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rodolfoparras · 1 year ago

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Thinking about John Price being a big name in the porn industry not just for his dashing looks but also for the amazing chemistry that he has with his coworkers.

Despite the varied types of content that he makes, Price is mostly known for his facials and even cream pies videos. Price is good at his job, knows how to make the viewer feel engaged in the scene and he knows how to pull a genuine reaction from his costars, unlike the majority of people in the industry.

But recently he’s noticed the declines in views, different types of comments complaining that he’s just making the same old type of videos and even a few news sources saying he’s been swapped out for someone much younger.

All it takes is one click on some run into the ground new source to find out who exactly has come to take his place, only to see that it’s you who’s much younger than him, said to have a much more varied content and with a good amount of views for someone who just started out in the industry.

The curiosity in him hadn’t found peace until he had found out what exactly made your content different from his. Porn is porn isn’t it?

However he’d quickly realized what made your content different when he’d watched a video, matter of fact, multiple videos showing men pinned under your weight as you bully your cock into their holes, men down on all four taking your cock down their throats or with your head buried between their thighs as they scream and sob from pleasure.

Price doesn’t know why but something in him made him contact his manager and request a collaboration with you.

It could be for his decline in views. It could be because he thought he needed something new, something he hadn’t shown his audience before or it could be for the way his cock twitched in attention when watching your videos.

He didn’t think he’d get a yes, pacing back and forth while nervously chewing on his bottom lip only to almost jump in happiness when he received the text saying you had agreed to collaborate with him.

However any trace of happiness disappeared when he’d received the script, because something Price hadn’t expected was to bottom in the scene, yet it said so in the script and for a second he hesitated. Price hasn’t ever bottomed before, neither on nor off camera. He should’ve realized this could happen, since you were the top in all of your videos. But he’d gotten ahead of himself, forgotten about the possibility that this could happen.

For whatever reason Price agrees to do the collab anyway, tells himself he can do it, at least to save his career.

The day of your shoot he’s nervous like he’s never been before, rereading the script over and over, constantly glancing at himself in the mirror, even going as far as praying in hopes that he won’t mess this up.

When he meets you he’s taken by surprise once again. You’re ever so charismatic, shaking his hand and giving him the very same dazzling smile you’d given the camera lens while cumming all over someone’s face.

Price thinks he can do it, takes a deep breath as he lays down onto the sheets, only to swallow hard while you crawl up to him.

He’s sure he almost faints when you grab his chin with your thumb and index “hey hey breathe” you say loud enough for him to hear but not enough for the camera to pick up on it.

There’s a flash of surprise on his face before he does as you say and slowly but surely a bit of that tension bleeds away.

“Good good” you say with a small smile on your face while leaning into his ear, gently nibbling on it before whispering “You tell me if you’re uncomfortable with anything and I’ll stop immediately alright?”

Price almost laughs. You’re the rookie here yet you’re making him seem like one but somehow he doesn’t mind it, feels butterflies in his stomach as he nods his head in response.

It all turns into a bit of a blur from there. He remembers you placing kisses all over his body, remembers his dick hard and weeping before you granted him a moment of relief, even how your velvety tongue felt buried between his legs. But what lays engraved in his mind is when he had straddled your lap, hands shaking as they adjusted their grip on your chest and thighs quaking as he lined your cockhead up with his entrance.

“Come on John, show me how well you can take my cock yeah?” You say voice breathy and strained, reading a direct line from the script while desperately trying not to buck up into him.

“Ah fuck!” He cries out, head lolling back and eyes squeeze shut as he feels your tip push past his puckered rim

“God just- just like that pretty” you manage to say through gritted teeth, thumb soothingly caressing his hip while eagerly drinking up ever small reaction he gives.

“Feels feels so- so full” he whines out as he continues to take inch by inch, completely forgetting about the cameras on him along with every line in the script.

When you finally bottom out, he’s got fat tears trickling down his cheek, bottom lip wobbling as whines and whimper escape his lips.

“There you are sweetheart” you say, going off script, as your hand cups his cheek, calloused thumb stroking his flushed skin.

In that very moment Price realizes why you’re as popular as you are. It’s not for the varied type of content that you make, it’s not for the men you got pinned under your weight but rather because of how considerate and caring you are towards your partners.

Slowly but surely he starts moving, hips setting a steady pace and with each thrust he feels jolts of pleasure coursing through his body

Fuck, why hasn’t he done this before?

It feels so fucking good, he thinks to himself but realizes he’d said out loud when you respond to him,

“Feels good yeah? Just like that pretty” you grunt out “make yourself cum on my cock”you say once again reading a line from the script and in that very moment Price remembers the two of you are actually doing a scene and not just fucking.

He’d allowed himself to get lost in pleasure but for whatever reason the director didn’t seem to mind it, if anything the director seemed to like it going by the big smile on his face as he watched Price practically bounce on your cock.

Price scours his brain for the lines he’s supposed to say, but all he can think about is how your cockhead is pressing onto the ball of nerves over and over again.

“Please please-“ he slurs out, eyes squeezing shut as blunt nails dig into your skin. Despite being lost in bliss he can’t help but notice how you’ve even got him begging, something he also hasn’t done before and if he wasn’t in the position that he was in, he’d actually laugh.

“Come on sweetheart, cum for me” you say, as if already knowing what he’s waiting for and before he knows of it, he’s tipping over the edge, buckets of sweat pouring down his spine, and ropes of cum spurting all over your abdomen.

As he slumps down next to you in the bed he can’t help but realize that you’d even made him cum without actually touching him.

Many firsts in one night, Price thinks to himself.

Needless to say there were many collabs after that and Price was more than happy to bottom in every single one.

#I wanted to write sm today but work sucked the soul out of me so I offer u this drafts so it’s not just me coming on here holding #Balkan talk hour 🏃🏻‍♂️#call of duty #john price #john price x reader #john price x male reader #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #top male reader #dom male reader #sub male character #bottom male character #x male reader #male reader

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mokulule · 7 months ago

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The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 13

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Warning! This chapter is pretty rough (I think), please check the tags for triggers before reading if you have worries. Part 13:

The plan had gone off without a hitch. The Ghost had been noticeably distracted ever since Tim had asked Jason to sit their attempts to capture him out. He’d been very grateful though that it hadn’t taken long for the Ghost to appear again in Gotham’s industrial area. Jason only had so much patience.

Thanks to Babs’ newly upgraded cameras they’d had warning and time for everyone to get together.

Herding the Ghost to their trap had been a cinch with him only getting away from them a few times.

The trap was set in a dead-end alley near the power plant which had power lines running through the ground underneath. They were insulated so he wouldn’t sense them. They would only be a problem if he tried to phase through them.

The Ghost froze in place as the trap came to life with electricity every wall covered with the net. It wasn’t just electrified wire it was meant to create arcs of electricity. It needed to be visible, it needed to stop their quarry in place. Tim didn’t actually want to electrocute the guy if he could help it.

Dick jumped down to land beside Tim and Damian, his escrima sticks ready.

The Ghost swung around, taking everything in. Then he started to sink through the ground. It was the moment Tim had been waiting for. Everything hinged on this one theory being true; that he wasn’t just afraid of electricity, but that it would stop him from phasing through. He jumped back up with a startled yelp.

As he turned to face them mouth a thin pressed line, Tim couldn’t help the grin of a well-executed plan.

“Gotcha.”

Finally they could get to the bottom of this! But no! Tim’s instinct warned him before his brain even registered what was happening. Something about the Ghost’s posture had changed; he was looking up, tensing his body for something.

No!

Tim fumbled for the button, his last ditch attempt even as Dick and Damian sprung forward recognizing the look of someone about to fly. He’d tossed the EMP device earlier in the night and it had attached to the Ghost’s back. He pushed the button now.

But the Ghost was already flying having taken off like a rocket. There was a half second delay and Tim realized with horror that even if the electromagnetic pulse did anything the Ghost was in the air.

If it did anything he would fall.

Oo o oO

There was a pulse like a wave of static and then Danny was dropping.

Desperately confused he reached for his powers. Flight was as easy as breathing. Gravity was a mere suggestion. Or it should be! Nothing was happening and the roof below was coming rapidly up to meet him!

In reality it only lasted two seconds, but it felt like a terrifying eternity. His arms and legs moved uselessly; without his powers he had no control.

At the last moment he pushed his arms out. His right hand landed first, there was a sharp pain in his wrist before he curled up and rolled over his shoulder, landing on his back. Air punched out of his chest in a wheeze.

His eyes were wide staring sightlessly up at the clouds as he tried to suck air into his stunned body. He needed to get away before they found him. His core was an agitated scream in his chest. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t sink through the roof.

He rolled up onto his knees with a pained groan, holding his right wrist protectively against his chest. Terror gripped his throat in a vice grip as he pressed his left hand flat on the concrete. He had to focus. Breathe, if he could just take a moment without panicking, he was certain he’d make his powers work. His core felt normal in his chest, they hadn’t suppressed him, not like Vlad did that one time. Frustrated tears pricked his eyes, he clenched his eyes shut, forced himself to take a deep slow breath. If he just found his calm, if he just focused…

There was not even the suggestion of any give. The roof was solid.

Danny was solid.

There was a clatter and the high pitched whine of several grappling hooks reeling in. Danny’s head snapped up at the sound, eyes wide. He scrambled clumsily to his feet - his body felt so heavy, and his aching legs protested having to lift him.

They gathered in a half circle around him on their near silent feet - the bats, towering shadows to his blurred eyes. Blood rushed in his ears.

Danny took a step back, barred his teeth in a snarl.

“Don’t come closer,” he warned, the implied threat was a lie. He couldn’t do anything. He was powerless, weak as a kitten. It would be no trouble for them to capture him. But worse if they could neutralize his powers, they could hold him. Danny took another step back.

His breath came in short, punched out huffs. Cold sweat made his hair and clothes sticky. Shadows lined in harsh white light leaned over him. Agony- No! Danny shook his head, he was not there. He stepped back, the back of his knees hit a low railing.

He would never go back.

He turned and jumped.

Oo o oO

Tim didn’t hear any sounds but the blood rushing in his ears. He hadn’t expected the sheer panic the Ghost would have. None of them had. Not even the goggles had been able to obscure how terrified he was. His voice, the first time they’d ever heard him speak, had been thin and shaky, a hollow warning to not come closer. What was he so afraid of? They hadn’t come closer and yet-

Tim felt ill. What did he think they’d do to him, that he’d rather jump off the roof?!

Jason had been right. He needed help. And now-

The others stood at the edge of the roof. Nobody was moving. Did that mean it was too late? There was nothing to be done?

Numbly, Tim walked up to the edge and looked down. For a moment he saw nothing, but then he caught movement further away, a flash of red- relief hit Tim in a whooshed out breath that left him weak-kneed. Jason had caught him. Tim turned around and sunk down to sit back against the railing.

He hadn’t even known Jason was out here. He must have turned off his tracker. Fuck, he was so relieved Jason had been there.

He buried his head in his shaking hands. This was on him, his plan.

His earlier exhilarated satisfaction of a well-executed plan was crumbled and soured, heavy in the pit of his stomach like lead. His gut turned ominously. If he threw up, it would be deserved, he thought despondently.

Oo o oO

Jason went on the Bats’ comm channel only to bark at them not to follow him. With Ghost in his arms shaking and breathing too fast and too superficial, covered in the cold sweat of terror, Jason didn’t want to know what he would do if they did follow him.

He ran across the rooftops and used the grapple when necessary. The safehouse wasn’t too far away.

There was utter silence from that sense where Jason usually heard Ghost’s call to him. It should be a relief not to hear his yearning and be unable to do anything about it, but it just felt wrong. Like something was missing.

Jason held him closer.

“It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you.” The words were useless, he knew that. Ghost had to be running from him for a reason even as he called for him - and Jason could understand why he’d been running from him, Jason was wrong inside, but Ghost was his only hope, and he couldn’t not chase. Right now the words were all he had, and he couldn’t let the others take him. They didn’t understand that he needed help.

Jason’s anger over what had happened tonight was only eclipsed by his worry. Ghost might be afraid of Jason too, but not like this, not silenced by terror.

Jason repeated his useless assurances as he ran. Ghost was much too light in his arms, too thin beneath the worn clothing. Irrational fear that he would turn to dust in his arms, seized him.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He said as much to reassure himself as Ghost.

“Please,” Ghost rasped voice unused.

Jason froze, stopping in place, hoping he’d say more. He didn’t. He pushed uselessly at Jason’s chest, still trying to escape. Jason’s heart broke. Frustrated tears pricked at his eyes.

“Please let me help you,” he pleaded.

Jason didn’t know if his words had gotten through to him or it was just exhaustion, but he stopped struggling. Cynically, Jason leaned towards exhaustion. At this point panic and fear had to be the only thing keeping him conscious at all.

They arrived at the safehouse finally.

It was one the others didn’t know about. Jason had a few of those as insurance. It was seemingly just a lived-in apartment, open floor plan living room and kitchen in one with artfully placed clutter, a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom. There were weapons and supplies hidden in the spaces between the real walls and the fake walls that appeared to be the apartment’s boundaries, but you’d only realize that if you checked another of the similar units in the building and noticed this one was smaller.

Jason landed them on the sill, and worked the window open. He didn’t bother with traps, because he didn’t use it often. Using it would have been a sure way to tip off the bats of its existence. No, this and other’s like it was for emergencies, and sometimes when he needed to stash a victim or witness somewhere safe temporarily. And even if someone should try to burgle the place, Jason had some decoy money there, a large flatscreen TV and some other easily taken electronics. It was unlikely they’d find the real supplies when there were easier money.

He maneuvered them both inside, set Ghost on the couch and closed the window and the drapes. He pulled off his helmet and set it carelessly on the coffee table - it rolled off to land on the floor. Ghost had already seen his face and hopefully, he’d respond better to a human than a mask.

Moving slowly, trying to make himself less threatening he kneeled down on the floor in front of where Ghost had curled up in the corner of the couch.

“Hey,” Jason said trying to sound calm, when inside he was everything but. He held out his hands in peace. “I’m not doing anything, I just want to talk.”

The emotionless goggles turned towards him. Jason got nothing from him, he only had the defensive body language to read him by.

“Please say something.”

Finally something happened, Ghost’s breath hitched and he reached up to push the goggles away. His eyes were red rimmed and blurry, and they closed as he rubbed at them. Still hiding his eyes he whispered so low Jason almost didn’t hear him, “-just want to go home.”

Jason lowered his hands and slumped forward. Letting him go would be the right thing to do, Jason could argue all the way till Sunday that it wasn’t safe for him right now, with his powers out of order, but that wasn’t why Jason couldn’t promise to let him go. He desperately needed answers. How did he make the pit silent? Was it just him or was there hope for Jason?

“I have questions,” he admitted.

Ghost slowly removed his hands. His eyes were blue and wary as he looked down at Jason. Jason held his eyes and he didn’t know what he saw in Jason as the moment stretched between them, like an elastic pulled to the point just before snapping.

Ghost looked away with a pained expression, and then, unfurling slowly, Jason felt that familiar yearning. Jason shook his head helplessly. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to help but didn’t know what to do.

“What do you need?” Jason asked.

Ghost looked back up momentarily and then away with a grimace. Shrinking in on himself. “Hey,” Jason said, frustration made him snappy, “I’m just trying to understand! It’s like you’re calling me, but I don’t know how to answer.”

That got Ghost’s attention, and his head snapped up holding his gaze intently.

“You can feel it?” He asked, and there’s this underlying desperate hope, shoved down by a voice desperately trying to hold steady.

“I can, and I just-“ He didn’t know what else to say, instead he reached out a hand to cup Ghost’s cheek. His eyes were wide and liquid and so blue before he clenched them shut and leaned into Jason’s touch with a small whimper. Jason didn’t dare breathe, as that small hum started, the one that was like a purr. Jason’s head was silent now, the underlying anger and frustration gone. In this moment he was just Jason.

He didn’t even realize he was crying until tears spilled over his cheeks. He ducked his head. It had been some very long weeks.

“How are you doing this?” He whispered, desperate to know.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Ghost answered hesitantly.

Jason looked up to meet his tired eyes, the dark bags underneath his eyes were so dark and stark in his thin face he looked bruised. Jason looked away. Shame curled in his gut for pushing him this far. For being helpless not to give chase. He would have pulled his hand back if Ghost hadn’t still been leaning into his touch.

Quietly, he admitted, “I have this rage inside of me, you quiet it.”

“Hmm,” Ghost hummed thoughtfully with his actual voice, as he mulled over Jason’s words. “I’m pretty useless right now without my powers, so I don’t know if it’s anything I can help with permanently.”

“Okay,” Jason said quietly. Trapped in this strange bubble of quiet, desperate to break it he asked, “Do you wanna talk about what happened on the rooftop?”

The purring came to a stuttering halt.

“That’s a no then,” Jason stated. Of course he didn’t want to talk about that, that should have gone without saying. Stupid. He sighed and stood up, drawing his hand back along with it.

“I’m just getting on the couch,” he assured when Ghost protested wordlessly. He sat down leaning heavily into the plush couch. After a moment he lifted his arm in invite. It took five long seconds before Ghost tucked himself underneath the arm. Jason squeezed him momentarily in a pitiful attempt at comfort, but it was all he could do.

It took a moment but the purr started up again. The feeling of contentment washed over him.

Jason didn’t know how long he sat there, letting Ghost’s purr soothe his frayed mind, but he sat there so long he started to feel the temptation to just close his eyes and sleep. That wasn’t helpful. Ghost himself had fallen asleep at some point, he discovered, as he shifted and found him blinking awake startled.

The purring stopped. Wary eyes watched him as he moved away.

“Easy,” Jason said lowly as if he actually was trying to soothe a feral cat, “I’m just gonna check to see what food options we have.”

He watched until Ghost leaned back into the couch. His eyes were mere slits watching Jason when he turned towards the kitchen.

Ghost needed to eat and making food was definitely more useful than falling asleep. He walked over to the cupboards, and couldn’t help but yawn as he did so. He opened the cupboards one by one, searching for something easy. A lot of the things here had technically expired and were mostly there for appearance sake. The dried herbs and spices, had probably lost most of their flavor, so actually cooking was out of the question, not to mention he didn’t have fresh ingredients here, but one of the canned soups would probably do fine.

He turned, tomato soup can in hand to ask if that was fine only to find the couch empty. Carefully he set the can down, so he wasn’t tempted to throw it. His hand clenched into a fist reflexively with no can to hold. He walked over to the living room side of the room, just to make sure he hadn’t just moved.

He wasn’t there.

He was gone.

Jason sighed and sat down heavily on the couch. Of course he was.

Nothing had been disturbed, not the drapes nor the windows. Everything was exactly as Jason had left it. His powers must have returned. Whatever Tim had done hadn’t been that long lasting, a couple of hours at most. He would have simply gone right through the wall.

Of course he had left as soon a he had a chance. Jason hadn’t given him reason to stay. He’d had his chance to talk and he’d wasted it just sitting and basking in his presence.

He leaned his forehead on his hands and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

He only had himself to blame.

So this happened... this is better/worse? At least they got to hug?

Anyways, I think I may go back to shorter tumblr parts now that these two chapters are done (if you're curious this is chapter 7 and 8 in my doc and that's what they'll be on Ao3). The last chapter really couldn't be split and this chapter only had terrible places to split it. Better to end on sad Jason.

You can subscribe over on the masterlist

Update: next

#dp x dc #missed connections #Jason is catnip to Danny #dead on main #tw panic attack #tw suicide #to elaborate it's more that Danny does something really desperate #he doesn't actually consider the consequences #it's been a trying evening #hints of previous torture/experimentation #Tim is not doing too good either #Jason is just trying so hard poor boy

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randomfoggytiger · 3 months ago

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"Just Sing Anything"

Fictober, Day 5

*-*-*-*-*

The beast was stalking furiously below, tail slashing and breaking the undergrowth in rage. Every so often it would abruptly halt, snapping and snarling at the rivulets of blood leaking from its eye, trying to recalibrate in the barriers of its new limitations. Scully's shot had been lucky. But though the animal couldn't see, it could smell; and the scent of fear sweat and lingering cologne kept it looping, again and again, around their tree. Mulder's tree: Scully and he had run in different directions, she to burrow away on the ground and he to scramble up the trunk haphazardly, trying to keep his charge from falling and his shoes from slipping.

Little Moss Ingram was burying her terrified, snuffling, shivering face into the side of his body. With each roaring, thrashing circuit, her shoulders shuddered more uncontrollably; and Mulder expected an impending eruption with more and more certainty. Though the monster was harder of hearing than most, a shriek of any kind would be impossible to miss.

"Moss, how did you scare away the bad man in your dreams?" he asked, rubbing her back methodically, drawing her closer and tighter in. He needed to resituate them on the branch. He needed Scully, he needed the search party. He needed a night off after three back-to-back-to-backs. His limbs ached.

There was no answer at first, not until Mulder changed plans and drew the girl fully into his lap, scooting and maneuvering awkwardly until she was wholly consumed by his coat.

"My dad woke me up. And he stayed with me," Moss whispered, thin, dirt-coated hair snarling in his buttons. "He sang the monster away."

"What did he sing?" A flicker of movement to the south caught his eye-- a figure edging the perimeter. Scully, on the move; and wisely scouting for backup instead of heroically charging in. Good.

"He sang...."

A horrendous cracking, slow and demonstrative, sounded below. Likely the log he'd used as a distraction earlier. It splintered, shattered like a skull slowly crushed under the weight of an industrial double drum roller tractor. The VCU, he thought, despite the throbbing in his pulse points, left its mark. "What did he sing?"

"Singing in the Rain," Moss replied, clinging to Mulder's shirt. She sniffed. Sniffed again, choked on a whimper in her throat.

"Did it make the bad man go away?"

"No. But it helped me get back to sleep."

He was going to tell her about his own bad dreams; tell her about his own father soothing him to sleep, a study away, in the dark. But the creature stood on its hind paws and screamed, first-- screamed so violently that the air electrified with its howls of pain and fury. Moss launched closer, wailing her little heart out in agony; and Mulder did his best to shield her ears and hush her cries.

"I'm singing," he began, discordant and hurried, not knowing what else to do, "in the rain. Yes singing--" Hurry, Scully, "--in the rain."

Although his perch passenger was still sobbing, her pitch was lowering. Mulder stopped her frantic attempts to tear the buttons from her hair; held her hands while he earnestly insisted, "What a glorious feeling. And I'm ha--," and deftly switched supporting arms so he could free her, "--appy again."

"Moss," moaned the beast, pleading and starving and growling behind its teeth. "Mosssssssss."

"What's the next verse, Moss." She'd stopped shaking, stopped all movement. Shock. "You've got to help me remember."

"I'm... laughing" was barely audible, "at the clouds" a hair stronger. "So dark up above--"

"The sun's in my heart and I'm--," Mulder continued, swaying her in a slight upbeat, waiting until she finished his verse.

"--Ready for love."

The beast was screaming, thrashing; breaking, roaring.

Moss dug her little fist in the fabric above his heart. "He can't find us," she realized, stuttering, afraid of their good luck.

Mulder bowed his head over hers, trying to block the incoming rain. "It won't find us. I promise."

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober24.

#txf #xf fanfic #randomfoggytiger's fic #mine #Fictober #Day 5 #Mulder #OC girl #Scully #(a brief mention)#x-files #the x files #xfiles #fic

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prettyboyeddiemunson · 2 years ago

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33 and 128 caught my attention!

The cameras were rolling, and as usual, you & Eddie pretended they weren’t there.

The subject of this film was one you’d been excited for, and from the way Eddie talked, he was pretty pumped himself. You both discussed it at length before filming went underway, making sure you were both comfortable with the subject matter. It wasn’t awful, but it was something you always had issue with in your real life. Jealousy was always so ugly to you, and anything that led to sex after always made you feel odd, but this was Eddie. The two of you had become somewhat of a package deal in the industry after your first few films, with a demand for more almost immediately. You both had become a hot ticket among adult film connoisseurs, and of course the industry was going to capitalize on that every chance they could. Eddie was a sweetheart, and you always knew you would be in good hands with him; it’s why you were more excited than wary.

This film began with you, playing the role as a friend with benefits to Eddie, getting ready to leave the house for a night out. You were wearing an extremely tight cropped top with no bra, tight short shorts, fishnets, heels, and had your hair & makeup done in typical porn star fashion. You walked downstairs, pretending to be happy as you did so. You then walked into the living room, where Eddie was waiting for you as he read a book. He looked up from what he was reading, taking his reading glasses off with a look of disgust on his face. He glanced you up and down, twisting his mouth as he did so, before meeting your eyes.

“You’re not going out dressed like that,” he said simply.

“Excuse me?” you said, looking down at your outfit. “I don’t think you can tell me what to do.”

“I can and I did,” Eddie said, standing up and walking over to you. “You’ll have guys hitting on you at every turn if you go out like that.”

“So what?” you asked. “Maybe that’s what I want. Did you ever think of that?”

“Why would you want that?” Eddie asked, tilting his head slightly. “You want men to drool over you and throw themselves at you?”

“You’re not my boyfriend, so I don’t get why you give a shit,” you said.

“I don’t want something bad to happen to you!” he exclaimed. “Is that such a crime?!”

“No, I think you’re just jealous over the thought of it,” you said with a shrug. “You don’t want others hitting on me, because I might like it and then you’ll lose me.”

“Bullshit,” Eddie said.

“Tell me,” you said, moving closer to him and running your fingers down his chest. “Would you rather I go out like this, or stay in? I’ll bet your dick is so hard right now, seeing me in this outfit. Bet you wanna rip it off of me, maybe watch my tits bounce under the shirt as I ride your big, thick cock. I’ll bet you wanna bury your face in my tits as I do it, but first, you want me to glide my pussy along your face and get myself off. Or maybe you want me to touch myself for you before you slap my hand away, tugging my wet cunt right against your face so that you can finish me. Is that it? You’re afraid someone else will get that, aren’t you?”

Eddie swallowed thickly, exhaling shakily before he spoke. “Fuck….I do want all of that. But I won’t be as easy on you as you think I’m going to be.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, palming his forming erection through his pants as the camera got a close up of the action. “And what is it you’re planning on doing to me?”

“You were going to go out dressed up like a common whore,” he said, groaning as you continued stroking him through his pants. “You need to be punished for that.”

“Mmm, yeah?” you ask, unbuttoning his jeans. “And how would you do that?”

“I would bend you over and spank your ass raw,” Eddie said. “Until you were red and begging me to stop. After that, I would edge you over and over, bringing you to the brink of cumming, but never letting you do it. I would finger that needy pussy of yours, then eat you out until you were screaming, then use a vibrator against your pretty clit until you were shaking and begging me to let you cum, and I still wouldn’t let you. Maybe the longer I edge you, the more you’ll be eager to cum, and the more you’ll beg. The more you beg, the more I’ll just want to edge you. Maybe you won’t cum at all tonight, and if you do, you’ll be so fucking pent up that you’ll squirt all over me and make the biggest goddamn mess. I know how much you love being filled up with my giant dick, baby. Know how deep you fucking love to feel it; I know you won’t be able to resist cumming for long.”

You whimpered, squeezing your eyes closed as you imagined all of that. When you opened them, he was watching you with a smirk on his lips. “What are you waiting for, then? If you wanna claim me, then fucking claim me. Don’t be a pussy about it.”

“A pussy, huh?” he asked, grabbing your throat and pulling you closer. “Let’s get one thing perfectly fucking clear here, baby; I’m anything but a pussy.”

“Hm, I think you should prove it,” you said, squeezing his dick. “Because so far with you, all I’ve seen is all bark and no bite.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, his hands moving from your neck to caress up your sides. “You’re just a slut, aren’t you? Wanting it so hard and so rough, and not caring from who?”

“Guilty,” you said, moaning as he kneaded your tits under the tight top.

“Your nipples are so hard already,” he said, pinching them between his fingers as you mewled. “I’ll bet you’re so wet for me right now, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself, pussy?” you asked. “You have two hands; take my shorts off and have a look.”

“You have a sassy, smart ass mouth, don’t you?” Eddie asked, doing as you told him as he also slipped your panties off. The camera got a close up of your pussy, as he ran two fingers through it. “Just as I suspected. Already so goddamn wet, and I’ve barely even touched you. Do you know what I can’t wait for?”

“What?” you asked, moaning as he swirled two fingers around your entrance.

“I can’t wait to see you crying from pleasure when you impale yourself on my cock,” he said. “Taking every goddamn inch inside of that tight, soaking pussy. It always hurts, but it hurts so good, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm hmm,” you whimper, eyes fluttering as he rubbed his thumb against your clit. “It always feels so fucking good, and I always want more even after we’re done.”

“I knew it,” he said, dropping to his knees as he spun you around to face the couch. “Want you to do something for me.”

“Which is?”

“Bend over and spread your legs. I want to eat you out from behind, and I want you to rub yourself all over my face as I do it.”

You smirk, doing as you were told. “Don’t go easy on me.”

“Oh, trust me,” he said, pushing his fingers inside of you. “I won’t.”

————

mini taglist: @littledemondani @andvys @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @2spock @mattte-black @happylilthought @hbaramas @sunkillerdreamer

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader

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bullet-clubs-bitch · 9 months ago

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Birthday Blues

Chuck Taylor X fem reader Main Masterlist

Summary: With Best Friend’s spitting up Chuck finds himself alone on his birthday, or so he thinks.

An: You know I had to write a little something something for his special day

This morning I woke up with dozens of text messages from friends and family wishing me a happy birthday. But no matter how many texts I got they didn’t make up for the fact my ‘best friend’ didn’t wish me a happy birthday. Trent and I had been friends forever. We grew up in the industry together, we did everything together. He was my best friend! I don’t know what got into Trent recently but I didn’t like it. I didn’t understand the reason for his actions. Sure neither of us has held gold in quite some time but we should be happy for our friends. Kris and Orange were doing amazing things, we should be celebrating with them not wishing for their downfall.

It didn’t even feel like my birthday, all I wanted to do was rot in my hotel room. Last night Trent gave me an ultimatum. It was him or Orange. How could I pick between the two of them? Sure I’ve known Trent for longer and the two of us shared so much more but no way I would pick between my two best friends! I ignored all of Kris and Orange’s calls and texts. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I wanted to be alone. I was never one for birthdays, I never felt worthy of the celebrations. Why should you all be celebrating me? I’m not special. I didn’t mind spending my birthday alone. In fact, I preferred it over spending it with my family. Every time I went back home everyone would ask about my dating life. Are you seeing anyone Chucky? When are you going to settle down? Your time is running up to have children, let me set you up with a nice girl Chuck. I wanted to pull my hair out at the comments.

I didn’t want to date anyone. I hadn’t been in love for a long time. Even when I was of course I fucked it all up. I was okay with being alone. Just as I was busy sulking in my hotel room I heard someone aggressively knocking on my door. I yelled at them to go away but instead, they began knocking even louder. I flung open the door ready to scream at whoever was on the other side but stopped right in my tracks when I saw who it was. It was Y/n. I hadn’t seen her in years.

“A little clementine told me you wanted to spend your birthday alone,” Said Y/n. As much as I was mad Orange somehow got my ex-girlfriend to pull me out of my depressive state I was also happy to see Y/n again. “Tell me Chuck, what’s got you so blue?” Y/n asked as she let herself into my hotel room. “I just don’t know what to do. How am I supposed to pick between my best friends? I don’t want to choose between them!” I confessed. “I know you are under a lot of stress right now Chuck. I get it, I do but that doesn’t mean you should spend your birthday feeling sorry for yourself. Birthdays are supposed to be fun! It’s the one day you can put yourself first and no one can say anything about it” Y/n had a point, all of this was making me look more pathetic. Trent said it himself, I was weak. “How about you and I go out for the day? We can do whatever you like Chuck. There are lots of things to do in the city! It’s your day to be spoiled!” Just before I could protest Y/n cut me off “Before you say anything yes Chuck you do deserve this. No Chuck, you are not pathetic. You have to stop being so hard on yourself Chucky, you deserve nothing but the best. I wish you could have seen that when we were together” Her words left a bitter-sweet taste in my mouth. As much as I appreciated her praise it reminded me of when the two of us used to date years ago. Y/n ended up breaking up with me due to my lack of self-confidence. I know that sounded stupid but it was a real thing. I was constantly shitting on myself, I was always so down. I’m sure that’s difficult to be around.

I ended up caving and took Y/n’s offer to spend the day celebrating myself. However, I didn’t expect her to say this. “We can do anything you want today Chuck, who knows maybe I’ll stay the night” Best birthday ever!

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drdemonprince · 11 months ago

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Story in regards to lying being good.(Aka how I may have managed to make a cop feel bad with it?)

I was walking home, it was raining and I was cold, so obviously I was in a hurry. I came by a street that is now only for pedestrians and public transport, but it used to be a regular street, so it still has stoplights installed. The one for pedestrians was red, but like I said the street isn't allowed for cars, so I didn't think anything about ignoring it.

In my hurry I totally managed to miss a cop, who was a good 150ft away from me on a motorcycle. Instead of simply ignoring me(like any reasonable person would in a big city) he turned on his blue lights and siren and drove after me. He actually broke the speed limit and when I didn't stop walking started driving ON the thin walkway forcing pedestrians to make space. That whole thing is ridiculous enough tbh. I was terrified because theoretically I could lose my license over this(certain traffic laws are weird in my region). He behaved utterly ridiculous, couldn't have been older than early twenties, and obviously got a kick out of humiliating me(group of people was watching and laughing).

My only option was to lie my ass of and pretend like I got a super important doctors appointment and really needed to catch my bus. He didm't believe me but relented to giving me a 5 bucks fine instead, which I payed because I don't want him to take my license instead. But as soon as I gave him the money I started running after a bus that I could have theoretically missed because of this assholes antics.

He was super confused and tried to give me proof of payment. I just screamed "I didn't lie about the appointment, that's my bus" and kept running after the bus. But I did look back one last time and it was worth it because I could see everyone now visibly angry at him and him looking like a kicked dog. Visibly a head smaller looking. And I felt good because what an asshole. He stopped someone visibly younger and smaller, in a student frequented spot, filled with people who are poor and decided now was his time to humiliate and give a ticket for "jay walking" ON A PEDESTRIAN EXCULSIVE STREET. While doing so also endangering pedestrians because he sped OVER THE FUCKING WALKWAY.

This turned away from a "haha he felt bad" to a rant but I still want the takeaway from this to be that cops are clowns(and that's an insult to clowns actually) and lying to them is always good, even on incredibly small stake things.

Not to mention that jaywalking is a crime invented by the auto industry to penalize pedestrians for their role in needless deaths.

Thanks for the story, anon! A friend once got out of a ticket when a cop pulled her over by cutting her finger with a pocket knife, shoving it under her skirt, and then when he approached the vehicle, pulling her bloody hand out of her crotch and screaming that she was speeding bc she was bleeding. good times. lie to the cops folks

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nahisummerhold · 4 months ago

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The Night the Light Went Out in Hallowfall

(Adding this so people are aware of the prompt)

Whatever someone might imagine as a fear, the company’s current location probably had something that would have at least a tangential link to it. Fear of the dark? Check. Fear of spiders or other bugs? Check. Fear of being buried alive? Check, they were underground afterall. Rodents? Nahi didn’t even want to check that off the list because then she would have to think about what else the dark might attract. Sharks? As Fio said there was always the kobyss.

The eternal night of Netherstorm had not prepared her for this kind of dark, where the weight of it closed from every side. The halo of the light from the camp extended out, shadows dancing in and out whenever the light would flicker, her imagination happy to fill in the motion with incursions of any number of threats that they were facing. Whoever wrote the song, ‘keeping the home fires burning’ had absolutely no clue what light meant to the overactive mind when Beledar was engulfed by its Void cycle.

It was late at night, Nahilvi’s schedule finally a boon for something, it wasn’t just the assignment, or fear, that was keeping her alert, this was the time when energy filled her, those late night and after bar hours that the service industry was known to haunt. Commander Dal’shula and the camp manager made sure it was known that helping to keep their fire lit was the priority but everyone had to be observant and ready to help when the unexpected would come because it would.

And when it did, it didn’t come from their camp. The edges of their area were still protected by their brazier but Nahi saw fingers of the dark reach deeper in as a small tremble made the flame dip. There was no time to check on their own fire because the ground opened and devoured the golden flame of the next camp, leaving a memory of its outline in her eyes because chance had her looking in that direction when it happened.

Nahi searched for any sign that this was not what every camp had been trying to prevent, while everything began to move around her. She heard the Commander’s clarion call, "RUN INTO OUR LIGHT! FIGHTERS WITH ME, GET THEM INTO OUR CAMP! EVERYONE ELSE KEEP THAT LIGHT GOING, HELP THE WOUNDED, AND CALL BACK OUR NIGHT SHIFT TO HELP!” and the fighters’ that served him for so long’s response, not in words but armor being donned and weapons gathered before they joined him at the edge of their camp. With so many people flowing around her, they became a blur as she froze in place. The sound was clear and she heard Kai call to her but any movement around her held no definition, she was a boulder in a river of action stuck in place. Something caught at the edge of her vision, it was moving, but it came from the opposite direction, swimming upstream making it seem slower. A mercenary from the other camp maybe? A stranger for sure, a panicked stranger running straight for their brazier. “Keep the light protected, keep their camp protected,” the orders that had been repeated so many times, were lodged in her mind. The fear that held her anchored, crumbled into dust and caught on the current that the others had moved within, sweeping her into action.

Catching the man’s arm at the elbow she tried to slow and guide him away from the center of camp, but he fought her and did not seem to recognize anything but his goal, even her touch made him scream like she became part of the nightmare which had just tried to devour him. Jerking to the side, he swung a fist coated in greenish yellow ichor at her, but she stepped into his body keeping the punch from landing while speaking with a calm she was surprised she still possessed, “Stop, you are in the camp. Nothing is coming after you.”

His body had reacted to the horror he came through and made him strong enough to tear nahi away from him as he continued toward the light as single mindedly as a moth. “Help me! They’ve got me! Help!” Nahi did the only thing she could think of and went limp, sliding down, she wrapped her arms and legs around his own, like a child wanting to keep a parent in place. Keeping her head down to try and just absorb blows he rained upon her, she held fast keeping him from getting to the brazier. A healer that Nahi recognized but couldn’t name, and one of the fighters came running towards her, they didn’t chastise her or try and free him, the robed woman stared straight into his eyes, him while the fighter took hold of one of his arms so Nahilvi could let go, rolling to the side in case a kick was aimed at her. The roll was mostly graceful and she found her feet quickly, the healer nodded at the man’s other arm and the three of them got him to safety where he could be watched.

It was there that Kai found her, she was helping an injured person make their way to the healers which Nahi stepped up to help her friend. Then, without needing to be told, both ran back to where injured were coming into the camp from the dark and worked side by side to get people to the healers, guiding those they could, carrying those they couldn’t. It was a good thing they didn’t have to talk much considering the screeching, clacking chittering of the insectoids, screams of those being torn apart or devoured and the crashing sounds of the fight engulfed the camp in a cacophony that belied the chaos found in the blackness around it.

It was one of the rare moments where she found herself without Kai that a woman caught Nahi’s eye. She was trying to crawl out of the shadow, fingers digging into the dirt to pull herself forward but making no progress, the black clinging to her lower body as if it was an anchor. Rushing forward, Nahi grabbed the woman’s arms, pulling to draw further into the light.

A clacking of mandibles and a string of mucus came from right above the prone woman and Nahilvi could see one sharp leg covered in coarse hair was spiked into the woman’s lower back, the curve keeping her pinned despite Nahi’s insistent tugging. It felt like this had become a two for one dinner offer as multifaceted eyes met her violet ones when she looked up, kicking backwards and releasing the woman she tried to get away from the nerubian who had a short arm extending towards her ankle.

Metal crunched into the exoskeleton with such force that whatever goo that was held in the spider creature was sent splattering across the pinned woman, a shield sheared through the leg dug in next to her spine. Another gush of viscera dumped into Nahi’s lap when a heavy mace crushed into the insectoid’s head, enough to make her look more like a victim than a woman just doing her best to rescue others.

The body crumpled and she looked to see who saved them and saw Dice moving on to the next threat to try to seep into the camp’s safety before she turned her attention back to the woman. What passed for blood of the nerubian pooled on her lower back and seeped into the torn edges of flesh and Nahi yanked the leg free, cutting her hands on the serrated edge and ridges. The leg lifted the woman’s body with it until gravity pulled it free she was longer trying to get to safety her fighting spirit had drained along with blood that pooled in the dirt.That didn’t matter to Nahi, there was a chance that the woman could be healed so she struggled but picked her up, stumbling back to the healers.

Light in the tent was almost a second beacon in itself, she only had to stand at the edge before people rushed out to take the woman from her arms. A healer looked at Nahi, pulling her to the side to clean her hands and bandage them, then he ordered her to remain there and help with people coming in. Her credentials of life with a healer, and nurses in her home, were not enough to let him trust her to even bandage anyone, or he was worried some of the gunk drying on her might fall into an open wound, both were valid reasons. He only let her fetch water, take notes of people’s names and take information back to the healers working with more severely hurt.

Nahi remained helping until the injured stopped trickling in and at that point she was sitting and listening to people talk, it was not always about what happened to them, but so many details they needed to share, even some joking between friends trying to lighten the mood. Time passed and it was impossible for Nahi to tell how long, but it really didn’t matter as some of those who had been in the dark with those creatures needed someone to just be there. Plus, she really didn’t want to sleep anyway. ( @talonoa @kaisinasunblade @dicenne @themercenaries @fio-renze )

#nahilvi #nahisummerhold #story

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bonesandthebees · 6 months ago

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I need to scream about Niki actually. [The way her expression shuttered, disbelief followed by pure, sharp grief flashing through her eyes.] Bee let me hug her. [she had blinked twice before all emotion disappeared from her face, leaving nothing but an expressionless mask.] LET ME HUG HER, BEE!

She’s so good at keeping her emotions in check and playing pretend and showing everyone what they want to see. A girl who quietly grieves but powers through it. (Also, her reaction settles that she had no hand in this at all. Like you can argue she expected him to think his was out if she knew but then she would not have THAT reaction).

I wonder if she’s dissociating while eating. Because she’s not really present, but then again she’s able to snap back when hearing her own name.

Then there’s Q [but the moment most eyes turned away from him, this facade would crumble. His face would fall, and something haunted would shine through his eyes.] The ‘something haunted’ especially gives me the vibe he had a hand in this without knowing Wilbur would be there too. And now he regrets it. (Also, unlike Niki, he’s not really eating).

Side note: I just realised you gave them salmon, isn’t that the fish Tomys and Wilbur eat? Also, [Phil watched the shadows dance over the painting of black roses that lorded over the room, and he took a moment to bow his head at it before turning his attention towards his desk.] I am 👀 at this? Is his praying for his son’s survival? His safe return?

Anyway, back to how Phil sees people. [She was smart, after all. She understood that Phil was not a man to confide in.] this man is so cold and I love him. Niki knows not to show him her weakness if she wants that crown. And yet here she is. (Oh that’s literally the next line in text, oops). That very much tells you Phil is going to use this opportunity, even in their shared grief.

Also, I missed the timeline completely upon first reading. Niki saw Schlatt 2 nights before Wilbur and Tomys left. So it was indeed arranged before Wilbur would tag along. That boy got really unlucky, so did Phil, really. (I think that’s before the war room but it’s been a while). I wonder if that was why she acted off that night. Was she debating telling him? Or was it really just the aftermath of the war room? Or Wilbur’s behaviour in general?

P.s. I remember why I analyse your writing, I thought I’d gotten everything in my previous ask about the chapter, but there’s so much more I just did not remember.

(2/?)

-🌲

niki needs a hug so badly my girl is suffering 😭😭😭 but even with the turmoil she's going through, she's still aware of how the people around her are perceiving her. she's still trying to put up a mask because she knows these games never pause. she's trying to act as a queen would act—carrying on because time doesn't stop due to grief. but it's really, really difficult for her.

I loved differentiating how quackity and niki both react to wilbur being missing. quackity knows the same as niki that you have to carry on as a monarch, but he handles it in such a different way. in a way, it's like niki shuts down all nonessential emotions/functions to focus on not visibly breaking down. quackity keeps things running at full speed including his emotions, so he's able to pretend to be as cheerful and happy as ever but then he can't stop himself from visibly slipping back into his grief.

yes the salmon is what tommy and wilbur ate! it's not really a reference to anything, I just view Arestes as having a very seafood dominated diet due to having a very large fishing industry thanks to their proximity to the sea, and salmon happens to be my favorite fish to eat lol

hmm maybe there was a prayer or something there ;)

phil is incredibly cold and will use people even at their lowest. while wilbur is somewhat aware of that, he doesn't fully grasp just how dangerous his father can really be. niki, however, does. she's known phil basically her entire life. that is her best friend's father. and she's never felt like she can trust him. certainly tells you something about how others view phil.

niki and wilbur's talk after the war room happened before niki saw schlatt in the gardens. she was acting off because of what happened in the war room. it was only after wilbur left she tried to sleep but couldn't because of that whole thing. and while in the past niki has always gone to wilbur when she can't sleep, after the war room for some reason she didn't want to (or didn't feel like she should). hence why she went into the gardens alone, and witnessed schlatt's secret meeting.

#ask #spruce anon #rose ch 9

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youaremysunshine-court · 6 months ago

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please elaborate I'm so curious about this

Wow this is so late! I've been looking at this ask for weeks and wanting to reply, but I finally have the time now!

(apologies in advance if you dont know anything about bnha) (but thanks for this opportunity bc idk if ill ever write the fic)

so, way back in the day, endeavour is running around as a starter hero, and one day while hes stomping about, he runs into a civilian. instead of stuttering or shying away, she stands up to her full height of 5 foot nothing, puts her hands on her hips and yells him into apologising to her.

endeavour is, of course, immediately enamored. he lurks around her workplace when hes off duty, and nearly messes up an operation because she passes by and waves at him in the middle.

so of course hes crushed when he asks her out and she turns him down immediately. deciding to try the 'good guy' route, he backs off completely, only for her to march up to him a few weeks later and yell at him for not pursuing her.

so he takes her out for coffee, and they soon have standing dates that are only interrupted by the most urgent of hero business. but endeavours rank is increasing, and the strict morals of the country stop him from running around with a woman hes not married to.

its around this time he gets the idea into his head that he needs to make the greatest hero ever. but this lady (who hes pretty sure is the love of his life) doesnt have a complementary quirk to his. after all, how is the ability to self moisturise going to help his potential hero offspring.

of course, he doesnt tell her any of this because he doesnt exactly need the world to see him beaten into the ground by a civilian, but he does start to search more aggresively for a more suitable bride.

he finds a lady with the ability to produce ice at will, and starts the marriage negotiations with her family. he doesnt like her much, but of course, no one will ever match his personality the way mitsuki does.

he tries to break things off with her as gently as possible, but she sees right through him, which is unfortunate, and also why he bears a steak-knife-shaped scar on his right hand. she storms out of the restaurant in the way that means shes holding back tears, and endeavour has never felt more like a piece of shit.

not enough to call his marriage to rei off though. they get married, and endeavour gets increasingly frustrated when each attempt at the perfect hero comes out worse than the last. when shouto is finally born, endeavour near runs to the closest temple to take a vow of celibacy - if he never has to sleep with rei again it will be too soon.

he sees mitsuki once soon after shoutos birth; a drunken mistake that she assures him they will not repeat. shes engaged to a nice man, she tells him, following along the lines of the flames above his face, a little boring but kind to her. endeavour thinks shes going to have a duller life than him, and hes bored to tears.

16 years later, he's stomping through the grounds at UA, watching his 16 year old son get his ass beat at the sports festival by a little blond goblin whos kicking and screaming and biting, and endeavour has never felt so much anger in his life.

it only gets worse when he goes up to aizawa after to inquire about the brats origins, only to have aizawa quirk a smile at him and say, half sardonically, 'i thought you would recognise bakugo mitsuki's' son.

thats when the seed of suspicion is planted. it's when shouto starts questioning the origin of quirks, that endeavour decides to pull mitsukis files and figure out what a her quirk really is. because how could ms vaseline produce wannabe hero dynamight.

he kicks himself when he sees the uses of glycerine in the industry. even if they hadnt had a child who could shoot ice from his fingertips, combined, their kid would have been the most powerful fire quirk user alive. then, curious, he pulls masarus files.

its then that he really begins to suspect mitsukis been lying to the world for 16 years. sure, its not unbelievable that the blond brat could have got his quirk from masaru and mitsuki, but it does sseem more likely that he can produce fire on will because of a relation to endeavour.

he doesnt confront mitsuki about it; what good would it do. he doesnt say anything to anyone else either, just kicks himself repeatedly for not keeping the one good thing in his life when he had it.

and thats what i have so far in the way of conspiracy theories about bakugous birth.

TLDR: bakugou is secretly mitsukis and endeavours kid but no one but mitsuki knows

thanks for letting me rant about this massive hc i have that has altered how i look at the bnha verse!! hope you enjoyed ♡

#blue asks #bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou mitsuki #endeavor #todoroki enji #todoroki rei #blues fics #i really do want to write this its such a massive part of my psyche but when will i get the motivation #anyway #im glad i finally answered this ask!

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nomsfaultau · 1 year ago

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[an excerpt from Fault, from the Cessation epoch. This is a SBI SCP AU. The SCP Foundation found a clever method of simultaneously training MTF units and sufficiently terrorizing a Thaumiel into summoning an escaped Keter.]

The game was called Target Practice and it went like this:

Tommy was being hunted.

The maze was dark and twisting and decidedly urban, the floor littered with debris and gravel that cut into his bare feet, the twisting industry pipes and concrete walls riddled with holes and offering very meager protection as he raced through, slamming into walls and battering himself and not carrying because he needed to run before he was found. To be cautious was to be caught. Whatever nooks and crannies he shoved himself into were hardly cover, though they caught the bullets racing towards him. Well. Most of them, anyways; they didn’t play target practice anymore for a reason.

(They’d always liked to use the Instigator for training.)

To be fair, not everyone had guns for target practice. Some had crackling tasers, and many had nets. The goal was to train up Mobile Task Forces, teach them how to go about capturing a SCP. How to herd its movement, how to corner it, how to pin it down until it stopped resisting. Learn how it thinks. Does it race down the dark corridors, frantically dashing in wild directions praying it runs into nothing, or does it hide like a cockroach? If so, where? Into the subterranean tunnels, where every footstep echoes thunderously and betrays every whimper? Into the towers, knowing it’ll take longer to be found but that there’s no way down as the fleet sweeps the rooms in well trained searches? Ah, there we are, pinned, shaking, in the corner of a back room. Very good, ensign, now you’re thinking like a monster. Quick, use the right radio channel, that’s it. Teamwork is the one advantage we have over them. Remember that in the field.

It was not possible to win Target Practice, only prolong it. This was done by jolting still at every gun shot, waiting to realize if he was dead. This was done by clamping his hand over his mouth, refusing to breathe as footsteps raced past. This was done by learning how to not scream and betray his position when a bullet exploded mere centimeters away from his face, caught by half a cannibalized refrigerator, freezing because to run was to be caught. By doing anything and everything so he wouldn’t cry, because he could already see so little. By not caring about the gravel and slivers of glass that sliced into his feet, sprinting at full speed even if he knew the bloodied footprints marked his trail. By tucking his hands to his chest and not touching a single thing, though he was always so easy to find given the pooling Red that only grew worse the longer the game went on. The groups were always different, sometimes sneaking shadows that peeled out of nowhere, sometimes whooping and shouting with glee as they peppered bullets into the space mere seconds behind him, sometimes coordinated, sometimes not, sometimes fighting amongst themselves for the honor of who caught the game. Tommy taught each one exactly how to ruin someone else’s life, but it’s not like he could do anything but flee deep into the dark maze, heart hammering, Red racing.

It never worked for long. The ending was different every time. Maybe he’d find himself suddenly plucked out of hiding, struggling in a head lock until the dark went even darker. Maybe he’d be at the top of a tower, listening to every hiding spot below being cleared, the approaching team only growing nearer because there was nowhere else to go. Maybe it was a sprinter who overcame his slight head start, the pair crashing to the ground, debris digging into his skin. Maybe it was being cornered by a large group, countless guns trained on him. Maybe a trap laid, him crashing into a net and becoming hopelessly tangled. Maybe it was a bullet that failed to miss.

Game over! Better luck next time!

Tommy was recaptured and he always would be. And then target practice was played again, and again, either until there were no more trainee units left to be tested…or until there were no more trainee units left. Usually this was after a few rounds of the cat and mouse game. Maybe it ended in mortal terror, crimson spilling out runes on the manufactured floor, a beacon of ruby illuminating the dark maze. Maybe it ended with the brutal finality of The Blood God’s vengeance. The roles jarringly swapped, the hunters now forced to survive. If they did…well. They graduated from training with a promotion as bonus. Clearly they were worthy.

He wondered how they were tested now, because the Foundation no longer played Target Practice.

The cover, poor as it was, had always saved him before. Tommy had very little luck in his life, and most of it was used surviving Target Practice. (It was bad luck, in a way. Someone forgot the rules, got over zealous. They’d earned Keter duty for that mistake.) He’d been in the sprawling underground tunnels, tucked into a tangle of pipes. When the bullet had slammed into his shoulder, exploding everything in dark garnet, his scream had rattled through the faux sewer. Tommy had immediately run blindly, adrenaline numbing it all. The tone shift had been terrifying, too, since the trainees before hand had been the type to treat it like a game, making wolf howls and laughing. The moment Tommy was shot they’d become serious, voices clipped over radios and tactics stone as they efficiently tracked down the wounded animal, corralling it and cutting off escape routes, having it knocked out within minutes. It wasn’t the first summoning session where he’d woken up in a hospital bed, brain fuzzy with pain meds and fear.

They never played Target Practice again.

(It wasn’t hard to convince the Instigator it’d made it out having only been grazed. Then again, it was easy to lie to, given it thought them real bullets in the first place.)

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ranchracoon · 2 months ago

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"Body, Flesh, and Bones" Ch. 3 Bought

Master Post

Chapter 2

You walk behind the person in front of you in a slow, shuffling pace as guards of every origin with guns walk beside you. They haul you into the run down building, once a warehouse for some sort of industrial machinery, now the base of their operation. Everyone is thrown into a singular room where you see even more people all hunched together and getting as close as one another can. Even in the cramped quarters, no one wishes to touch you, they want to preserve their warmth and to them, you are as cold as a corpse. On the other side of the room you can hear a Tv playing, the guards laughing along to whatever they're watching. They throw scraps of food into the room and everyone charges for it like a heard of hungry pigs. The thought of consuming food nauseates you, but if you don't eat surely you'll die. Then again, death may be better than this arrangement. Occasionally a guard will open the door and drag a screaming girl out by the hair, it doesn't take a genius to know what they're doing or what they did when they toss her back inside the room with torn clothing and sobbing.

The door opens and four guards step in, one of them holding a clipboard, the other three holding guns. He looks over the clipboard, a cigarette in his mouth as he inhales and exhales slowly. Only this time people crowd against you, moving out of the man's way as if he could part the sea as he looks over his stock.

"This says they want a minimum of 20 girls. Preferably virgins" he scoffs, "how the hell are we supposed to know if they're virgins?"

"I can tell you who's not" one man chuckles.

"Tell em' to strip and bend over. I'll find out if they're virgins or not" the other adds.

"Whatever. Just grab whoever you haven't fucked."

"That'll be less than 20" the third laughs.

"Just grab them!" The man orders.

The guards start grabbing and shoving women into a line, one of them grabs you by the arm and attempts to fling you as well. This time you brace yourself and stand as to not give him cause to shoot you, as he waves the nose of his gun toward the row of women. As more women are collected, they shove you hard through the doorway further into the warehouse. They line you all up along a wall that's slick with water and blood where they order you to undress, you are the first to obey as you strip out of your clothing. Hugging yourself to cover your chest, a hose sprays you and the others with frigid cold water. After the spraying they throw a coat of powder on you to dry you, before handing you a set of clothes like a prisoner. All of this before being locked up into another container on the back of a truck. The women around you cry, scream, pray, anything and everything as you sit on the cold metal floor in contemplation.

Your brain is fuzzy, it's hard to recall anything before the party and after you woke up on the boat. When you try to remember your brain hurts and you have to close your eyes and hold your head before it goes away. You think of your sister. You pray she'll find your stash and escape, but wherever you are, there's a disconnect, you feel more alone than you ever have since your grandmother passed. There is no wind with whispers, no shadows, nothing at all that would make any normal person paranoid, but have been a comfort to you. The ride is long and bumpy, as it progressively gets longer, the metal container gets colder even with the immense body heat inside. When the truck comes to a stop, the back door flings open as a man orders everyone out.

You once again follow the person in front of you, your bare feet are numb even before you jumped out from the back into a huge pile of snow and mud. The other women shiver and huddle each other as you look at your surroundings for any kind of hint to where you are. There's nothing; except a huge, looming, gothic castle with an equally large stone wall surrounding it in the distance. One girl tries to flee, and is greeted with a shot to the back. The image sends a pain through you, your back burns as you feel a warm flooding sensation over your abdomen. You touch your stomach and your back, looking down at your plain, brown clothing but seeing nothing. You hyperventilate to try and soothe yourself, staring at the corpse before you bleed out over the white snow.

A guard nearby shouts in a foreign language, but you don't need a translator to know what he's saying; anyone else want to try? You swallow and take in another deep breath, as the hollowness returns and you breath out of habit rather than necessity. Someone approaches from the wooded area surrounding the truck, they appear to be wearing ratty old clothes that look straight from the 1600s. They're wearing a hooded garment, and they carry a large staff that you presume they use for walking. They speak to the driver of the truck who shot the girl, there's an exchange of what you assume is money, then you and the rest of the herd are ordered to move. The herd follows the man toward the castle, around the stone fence to a large iron gate with an intricately designed insignia on it. It looks like a diamond, with a flower in the center, and two swords making an X behind the flower. This sigil is on each gate as the gate opens without anybody touching it, you swallow and listen to the girls around you mutter and whimper in fear.

Once through the gate, it closes with a slam and clink behind you, you look over to see the person who led you here gone. There's only one direction to go, as you brave toward the double doors of the castle. The others follow you, as you push open the double doors and are greeted with a wave of warmth and the smell of decay that you know all too well. The other clamper in once they feel the warmth, finally free from the bite of cold outside. You look around the room you're in, it appear to be some sort of shipping area with large crates, one of them open and filled with straw but nothing else. A door to the side opens and out steps an ordinary women, most definitely younger than you, can't be a day over 17, 18 if you're being generous. She's wearing a long black dress with a hood, a rope around her waist, and a long white apron hanging from said rope.

"Where are we?" One woman pleads out.

"If you value your safety you will stick close to one another and follow me."

The girl turns away and walks down a long winding hallway made from stone, she leads you to what looks like an opening for a wine cellar with barrels upon barrels lining the shelves. Next room is an assortment of drying herbs, meats, and crates of what you presume to be more food. Finally she leads you to a kitchen, at least, you think it's a kitchen; there's a large fireplace with a pot hanging over it, a stone table in the center, and shelves filled with cook books, spices, and various ingredients. Definitely a kitchen of sorts. The girl continues through the kitchen, down another hallway, to a dining area and finally into what looks to be a main living area. There's a large spiral staircase on the right, and a huge, fireplace on the left with ornate decorations all around. Whoever lives here, has taste you'll give them that, but you can't help but bite your tongue bitterly. If they have this much money, they can afford actual workers and not...slaves.

The girl turns around and pulls a notebook from her apron, she looks over the crowd then her eyes flash upwards before returning back to the crowd. You feel a shiver down your spine, as if you're being watched. How you used to feel under your father's gaze, not when you would enter the forest; this gaze feels calculated, hostile. You look around yourself, looking up into the balcony above, and the surroundings. No one there but you can't shake this feeling of being watched. The girl calls each person up then divides them up on the left or right behind her, then she points to you to come up.

"First name?" She asks.

"Morgan" you answer.

"Are you a virgin?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" You ask surprised.

"First, the ladies deplore the use of that sort of language so I suggest you clean it up quick. Second, answer the question."

"No."

"Level of education?"

"Highschool, two years of community college."

"Hm. Occupation?"

"Um- I worked on my family's farm."

"What did you do specifically?"

"Um, fed animals, plowed fields, handled finances-"

"Finances?"

"Yes."

"You can stand over here."

The girl points off to the right, away from the rest of the group, you stand there and watch the others being sorted. When she finishes, she turns around and sighs heavily, you can now see in the light that she may be young, but her eyes say she's seen a lifetime.

"You are all now property of House Dimitrescu, as such there are specific rules that must be followed: everyone must be in uniform at all times except during off hours, any attempt at fleeing will result in death, any attempt at disobedience or disrespect will result in time spent in the dungeon, all windows are to remain shut unless in the kitchen or otherwise requested by the lady herself. You will address all of them by their title 'lady' or 'madam.' Do you understand these rules?"

Everyone gives a defeated yes.

"Let us get you all uniforms. Welcome to your new home."

Chapter 4

#resident evil village #re8 #alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x female original character #alcina dimitrescu x reader #xreader #wlw #wlw fanfiction

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winstonhenderson · 5 months ago

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𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟔.

𝓦𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓐𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓷

𝙎𝘼𝘾𝙍𝙄𝙁𝘼𝙈𝙀 𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎

Paul’s Diary

I was in New York for a couple of reasons. First, I was going to the record agency to regulate some rights. Second, I was going to play some gigs. Same old, same old. But this time I wasn't on my turf, or I wasn’t even on some strangers turf, I was on John’s turf. I had to brace for anything to go wrong and remind me of the good times me and him had that I ruined, and I was frankly scared I might run into some John fanatic and be swarmed. Though I could’ve got into the same problems anywhere, it was a much bigger chance to get into those problems here because John is the favourite of New York musicians. John and I are officially still in a fight, so my fears were warranted. But even though I expected a hassle, I came for business. It is the biggest music industry currently, coming only a bit after London, and I can’t miss that kind of an opportunity. But also, I couldn’t miss an opportunity to see John, even though it seemed like a far off fantasy. At first I was just hoping to run into him by chance. Even though he was a stay at home dad, I thought he still went out. I could do my business without worry. But that worry grew as the days went by. When a third of my stay passed, I made a different strategy. I would check the places where people knew John was a regular. I somehow always missed him. When I went to the place and searched around, there was no trace of him. Sometimes I would run into my friends and they would tell me either he left sometime ago and they didn’t know I was so keen on meeting him or that they would tell me when they see him next time because he hadn’t been there in a long time. And another third passed in mindless searching. I gave up and finished the rest of my business, in the end agreeing to go to a gig of an up and coming band in some small and homey cafe. By then, I had lost hope, even though I should’ve known that I would’ve run into him in a place like that.

I walked into the cafe and the musicians were setting up. I forgot a bunch of their names, but I knew I’d get along with them swimmingly. I heard a scream.

“Oh, fuck, the day Paul McCartney wants to play with us, something goes wrong!”, the guitarist said.

“No worries, if it’s not something big, I could fix it.”, I went to them.

I look at the speakers and try to figure out what is wrong. I sat there for five minutes, but I can’t get heads and tails on this technology. I give up on looking at the shell of the machine and open it, finding a bunch of short circuits.

“That is very broken.”, I said, “Find a mechanic.”

“Oh, oh, shit! I am so sorry, Paul, but we’ll have to play later.”, the guitarist apologized.

The rest of the band looked demoralized.

“Don’t worry, I have the rest of the day free.”, I felt bad for the bunch. They were as us four were when we had an important gig as a small band. I chuckled.

“I am so glad to have such an understanding colleague.”, the guitarist sighed, “Thank you so so much!”

“It’s alright.”, I smiled.

I scanned the cafe and even though it was small, it was almost full and the atmosphere was lively. I was looking for a drink when I heard some snogging in the back.

“God, fuck, stooop!”, I heard some small moans, “Stop, I don’t fucking know you!”

I ran to the back and wanted to save the bird, but I found John struggling to get out of an embrace of a woman. There were a bunch of drinks that looked weird on the table.

“Just play along Johnny, it’s just for a little bit, then you can have your Yoko back.”

“Do I have to… You look like a caramel apple with chocolate drizzle. I wonder if they even sell that.”, John chuckled, playing with her hair.

Well, John is high. And the bitch spotted me.

“Oh shit!”, she yelled, “Oh, John was-”

Her acting was unconvincing.

“Get away from him!”, I came in and wrestled him out of her paws, “Why did you spike him! He can’t be spiked!”

“He is just like any other man, just talented, smart and rich. I want a piece of that.”, she smiled.

“Get away, you disgust me.”, I said.

“A man? That’s funny.”, John chuckled, “Why if it isn’t my darling Paul McCartney?”

He was high and ready to bite. But, I had to figure out which high John I had business with. Is it “could be left alone for a minute” or “I’m scared he’ll fuck something up” high John?

The girl in the meantime got lost. That bitch. I dragged him to the nicer seats.

“Change of scenery? Much better here, Macca.”, John sighed, “What the hell was she on to makeout with me?”

“John, even though you have a wife, I think a lot of our fans still want to makeout with you. And you obliged that many times yourself.”, I sighed.

He could be so in his head.

“What are you talking about? Are you purposely trying to reveal me… Oh, your head is so big. Yeah, it shows how smart you are. My smart partner.”, he chuckled.

“Every single person knows about your shenanigans with women.”, I said flatly.

“Paul, not everyone knows I am…”, he came close to my ear, “queer. It doesn’t really need to be made clear. I already have a lot of problems.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Problems?”

“Of course. I haven't told anyone yet so I’ll tell you first. I am writing something new. Oh, I mean. John is writing something new. I don’t want anyone overhearing. Though if they do, it would mean nothing. I’m just a nobody.”, as I concluded.

It’s the “I’m scared he’ll fuck something up” high John, or

“Julia?”

“Yes, Paul? Ask away. Finally someone calls me right.”, well Julia is tripping hard if she can’t figure out she is in costume. What did that bitch put in her drink?

“Jules, you are in costume.”, I told her.

“Oh. Wait, what did you say?”, she was distracted then of all times, “Your head looks like it’s going to explode. Is there something to fix that?”

“Ignore that, you are tripping and are still in costume! You drank a spiked drink.”, I sighed.

“Spiked? I would never do that.”, she pouted.

“What is important is for us to get out of here as quickly and silently-”, I started but the waiter interrupted me.

“What would you like to order? Oh, it’s, wow…”, of course, the waiter knows us both.

Before I even got a word in, Julia began.

“Paul, don’t get ahead of yourself. I would like two vermouths, he would like… Oh, kind of forgot to ask what would you like, Macca? Though I already have a guess.”

I had to go along with her order. But I could pay in advance and that could give us the time to go somewhere else.

“Hm, a margarita would be fine.”, I sighed.

“Um, I’ll get you that. It’s interesting though. Aren’t you famous for ordering Brandy Alexander?”, the waiter asked.

“Where did you get that idea from?”, she was panicking already.

I looked at the waiter crossly.

“Could we pay in advance?”, I asked.

He prepared the bill, the disappointment visible on his face.

“You can.”

“I will pay, I haven’t seen him in a god awful while.”, Julia once again slapped my hand away from paying, “I missed ya sugar.”

She fumbled with the money for a bit, and somehow managed to find the exact amount.

“Sugar?”, the waiter noticed the small mannerisms Julia had.

“Yeah, the reason I don’t need any with my vermouth.”, that was smooth Jules, but quite unnecessary in front of a person.

The waiter acted like he didn’t hear anything and went on his merry way. I was fuming.

“Julia, we are going right this second.”, I ordered.

She looked at me with the saddest eyes.

“Paul, don’t go outside and leave me. I promise I won’t flirt anymore with you if it bothers you that much…”, she stretched the vowels unbearingly long and I was heartstricken again. Julia knows how to pull my heart strings the best.

“I’m not leaving you. I just want to get you somewhere safe. We could go to your flat-”

“Yoko will kill me- I mean John. She would kill him because of him arriving there uninvited and such.”, she was still not going to acknowledge that was in costume, huh.

“We could go to my flat here.”

“You live here?”

“No, you git, I am just renting.”, I chuckled though I remembered she was high out of her mind and it wasn’t that funny anymore.

“Is this a ploy, McCartney, for me to get into your bed?”, she offhandedly bantered.

“No? I mean I love you, but I have Linda.”, at this time I thought “Please don’t get clingy or whiny. God save our reputation and friendship.”

“You don’t love me anymore!”, and she got CLINGY and WHINY. She took my hand and held it to her heart, “Aw, Paul, you changed. Well, my poor heart still beats for ya.”

People were staring. She let my hand go.

“Oh, must you always be so difficult, Lennon.”, I smiled and acted like it was a joke, “Didn’t know you wanted to write again that much.”

Some turned away. Julia’s torn mind cooperated.

“You’re the difficult one. Always prim and proper. Maybe we are the same, though I am usually committing a crime.”, Julia joked, “We could write, I thought your blue hairedness wanted a date.”

“Blue hair?”

“Yeah, like the sky. Why’d ya dye it?”, I felt sorry for her.

“Um, we’ll talk about that later, here’s our drinks.”, I said, “And please fetch us a couple of bottles of water.”

The waiter wasn’t weirded out anymore and fully understood what happened. He hurried off.

“That’s quite a fast waiter.”, Jules noticed, “Oh, well, guess I’ll drink a couple of vermouths.”

“Hold your horses. How is Yoko?”, I asked to stop her from drinking, “And Sean?”

She scoffed.

“Sean is alright. I like taking care of him. He is smart and curious, though the bugger could be rude.”, she chuckled.

“For Yoko, she still can’t get over you and me. She is mad when she sees me being you know… Fragile.”, she hugged herself.

“I know. I’m here now, Jules.”, I held her hand. I forgot the feeling. The mask she likes to wear always had a tight grip on anything, he was ready to tear into anything. While her grip was always soft and melancholic. It was the same hand but a totally different atmosphere.

“Cheers to that Paul.”, she grabbed her vermouth.

“Julia.”, I grabbed her vermouth.

The waiter arrived with the water.

“Take this. Please. We’ll take this with us.”, I sighed.

The waiter grabbed our drinks and went off to the bar to try to pack it.

“No. It’s just water. Alcohol could hydrate me as well.”, Julia declined.

“That’s bull and you know it yourself.”, I scoffed.

“You have a point, love.”, I softened at the love part.

She drank the water.

“Ugh, give me more, my head is on fire.”, she was recovering.

I gave her the second glass of water, she drank it even faster than the first one.

“Oh, oh, fuck. That was too spiked. I’m still swirling.”, she said, “More.”

I gave her the third and fourth bottle.

“Enough Paul, I didn’t ask you for the river Nile, I asked you for another glass.”, she drank the third bottle and recovered a bit. Then I thought about what she said.

“You purposely drank a spiked drink!”, I was mad!

“Who expected it was going to be that effective?”, she was joking! At that time, when she felt like trash and needed help, she thought it was the smartest thing to joke. But Julia is like that.

“Julia, this isn’t funny. I was being serious!”

“Paul, it’s hard, it’s hard living every single day in a prison.”, Julia was poetic again.

“Jules, you made that prison yourself. Let’s go somewhere else.”, I sighed.

“Wait, wait! Macca, aren’t I still in…”, she looked around and at herself.

“Fuck, fuck, what have I done!”, she was panicking, “I made a couple of incidents for sure! Everyone knows, everyone knows!”

“Calm down.”, I was cackling.

“Paul, PAUL! This is serious.”

“Now it’s serious! And you spiking yourself isn’t.”, that was quite smooth of me.

“I’ll tell you some other day, McCartney.”, she was offended.

I guessed she would go back to John again. She gathered her thoughts.

“Well, let’s start over. Hullo, Paul, what does his highness want in New York City this time?”, that was John’s way of saying things. I was right.

“I’m here for business mostly.”, I lied.

“People told me that you were here for a whole month! Wouldn’t you have finished the work by now? Or just how big is it?”, he asked.

“John, you asked around for me? Why didn’t you reach out first?”, I was shocked. I knew Julia would be out and about asking for me, but for John, I thought it was “below” him to admit to doing that.

“I missed you too, Paul. I went to the place where you worked but I didn’t go in because I was a bit- too occupied with taking care of Sean and such, you know?”, he nervously laughed.

I chuckled.

“You should’ve just gone in. I didn’t know you were embarrassed.” “I was not embarrassed!”, he was red, “I was just a bit scared of doing that as, you know, me. I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

John cared more about me than I thought.

“No. No, you would’ve made things so much easier!”, I was relieved, “Lenny, you know much more than those buggers! The cunts made it so hard to work normally.”

“Oh, McCartney being rude. I didn’t see that in a while. I thought you were a brand-friendly sellout.”, he joked letting out his frustrations to me.

“I can be frustrated too, y’know!”, I was angry.

He smiled wide.

“I missed you so much.”, he declared, “Let’s jam at yours when my head stops ringing.”

“Oh, we have a chance to do that here. Some kids invited me to jam with them.”

“Kids? Paulie, you are 34 years old.”, Lenny began laughing uncontrollably, “They look about twenty five-ish. Have you become a grandpa or something in my absence? Should I call you Queen Paulie? But that isn’t as good as Princess Paulie.”

I sighed and blushed.

“You know exactly what I mean Johnny!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll be the rhythm guitar then. Or piano. Or mouth harmonica.”, he began listing off.

“Stop. They’ll make place for you, Lennon.”

“Of course they will, Paul and John together! Who would want to miss that.”, he sarcastically said that and took me by the hand.

The waiter came back with bottles of our drinks and the ingredients.

“I apologize for making a mess. I’ll pay for this too? Right, I paid the first time.”, John’s mind was still a bit sloshed.

The waiter was on the brink of crying.

“Mister, no need to cry, I am doing the bare minimum. Set your expectations higher!”, he told him straight.

The guitarist, frontman came back with the fixed speakers. He was huffing and sweaty from running. The rest of the band gathered round him and helped him with setup.

“I’m going to fetch Paul after we finish this.”, he was unfocused, “I already made a delay, now to force him to setup would be just-”

He paused for a solid minute.

“What would it be, lad?”, John asked.

I went to help the band.

“Too much.”

“Oh, but for the Paul I know, it would be too little. He would overdo it.”, John chuckled.

The frontman lifted his head after setting up the speakers and was in pure shock.

“Paul, no, the terms we agreed upon!”, the frontman tried to stop me.

“He is stubborn.”, John was getting on everyone's nerves.

“And just who are you to tell me that?”, he turned around and saw John.

“Oh, I had a hunch but I couldn’t believe it!”, he got excited.

The rest of the band got excited.

“Please play with us!”, they pleaded, “Lennon and McCartney playing together would be such a honor!”

I threw him a “see, I was right” look.

He sighed.

“People, you are swarming him.”, the frontman said, “You can decline.”

“No, I won’t. Paul finds ya gear, I find ya gear too.”, he smiled with his teeth.

The whole band became even more excited. They let us help them, and we ended up doing most of the physical work because they were busy trying to impress us. I am right in calling them kids.

John wistfully sighed.

“Remember when we were like that around Elvis and he ignored us? We can’t ignore these kids like that.”, he said.

“You indulge others too easily, Lennon.”, I began but softened, “But I know what you mean.”

“Oh, but I am still critiquing them. I’m not indulging them, love.”, he was being very sweet.

We were quiet for a minute. We heard a riff they wanted to throw in at the last minute.

“That’s gear, but still needs some work, lemme and Paul at it.”, he was truthful.

We got to work and they watched us with big eyes.

“Shift this chord here. Then, we should make it unfinished… Put this here.”, he mumbled in our writing language.

“Move it up to A. That sounds alright.”, I mumbled back, “Maybe add some thrills.”

I played it back to the band and they were amazed.

“That’s a bloody great riff Paulie.”, he was satisfied.

I reddened, like I do at John’s compliments to my music. They were so rare.

“We are using that! Thank you so much!”, they were so happy.

“Alright, what is the program for tonight?”, I asked.

They gave us the program. It was mostly covers with a couple of their songs which were easy to learn, but had some nice progressions and riffs that needed a bit more work.

“You even put “One After 909”. Aren’t you glad I’m here to sing that?”, John joked.

The frontman got so excited!

“We’ll put on more Beatles songs, we want to play them with you!”

“No need, we like these songs you picked.”, John chuckled. Looks like the cockiness came back.

“He didn’t even ask me. Classic Lennon.”, I scoffed, “But I agree.”

“Why scoff then?”, all of them laughed.

“I had to.”

“You never get old, Macca.”, I smiled on his remark.

We rehearsed for a bit, and went on the stage at 9 even though we were supposed to play from 4 p.m.

The cafe was full of people, which I’m sure made John nervous because he hadn't played in front of a big public in two years.

“What is this? The Cavern Club after 1963?”, he quipped, making the whole cafe laugh.

The frontman introduced the band, but I ignored him because I was focused on John.

“And as guests, I can’t believe they are here to play with us, John Lennon and Paul McCartney.”

The people clapped.

“Paul, let’s bow! Let’s bow!”, he excitedly whispered.

We did the classic Beatle bow. The audience went crazy.

The frontman began, but whispered something into John’s ear.

John looked at him crossly but chortled.

“I’ll be counting down today then, hope you understand little old me.”, the public was enjoying every second.

“Oh, you’re understandable Lennon, believe me.”, I quipped.

“And one, two, three, four.”, we played.

He stared at me mostly while playing, smiling like a fool. I guess he was nervous. The band was amazing! They were a solid backing track, and when their songs took over, they were very competent. John and I didn’t sing their songs, we just played. I was proud of John. Even though he was out of practice, he played wonderfully. The audience was delighted and that was the most important thing for this band and John. He wouldn’t exist if it weren’t from them.

“Thank you, thank you, that’s all for tonight.”, he smoothly talked to them.

They riled up.

“More, more, more!”

“Oliver Twist asked for more.”, he spoke in his falsetto voice.

The audience laughed.

I send him a knowing look. The band was tired by now.

“We’ll play some classics then.”, John entertained the people while I went to the frontman and told him:

“Begin packing up, we’ll hold ‘em if you’re tired. If not, play something yours.”

They were out of breath.

“Okay, you can end it then. Thank you! This means the world to us!”, the frontman hugged me.

I hugged back.

“Alright, Johnny, hit it. And one, two, three, four!”, I started.

Our guitar heavy songs were present (like “Twist And Shout”). We played and played to our heart’s content.

We were tired by 2 a.m.

“That’s it folks!”, he winked.

The audience groaned but they were tired too and went off. Us two packed the instruments. The kids left the pay in the case for the instruments. On the envelope in little letters was written “Thank you for your kindness and publicity! We can’t let you go unpaid for this kind of dedication.”

“I’m not taking that.”, I said.

“Interesting. Still I think you should respect the band, and take some of it.”, he assumed.

“Alright.”, I chuckled, taking half of my pay and giving him half of that.

“As I deserve.”, he chuckled, “No, I’ll take it from my pay. I don’t want yours, Paulie. Now, where should we go off to?”. He took the same amount from the other envelope which had the same writing.

“Let’s go to my flat, John.”, I offered.

“I’m fine with that.”, he agreed.

I got excited!

“Paulie is amused. That’s what I like to see.”

“See, Johnny, is it that hard to be balanced?”, I asked.

“What?”, he was confused.

“Is it that hard to be polite and reasonable when you’re John?”, I asked him again.

“I wasn’t polite! Nor that reasonable. Oh, oh, you mean now with the money!”, he got mad.

“I mean you were not extreme. You weren’t hateful, you weren’t overly cocky, you kept yourself in check. I forgot the last time you were like this.”

“Well, I remember it clear as day. It’s August 27th 1968.”, he saddened.

We somehow always end up mentioning it. I exhaled...

“Paul, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll call you more. I have to stop distancing myself from me…”, John sighed.

We arrived at the complex and went upstairs to my flat.

“You are one of the best ideas thought up. You really are. As much as you treasure yourself, I treasure you. I’m sorry because I always wanted you gone.”, I unlocked the door.

He stared at me, his eyes full of tears. I couldn’t withstand him crying, because I would tear up too. He threw himself onto my bed.

“Paul, you loved me even though I behaved like a jerk!”, he shouted.

“John, I made several songs about that! And you still hate me!”, I snuggled with him.

“I don’t hate you Paul! I told you that multiple times!”, he sighed.

“You TOLD me. But your ACTIONS say otherwise.”, I explained.

“Oh, it’s all coming together.”, he began, “I know why I am so extremely angry!”

“Why?”, I wondered.

“It’s because I’m bloody sick of everyone! I was sick of your commanding attitude, I am sick of Yoko’s constant nagging about you and Julia and I’m sick of everyone expecting something from me! First it was Mimi, then it was Brian, then you, then Yoko, and now the whole motherfucking world expects something from me!”, he screamed into the pillow. The pillow was wet. He made it this hard on himself.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me. You don’t have to prove anything to the world. You are not the main character y’know? No one is.”, I chuckled. He calmed down.

“I purpousely drank the spiked drink from that lady. The day was overly long and overly boring. No one was in town. Sean and Yoko went somewhere without me. I don’t know if I want to visit Julian anymore, because he hates me so much, and for a good fucking reason. I ruined his and Cynthia’s life.”, he sighed, “I ruined every single relationship I came across. Every normal person would want me gone for good! I wanted to wash away the pain! Wash away the feeling that I am John. I wanted to be sloshed for one single day and you come in. I didn’t realise I would fuck myself in the process by being that kind of high.”

“John Winston Ono Lennon, you are a coward.”, I said, “You wanted a name for yourself? You wanted to change the world? Deal with it. You can give up! We can live together like we imagined all those years ago. I barely remember when Julia wanted something more than a fling.”

“I always thought we were serious.”, she surprised me.

“ACTIONS, John, ACTIONS, not WORDS.”, I repeated, “I love you! And now I will show that I love you. Where are we?”

“We are at your place.”, he said unenthusiastically.

“Yes! Because otherwise Yoko would kill you for gallavanting!”

He hugged me.

“Thank you, Paul. For everything. That drink could’ve made more damage if I revealed everything or worse if I took more and collapsed on the spot.”

“YES! Thank you for acknowledging you need me sometimes!”, I hugged back tighter.

“Paul, Paul… Paaaull. That’s a bit tight. I’m suffocating-”

“Sorry!”, I let go.

“I’m already wrapped tight.”, he took off his shirt. Oh, the famous bandages that few people knew about. Aunt Mimi’s trusty tool, that Julia misused so long ago. I unwrapped them from John’s body as I used to when we were touring and were finally alone. He put on his shirt covering himself.

“Bathroom?”

“Down the hall on the left.”, I explained.

“Okay.”, he went.

Nervousness and curiosity flooded my state of being. I felt as if it was 1961. and I was a flustered teenager who found out his best friend was all along a bird he liked.

After a couple of minutes, he came out of the bathroom in his clothes that were dirty even though he washed himself. And when I mean washed himself I meant completely, his hair was wet and his teeth were clean.

“You used my toothbrush?”, I pouted.

“Did you ever have a problem with that?”, he chuckled.

I blushed.

“Well, this washed my worries away better than that spiked drink, don’t you think, Macca?”, he asked.

“Naturally.”, I sighed, rolling my eyes.

“May I sleep here, your majesty?”, he proposed.

“I dunno, may you?”, I played with him.

“I can’t refuse cliche banter, Paulie, you know me too well.”, he smiled, though I’d rather say she smiled.

“Jules, John’s confidence always suited you.”, I kissed her on that smart head of hers.

She snuggled beside me.

“Shut up and sleep, I need some peace and quiet now.”

“Oh, are we cranky?”, I patted her on the shoulder, “Good night, Jules.”

“Good night, Pretty Princess Paulie.”, she patted me on the head, “Your quiff is fluffy.”

“Not like your hair though.”, I played with it.

“Paul, promise you’ll have patience with me tomorrow and we can play again?”, her eyes grew big.

“I promise we can play again!”, I kissed her on the cheek, “We will, I already told you I missed you.”

“You mean so much to me, Macca.”, she kissed me on the lips, “Now, please sleep, I have to finish tons of work and find someone to take care of Sean while we’re out and about.”

“I will.”, that was a lie.

“No, you won’t sleep. You want revenge for me keeping you up during touring days.”

I laughed.

“Then, Johnny, what do you want me to do?”

“Sing then.”, she dug her head in my shoulder.

I smiled and sung.

Who knows how long I've loved you?

You know I love you still

Will I wait a lonely lifetime?

If you want me to, I will

She sung along.

For if I ever saw you

I didn't catch your name

But it never really mattered

I will always feel the same

She kissed the place where my heart was positioned.

Love you forever and forever

Love you with all my heart

Love you whenever we're together

Love you when we're apart

She laid back and got comfortable drifting away. I looked at her face. She had an honest smile. One of her true smiles. One of the rare treasures.

And when at last, I find you

Your song will fill the air

Sing it loud so I can hear you

Make it easy to be near you

For the things you do endear you to me

Oh, you know, I will

I will…

I drifted away, nuzzling into her hair.

Mm mm mm mm mm mm mm mm mm

Da da da da da da da

My eyes closed on her carefree laugh I used to hear during the fifties and sixties. When it was just us two against the world.

Rest of Sacrifame

#classic rock #john lennon #paul mccartney #the beatles #beatles fanfiction #mclennon #yoko ono #white album #sean lennon #seventies #70s #70s music

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cyanophore-fiction · 2 years ago

Text

Hunting Trip

Good old Hez. He’s an alien called a Paqeru, and he’s been congregated for over two fucking millennia. From his memories, I know a little bit about his people. They’re like a cross between a crocodile and a grizzly bear, tough as nails and their homeworld still kills them off in droves. They’re pre-industrial, because apparently there isn’t much time for science and engineering when you have to spend all your time hiding from hurricanes. Or they were pre-industrial, at least, when Ramiel came to visit them two millennia ago.

In any case, Hez didn’t have a very nice life as a mortal. He spends a lot of time away from the Congregation, so we tend to run into each other in the margins. Not that he hates it here or anything, Ramiel pulled him out of hell. He just needs to go back to hell every so often to feel like himself. Great guy to commune with when he’s not out in the Fever. Usually, it’s even better to just talk with him and hear his stories without any neural connection.

Apparently, he just goes out into the Deep Fever and looks for trouble. Then, he comes back and shows everyone what’s brewing out there. It’s always bad, but never anything worth panicking over.

I’ve only been out there a few times myself. The first time, Ramiel would only let me go with an armed escort, and only to a depth of one hundred meters outside the beacons.

Got to see a little bit of weird shit. Took a close look at an ant—it turned out to be a cluster of little humans, all stuck together, just mimicking an ant. Mirrors in the sky, reflecting a giant mouth eclipsing the sun. Can of tomato soup rolling around on its own over the dunes. Nothing really dangerous, just off-putting. That’s the sort of stuff you get at a hundred meters deep. That, and glimpses of some really interesting things moving on the horizon, so far out in the desert that you can barely make out what you’re looking at.

I said I wanted to get a closer look, and my escort said it was time to go. Next time we went, I ditched the escort. Slipped into my old Quetzal avatar and took off over the dunes. Left a trail of feathers behind so they could find me. Exactly what I was thinking, I’ll never know. Probably that it was all just software and it couldn’t actually hurt me.

Apparently, I cleared two kilometers before coming across whatever it was that got me. I’ve still got a few memories of what I saw, lodged so deep that even Ramiel couldn’t clear them out. There was something that looked like a human, but it moved in these little stutters. Then it bloomed. I don’t have another word for it. There’s a painwall in my mind when I try to recall exactly what it looked like.

Hez was the one that found me and dragged me back. Through his memories, I’ve seen how I looked, thrashing and screaming and raving. Twisting myself into knots, my scales melting into sand. Becoming homogenous with the desert.

It took the Congregation hours to shear all the trauma from my psyche and hurl it all back to the Fever. Days of recovery time, separating myself from the bad inputs. There was pain—physical, emotional, other kinds that I can’t put into words. Hez told me that I’m lucky to still have a coherent soul.

So, yeah. You don’t fuck with the Fever. But Hez does, and he does it by choice. After I recovered, he offered to take me on a little outing. He figured that I’d go back eventually, and doubted he’d be able to stop me, so I might as well learn how to survive.

We went for three days. I followed his instructions to the letter, and we came back fine. Not to say we didn’t run into trouble—that’s the whole point of Fever-wandering, getting so bored of utopian life that you’re willing to risk your soul for a little uncertainty. The trouble mainly consisted of me hiding behind him while he put rifle slugs into living fractals and golems made of chicken bones held together by crystallized urine.

We killed a day and a half—which feels like a lot longer because the sun never moves from noon—before Hez scoped out a wild construct weak enough for me to take on alone. It looked like a mechanical tarantula with hypodermic needles at the ends of its legs. Looked terrifying, but Hez insisted that he knew what it was capable of. Just some human’s distant childhood fear of getting shots fused with some arachnophobia. Strong visual associations, but very little substance. The whole construct was centered on an instinctual foundation just firm enough to keep it from dissolving.

Hez had me hover directly above it and whittle its body away with bursts of pulse laser fire. Since the Quetzal avatar doesn’t have any limbs, the gun is mounted on its tail. Tricky to aim, but Hez made me swear that I wouldn’t switch to a different avatar for any reason. Whatever body you have the closest connection to is the one you want to wear in the Fever.

Each hit made the thing shriek like shards of glass in my brain, and it could jump a little higher than I liked. Still shredded it into little metal filings, and when it finally fell to dust, it felt good. Unnaturally good. Hez tells me that there’s a kind of built-in emotional reward associated with destroying certain constructs. Something about stepping into the heroic role. In any case, he must have gotten a dose of the reward, too, because we just sat there in the middle of the desert and bullshitted for a little while, laughing while joy bled back and forth between us.

I want you to picture this: a ten-foot tall crocodilian, built like a tank with jagged teeth and claws, who is immortal and older than Christianity and hunts the literal stuff of nightmares just because he can’t imagine a life without conflict. He throws back his head, chuckles, and puts his arm around you, chatting like a pleasant old uncle while radiating warmth through your neural link. At the edge of his mind, you catch glimpses of bones cracking and stone spears and paleolithic terror of starvation, but none of that shit matters anymore.

Unbelievable. Right now, the old me is still back on Earth, a spirit hosted on hardware sitting in a building somewhere in Norway. The closest thing that version of me has ever had to psychic contact is a good conversation. That version of me doesn’t even know that there’s life beyond Earth. And I’m immortal.

I don’t need to speculate, because I was tuned in to his thoughts: Hez knew exactly how much I needed a victory. Everything and everyone in the Congregation was ancient, vast, overwhelming. I’d spent the last week having my soul stitched back together after an indescribable maiming. After about thirty seconds, I was coiled around his arm, sobbing.

Since then, I’ve been back, but I haven’t gone beyond the beacons. The shallows are good for getting some alone time, and that’s what most of the Congregation uses it for.

Eventually, of course, I’ll go out past the beacons again. Probably with Hez, maybe not.

_________________

Dusting off a very old concept and set of characters with this one. Never wrote a proper story for it, but I’ve got a ton of setting notes that I think I’ll start putting back together. Thanks for reading!

#sci-fi #science fiction #flash fiction #quetzalcoatl #writeblr

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shadowsshowdown · 2 years ago

Text

Deus Ex: Human Revolution Shadow’s Showdown: Chapter 15

youtube

The desperate begging for help.

Laura’s apartment. Sarif Industries – Headquarters.

Even after taking a sleeping pill, Laura was unable to fall asleep, which made her frustrated. It was not the first time that she faced pain, humiliation, and shame, but then she was completely alone with it, so paradoxically it was easier to recover and forget. After some time, she called it a daily routine, just like brushing her teeth. Now she unintentionally dragged into her swamp some nosy brunette about 6'1" tall. Fortunately, it had been probably not too late to pull him out of it before things became disastrous. She tried to close her eyes, but at every attempt, she saw Adam's face, and when she covered herself with the quilt she felt as if he was cuddling her. This unbearable feeling made her scream with pure, unbridled despair. Lying on her right side, she curled up, and when she bit her lip, the wound began to bleed again, leaving a few scarlet marks on the sheets. She could hear conversations in the street, the sound of car tires, and the falling rain. Somehow she managed to fall asleep, and when morning broke into her bedroom with the insistent rays of the sun, she didn't want to wake up at all. Laura hoped that the events of the last night were just another nightmare. Unfortunately, Adam's t-shirt she was wearing persistently reminded her of every touch, breath, or fear. It also reminded her of running away from Jensen. She didn't want to go to work so much today, she waited until the last minute for a miracle, but this time there was no saving call from Frank. If Pritchard had been at the company, she would have taken the day off, but these fucking responsibilities were forcing her to be there. It's like someone sprinkling salt on her wounds. She didn't really care what she was wearing. She picked up another pair of jeans, a casual sweater, this time dark purple and began to dress reluctantly. On the way, she fed the cat but didn't eat anything herself. Laura felt her throat clenched, she would throw up if she swallowed anything. She picked up the backpack in which she had placed Frank's report, put on her jacket, and left.

Today she took the longer path, without hurrying at all, and she arrived at the company ahead of schedule anyway. Jensen was not around, but still, she expected that eventually, they would bump into each other. Her face betrayed absolutely nothing, just the everyday face of Miss Werner. Adam was the only person who knew about what happened, and Laura trusted the Chief of Security’s discretion. As she walked through the lobby, she was under the impression that people were talking about her, that everyone knew. Two random girls were whispering something in each other's ear, then looked as if in Laura’s direction. Suddenly the mask she was wearing fell shattering to pieces and her mind was flooded with voices. She heard them say: "Bitch", "Dirty slut", "You're a nobody", "Worm", "Get out of here!", "You disgust us!", "Did you think Jensen would fall for you if you make a victim of yourself?" then there were waves of mocking laughter that wouldn't stop. Laura ran up the stairs to the second floor, bumping into someone on the way, or maybe it was just a projection of her mind. She opened Pritchard's office, entered, and immediately locked it from the inside. She was panting with exertion and fear, leaning her back against the door, she slowly settled on the ground and began to cry hysterically.

After a few minutes, she called herself to order as she had duties that had to be done regardless of personal matters. She got up from the floor, giving herself a few more quiet breaths, then stepped to the desk and booted the computer along with the servers. While waiting for the system to be ready for work, she brewed herself a mug of coffee. Fortunately, she still had some time, so before the first employees, who signed up for the password change, came, she managed to go through the e-mail, drink a coffee, check how the security works and review the report.

Laura was focused while dealing with the first few people, then it became a routine procedure that was downright tedious. Everyone looked at her face with questions on their lips, but no one asked any, which made Laura very relieved. After just over an hour she had ticked off almost all the names on the list and to her displeasure only Adam and Faridah remained. She leaned against the backrest of the armchair which creaked quietly, tilting back in the process. She intertwined hands behind her head, observing cabinets filled with binders, the tangle of cables on the floor, and the row of monitors. For a split second, she felt like she could see the word ‘Rag’ written on each of the screens. She twitched in her armchair as if suddenly woke up from a dream. At the same moment, she heard a knocking on the door.

"May I?" Faridah asked, slowly crossing the threshold. "Sure, sit down. It will only take a moment to change the password," she announced shortly.

Malik shook her head and sighed heavily. After taking a longer look at Laura, she noticed a scratch on her right cheek that was partially covered with sticking plaster and a cut open lower lip. She gave up asking questions because she would have probably heard anyway, that again it was the cat checking if the cups do bounce. She wasted no time on nonsense.

"I don't know what happened between you and Adam. I'm not getting into it. If you want to limit yourself just to fulfill duties, OK," she replied sitting down, but Laura could sense the displeasure in her voice. "Sorry, I had a rough night, so I'm a bit nasty," she tried to ease the tense situation.

It was enough for her that she angered Adam, she does not need another war. Laura was fed up with everything, especially herself. She regretted that Jensen had saved her; it would have been better for everyone if they had found her dead among the garbage bags. No one would cry over her grave, no one would have remembered. And now she is just an awkward situation for everyone to avoid or take pity on.

"Do you want to talk about it? If so, no problem. We can pop out to 'The Jackdaw', there are usually not too many people there at this hour," she suggested. "I need to finish changing the passwords," she sighed in between typing commands. "You and Adam are the last ones. I should wait." "Adam went out somewhere on important business. He'll most likely be back after lunch," she informed parrying the last of Laura's excuses. "So, shall we go?"

Important business, sure. Jensen was now avoiding her more than the fire - that's what the whole painful truth looked like. "Dirty rags get thrown away to don't look at them and don't smell how they stink." - the one memorized sentence she had once heard rumbled in her head. Still, she contained her emotions. She couldn't simply fall apart in Malik's presence. But on the other hand, she would like to tell her everything, maybe she could help to solve this case somehow. She was afraid for Adam; she'd rather bump into him ten times a day now, than live in the uncertainty that something could happen to him while he's outside the company.

"Laura? You didn't freeze like that Pritchard’s scrap, did you?" Faridah waved her hand in front of the girl’s eyes. "What? No," she smiled slightly because it was the right thing to do. "Well, okay, you've convinced me. Maybe a little lunch isn't such a bad idea," she added starting to turn off the computer. "In ten minutes at the lobby? I still have to finish something." "Sure, I need a moment too. See you later."

As Malik left, Laura began to have concerns again. She had agreed too quickly for that lunch, but she couldn't be assertive in her presence. The girl looked around the office to make sure everything was turned off and walked out into the hallway. As she walked down the stairs to the lobby she looked up to her right, but Adam's office was dark. Before she joined Faridah at the front desk, she had heard the sound of an incoming message so she reached into her trouser pocket for her phone.

“It is easy to love your friend, but sometimes the hardest lesson to learn is to love your enemy.”

― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Again, there was no visible number, and the attempt to track the sender will probably end up the same as last time.

Detroit. D.P.D. Headquarters.

Right after Laura left, Adam went back to his bed and fell asleep almost immediately. Ever since Mexicantown, he had been haunted by nightmares that he would not have been able to cope with without help. Systematic work under the supervision of a psychologist made him stop dreaming about anything. If he slept at all. Last night it all came back, but this time it was about Miss Werner. It was her desperate begging for help. "Help me please" - those two words made him unable to remain passive. He had never believed in dreams, but this one was so strangely real, incredibly vivid as if she had in fact come to him in some unexplained way. For the rest of the night, he stood by the window staring at the girl's apartment like a guardian, while quiet music flowed from the speakers.

I've been watching you Not waiting for the right moment to make the first move Do you want to know Why I keep avoiding your eyes And why I'm running away? It's crazy, I know

I've been conceiving you for too long

Or maybe I'm destined to be alone? Or maybe there's someone who will understand That I'm not able to share my world? I'm still running away It's crazy, I know

I've been conceiving you for too long If only I could change all things around Still conceiving you all along

I've been conceiving you for too long If only I could change all things around I've been conceiving you for too long I've grown used to that

Still conceiving you all along

It was for this reason that he put personal matters above official duty. He was aware that he was acting against Laura, but this motherfucker must answer for what he did. The girl might be angry with him for the rest of his life, but at least his conscience would be at ease. Before he made his final decision, he had wandered around the city with no particular goal in mind. He wanted to give himself some time to think, to cool down his emotions so as not to act too impulsively. It came to him, that again he thinks only of himself and tries to extinguish the remorse, using the tragedy which happened to the girl. He crossed the road and after a few steps turned the corner. Is he really acting in accordance with himself? Should he respect her decision and let it go? Adam knew the answer, but he felt that Laura might be in danger of something worse. He followed the news, and for a long time, there was no mention of rape-related assaults. Why just now and so unexpectedly? He must at least try to find out something, maybe someone wants to intimidate Laura and she is afraid to ask for help. Too many unknowns for him to be able to say anything with certainty.

He burnt out a cigarette almost at the door of the Detroit Police Station and stepped inside. Several people were waiting in the lobby; Jensen looked to his left at the glass-walled reception room. An officer whom he did not even know sat behind an extensive desk, filling out the documents. The room was filled with cabinets full of binders and case files. The sharp rays of the autumn sun shone through the gaps of lowered blinds, highlighting the clouds of dust floating in the air. There were several diplomas on one of the walls. Apart from this, the usual mess reigned. Adam remembered it well from his days in the police. Hardly anyone then found a moment for arranging the towering piles of paper files, which as it could be seen has remained until now. The Chief of Security hoped to enter without any unnecessary formalities, but the door to the rest of the station was locked. He wasn't going to break in, so he walked up to the glass window and grunted as he tried to get attention. The man was under 30; he didn't seem very pleased to be sitting behind the desk, but Jensen wasn't surprised at all. Paperwork in the police is like being sentenced to 100 years of hard labor. Adam was not concerned with remembering the man's external appearance. It was irrelevant at the moment; he had more important matters. The policeman didn't notice Jensen, so he knocked on the glass window. Only then did he reluctantly raise his head.

"I'm looking for Sergeant Wayne Haas. I need to speak with him urgently," the Chief of Security said shortly. "Everyone here wants to talk," he muttered dissatisfied, returning to his business. "Listen, boy. I know sitting behind a desk is not the height of a policeman's dream, but I've been through it myself," he tried to appeal to his feelings. "Well, I'll ask if he'll take you in, Mr...?" "Jensen, Adam Jensen."

The officer reluctantly picked up the phone and dialed the extension number. After a brief exchange of words, he nodded to the Chief of Security and opened the door. Adam immediately turned right heading straight for the stairs. He hastily exited to the third floor and turned right again. The narrow, winding hallway was almost empty except for one officer busy with playing a game on his phone. Every now and then, he would hear a radio call for patrols or information about the traffic situation. Jensen made his way to the office area, quickly finding the right room. He knocked hoping that Wayne hadn't let him in only to kick him out the door.

"Well, you showed up, I wonder what for," muttered the man with fair, short-cut hair, piercing the Chief of Security with his brown eyes.

He was dressed in a white shirt with rank epaulets sewn on his shoulders, with Detroit City Police badges on both sleeves. On the left side of the chest, was a gold badge pinned to a pocket. The man had a negative attitude towards Jensen, which could be seen with the naked eye.

"Hello, Wayne," Adam greeted him calmly. „I urgently need your help.” „After all that happened, you dared to come here and simply ask for my help?” Wayne hissed with anger. „You must be arrogant to the bone or desperate.” "I came here on an important matter, and you're the only person who can tell me anything. I don't want to fight with you, but I’m aware that you can just kick me out." Haas clearly wanted to take it out on Jensen, but eventually let it go, at least for a while. He crossed his legs and played with the ball-pen in silence for a while, demonstrating his superiority.

"Well, okay," he sighed, struggling to push aside the grief and rage that was rising within him. "What's this important business?" he asked, gesturing Jensen to sit down.

The Chief of Security sat down on the armchair located on another side of the desk. He felt like a victim who comes to report a crime. Laura should be sitting here now, not him.

"Didn't a beat-up man fall into your hands by any chance? Last night or today." He asked rather vaguely since in all the confusion he couldn't remember what he looked like.

Wayne lazily tapped something on the computer keyboard and frowned. "Mhm. Severely beaten male, age 39, Caucasian. Multiple assaults, extortion, beatings, and rapes. Also, weapons and drug smuggling. We've been looking for him for some time."

Adam's face brightened as Haas spoke. He had to somehow get into his cell and interrogate that bastard.

"Do you know who he works for?" "No, the guy is silent about it. Why are you so interested in this? " Haas grew suspicious, his eyes focused on Jensen's face.

The Chief of Security didn't know what to do. He felt obligated to keep Laura's secret, but if he remained silent, he would miss his only chance.

“This is a very delicate matter, Wayne. I have promised discretion to a certain person, even though I know she is making a mistake. I act on my own; I want to know if the guy is a lone wolf." "Another rape victim, huh? First for a long time." The officer sighed heavily and shook his head. "Let me guess; you're the one responsible for his shape?"

Adam was silent thinking if he should confess to his old friend.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Between you and me, you did the right thing. Otherwise, we'd still be chasing our own tail." "Yes, I'm the one who almost massacred him because I couldn't remain passive facing with what that son of a bitch did." "Look, I'll get you a little one-on-one, but control yourself," he warned reaching for the phone. In fact, it was to his advantage because if Jensen got the information out, he would benefit.

A quarter of an hour later, the Chief of Security was locked in a confession room. The room was cramped, a simple metal table was placed on the gray floor along with two chairs beside it. The dark green tiles on the walls were scratched, and the traces of blood were left on them here and there. The defendant was already waiting to be interrogated, sitting on a chair with his hands cuffed behind his back. It was only in the bright light of the lamp that Adam could see that the man was not very far from being dead. He had a swollen face and thick layers of bandages on his head, which made it difficult to describe his appearance. Despite his unpleasant situation, it was clear from the body language that he wanted to say: "Screw you all". Jensen hovered around him slowly with his hands folded across his chest. Behind the Venetian mirror stood Wayne, who watched with apprehension as to how the conversation would proceed.

"Who do you work for?" Adam asked calmly and straight to the point. "Fuck your ass," the man replied and spat on the ground.

The Chief of Security took note of his behavior but did not react.

"Be polite and answer my question, maybe then we can think about a lighter sentence." "Are you deaf, flatfoot?!" he growled, spitting on the same spot again. "Do that again…" "And what will you do to me, police faggot?!" he interrupted Adam, spitting a third time.

With a swift motion, Jensen grabbed the rapist by the neck, impetuously threw him off the chair, which rang as it hit the wall, and pressed his face against the slobbery floor.

"Now you lick the floor clean!" he roared over his ear. "Got it?!" he hissed pressing his face harder.

Haas stirred, already wanting to stop the interrogation, but he gave Adam a moment longer.

"All right, all right! I'll tell!" he softened as if he remembered the Chief of Security’s firm grip. "See, you know how to be reasonable, though," he said lifting the man up and pushing him on the other chair.

Jensen picked up the reclining chair, turned it with its backrest towards the table, and sat down astride on it.

"I'm listening, but I warn you that my patience is running out, so no games," he said with the hard tone of a policeman. "Someone called me a few days ago, told me that the job is simple," the man said with a trembling voice. "Who called?!” Jensen raised his voice, impatiently waiting for an answer. „Specifics please," he urged, punctuating the words. “I don't know, undisclosed principal. Didn't introduce himself, but I think he's probably an agent of a big fish. He promised a lot of money for this girl." "And you agreed, huh?! Motherfucker!” Adam stood up smashing his fists against the tabletop. „One more girl raped is irrelevant to you?!" he growled furiously. He wanted to punch that man hard, but he promised Wayne to keep his emotions at bay so he sat back. "Before I got nicked, I had enough time to see that savings on my bank account actually had few more zeros. That's all."

Adam rubbed his sweaty neck with the palm of his hand. He might have continued pressing him, but the guy did give the impression that he was telling the truth and knew no more than what he said. Jensen stood up without a word and with the intention to leave, but the detainee decided to say something more.

"But let me tell you in secret: I haven't fucked such a nice, tight, and wet pussy for a long time. You should try it yourself."

Haas was almost in a panic by now; he knew how such words could affect Jensen. He watched the rising anger, observed trembling, firmly clenched fist. Wayne reached for the phone hanging on the wall to the left but froze the motion halfway. Adam managed to hold his fury before it exploded. This time it ended with a clenched fist and a slamming of the door.

"Thanks, Wayne," he said to the sergeant as they walked back down the hallway together. "Likewise. If you hadn't shown up we'd still know as much as nothing." "In fact, you still don't have anything specific and neither do I." Adam sighed and lit a cigarette. "You know this girl well, don't you?" Haas asked, glancing at the man.

Jensen nodded affirmatively. "I do." He let out a cloud of smoke from his mouth.

Wayne noticed the sudden sadness in Jensen’s eyes and his husky voice saying: 'I do' in fact meant that he cares for that girl. That was something extraordinary. Haas didn't know him from that side.

"Why didn't she report it? She should get the guy bust for good," he wondered, stopping outside his office. "I don't know why, and I'm not going to push, that's her matter," he shrugged and looked at the time on his phone. “Listen, I have to get back to the company. If you need something, just call me." "Sure, take care."

Adam left the police station in a foul mood. He wanted to talk to Wayne about the past, but this was not the right time and place. Besides, Laura's case turned out to be more complicated than he expected. Someone wants to scare her or even kill her, but who and what for? He could not simply ask Miss Werner, because she would not tell him anyway and the conversation would end in another argument. Their relationship is fucked up enough, and he can forget she'll even bother to look at him. The lack of anything to go on with his investigation irritated him like a small stone in a shoe. Until he finds out something more, he should keep an eye on Laura, because if someone places considerable financial resources to hurt her, he must have good reasons for doing so. Perhaps the girl stepped on someone's toes by stealing some important data, after all, IT System Security Specialist is just a nice term for a hacker. Even if he had access to all of the files on hacking attacks in the past few years, it would take the rest of his life to go through it if he doesn't know what to look for.

All chapters can be found: [AO3], [dA], [Wattpad] and [Tumblr]

#Deus Ex #DXHR #Deus Ex Human Revolution #Adam Jensen #Shadowfanfic #crunchy-shadow #Shadow's Showdown #Nifriel #I never asked for this #Fanfiction #Evie Dormer OC #Joe Mando OC #Chapter 15: The desperate begging for help.#cyberpunk #writers on tumblr

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