other clutching at your thigh, hitching your leg over his hip. You shifted beneath him, the few inches that he held himself above you seeming like an ocean of separation.

His hips ground against you, his palm sliding over your waist, ribs and bare shoulder. You felt him, the hard length of him pressed between your thighs, still not close enough, but sending a dull throb of pleasure throughout your body.

Your back arched as his palm pushed aside the fabric of your shift, closing over your bared breast. You sucked in a ragged breath as lips and tongue traced the line of your jaw up to your ear. He sucked the lobe into his mouth gently, his fingertips grazing the swell of your breast, nipple hardening under his touch.

“I want you so much.” He growled in your ear, his teeth nipping at your skin. “Do you want me?”

You wanted him. For the first time in your life you truly understood desire, and need, at least the physical aspects. You had needed Adam when he was still a beast, wanted his presence, his voice, his arms. With Adam it was all that and still more. You wanted his skin on yours, his hands and his mouth, his body inside you. You wanted to give him every part of you and take every part of him in return.

“Yes.” you managed on a moan, his breath loud and hot in your ear, his fingers stroking and plucking at your aching breasts. “Yes Adam, I want you. I love you.”

“I love you too, my Belle.” he murmured, freeing your hands, which came to rest on his shoulders.

You felt emboldened by the look in his eyes, the love, the desire and the invitation. Pushing at his shoulders you manoeuvred him onto his back, straddling his hips to feel his length hard against that one aching spot. Even through his breeches you could feel the heat of him and you ground against him slightly, rewarded by the sharp hitch in his breath and the purring rumble from his chest.

His hands slid under your shift, palms stroking the bare skin of your thighs. He watched as you drank in the sight of him. His golden, smooth skin, the scattering of darker hair across his chest and down his stomach. You allowed your hands to explore his torso, the hard lines and soft, warm skin. He moaned when your fingers played with the hair on his stomach, his back arching when you traced a line from his navel to the laces of his pants, dipping under and back again.

He muttered your name under his breath, eyes widening when you pulled your shift off over your head, leaving you completely naked to his hot stare.

“Good God!” he groaned as you felt a twitching movement beneath you.

A feeling of purely feminine satisfaction came over you as you leaned forward, tasting his neck with your lips and tongue, biting gently at the flesh of his jaw, then sucking his lower lip between yours.

“Belle, Belle, Belle…” he almost chanted your name as your hand slid boldly down between your bodies.

The laces of his pants were simple compared to that ridiculous cravat and your fingers took seconds to loosen them. Adam was practically panting, his hands stroking your bare back, along your spine. You brushed your lips across his, your fingers following the dark trail of hair. You felt the heat of him, his back arching as your fingertips traced his length. You reveled in the way he moaned against your mouth, his fingers tangling in your hair, holding you against him. Your breasts grazed against the roughness of his chest, shivers of pleasure running through you.

You ached between your thighs, an empty, yearning aching that you instinctively knew could only be eased by the feeling of him inside your body. Your hips rocked against him, your fingers exploring but unsure of what you needed to do to progress to that point.

“Adam.” you moaned against his tongue, breath ragged. “Adam….what…”

The question remained unspoken as he let you pull away. You took one another in, swollen lips, flushed cheeks and hooded eyes filled with need. His hands shifted, one gently easing yours from his pants while his other arm wrapped around your back and waist. He smiled, a wolfish, predatory smile that sent a shudder through you. Before you knew what had happened he had pulled you over and under, your back hitting the bed with a whoosh of breath as he came down on top of you, holding your arms above your head.

His mouth closed over your breast, tongue raking hot and wet against your aching nipple. A cry left your throat as he started to suck gently, sharps points of pleasure shooting down between your legs where his length ground against you. Hie free hand pushed his pants down until he could kick them off, his nakedness against yours feeling so….right.

His mouth worked magic on your breasts, alternating licking, sucking and biting as you writhed beneath him. His hand slid from your ankle, up the inside of your leg, pushing your thigh down to open you wider beneath him.

“Adam!” it was your turn to pant his name as his long fingers moved between your thighs, stroking gently until he found the hidden spot where your aching want lay coiled. One finger rubbed and slid over that tiny spot as your toes curled in absolute ecstasy. The aching deeper inside began to throb insistently, bringing with it a feeling of heat and damp. At that, you saw him smile against your skin, his fingers moving down, thumb stroking while one fingertip teased the entrance to your body. For a moment you were embarrassed as his fingers slid in the wetness that had escaped you, until with a groan and a muttered ‘yes’ he slid one finger inside you.

Your eyes flew open, back arching with a cry of pleasure and desperation. Your hips writhed against his invasion, wanting still more. Adam licked and kissed his way up to your lips, letting your arms go. Your fingers threaded into his hair as he drank from your mouth, thumb stroking, finger moving slowly in and out of you.

He was met with a mewling whimper as another finger joined the first, stretching you slightly, moving deeper. It felt so good, but you still wanted so much more. You arched against his fingers, begging for something you didn't have words for.

Adam chuckled against your mouth, his teeth scraping across your lips.

“Easy, my love. This can’t be rushed.” his fingers moved leisurely, keeping you on the edge of….something.

“Adam!” His fingers curled slightly inside you, sending shockwaves through you.

From head to toe, your skin felt as though it was humming, vibrating. You wanted to burst.

“Please...Adam…..please.”

His fingers stilled ass he heard the pleading in your voice, the desperate need.

“There’s so much more my darling.” he whispered gently.

“I need….I feel like…”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes!” your answer was loud and raspy as he shifted himself fully over you, fingers pulling away and leaving you feeling even emptier than before.

You pushed your hips against him, begging. He nodded, his expression one of tenderness and adoration.

“It will hurt.” he whispered. “I wish I could spare you that.”

“Only for a moment.” your hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs grazing over his lips. “I trust you.”

The amazement that was etched across his features brought tears to your eyes. Still, after everything, Adam still found it hard to believe that someone could care, could trust, could love him. He continued to wrestle with the man he had once been and the beast he had become. He had whispered to you one evening by the fire that he felt unworthy of your love, of anyone’s after the way he had treated people for so long. You would make sure you spent the rest of your life ensuring he knew that he was loved and trusted, unconditionally.

You nodded your head, pulling him down to kiss him gently, your arms wrapping around his neck, fingers stroking the smooth, warm skin of his back. He moved slightly, hard heat nudging at your entrance. As his hips pushed forward slightly you gasped against his mouth. There was no pain yet, but the size of him inching inside you felt impossible and incredible. For a moment you felt trepidation, mixed with a feeling of completeness and pleasure you could not have even begin to describe. He felt you tense and stilled, looking down on you with wonder and concern.

“It’s better if I do this part fast, it won’t hurt you as much. Just watch me, don’t take your eyes off mine.”

With a deep breath you relaxed, staring into his bright eyes as though he was your lifeline. Which he was. Fingers moved between your bodies as he adjusted and your hips rocked slightly, bringing him further inside you.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry darling.”

With a loud, animal groan he pushed forward hard, breaking through the barrier quickly. A tear escaped at the sharp pain, worse than you expected and you had to fight the urge to buck him off of you. He lay still, buried deep inside of you and the pain receded into a dull throb as you regained your breath.

He kissed you again murmuring apologies against your skin. You could feel the tightness of his body as he fought his natural urge to move. You felt sore, but not pained and even that sensation was quickly being overtaken by another one as you raised your hips experimentally.

Adam hissed as you moved, sweat beading on his brow with the exertion of trying not to hurt you any further. He moved inside you, just a tiny thrust and waves of pleasure radiated throughout you. You didn't feel that ache, that emptiness anymore but rather, full, stretched and whole. It was pure bliss. It wasn't enough.

“Let go, you won't hurt me.”

To encourage him you shifted your thighs open wider, causing him to slide in even deeper, his palm sliding over your sweat dampened skin to pull your leg over his hip. That movement tilted your hips differently bringing him closer as though you could feel the burn of him all the way into your stomach.

Hands slid down his back, tracing the line of his spine. He smiled gently, testing as he pulled back, leaving you panting, your body not ready to relinquish the sensation of him inside you. He slid forward again slowly, too slowly but this time you could fully enjoy the feeling of him filling you without the pain. There were no words that could describe the sense of completeness, the mind numbing pleasure of having him inside you. But he was torturing you, keeping you on the edge, always wanting, aching and needing.

“Belle.” he growled, leaning over you, his elbows resting above your shoulders, his hands tangled in your hair.

He positioned his body flush with yours, the roughness off his chest and chin rasping against your heated skin as he began a rhythmic rocking motion in and out of you.

“Oh.” you breathed in wonder as every smooth thrust of his hips brought you to new heights.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him even closer, almost his full weight on you. Your lips found his as you tried to drink in the taste of him on your tongue. Hips rose and fell together, instinct drove you as your fingers ran over every inch of his skin that you could reach.

He growled in your ear, his shoulders shuddering as your fingers ghosted over his hipbone. When your hands clutched at his rear his whole body clenched up, his teeth grazing your neck.

“Oh darling...heaven, you are heaven.”

The movement of his hips was faster now, less controlled, his lips kissing wetly across your collarbone as you both panted and moaned. Heat radiated from inside you, from him, from every inch of his body that touched you. Your eyes fluttered shut, heels digging into the bed as you pushed up to meet his every thrust.

One hand left your hair to slide down the front of you, palming your breast before trailing to where your bodies met, easing his fingers between your thighs he stroked, sending hot shivers throughout you.

“God yes!” he purred against your neck, your muscles clenching around his length.

Your fingernails dug into his skin as you writhed beneath him, the pace of his thrusts becoming erratic, faster and more powerful as he lost control.

You never wanted it to end, your toes curled as his fingers worked magic, the deep, hot slide of him inside you setting fire to your senses.

“Adam!” His name was ripped from your throat as a pressure built, radiating from between your thighs, encompassing every part of you, every nerve ending, every hair on your head exploding as waves of bliss and release surged through you.

Your back arched high off the bed, muscles clenching and relaxing as stars seemed to burst behind your eyelids. Adam’s breath was hot against your skin as he moaned and growled harshly in your ear.

“Yes...Belle.”

His body stiffened with one last hard jerk of his hips, his mouth mashing against yours as he cried out against your tongue. He shuddered and you felt a rush of wet heat inside you.

You held him tightly as his head collapsed against your shoulder. Fingers traced patterns over damp skin. You felt his breath return to normal along with yours and the air began to feel cold on your bare skin. You shivered, clutching him tighter. His head lifted, long golden hair tickling your skin. Your fingers found their way to his face, tracing the lines of his jaw, his cheeks even his nose, giggling when his teeth nipped at you playfully.

Your heart swelled with so much love for him you felt certain there was no way to contain it.

“Tell me I didn't hurt you.” his thumb was trailing through the tear that had escaped.

“No. Adam, you didn’t hurt me. I'm just so happy and I love you. “

He kissed you gently, smiling down at you.

“I love you too. That was…..amazing.”

Your cheeks burned as images of your lovemaking flashed in your mind. Adam chuckled at the sight.

“I never expected it to be quite like that.” you admitted, shivering again.

Deftly, Adam shifted from you, repositioning your body under the duvet and curling you in snugly beside him.

“That was just a taste, my love. There's so much more that we can explore together.” he whispered in your ear. “I did mention that I planned to keep you as my prisoner in this bed.”

“I believe I said that I would be willing.” you smiled, stroking his chest.

“Well the,” he smirked. “Let's talk about what I can teach you next.”

#batb fanfic #batb2017 #dan stevens fanfiction #dan stevens growl #older writing

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seven-silver-sins-blog · 6 years ago

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Young Lover

Young lover, Young lover.

where have you gone?

For our storm I promise will soon pass on.

Young lover, Young lover.

Why have you left me?

I cant breath, I can't float, I'm lost in your sea.

Young lover, Young lover.

I can not lose thee.

For you and only you hold my heart's key.

Young lover, Young lover.

My heart is tree, that you grew.

But don't you see, I love you.

Young lover, Young lover.

Please don’t stray far

Even dying nebulas can create stars.

-Cheyenne A (SevenSilver)

#Poetry #Poems #Poem #Writing #Older writing #not perfect #spokenword #Love #trying #relatable #spoken poetry #young love

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red-alynore · 6 years ago

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The Girl and the Draenei

((Old writing rediscovered when looking things up for another RP response. The backstory of how Nore met her paladin mentor as a young teenager on Outland.))

The four-person squad stepped away from the safety of Kirin’Var into the fields of Netherstorm. Fewer hints of the once lush farmland and orchards remained as the years passed and the magic loose in the air grew wilder. This day was relatively calm—even boring, with not even a mana wyrm in sight.

Alynore followed Kamron, adjusting her bulky communications pack often; it seemed to get heavier the longer they walked. She’d begged to come along to carry the gnomish device, and the squad’s mage had convinced Kamron to let the gangly teenager join them. There wasn’t much danger between the village and the outpost, after all.

It took two hours to reach their destination. The outpost stood on the edge of the crumbling wastes, backed against spiky hills; it was a defensible location and a direct road to the village. Tonovan and Romann would stay to watch the pass, while Ackert and Iylsen came back to the village for a break. In a few days, another squad would take over.

As the outpost came into view, Kamron called a sudden halt. An elekk stood tied outside the crooked tower, dozing in the ever-shifting light. The creature wore heavy barding that seemed to shine on its own.

“One of the draenei?” Nina Romann grunted, adjusting her rifle. “What’re they doing out here?”

“Dunno,” Kamron said. “Let’s find out.”

Alynore felt the mage’s long fingers curl over her shoulder and squeeze slightly. “Pay attention, little one,” Tonovan murmured.

“I’m almost as tall as Nina,” Nore groused.

“Yes; not sure when that happened,” the elf mused, walking along, almost steering Nore forward. She found Tonovan odd; he always seemed half-asleep, his blue eyes glassy and long blond hair tangled. He had strange dreams that came true, and specialized in raw arcane energy.

They entered the dim building just behind Kamron. It was Nore’s first good look at one of the draenei up close. He was big; broad shouldered, huge hands, heavy hooves. He wore gleaming crystalline armor and had a shield strapped to his back. A hefty mace hung at his belt, opposite a thick libram. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. Two large tendrils grew from either side of his jaw, the gold bands on them matching the one on his long tail, covered with natural plating. His dark brown hair hung halfway down his back, kept away from his face by his horned headcrest. His skin was a deep, rich shade of blue that reminded the girl of the paintings of Azeroth’s waters in her favorite storybook.

The draenei was kneeling by a cot where the mage Iylsen laid, rasping for breath, blood covering her delicate elven features. Light glowed from the giant’s hands over the injured woman, and her breathing eased.

“Vindicator,” Kamron said. “What happened here? Where’s Corporal Ackert?”

The draenei continued his work as he answered, his voice even deeper than Kamron’s bass. “He is above, watching the west. I suggest your team prepare for battle…” He looked at Kamron, and his glowing white eyes flickered down to Nore. “What is a child doing here?”

“I’m part of the squad,” she said. It was true, to an extent. She did chores and ran errands for them since Kamron took care of her, anyway. “And I’m not a child, I’m thirteen!”

“You ain’t grown up yet,” Kamron growled, gently cuffing the back of Nore’s head. “What’s comin’ from the west?”

“Demons,” the draenei answered, standing. “They are taking over the ruins of my old home, Arklon, on the next island. Your friends saved me from an ambush. Iylsen forced their retreat, but they will return.” He smiled at Nore, who was staring up at him. Despite the severe cast of his face and the bony spikes of his headcrest, his smile was friendly. “I am Varduun.”

“Captain Kamron Marcus,” Kamron answered. “Sergeant Nina Romann, and Tonovan the Seer. The brat’s Alynore Forrester.” He winked at the glare his young charge gave him, but his expression quickly sobered again. “I wasn’t expectin’ the Legion to have moved this fast, or I’da left her back in the village. This was supposed to be an easy resupply and duty swap. Shoulda known better.” He shot a glare at the Seer, who shrugged and gave Kamron one of his odd smiles.

Ackert clattered down the stairs, his dark face ashen. “They’re comin’!” he said. Outside, Varduun’s elekk trumpeted a warning, feet stomping the ground. “At least a dozen, all different kinds!”

Varduun drew his mace and shield, a glowing sigil appearing above his forehead. Nore felt a warm glow embrace her, and saw Light wrap her comrades. “May the Naaru guide our weapons and protect our bodies,” the Vindicator intoned. “Let us meet this assault head on, and drive the Legion’s minions back!”

“Romann, Tonovan, get up high,” Kamron ordered. “Ackert, hold the door. Nore, stay with Iylsen and try to use that contraption to call for help.”

Nore nodded, trying to ignore the knot suddenly twisting in her guts. “Don’t get killed,” she said. It felt stupid to say, but what else was there?

Kamron paused, his sword drawn in his right hand, ruffling Nore’s short red hair with his left. “We’ll do what we can. You do your job, kid, I know you can.” He hurried out with the Vindicator. Romann and Tonovan climbed the stairs to the top of the tower. Ackert closed the door, leaving Nore inside with the wheezing mage.

Nore went to her pack and began flicking switches and pressing buttons, rotating the dial fast as she could to power up the device. The increasingly wild magic of the region made communication tricky at times, and whatever the Betrayer’s Blood Elves were doing in their new camps wasn’t helping. Sometimes relying on technology was better, sometimes magic. She prayed today was one of the technology days as she shouted into the speaker.

She heard only static in response.

Outside, there was a roar, followed by high-pitched shrieks and gibbering laughter. She heard Romann’s rifle, the shouts of Kamron and Varduun, the explosion of Tonovan’s spells, the elekk calling. Nore felt suddenly cold, and she gripped the hilt of her short sword. Kamron had taught her how to use it, drilling her relentlessly over the last two years. But she was safe, inside the tower, behind a guarded door.

She heard Ackert yell for help, and the door shuddered as his body struck it. A large something bellowed and the door cracked. Nore clamped her hands over her mouth before she could shriek. Silence was best; if the demons didn’t know something was inside, they wouldn’t try too hard to enter. They would focus on the fighters outside.

Romann and Tonovan must have had their attention, though, as the large creature bellowed again, a fiery hand tearing open the door. Nore caught a glimpse of Ackert driving back the monster. He couldn’t stop the imps that scampered past him.

The bouncing red creatures were almost as big as Alynore, and chattered at the sight of the girl next to the injured woman. Nore forgot every drill, every practice, every lesson as the first one lashed at her. She swung her blade wildly, striking the imp as she screamed. Its claws raked her forearm, leaving bloody gashes that seemed to burn. She cried out in pain, and the demons jeered as they began to surround her.

A burst of snow shot past Nore, throwing most of the imps back through the door. Iylsen leaned drunkenly on her left elbow, right arm extended and covered in frost. She dropped back onto the cot, gasping for breath. “Block…door…”

Alynore grabbed the edge of a table, trying to pull it into the doorway. An imp came bounding back inside, gibbering madly, its face scarred with frostbite as it raced toward the wounded mage. Nore grabbed a tin dinner plate off the table and winged it at the imp, striking it in the temple. “Hey ugly!” She shouted. It snarled, shaking off the strike, and turned to the teenager. Nore saw Romann’s discarded pack on the floor and grabbed its straps in her left hand, holding it between her and the imp. “Pick on someone your own size,” Alynore joked, voice shaking, gripping her short sword in her other hand.

The demon lunged for her, and she planted her feet, weapon ready. A hammer of Light dropped on the creature’s head, and it flopped to her feet. Alynore stabbed the twitching creature, and then stabbed again, her vision blurring. A strong hand grabbed her wrist, and then the Vindicator pulled her against his broad chest. “It’s done, child! You are safe, we are all safe…”

He set her back down by Iylsen’s cot. “Your first battle?” He asked, his glowing hands running over the elven woman’s head. She was unconscious again. The sounds outside had faded to Kamron giving orders to get rid of the demon corpses.

Alynore nodded, rubbing the stupid tears away. Varduun smiled and reached over to help, his thumb rough against her cheek. “You did well. Kept her safe, and yourself. It’s all right to be scared.”

“I did get hurt,” she said, looking at the angry red marks, still dripping blood down her arm.

“No shame there. Here, let me show you.” He took her arm gently. Somewhere distantly, she heard chimes. She drew in her breath, feeling her heart pound even more than it had during the battle. The warm glow filled her again, dancing through her vision and shining over her wound. The bleeding stopped as the claw marks scabbed over, well on their way to healed.

Alynore looked up at the Vindicator. He looked back at her with his brows drawn together, studious. She realized that past the glow, his eyes were almost normal looking, but still very light.

“This is what I dreamed,” Tonovan said quietly from the stairway. “The girl and the draenei.” Alynore looked up, and realized the mage was speaking to Kamron at the doorway, studying Nore in much the same way as Varduun. She pulled away from the Vindicator and ran over to Kamron, throwing her arms around him. To the Nether with field conduct, she was glad to see him in one piece.

He hugged her and then stepped back. “You did good, kid. Think there’s not much more I can teach you now.” He looked past her to Varduun. “That was her, wasn’t it?”

Varduun nodded. “I began, but she called the Light to herself, once she saw the way. With training, she will be a fierce little champion of the Light.”

Nore scowled. “I am not little!”

The adults laughed, in relief as much as amusement. Varduun offered to carry Iylsen back to the village on his elekk. Romann and Tonovan repaired the door and settled in to stay, expecting reinforcements that Kamron would send.

The reinforcements met the squad halfway back to Kirin’Var; Nore’s message had come through after all. The outpost would be repaired and any further demonic patrols from that way stymied.

Varduun stayed in the village for two weeks, enjoying the mages’ hospitality, exercising with the soldiers, and showing one young girl the shining scripts and illustrations in his libram as he spoke about the Light and the Naaru. Kamron also listened, and spent one long evening in a serious conversation with his ward.

When the Vindicator left Kirin’Var, Alynore went with him.

#Nore Writing #Older Writing #Backstory #Outland #Paladin #no edits we post like exhausted metagaming pigeons #originally posted to RP Haven a long time ago #probably on the Meddler archive site I haven't checked

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winterdeepelegy · 8 years ago

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@jancisstuff How his cat got its name. Emergency Supply

#older writing #ffxiv #ff14 #Glace Silencieuse #Annowre Ka'lyth #fat cat minion

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blametheeditor · 2 years ago

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Jeremy Messed Up: Chapter 1

NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AGES

The Sequel To Mike Messed Up

Previous | Next

Content Warnings: Mentions of death, want to harm someone, cursing (lots of cursing), mentions of being followed

___________________________

"I wish you good luck Mike! You're gonna need it!"

Mr. Seal removes his name tag and Freddy Fazbear tie, tossing them carelessly onto the counter beside the entrance's cash register, a growing smile plastered onto his face.

"But, I guess I really don't care! So have the greatest last day of your life!"

The man then reaches for the restaurant's doors. The very doors he had been saving everything in order to buy. Every last penny he could scrounge up, making sure he was living on almost nothing just to become the owner of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.

The joy. The thrill. The promise.

...what a fucking waste.

But now it was over! What he thought would be his downfall was really a dream come true! And it was all thanks to the little asshole currently yelling for-!

"FREDDY!"

Well fuck me.

Before Mr. Seal could so much as think of sprinting as far as he possibly can for good, a paw suddenly latches onto the back of his uniform. Not even a full second later and the grasp becomes solid, stating he was, in fact, stuck here. And just to add salt to the goddamn wound, he is then lifted and held up by the back of his shirt like a kitten needing a time out.

Why they listen to the brat without hesitation was beyond him. Not to mention humiliating.

"Already on it," Freddy responds, looking over the former restaurant owner with a critical eye. Mr. Seal doesn't even so much as twitch as he dangles however. Only glaring at the kids currently giggling up at him with arms crossed in anger.

That's when Mike comes tearing out of the East Hallway, seeming as if he was haphazardly thrown together. Of course he had four helpful and loyal animatronics by his side to run the restaurant now under his command, but the stress of everything seemed to have caught up to him.

Late nights of paperwork, late nights of fixing when Chica got dough inside her joints, Bonnie with his ears being yanked on harshly by little kids, Foxy running into way too many walls, and Freddy never being one to actually tell him when something is wrong, late nights of counting the steadily growing profits, late nights protecting the restaurant, late nights helping design new shows, late nights discussing new songs...

Now that Freddy looks at him, Mike seemed exhausted almost. He's been doing so much for them, without ever slowing down. It actually slipped their mind he's only human. Maybe he could get him to finally take a break.

But, at the moment, he had another problem to attend to. One a certain Mike would most likely begin cursing about for no specific reason.

"What the f-!"

"Language, Michael," Freddy warns with a murderous glare. The person they will kill for or not, he was going to get stuffed if he speaks harsh words with children around.

"-azbear do you think you're doing!" Mike amends, skidding to a halt before the towering animatronic. A smirk decorates his face at seeing how pissed up both the bear and his apparent 'partner' were. Of course one was pissed about being held in the air like a kitten, the other for his name being used as a curse word, but, hey, the kids were getting a kick out of it!

Oh, yeah, kids. Is it really day time? God he's had too much coffee. What was going on? Mr. Fuck doing something again? Leaving?

Right! Leaving! And more ominous quotes to his pleasure of adding cause fuck logic!

"What do you mean 'greatest last day'?"

"Exactly what I mean," Mr. Seal states. A moment passes with two sets of bright blue eyes staring at him, causing the man to kick at the animatronic's arm before huffing. "What?"

"You can't just say 'exactly what I mean', dude. Creepy as-"

"Michael."

"...Bonnie."

"Hey!" said bunny exclaims, whipping around to find Chica snickering quietly as he glares at her.

His red gaze turns pitiful when Foxy bursts out laughing. He quickly turns to Mike for help, Freddy even. Being open meant he can't just tackle the son of a bitch and teach him a lesson right then and there. But apparently the only people who'd help him were ignoring him! And-

Wait a goddamn minute! Are the parents laughing at him, too!

"Why would this be my last day?" Mike demands softly.

His leg just healed. He's been running around like a chicken who's head was cut off while still running this once hell hole of a children's paradise. If Mr. Seal wanted to hurt him again, using those who have even taken care of him this entire time, and with innocent people's lives on the line, he will kill him.

And Freddy looked just about ready to.

"You better have a good explanation for this, Mr. Seal," the animatronic breathes, eyes nearly bleeding to black.

"I'm not pulling another stunt," the man offers. A glance off to the little bastards who were making fun of him, and he gives a pointed look to the ground.

Mike nods once before Freddy obliges. And with the former restaurant owner set onto the ground, they can finally speak like civilized people. No need to-

"Oh come on!"

"Talk," the bear murmurs as Mr. Seal attempts to rip away from the steal grip still keeping him in place.

"You've simply broken the contract, Mr. Schmidt, " is all he says. A smile then begins to appear, growing brighter as Mike becomes pale, confused. Afraid.

One, being called 'Mr. Schmidt' is a death sentence. He was either 'Mr. Shit', or 'Shit', something Bonnie has quickly warmed up to and will forever state his name is, in fact, anything but Mike.

But being called by your true last name with the proper title at the beginning was impossible. So impossible he and Foxy believe he has flesh eating moths that are summoned just by that to hunt the targeted person and murder them.

Don't ask them why. Just, moths.

TWO! Two! Uh...there really was no two.

Well, other than the fact that, apparently breaking a rule in the employee handbook allows Mr. Seal to kill him, and almost doing so not even a few months ago, then yes, there was much to worry about.

What contract? He was never given one even after becoming the 'official' owner of the restaurant under his boss' guiding hand. Was there really something to be worried about? Will he lose this place? Will they get scrapped and melted for parts and steel? Is he going to face death again? Will he lose this time? Like he's always been told would happen?

This was too much. Mike was working his ass off, losing sleep and losing sanity all the while. He wasn't eating, wasn't even leaving the restaurant. So many people were telling him he was going such a great job, parents thanking him over and over again for some reason.

The man's eyes suddenly widen as his breathing quickens. The room begins to spin, unable to tell what was where. What was what, even. Just a blur morphing into a vortex sucking him into nothingness. And in between the high-speed winds, the motion and movement going around and around, faces peered inside. Clear faces.

Freddy was watching him, concerned. Even Bonnie. Chica appeared just like the rest before fading just as quickly as Foxy. Even Mr. Seal appeared, only, he wasn't Mr. Seal. Then the animatronics came back, only...different. A lot different. But just as quickly they faded away.

The room faded away. He wasn't spinning anymore. As if it was all just a hallucination.

How long since he went to sleep? How long since he actually sat down and ate a proper meal? Took care of himself even? He showered and brushed his teeth, but something seemed to be missing. Something not even the voice repeating his name gently could give.

Wait, who the hell was saying his name? Damn it did he not answer the phone?

"Mike."

Freddy's equivalent of a heart skips a beat as the man he owes his life to for saving his family suddenly stumbles away. His paw quickly tightens around the flailing arm, pulling Mike closer to steady him as those eyes quickly focus once more. And it didn't escape his notice the human was now leaning heavily on one leg. The one that wasn't broken from their 'first' adventure.

Seems like it won't be their last.

"Looks like you're driving yourself into the ground, Mike," Mr. Seal finally announces.

God the kid looked awful. He hasn't really been paying attention considering the brat ruined his entire life essentially. And he never had the reason to considering the admittedly bright little bastard only needed to be told how to do everything once. After that he didn't even attempt to help with the place. He got payed either way.

Turns out Mike took things a bit too seriously. Or maybe he should've helped just a little more...

"Why the hell haven't you told me about this contract?" he's finally questioned. Even with Freddy attempting to make him head back to the office and rest, those eyes lock onto him, apparently back in the real world.

And as Mr. Seal looks Mike over once more, he can't but feel as if he screwed the guy over. Said guy screwed him over, but he looked ready for death. Something he not only begged but almost caused a little while ago.

Why can’t he just take one win! One!

"Well, I thought it'd be better to hear it from the person you work under, now."

"Odd way to put it, Mr. Seal."

Mike can't help but glare at the seemingly random customer butting into their conversation. Sure he seemed pretty tall and strong, but like hell he would let this asshole just do whatever he wants! Not with Freddy fucking Fazbear on his side!

"Mr...Mr. Emily?"

...goddamn it.

#older writing #FNAF #Jeremy Messed Up #BTE writing #cw #content warning

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poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness · 8 years ago

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Poem/lyrics/words from 2015! (Ancient I know)

I have acid brain I'm know I'm insane Feel the swelling In my membrane. You're the something on my nothing Baby My button on a string I'm so unique No converse sneaks Your medication is masturbation Taking the path towards damnation Procrastination A brain sededation. I'm the parody of this generation Getting high with no sensation To fuck with no hesitation But stop at procreation Always a heartbeat ahead of death (Not sure where my head was at the time of writing this....but I think I like SOME parts?)

#original content #older writing

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karlynoellewrites · 8 years ago

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Annalise’s Love

On April the 21st, Annalise decided it was high time she visit a dear friend. She set off from the eastern-most border of West Clocktown, and headed towards Carroll Street. Her destination was a towering building, like a metallic rook in the game of chess. A light rain was drizzling outside, setting shining beads in her wild dark hair.

By the time she reached the Mayor’s Offices, now called some official title that no one really used, she was soaked through. She stared up at the imposing building, and grinned. Entering through the glass doors, she walked straight past the woman at the front desk without having a head turned in her direction. She flounced, in her ragged silk dress, straight up to the elevator, slipped in silently, and pressed the topmost button. She arrived in a red and wood room, with another desk, and another woman. Annalise allowed this second woman to see her and stood politely until she was noticed.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman intoned.

Annalise looked at her critically.

She was a pretty woman, but not too pretty She had a full figure and rather dull eyes, and wore her corset far too tight.

“Do I need one?” Annalise snapped, unimpressed by the secretary.

“No one sees him without an appointment or special invitation.”

“Well, he invited me.” Annalise rubbed her knuckles absently.

“I was not informed.”

Annalise’s milky blue eyes snapped into a fierce lavender. “I assure you, miss-” she began in violent tones.

Then she allowed her eyes to return to normalcy, and calmed her voice. Without another word, Annalise walked past the secretary, to the door of the large office behind the woman’s desk, and was not followed.

In that office, the first noticeable things were the bookshelves. They lined nearly every inch of wall space, save for where there was a mirror and a portrait of a small girl. The second noticeable thing was a rather large claw-foot bathtub, which was the only furniture in the room. The third noticeable thing, and the one that gathered the most of Annalise’s attention, was a man lying face-down in several inches of water in that tub.

Leaning over him, she reached down into the water, grabbed a handful of his hair, which was in a water-logged braid, and pulled.

Once his ears were above the water she casually said, “You’ve already tried drowning. Get up.”

In between spitting and coughing, the man grinned. “You’re late.” His voice was smooth and unstrained.

“You didn’t have to go and try to drown yourself because of it.”

He turned to face her, still grinning. “I thought for sure you would kill my secretary.”

“I was contemplating it.”

“I must admit, in spite of myself, I’m glad you are here, Annalise.”

“That may be the closest thing I will ever get to a confession of love from you, Chester.”

He stood, and twisted his fingers around themselves. The bathtub transformed itself into a desk and chair. He left watery footprints across the crimson carpet as he picked up his clothing from a bookshelf and put it on.

Annalise was not phased.

He then sat at his desk, and sighed.

Annalise seated herself on the edge of the desk, staring unwaveringly into his wintery grey eyes. “I have a gift for you, Chester.”

“If it is your virginity, I gladly accept.”

She twisted her arms. “What a naughty big brother you are.”

“I am not your brother. Get off of my desk.”

Annalise did not. “Father then.”

“Definitely not.”

“Then you leave me no choice but to call you my husband.”

“Get off of my desk.”

She did, crossing her arms like a child. “Before I give you my present, I must know exactly what you consider me.”

“I consider you to be the bane of my existence.” Chester pressed a button on his desk’s speaker. “Tea.”

“I don’t like existence tea,” Annalise muttered, half to herself.

Chester let his dim golden hair down and began braiding it again while he waited for his drink. Annalise studied his face while he braided his hair. In every aspect of his physiognomy he was beautiful, perfectly shaped, almost feminine. And he was graceful in his movements and precise. But he was no dandy, Annalise knew.

She looked at the books lining the walls. “There are so many now.”

He looked up, wrapping his braid around his left arm. “Yes.”

“Were they pretty? The girls you turned into these?”

“Some.”

“Why have you never turned me in to a book?”

He stared at her very directly. “I do not think it’s a story I’d enjoy very much.”

Her eyes briefly changed to lavender.

“In honest answer to your question, Annalise,” Chester spoke in a diplomatic tone, “ I view you, always, as a little girl I found in an alley.”

“It’s been ten years. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a little girl any more, Chester.”

“Nor am I,” he said seriously.

She smiled and her eyes fell back to their normal coloring. “I’ve often wondered why you took me in,” she said softly.

“Boredom, mostly. You know how teenagers are.”

“Do they often take in ten year old girls?”

“Daily, I’m sure.” Chester tilted his head until his neck joints made a cracking sound.

“When I was ten, I know you loved me,” Annalise continued.

“Perhaps. These days are different,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Of course. You only love your twin brother.”

His face darkened.

Annalise bounced over to his chair. “It is true, isn’t it?” She pressed close against him.

His thin hand shot up and grasped her neck. For a delicate looking man, his hold was strong, and closed fast on her windpipe. He stood and her feet lifted from the floor. She struggled against him. Her eyes flashed violently purple, and a powerful invisible force slammed into Chester and threw him backwards, into a bookcase. Annalise lay splayed out on the floor where he had dropped her, gasping.

“Don’t you dare try to kill me, Chester!” she spat.

He stood and brushed dust from his shirt. “You have gotten extremely good at that.”

“I’ve had to,” She lifted the hair from her forehead to reveal a mosaic of yellow, purple and blue splotches.

Chester approached her and offered her his hand. He looked, not with sympathy, but with a sort of scholarly concern at the mess of bruises. “That is revolting,” he pronounced. He then offered her a chair across from his at his desk. They sat like civilized people.

Annalise did not speak, but gazed at the books, old and new, tattered and torn, fresh and clean.

The secretary entered the room with a tray of tea, and set it on the desk.

Chester’s focus was unfalteringly on Annalise. When the secretary left, he stated, “You’ve made yourself invisible to her.”

“Another useful talent,” Annalise replied bitterly.

“I am sorry,” he murmured, as if to himself.

Annalise looked at him curiously. Apologies from Chester were rare treats.

“I did say it was revolting,” he continued. “But I mean, more clearly, that it is revolting the way you continue living in abuse.”

She rubbed her neck, where Chester’s fingers had left red prints. “I’m used to it. I have you to thank for that.”

Chester leaned across his desk and placed his fingertips against her neck. He gently massaged the prints he had left, then pulled his hand away. He poured hot water in his cup and allowed the tea to steep.

“I meant it,” Annalise calmly spoke. “About you being in love with Adam.”

Chester added cream and sugar.

“Since he left, you’ve become...” Annalise grasped for a word.

“Insane?” He offered.

She stared at the carpet. “I loved him too. You two were the only family I’ve ever had.”

Silence filled the room, and Chester took a sip of tea.

Annalise placed a golden ring on the desk before him. “Here’s the gift I brought you.”

He stared at it for a long while. A slow grin began curling his lips. It was a malicious, fearsome thing. He picked it up and held it in his palm. “I accept,” he chuckled.

“You recognize it, then?” Annalise was like a spaniel, ears pricked, desperate for her master’s approval.

“Oh, my, yes.” His face was lit with the light of insanity.

“How did you do it?” He asked, excited. “Tell me everything!”

“I found her at her house....sleeping in bed. I cut her throat.”

“And?”

“I cut it right off of her finger.”

“And?” Chester was sitting on top of his desk, face leaning into hers. His braid fell loose from his arm.

“Then I set the house on fire.”

“I take it all back, Annalise. You are my darling daughter, my dear sister, and my greatest lover.”

Annalise basked in the words. “I did it for you, Chester. I knew you hated her. For taking Adam from us.”

He pressed his hand against Annalise’s face. “Yes. Yes. She deserved worse for what she did,” his eyes were elsewhere now, and his face was terrifying. “Not only did she steal my brother, she had to go and abandon him for other men. And it drove him away. But now,” he caressed Annalise. “Now she is dead. We no longer have to worry about his horrible wife again.”

“Chester,” Annalise ventured, when he finished his demented monologue. He stared at her, his winter colored eyes suddenly returning from the beyond.

“Have I made you very happy?” She asked, childlike.

“Oh yes, my darling. Very much.”

“Do you love me, Chester?” Her eyes were a deep purple, and her face was flushed.

He did not answer. His own eyes seemed to be everywhere at once.

“Do you?” She repeated, eyes shining.

Distantly, he nodded, as he began to pace around his office, seeming to be searching for something. He turned suddenly and twisted his fingers at odd, painful angles. The ring spun around on the table, and burst into a mess of pages between gold embossed covers.

Annalise stared at the new book, and then back at Chester. Her neck hurt. Tears stung her eyes. “I’m going to come back soon, Chester.”

“Why, are you leaving?” He seemed to have regained some composure.

“Yes.” She headed towards the door, and turned slightly, and looked at him. “Chester.”

He looked up, braid swinging.

“Why have you never turned me into a book?” She quietly asked.

Perfectly calm again, he smiled. “Because it is a story I don’t need to hear.... Not yet.”

She nodded, and left his office. She was satisfied.

#older writing #writing #writers on tumblr #karly noelle #clocktown #steampunk #fiction #short story #flash fiction #teacup tragedies #lit #fantasy #romance #abuse #relationships

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dampdeer · 8 years ago

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Night Has Come

if you could only make me feel better, but you are not a soothsayer and i am not one to be soothed. if you could only see the future, i might believe again in the warmth of shining sun but the night has come and won’t be gone. if i could only wash it from my soul, black stains from darkness gripping me, i might remember how it felt to be happy, how it felt to be lucky and carefree. but the night has come and won’t be gone, oh, the night has come and won’t be gone for far too long.

#mine #older writing #repost #writing #poem #poetry #spilled ink #poetry on tumblr

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red-alynore · 8 years ago

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Tenacity

((Written long ago for a prompt; minor editing to repost. Once upon a time, WoW paladins had to undergo an epic quest at lvl 60 to earn their fast mount. By the time I changed my paladin to Alynore in Wrath, one could simply learn the mount spells from a paladin trainer. I took Nore through the Charger quest chain for fun and to see the lore. The quest was removed in Cataclysm, but elements remain in game (the Equine Spirit is still in Dire Maul!). Seems like we’ll have a new, similar quest in Legion for the class mount.

For this story, I combined the Expedition Armory quests in Hellfire Peninsula with elements of the Classic paladin charger quest. Hopefully it works, along with the idea of Nore's own faith being a merging of the two religions of the Light she was raised and trained in.))

“Are you certain you wish to do this, child?” Varduun asked as he drew his elekk to a halt, letting Alynore slide off first. Her boots landed in the red dust of Hellfire Peninsula, kicking up a cloud that the constant wind dashed away.

The seventeen-year-old patted the elekk’s shoulder as she looked up at her mentor. “Much as I love ol’ Duvrefen here, I’m a human, and humans ride horses,” she said. She brushed back a loosened lock of auburn hair. “A horse of my own is probably the earliest thing I can ever remember wanting, actually. Sounds stupid, I guess.”

Varduun chuckled, his giant gauntleted hand briefly squeezing her shoulder. “Not at all.” The draenei vindicator looked past her. “This will be dangerous. I can help you to a point, but—“

“I know. This is all me, and nothing the draenei have tried before.” Nore pulled her pack off the elekk. The eternium barding could stay on Duvrefen’s back for now. She held the exorcism censer High Priestess Ishanah had given her. Wielding it instead of her shield would be interesting, to say the least. Nore drew her mother’s mageblade, reinforced with her own enchantments, and looked across the ruins.

The Unyielding, the ghosts were called; the tortured spirits of Alliance soldiers, fallen to orc death knights in the Second War. The Expedition Armory’s burned and broken walls were infested with the specters, entirely aware of what they were and hating anyone living that came near their territory.

No one ever liked talking about the Armory; the faces of the Unyielding were recognizable to her elders. It was one of those things Nore had grown up simply knowing, through bits and pieces gleaned over time, and through what was not said more than what was.

Adventurers from beyond the Dark Portal sometimes went to the ruins, trying to release the souls. It never seemed to last. Nore’s own research into the Armory’s destruction had yielded a clue she thought could make a difference.

“Let’s get this started,” she said, the censer in her left hand glowing with the Light’s power. Varduun nodded, drawing his own mace and shield as he strode forward, the mark of the Naaru blazing above his blue head. The Unyielding took notice.

A knight wheeled his mount around, the spectral beast screaming as it reared. Footmen responded to the knight’s call, forming into a squad to come at the draenei and his student. Varduun’s crystal mace flared with energy. The first footman to reach Varduun howled in rage and pain as the Light seared its ectoplasmic form. The mace smashed into its face, dissipating the ghost, only for more to swarm forward in frenzy. Varduun’s massive shield held them back. The knight lowered his lance to charge the vindicator.

Well behind Varduun, Nore held the censer high and focused on the knight. She chanted the draenic words an Auchenai priest had drilled her to memorize. Light poured from the censer, arcing across the short distance to strike the knight. He screamed in agony as he burned, the ashes flaring and vanishing.

The squad of specters stumbled. Their forms flickered and faded, their faces confused. Varduun’s deep voice rolled through the exorcism chant as his own judgment fell on the footmen, sending them into the Light.

Varduun’s tail whipped as he collected himself, looking over the Armory. “One group down. How many more to go?”

“Til we get to where the courtyard was, I guess,” Nore answered. Another squad of Unyielding rushed forward, howling. “But taking out the leaders does seem to have an effect.”

“You chant, I’ll swing,” he said, raising his shield as he charged toward the spirits, shouting his own battle cry. Nore sprinted after him.

Later she wouldn’t remember how many waves of undead soldiers they fought through, her sword and Varduun’s mace holding them back as she channeled the exorcism spell through the censer, until the device felt hot through her gauntlet. The mages and the knights seemed to be the focal spirits, leaders who the ghosts clung to and needed for direction. She was panting as they stepped through fallen pillars into what was once a training yard.

Wind moaned through the ruins, the sounds of other ghosts distant. They went through the motions of life, calling orders and marching songs in a repetitive loop they could no longer recall the meaning of. Nore shuddered as she looked over the empty space.

“You’re sure this is the place?” Varduun asked. His long brown hair had come loose, and he paused for a moment to tie it back behind his horned headcrest. “Even the ghosts seem to avoid this place.” He wiped a trickle of blood from his dark goatee, heedless of more trailing down one of his thick tentacles.

“With good reason,” Nore said. She walked toward an oblong hillock near the center of the field. “The adventurers who came through here said that the ghost of a death knight who assaulted the Armory was here, too. The records, and the adventurers, say he was given the body of a great hero, corrupting even the warrior’s horse. They say he still tries to cut down the Unyielding, make them bend to his will.”

“Sounds like a story.”

“Maybe.” Nore used her boot to brush some of the dirt and debris away. Bone poked out of the ground, dulled and cracked. “But if he’s here, he’s dangerous, and it may be what’s keeping the Unyielding tied to this place. At least some of them.”

She pulled the gold scrying bowl out of her pack, and the canteen of holy water. She fit the exorcism censer into the base of the bowl, pouring the holy water over both as she chanted alien words. The items glowed with holy light, reflecting off the jaggal pearls that lined the edges of the combined device.

She heard a horse’s pained scream. In the water there was an image of a black horse ridden by a man in black armor, his face blending between human and orc. The hillock shifted, dirt and stone rolling of their own accord.

Alynore jumped up. She redrew her sword and pulled her shield off her back. A murmured prayer, and she felt the power of the offensive seal that glowed briefly around her body. Varduun’s blessing bolstered her own; it was the only help he would give at this point.

Alynore stood alone as the ghost of the orc death knight tore his body out of the ground, his spirit coalescing around the bones. He rode the black charger, the creature’s eyes fel-green as it screamed a challenge.

“Well come get me then!” Nore shouted, her sword of Light smacking the monstrosity. It wheeled her way and charged. Energy wings flared from Nore’s back as she called for more strength and planted her feet, shield ready.

The impact shoved her backwards and numbed her arm. The charger’s teeth snapped at her face while the death knight swung his axe. Nore pushed back and slammed the edge of her shield against the charger’s jaw while her blade parried the death knight’s swing. She heard him begin a chant, and her own snarled spell cut him off.

Ghostly hooves struck at her legs. She dodged away, consecrating the ground she covered. The ghosts roared, and charged again. Nore waited, and then leapt to the side. She flung a hammer of Light while trying to hook her sword in the axe as it fell toward her. The death knight was torn from his mount, landing on Nore. He felt very solid as they hit the ground together, and his “breath” smelled of rot.

She gasped out a word, a seal of healing surrounding her as she gathered her limbs and pushed the death knight away. He laughed as he got back to his feet. He had his axe; Nore’s sword was on the ground between them. She swore and dove for it.

His axe whistled past her ear as she rolled up inside his reach and stabbed into his chest. “By the Light’s power, be gone from this world!” she cried, twisting the mageblade as she channeled the exorcism spell, burning his bones. The death knight’s ghost howled as he dissipated, a pool of greasy ectoplasm his only remains.

Varduun’s strong hands caught her, and his laugh boomed in her ears. “Well done! For a moment there, I thought you were in trouble. Good you proved me wrong.”

She nodded, still panting for breath. If she had died in this trial, Varduun would have finished the job of destroying the ghost. That was some comfort. “We’re not…done yet,” she panted. “Call Duvrefen?”

“Already here,” Varduun replied. The elekk waited at the edge of the courtyard, stamping and trumpeting in agitation. His upset was apparent immediately; the ghost charger still stood, aimless now, pawing over the crumpled remains of its former body.

Nore gave the confused ghost a wide berth as she pulled the last items off the elekk’s back. She moved as close as she dared, arranging the eternium barding on the ground in the proper order. At some point, the ghost stopped to stare at her, uncertain what to do now that the death knight wasn’t giving it orders. Nore placed the package of mana-enriched horse feed on the ground between the spirit and the barding.

“It’s all right,” she told it. “He can’t hurt you anymore.” The feed glowed, imbued by the powers of the Aldor priests and Archmage Khadgar himself. Nore hoped he was right about how this should work, adapting what he knew about the Silver Hand rituals with the Aldor’s.

The ghost snorted and pawed the ground, lowering its head. For a moment Nore thought it would charge, and she tensed. Then the spirit moved forward, spectral lips pursing to gum at the feed. Once it realized it could actually touch and even eat the food, the horse dug in as if starved.

Nore grinned. Varduun handed her the scrying bowl and censer, cool now, the water used up. Nore closed her eyes, held the censer, and prayed as she knelt on the ground, Light surrounding her, the ghost horse, and the barding.

As the prayer ended and the Light faded, she felt a warm breath and a velvet-soft nose touch her cheek. She opened her eyes.

A solid, living horse stood in front of her, wearing the blessed eternium barding. The horse was black, with a pale blond mane and tail. The pile of bones was gone, but the shining gold-white eyes of the charger were the same as the spirit’s.

“Now that,” Varduun said. “Is what I call a victory for the Light.”

The horse nudged Nore insistently, and the girl laughed, wrapping her arms around its neck. “Glad to meet you, too,” she said. The horse breathed out a content sigh, and then pulled back. Nore got to her feet. “Looks like…she’s ready to go,” Nore told Varduun, making a quick check of the animal.

“Indeed, and a good idea. The ghosts may be at rest for now, but best not to push our luck. And besides, we must get back to Shattrath.” He smiled down at her. “The others will want to welcome the newest vindicator into our ranks. Well done, Alynore.”

She couldn’t hide her grin as she mounted her charger. She rode alongside Varduun and Duvrefen, away from the ruin of the Armory, toward the thorny path leading back to Terokkar.

“Has she a name yet?” Varduun asked as they crossed the dusty red plains.

“Think Tenacity will suit her? It’s one of the Tenets of Faith from the human religion.”

The mare tossed her head and snorted. Nore patted Tenacity’s neck while Varduun laughed. “I think it will fit her well, little sister. Perhaps more than you realize yet!”

#Nore Writing #Older Writing #Backstory #Paladin #Tenacity #Paladin's Charger #Tyrael's Charger #Outland #World of Warcraft

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