#wall mounted switch box

[aricat7]

🔞DON'T FUCK WITH BUCKS 🔞 (Alastor X Reader X Vox)

Chapter One

Summary: An opportunity of a lifetime enters your taxidermy shop, adorned with a smile.

Warnings: Will contain smut and may contain eventual rape/non-con elements in future chapters.

“Imp heads….imp heads….I know I have one…” You say to yourself as you search through your back stock. Normally, you're a bit more organized and have all your ducks in a row so to speak, but business for you has been booming recently. So, less popular items - such as imp heads - are buried behind all the hot-selling items.

You're relieved when you spot a set of curved imp horns behind a majestic elephant head, but scowl as you pick it up and think back to how fucking disgusting this imp was to you. Most people from this side of hell knew not to ever fuck with you, the others either learn very quickly or end up with a price tag on their severed head like this imp.

You leave the stockroom with a kick of the door and return to your waiting customer at the register. You hear him utter sounds of approval as you package up the head for him. As he's excitedly retrieving his wallet, the front door chime dings and a face you've never seen before steps into the low, ambient lighting of the shop.

And, wow, is this a face you're not gonna forget anytime soon. Or more frankly, the smile.

Perhaps you weren't the only one who found this particular visitor unsettling, for other patrons within the shop frantically scurry out the door when they take notice of him. Striding with a smooth grace, holding a staff with hands placed behind his red-suited back, he halts in front of the buck mount on the wall nearest to you.

Switching your focus, you process the transaction for the customer in front of you and hand him his purchase. “Perfect!” He exclaims, hugging the box as if it's his last meal. “I've got a question though.”

“Yeah?” You say without looking up at him, doing a count of all the money in your register.

“You got any…phallic items, perchance?”

“No.”

“What if I uh… show you what I got on my display, huh?”

You slowly turn your head to him, eyes like daggers. “You need to leave.”

“Oh don't be like that, sugartits-”

Naturally, you grab the pistol in your desk compartment and point it at him.

The smiling man enthralled with the buck mount watches the situation intently out of the corner of his eye with his deer-like ear flicked in your direction.

Aggravated by the gun in his ugly face, the customer rolls his eyes and mutters, “Tch. Whore.” He turns on his heel and leaves with a huff, leaving you and this tall, mysterious man alone in the shop.

“What a charming fellow~”

His staticky voice throws you off completely, your body stiffening for a split second as you put your pistol back in your desk. You steal a quick glance at him, his mannerisms and appearance giving you an old-timey vibe.

“Yeah,” you continue counting your money. “Last time it was a cannibal who got all mad when I told them I don't sell fresh meat.”

“Well, I'm sure that also makes for some lofty entertainment now, does it not?”

“Sure,” you shut your register and look at the man again, the buck on the wall still absorbing all his attention, “until they threaten to gouge my eyeballs out and eat ‘em like olives.”

“Oh?” The man meets your gaze and it's as if that creepy smile of his is stuck permanently. “And what do you do next in such a situation, my dear?”

You nod your head at the display adjacent to him. “Add ‘em to my collection.”

He studies the cannibal section in what appears to be wonder, hard to tell with that damn smile. “My my, so slaying cannibals is your specialty?”

“Pfft, take a look around, dude. I own this place. All of what you see is my work.”

He cleans his monocle with a puff of air and scans the entirety of the shop - from the stoic wildlife to the variety of sinners who have crossed you. “You don't say? All by yourself?”

“Mhm.” You open up the display case of your entomological collection upon your desk and do a bit of fine-tuning, ensuring your array of roaches and moths are in orderly fashion.

“Very impressive. You've got quite the sickening talent, darling~ No doubt it's part of how you wound up being here in hell, I'm sure.”

You look up from your mindless task and catch him staring at the buck mount again, realizing the man has small antlers atop his red hair. “‘Guy you're looking at related to you or something?”

“Say he was, would you provide me with a discount?~”

“Nope.”

The man chuckles. His eyes wander your frame from head to toe, but that's unbeknownst to you, since you're already glued to your next task: making a spreadsheet on your computer of everything you've got in your inventory - that way you’re not ripping your hair out looking for an item like earlier. Just as you're about to head to the back to get a count of everything, the man walks over to you and outstretches his hand across your desk.

“The name’s Alastor, darling. Pleasure to meet you, quite a pleasure.”

“Yeahhh, no. I don't do introductions.”

“What a shame.” Alastor retracts his hand and sets his staff out in front of him in a poised fashion. “Such a lovely establishment, from the authentic - and overly priced - craftsmanship, to its spik and span environment!” He sighs dramatically, “Oh, if only I could know the name of its owner, the brilliant mind behind it all~”

You roll your eyes. “You gonna buy one of these ‘overpriced’ craftsmanship or not?”

He tilts his head to the side. “How long have you been here in hell, sweetheart?”

Your hand hovers over where your pistol is kept. “Enough with the nicknames. And it’s…almost been a year now.”

“A year?! Why, it takes many moons here in hell for someone to be as reputable as you are right now. You're quite the little entrepreneur!”

You refrain from grabbing your pistol because something is tugging at your brain, telling you to tread lightly; to play whatever this game of his he’s playing and to play nice.

“‘Preciate that.” You cross your arms and nod to a poster that advertises the Vees on the storefront window. “‘Think I’ll be as big as them?”

“Ah, the notorious Vees. Well, my dear nameless business woman, with one simple deal I can make that happen.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Your ignorance is excused,” he retorts, sudden malice creeping in his tone and demeanor. He steps closer to you till he’s towering over you. “You really aren’t aware of who I am and what power I hold, are you?”

So much for playing nice.

You whip out your gun and point it at his chest. “How about you enlighten me before I decide on making a face mask for good ol’ buck up there?”

“Ooo, such a feisty one. I like that.” He puts his palm to the barrel and traps your weapon in his slender, pointed fingers. “I’m the radio demon, darling.”

Your eyes widen in fear, your hand loosening its grip on the gun. He gently, yet assertively, pulls your gun down to rest atop your desk - neither of you letting go of it. You've heard of the radio demon and the stupid amount of power he has - toppling over overlords at an unbelievable rate. A pure evil.

“I thought the radio demon had disappeared and has been gone for years.”

“And now I’ve returned~”

“Right…” You clear your throat and regain your composure, despite now knowing you don't stand a goddam chance against him. “Well, I won't make a deal of any kind with you. Please respect that.”

“Even if it means having the opportunity of a lifetime? To meet the Vees in person at the ball tonight, where overlords from territories far and wide shall gather in comradery and regal fun?”

“Yeah, like they’d let me in-”

Letting go of your pistol, he snaps his fingers and a fancy-looking document appears from thin air. An invitation for the ball, but the part showing who it’s addressed to is blank.

“Just tell me your name and the invitations yours, dear. But, this is a deal I’m trying to make with you here, so I’ll need something from you in exchange.”

“Let me guess, my soul?”

“Oh-ho! While that is a very tantalizing idea, I have something else in mind.” He places the formal document on your desk and twirls his staff, positioning it behind his back. “I’d like your company over a nice dinner with me, after the ball.”

You flinch. “Not…not my soul?”

“No, no. Not your pretty little soul,” he eerily soothes. The corners of his smile stretch ever so slightly. “Unless, that is, you’d like to make a second deal where you’d allow me to have it~”

“Uh no, no…” You tap your fingers on your desk and stare at the invitation.

I could meet successful people. I could gain insight and ask them questions on how to better my career…all at the cost of going out with the radio demon, without having to hand over my soul…

“If we do this, you stay out of my life after, alright?”

“But of course! Who am I to defy an astute and beautiful young doe?”

Slightly cringing, you take a deep breath. “Okay.”

He lifts his hand and delicately cups your cheek. “Your name, miss?”

“y/n.”

“y/n…” His thumb caresses your cheek with a feather-light touch. “Oh how lovely your name tastes, my darling. Let’s see what it looks like on paper, shall we?”

With another snap of his fingers, an invisible pen signs the blank space with your name. “Perfect! Looks as if it was meant to be, like it was written in the stars, those of which we cannot see from hell! Now, y/n, let’s finalize this.” He extends his hand before you. “Do we have a deal?”

You nod and shake his hand with a blank expression.

“Wonderful~” He raises your hand to his lips and plants a kiss on your knuckles before letting go. “Put on your best gown for tonight, darling, and do please bring a smile~”

A pitch-black shadow rises from the ground and shrouds Alastor, making him disappear. You blink, processing what the fuck just happened, and then yelp for joy. You're about to meet your idols!

You take one last look at the poster of the Vees and start closing up shop early.

[unitleada]

❝ Every technology money can possibly afford and you're telling me that no one is able to get a better fix on that-that thing out there! We're right in the heart of London for gods sake! ❞ Hands placed on her hips, casting a nod towards the half a dozen screens mounted to the wall before her. All six displayed a similar image, albeit from different vantage points, the same grainy, CCTV footage of a Cherry Blossom tree peering out at her, smack bang! in the middle of a suburban street.

One could be forgiven for assuming it was some sort of street art, or political demonstration. Under any other circumstances she might've assumed as much....had UNIT not received intel of government lines being tied up left right and centre, tens of eyewitnesses phoning in, swearing that they had seen that tree falling to earth! Barely an hour later and they had mobilised, she and a small elite team in an unmarked van, parked as close to the site as possible, the entire road cautioned off and under armed watch. She wasn't about to go taking chances.Certainly not in such a densely populated area.

Biting down on the inside of her cheek, Kate mulled over her options, knowing very well that there was really only one way to get the best view of this thing.. ——And then, as if it was some preordained sign from above, a distinct whirring sound echoed over the comms. There was no mistaking it. She knew the TARDIS when she heard it.

In the next moment, her UNIT issued firearm was in one hand, the safety switch disengaged. Her other hand reached for the door handle. Osgood's protests rung in deaf ears, "Ma'am I really think we should wait for more intel. How can it even be him, I mean, it isn't usually .... " ❝ a police box, I know. ❞ And yet, how could it be anyone else? ❝ You are all to stay put, awaiting further orders until I have a clear visual, is that understood? ❞

She could sense the concern, but, faithful as ever, a chorus of "yes ma'am!" followed her out of the doors. A brief nod to the soldiers standing guard and they allowed her past, finding herself standing mere inches from the tree now. She could hear it clearly out here, without the static of the comms. If this was the Doctor's TARDIS, then the sound was slightly different to what she remembered. Although she supposed, that could be another factor of the chameleon circuit. Still not a very good disguise, she noted. If it was him. Well. There was only one way to know for sure. Kate took a deep breath, reached out with her free hand, and rapped her knuckles sharply upon the tree's trunk, mindful of how foolish she must look in this moment.

@chloevlinder / accepting

[toastedjeans]

So uh, i accidentally wrote down a bunch of stuff for that Gustavo mod thing I'm probably never gonna make cause i don't know how to mod.. enjoy. Or not, I'm not your parental figure.

Note that these are just silly ideas i came up with so far, some of them might be really stupid, contradictory, or simply impossible to implement. Idk anything about game design and I'm stupid, so please don't expect too much from me

BASICS

Gus and Pep switch places, meaning you switch to Pep in Gnome Forest and Pig City. Brick is with Gus from the beginning since sudden gameplay change wouldn't be intuitive. Gus can get rid of Stupid Rats by kicking Brick into them.

MOVEMENT ADDITIONS

Slide/roll that doesn't lose speed. Can be done from a standing position or while running. (Animation: Brick pushes Gus and he slides forward on his belly like a penguin)

Super jump, possibly also from a standing position. (Animation: Gus gets a balloon and blows it up, hands it to Brick, Brick turns into Balloon); Functions the same as regular rat balloons but can be done anywhere, is a little faster, and can break through blocks.

Rail grind for Gus (or he just runs over them cause he's too powerful now. Fear him.) Brick waits until Gus gets off the rail and joins him later again. (Animation: looks like he's about to fall with his arms flailing but continues to slide sideways)

Uppercut. (Animation: Brick throws Gus straight up, Gus has both arms outstretched and hands formed into fists. It goes higher than Peppino's but way lower than Noise's)

Separate uppercut without Brick for Bosses, same animation just without Brick, maybe goes slightly lower?

For Peppino: hanging on rails. Basically the same as Gus normally, but Pep will still grind on rails like usual until pressing down, then he holds onto them. (Animation: similar to Gustavo's but holds onto the rail with one hand). Jumping and landing on the rail again results in rail grind

For Peppino: a double jump. Doesn't jump as high as Gus but it's enough to reach the rails in the secrets. (Animation: either flaps his arms like that one unused sprite, or uses pizza paddles like in swap mode). Possibly no need for a double jump if the uppercut goes high enough

TRANSFORMATIONS

Rocket: Brick swallows rocket (like Noise does). Right before crashing into a non breakable wall, Brick spits rocket out automatically. Gus can turn Brick around mid air

Pepper pizza: they start spinning like they just did a double jump. Can't do bodyslam/double jump in that state, but Gus can still do the stomp downwards

Knight: both get armor. Gus gets a lance like in medieval duels, Brick slides on belly when on ramps

Weenie mount: not needed. Brick ignores it or chucks it away like Noise does to Horsey

Mort: Option 1 - Gus has Mort on his head while Brick waits until he comes back (functions the same as Peppino). Option 2 - Mort hooks work by Brick hanging or swinging from them on his tail (they still only activate if Mort is collected. Gus holds him in his arms, or he still sits on his head. Gus holds him by the feet when swinging so Mort doesn't fall off)

Ghost: Gustavo turns into a ghost while Brick waits on the side until he's brought back. Functions the same as Peppino

Firemouth: Brick starts running while breathing fire (possibly doesn't stop running until healed; Gus can turn Brick around like with the rocket)

Golf swing: Gus just kicks the greaseball while Brick is holding it (like the charlie brown football kick thing but Gus doesn't fall on his butt)

Boxed: silly idea don't take seriously, Brick turns small and goes under Gustavo's hat ratatouille style (doesn't make much sense movement wise but i thought it was funny)

Peshino: Gusbot. Easy.

Shotgun: Rocket launcher. Unlike in War regularly, he doesn't shoot Brick out of it

Barrel: Option 1 - Brick gets in the barrel while Gus runs on top (like regular running animation but with a barrel). Option 2 - just have Brick roll over on his side (possibly running over Gus and he like sticks to Brick's side)

Bomb: not sure if needed since Brick can get rid of stupid rats on his own, maybe for places Brick can't be kicked to like in Ancient Cheese (Brick waits until Gus has thrown the bomb then joins him again OR Brick carries it in his mouth and spits it out)

BACKGROUND PEPPINO

During Pizza Time he does his little panicked hops that he does normally when standing still (possibly while pointing towards the exit) OR he does the panicked looking up and down animation

In RRF he wears the clothes seen on the title card while still freezing his ass off OR while holding a cup of coffee or hot chocolate or something

In Fastfood Saloon he is straight up wasted. Falls flat on his face and just lies there, weakly points towards exit. Possibly wears a cowboy hat. Dude had way too much to drink smh my goddamn head

In Pizzascare he fused with a bad rat instead of a stupid rat. Looks a bit more disheveled and messy. Clothes are a little ripped

In War he's just kicking the shit out of enemies, no gun needed. Like, you run past him and he just punches a dude or throws them into other enemies

In the sound test room, he doesn't do the shimmy he normally does, but breakdances. Cause i like that more. That's it that's the whole reason. Sue me.

RANK SCREENS

D: Brick is about to jump towards the screen while Gus holds him back (or vice versa lol)

C: both are rather disappointed or exhausted looking, possibly with a few bandaids, Speech bubble with "that was rough..."

B: idk yet

A: both give a thumbs up with a big grin (like the taunt)

S: the taunt pose where they have their arms crossed but they're wearing sunglasses (possibly switch S and P around)

P: The pose in mario galaxy 2 when you collect a star with Yoshi

MISC

Fake Peppino's fight can be skipped, results in an instant P rank (only after defeating him once, Fake Peppino will just wave at Gus and then the fight ends. Unlike Doise, he can't be fought again by taunting three times at the boss door)

Boss defeated chime and unexpectancy part 3 have the Gustavo tutorial leitmotif (it's so jolly and bouncy oughhhh i love it)

Gus defeats bosses by jumping on top of them or using his lariat move, while Brick sits the bosses out (possibly with separate rank screens for Gus alone? If so, one of them has to be like that one Mario sprite in smw when you finish a level or in sm64 when you collect a star)

Breakdance move: he does his regular bouncy thing while Brick dances next to or behind him (there was that one Brick dancing animation somewhere but idk if it's fanmade or not..). They can't move side to side while breakdancing.

[pink-tonic]

Interesting...📰

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Warning: Some odd behavior from Kana

Now I have another responsibility that I have to take care of this week. I need to be the nurse's helper.

I wasn't planning on doing this, but from the looks of it, the nurse does need the extra help.

I walk to school with Taeko and Taro like I usually do. I don't talk much with them during the walk to school since I'm thinking about what to do once we make it to school.

Should I just go straight to the nurse's office?

The three of us eventually make it to school, and we go to our own lockers and switch out our shoes into the indoor ones.

I think I should go to the nurse's office. It wouldn't be right not to check up on him in the morning.

I go over to Taeko and Taro and talk to them.

"Hey, guys," I greet them, and it catches both of their attentions, "I'm going to go to the nurse's office. I don't know if you want to come or not."

Taeko is the first to speak up, "I'll go later to check up on my knee, but you can go. We'll meet up later."

"Alright, sounds good," I gave them a wave, and I start to make my way down the hallway.

I make it to the nurse's office, and I open up the door. While I slide open the door, I secretly hope I don't find Mr. Kana wrapped around in bandages again.

Luckily, when I go inside, I see Mr. Kana walking around.

I greet him, and he turns around to look at me. A smile forms once he sees me, and he walks over to me.

"You came at just the right time!" He happily tells me, his smile only getting bigger.

I tilt my head, "What is it?"

He lets out a chuckle, showing how excited he was to reveal the news to me, "I got a uniform for you!"

"A... uniform? For me?" I question not fully understanding what he means.

"Yes! You're my assistant after all, so I told the headmaster that I need an extra uniform for you!"

Mr. Kana then turns away from me and walks over to a cardboard box. He picks it up and walks back over to me.

"Take a look!" He says to me while ushering me to take the box.

I take the box from his hands, and I look inside of it. It is a nurse uniform, and it's almost identical to the one he has on. The only difference is that this one has longer sleeves.

"You should try it on!" He exclames, "I'll be over there, so you can change."

Mr. Kana then makes his way to the other side of the room where the beds are.

I go over to the wall partition, so I'm hidden. I start to change out of my regular uniform and into the nurse uniform.

Once I have everything on, I put away my regular uniform in the box, and I step out into Mr. Kana's view.

He lets out a gasp and jumps from out of his seat. He walks over to me with his usual smile on his face.

"It suits you perfectly! You should definitely become a nurse!" Mr. Kana tells me while he takes in my new look.

Before he continues to gush about how I look, I hear the door to the office open.

But Mr. Kana doesn't seem to notice and keeps talking to me instead of addressing the new person in the room.

"Oh! You look absolutely wonderful, (L/N)!

His compliment catches me off guard, and I look at him with confusion, "Are you sure this is okay? I was only planning on helping out a little, Mr. Kana."

I then hear footsteps and the door closing. The sound catches both of our attention, and we both look over to the person.

My eyes widen as I see Ayato standing near the doorway. I don't say anything, and I end up watching Ayato and Mr. Kana interact with each other.

Mr. Kana questions Ayato about what he is feeling, but it doesn't seem like anything serious. Mr. Kana then walks away from Ayato and goes over to me.

"Are you going to help, (L/N)?" Mr. Kana asks me, hoping that I will stick around and help him.

I look up at the clock mounted on the wall, and I notice that the bell for passing period is about to ring.

I shake my head, "I can't, I have to go to class."

Mr. Kana then looks at the clock, "Oh! You're right! Alright, you should start to head to class. I'll see you later."

Then, on que, the bell rings. I nod and then leave the room. I slide the door close once I'm in the hallway.

I let out a sigh. I'm happy I don't have to be in that room any longer. There is no way I could be anywhere near Ayato. I'm too scared. I'm scared that he is going to hurt me again.

But I need to pull myself together and head to class.

While I'm making my way to class, I get stopped by one of the student council members. I don't remember her name, but she's wearing glasses, has straight black hair, and wears a stren look on her face.

"Where is your uniform?" She asks me while inspecting my clothing.

"Well, I'm helping out the new nurse, and he gave me this uniform. You can ask the nurse or the headmaster," I explain, hoping she is satisfied with the answer.

"Hmmmm... alright. I'll inform the other members so they don't stop you to ask. Have a good day," she tells me in an almost robotic voice, before walking away from me and down the hallway.

The student council might be a pain to deal with, but at least they do their job right.

I head to class, and this time without anyone stopping me.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The bell rings, and it's lunchtime now. I exit the classroom and into the hallway, and I think about whether or not I should go to the nurse's office.

There is a chance that Ayato will still be there, and I'll have to get close to him. The thought of getting close to him sends a shiver straight through my spine. Being near him is the last thing I would want to do.

"Quite the look you have there, darling," a familiar voice snaps me out of my thinking, and I look up towards the person.

It's Kizano, and he is looking at me with a confused and intrigued look on his face. He must be looking at me because of what I'm wearing.

"Yeah, I'm helping out the nurse. So he gave me this uniform, you're not the first to say something about it," I explain to him.

He lets out a chuckle, "I guess you were stopped by the student council, right?"

I nod my head in response.

He rolls his eyes, "Tell me about it! Those student council members wouldn't know style if it slapped them right across their face. I've been stopped by them many times because of my amazing cap." Kizano then gestures over to his iconic velvet cap that he takes practically everywhere with him.

I let out a laugh, "Yeah, I guess I understand you now."

"Well, I like to think you always understand me, darling," Kizano casually admits to me, "But I didn't just come here to talk to you, I want a favor from you. Is that alright?"

"Well, it depends on what the favor is," I tell him with a slight shurg, hoping it's nothing too outrageous.

"Great! Come with me!" Kizano happily exclames. Grabbing one of my hands and dragging me towards the stairs.

He takes me all the way to the first floor and into his clubroom. But while we were making our way to the clubroom, some students paused what they were doing and watched Kizano drag me along.

Kizano slides open the clubroom's doors and walks inside, and I follow behind him. He lets go of my hand and goes behind the mini set that is in the middle of the room.

"Grab a seat, darling! I want you to watch my performance for the play!" Kizano informs me as I can hear him looking for something.

I take a seat on one of the many chairs and wait for him to come out. I actually like this better than going to the nurse's office. But I suppose anything would be better than being near Ayato.

Eventually, Kizano comes out, and he is wearing something completely different.

"Do you like what you see, darling?" Kizano asks as he walks closer to me.

I nod my head, "Yeah, it suits you a lot."

"And that's the exact reason I decided to be the King of Hearts!" He tells me with a smile.

"So... what are you going to do?" I ask him, hoping that it'll take the whole lunch time.

"I'm going to perform the last scene for you. This scene has to be captivating and intriguing! I can not give a sloppy performance!" Kizano explains to me with a passion.

"Well, I would like to see it!" I tell him as I lean back in the chair.

I see Kizano stand up straight and take a deep breath. He then grabs the prop sword and grips it tight.

"I've told you, Alice, that you can not go any further! Step back, or else I'll have to use my sword against you," Kizano says calmly, but I can also hear a bit of annoyance in his voice.

Kizano then walks to his right and points his sword at the imaginary Alice. "If you come closer, it will be over for you. Now, get back you naive little girl!"

Kizano takes a pause and tilts his head, I assume that Alice is supposed to say something back to him, but since the actress isn't here, he has to instead pretend she is there.

"What do you mean, little girl? He would never betray me! I am his king, and he is my loyal subject!"

I can now hear Kizano's voice raise in anger due to the information that Alice is giving him.

Kizano then points his sword down and laughs. His laughter is filled with mockery. Mocking what Alice is telling him.

"You seriously believe that I would think that one of my loyal sub...," Kizano is unable to finish his sentence as he looks down at his stomach.

I assume the loyal subject that was being talked about makes an appearance and impales Kizano.

Kizano slowly moves his head and looks behind him. "So... it is true. You sided with her after all..."

Kizano then falls to the ground, and his breathing becomes heavy.

"Just kill me already, you fool," Kizano orders.

Kizano then gets up from the floor and walks over to me.

"Did you like it, or did you love it?" Kizano asks with a smile, knowing that he did a good job.

"It was amazing, Kizano! What happens in the end?" I ask, curiosity eating away from me. Wondering whether the man killed the King of Hearts or not.

Kizano lets out a laugh, "You'll see once the play is finished."

"Wait, when is the play going to open?" I ask, hoping he would give me an answer.

"When Megumo Saikou arrives, which is in around five to four weeks," Kizano tells me as he walks behind the set and changes back to his normal clothes.

"Megumo Saikou? That name sounds familiar..."

"He is the grandson of the founder of Akademi High," Kizano explains, "He is set to come back to school in a few weeks. With the killing of that first year, he was ordered not to come. But I was told by the headmaster that he is set to come back soon."

"So this performance is made to welcome him?" I question him, the topic catching my attention.

"Sort of. This play was made before that, but the headmaster told us to finish it up by the time he comes back so he can see it," Kizano tells me before reappearing from behind the set.

"That's very interesting..."

The bell then rings, signaling that lunch has ended.

"Let me take you to class," Kizano offers me.

I would deny his offer, but I can't help but to accept it.

"Sure."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The last bell of the day rings, and it's time for me to go to the nurse's office. On my walk to the office, I can't help but feel nervous.

I hope that Mr. Kana isn't mad at me for my unexplained absence.

But then I remember that Ayato might still be inside. I make the decision to enter through the door that would lead me to the nurse's desk instead of the beds.

I slide open the door and walk inside. I see Mr. Kana sitting at his desk, and it seems like he is waiting for me.

Once I close the doors, Mr. Kana looks over towards me.

"There you are, (L/N)! I was wondering where you were," Mr. Kana happily says to me as I walk closer.

"Something came up... sorry," I respond with nervousness lacing my words.

"It's okay. But let's sit down and talk, alright?"

"S-sure!"

I grab a chair, and I place it right in front of Mr. Kana's desk. Now I'm sitting across from Mr. Kana.

"So what happened while I was gone?" I ask Mr. Kana, wondering what he had to deal with while I was gone.

"Oh, nothing much. I just had to take care of Aishi, and the two siblings from yesterday came by as well. But nothing much. Now, where were you?" Mr. Kana questions me once again, not seeming satisfied with the first answer I gave him at the start.

Before I can respond, I take a short pause, "I told you something came up. I'm sorry again."

"I know that something came up. But I'm just wondering what it was."

"I'd rather not talk about... sorry," I can't help but to shift in my seat due to how uncomfortable I feel. Why does he want to know so badly where I was?

"It's fine, but I want you to trust me at the very least."

I then feel an unexpected touch. I had my hand placed on the table, but in a quick movement, I can feel Mr. Kana's hand being placed on top of mine.

"Ummmm... Mr. Kana, I don't think you should be doing that."

"Oh! You don't like it? My apologies. I thought it would calm you down."

"I-it's fine."

Mr. Kana then pulls his hand away, and a dejected look takes over his features. And I can't help but wonder why he had that look on his face. Did what I say hurt him that badly?

"But I do have a question in mind."

This catches me off guard, and I wonder if I should ask what the question is. Another pause makes its presence, but in the end, I decide to ask what it is, "Yes, what is it?"

"Would you mind going out with me soon?"

"What?" I'm in disbelief at what Mr. Kana just asked me. He is an adult. He should not be asking me such a question. I was only meant to help him, not to hang out with him outside of school.

"I want to get to know you better, (Y/N). So would you like to go to a restaurant together, the two of us?" Mr. Kana's soft smile is present once more, but I feel this smile isn't one he gives to many. It feels softer and more welcoming, a smile you would give to someone... you love.

An uncomfortable silence takes over, and I'm sure Mr. Kana can feel how uncomfortable it feels. But I decide to respond to his question instead of letting the silence speak for me.

"I'll...I'll think about it, okay?"

"Oh! That's fine! But please tell me soon, so I can make reservations."

"Yes, of course. But I need to go, can I?" I quickly tell him, hoping to get out of the nurse's off as fast as possible.

"Sure! Please get home safely," Mr. Kana smiles at me and gives me a wave.

I nod and slip out of the room quickly.

As I walk down the hallway and towards my locker, I think about what just happened.

Was he flirting with me?

He had to be, right? I'm not over analyzing anything, right? I'm not going crazy, right?

The questions, the smile, and the sudden touch... it can't be nothing, right? It has to be something. It has to mean something!

I shake the thought out of my head and switch my shoes out. I close my locker and head out of the school.

My walk back home is normal, and I don't feel anything watching me. Which I'm thankful for. This day is already hectic as is, and I don't want to walk home with the feeling that someone is watching me.

I eventually make it back home, and the first thing I do is collapse on my couch.

[pancakeke]

when I was fucking up that bathroom wall I figured I'd check for wallpaper behind this switch plate and also figure out why one screw did not go anywhere whenever I turned it. there wasn't any wallpaper but there was an unbelievable amount of fucking paint both behind and on top of the plate. the hole for one screw was covered with too much paint for the screw to push through so I cleaned that and the plate.

above is cleaned pic. kinda pissed at how bad the outlet is secured to the electrical box (the little mounting things are bent to fuck. how does that even happen. you can see how it doesn't sit flat in the pit) but that's a project for a day when I can shut off the breaker.

the light switch plate looked like shit in comparison afterward so I cut it off the wall and scraped it clean. for some reason that one is metal. now the two plates look super stupid together. I figure I'll replace both after patching the drywall and repainting.

nothing in this house is cohesive. it's like everything was pulled out of someone's junk drawer. when I took that medicine cabinet down, the screws I removed didn't even match each other.

[wingedsublimeland]

Scene: Foundation Cafeteria Logistics Office, Site-██

The buzz of conversation among logistics personnel was abruptly silenced when Adam strolled into the requisition room, list in hand. Trailing behind him was Seth, wide-eyed as ever, while Abel leaned casually against the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping over the nervous staff like a predator surveying its prey.

Dr. Miller, already sweating, gave a strained smile. "Uh, SCP-18-X5, sir. What can we do for you today?"

Adam, calm as ever, unfolded his list. "I’m placing an order for tonight’s dinner. Let’s get started."

Abel snorted, stepping forward as he adjusted the leather straps of his blade harness. “Nī ēnumtu atta ṣibitka šapāli?”

The room froze.

Dr. Miller blinked, whispering to his colleague, "Did… did he just curse me in Sumerian?"

Adam waved a dismissive hand without even looking at Abel. “Ignore him. He’s asking if you’ve chained yourself to something heavy out of fear. It’s his way of being charming.”

Abel smirked. “Eṭlumū īšu uznī balṭūtu. Palaḫūtu ultu ša amīlu tamkārum iqabbi šaḫšutūtu.”

Adam sighed. “Abel, enough. They don’t understand you.”

Seth tilted his head. “Father, do you think maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to be understood? Sometimes I think he’s just showing off.”

Abel grinned at Seth, speaking in the same ancient tongue. “Šer’u kalû lemnūtu ina bītuka. Akālum ša mātāti šapti idak ītiū!”

Adam rolled his eyes and spoke in perfect, fluid Sumerian, his tone carrying the weight of millennia: “If you think I won’t throw you back into your timeout box for scaring my cooks, keep testing me, mārī.”

Abel’s grin faltered for a second before he crossed his arms and leaned back. “You never let me have any fun.”

Dr. Miller, unsure whether to interrupt or hide under the desk, cleared his throat nervously. “Uh, sir, the, uh, order?”

Adam turned back to the list, handing it over with the grace of someone completely used to this routine. "[REDACTED]ribs,[REDACTED] steaks, and a pinch of powdered ███████ extract. The usual tangy stuff. Oh, and if someone could find a preserved piece of the Leviathan, that’d be great."

The room collectively inhaled sharply.

“L-l-Leviathan?” Dr. Miller stammered.

“Father,” Seth interjected softly, tugging at Adam’s sleeve, “I think you’re scaring them again.”

Adam glanced back at the trembling staff. “They’ll get over it. Now, about that order…”

Abel chuckled, this time switching to heavily accented English. “You slugs of flesh. You hear Leviathan and quake as though it’s some great feast that can not be slain . Honestly, Father and I took out hoards of those things when we first started wondering this land. But of course, I couldn't expect you guys to know anything, but weakness forever cooped up in your fortresses, wasting your strength on menial tasks. You all continue to disgust."

One of the logistics staff whimpered, whispering to another, “ What you're asking for is outrageous...”

Adam ignored the mounting panic, focusing instead on Abel. “Stop antagonizing them.”

“But they’re soft,” Abel replied, slipping back into his ancient tongue. “They should feel fear. It’s good for survival.”

Adam turned to Cain, who had just entered the room. “Cain, do me a favor and remind your brother why he’s not allowed to babysit.”

Cain shrugged, leaning casually against the wall. “You mean because of that incident where he traumatized the whole nursery by telling them about the apocalypse?” He smirked. “Yeah, I’ve got it recorded somewhere. Want me to show them?”

Abel scowled. “That was educational.”

Seth giggled, covering his mouth as Adam groaned. “See what I deal with?” He glanced back at the logistics team. “Just get the order together, please. Dinner is at six.”

As Adam and his sons left the room, the staff slumped in their chairs, visibly shaken.

One whispered, “Did he just casually argue in ancient Sumerian like it was a family dinner squabble?”

Another nodded. “I think I need a drink.”

A bonus scene for what Adam wanted:

Foundation Kitchen and Observation Room

The logistics personnel had barely begun processing Adam's requests when the conversation spilled into the kitchen and observation lounge. Several researchers and culinary staff gathered around the room, the tension palpable as whispers of the surreal grocery list made their rounds.

In the Kitchen

Chef Moreno slammed his palms on the counter. “He wants what?”

"Feet," replied Sous Chef Hayes, flipping through the requisition paperwork. “Specifically, SCP-3199 feet. Apparently, they’re... edible?”

"Edible?" Moreno's voice pitched up. "You mean those oversized chicken-things that lay eggs filled with live, screaming meat? He wants to eat that?"

Hayes sighed. “At least it’s not the worst thing on the list. He also wants Leviathan meat.”

The entire kitchen staff froze, staring at her.

"Leviathan? Do you mean the Leviathan? Like, Biblical, world-destroying, ‘makes the Kraken look like sushi’ Leviathan?” asked Line Cook Vega, his spatula trembling in his hand.

(The same thing we use for amnestics)

“Yes.”

Moreno dragged a hand down his face. “How does one even source Leviathan meat? What part does he want—tail? A fin?”

Hayes glanced nervously at the paperwork. “…Tongue.”

There was a collective groan of disgust.

“Why does he want the tongue?” Vega asked, horrified.

Hayes shrugged helplessly. “Apparently, it’s ‘tender.’”

Moreno pinched the bridge of his nose. “This job doesn’t pay me enough. Fine. Leviathan tongue. What else?”

“Uh…” Hayes hesitated, looking at the next item. “SCP-1000 flesh.”

Moreno dropped his knife. "The Bigfoot-apes? Are you telling me he wants to eat one of those things? They’re sapient!”

“Technically, he said it’s about ‘eating to spite someone .’"

“ To spite?” Vega asked incredulously.

“Yes. I don’t know what that means, and I don’t want to find out.”

Moreno sighed deeply. “This man is out here treating anomalous biology like a buffet. And the Foundation is letting him do it!”

In the Observation Room

Meanwhile, a handful of researchers watched the kitchen on the security cameras, their faces a mixture of disbelief and revulsion.

Dr. Langley leaned back in her chair, her face pale. “Adam didn’t just ask for regular food, huh? It’s gotta be apocalyptic monstrosities and horrors of biology.”

Dr. Carter, sitting beside her, grimaced. “I get the SCP-3199 feet—they’re technically animal-like. But SCP-1000? And Leviathan?” He shook his head. “That’s not food; that’s a war crime on a plate.”

Langley rubbed her temples. “And he doesn’t even seem fazed by it. He just walks in, places his order, and leaves like this is a grocery store.”

Carter tapped on his tablet, scrolling through the requisition list. “You know what the scariest part is?”

Langley looked at him, dreading the answer. “What?”

Carter turned the tablet to her."All his kids are fine with it. Heck, Abel's even looking forward to it except for Cain, of course. Although, he didn't disagree to eat it”

Langley stared at the screen, where Abel’s approval of the meal was highlighted in bold. “Of course he is. Abel probably eats things for sport.”

They both turned back to the screen, watching as the kitchen staff reluctantly began planning out how to prepare the ingredients.

Carter muttered, “What do you even pair with Leviathan tongue? Red wine? Holy water?”

Langley groaned. “I don’t know. But the next time Adam hosts a dinner party, I’m calling in sick.”

(You know, considering what the universe is like, what would they eat, and honestly, could some anomalies now be considered delicacies)

[antaxzantax]

Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 55

Summary: Alfred Ashford agrees with Peter Lee to perform sadistic rituals in an abandoned factory.

1

The mansion stood on a gentle promontory.

He rang the doorbell.

A red-haired individual greeted him.

“Welcome to my sweet home.”

The guest entered the estate like a prince marching to his coronation. In the entrance hall, a stylised white marble statue reproducing the nude torso of an Atlantean dominated the room as its centrepiece. Its features, in contrast to the classical hieratism, were a grimace of pleasurable pain reminiscent of works from the Hellenistic period of Ancient Greece.

“I'm a sculptor. You don't have a name. Do you want me to show you the workshop?”

“Show me the film,” Alfred ordered dryly.

Peter hurried down the corridor to a door set into the eastern wall. He unlocked the latch and motioned Alfred through first. Alfred descended a flight of worn stairs that roared in pain with every step from decades of neglect. Behind him, Peter flicked the light switch. A set of lonely, bare bulbs flickered on. The bulbs hung from the ceiling by the effort of a rickety copper wire. The basement was empty except for a chestnut-coloured leather armchair and a television perched atop a bedside table with a VHS mounted on top of the box. Alfred accidentally inhaled a strange, sweetish stench that snaked through the isolated atmosphere of the room.

Without waiting for Peter, Alfred sat down in the armchair. He settled himself by crossing his legs and took the cardboard box out of the inside of his jacket. He lit a cigarette while Peter revived the television and pulled out the VHS to play the tape.

A black background with Japanese lettering. A house similar to the ones he had seen on the postcards his father received from the Japanese subsidiary of Umbrella Pharmaceuticals. A man wearing a suit and a mask that hid his face. The man carried a curved sabre which he drew when he entered the house. He went into a room on the first floor. In the room was another young man pleading for his life. The man raised the sabre and cut the young man to death. The dismemberment of the young man was realistic, crude, raw and honest. The sabre sliced through skin, muscle and bone as if they were made of paper. The victim's high-pitched shrieks reverberated through the speakers in the basement.

The footage lasted fifteen minutes, the equivalent of three five-minute cigars, and faded to black. The player paused. Alfred put the last cigarette butt in the steel packet.

“Where did you get it?” asked Alfred.

“I bought it over the phone from an anonymous guy I met at the video store downtown. I haven't seen him since.”

Alfred got up from the chair. Peter got up from the floor.

“And... that's it?”

Alfred sounded bored, as if watching a banned film was a minor pastime.

It had not surprised him. It had not moved him.

Peter's hands began to move erratically. Alfred raised an eyebrow.

“Are you the devil?” Peter spoke as if he had been shaken by a high-voltage cable.

“What demon?” he replied calmly.

Peter went to the back of the room. He grabbed a handle stuck in the floor and pulled it to unbolt a trapdoor. A foul smell of decay emerged from the hole as if he had uncovered a mass grave. Alfred futilely held his arm over his nose. Peter pulled a doctor's bag from the hole in the floor. He placed the bag on the leather chair and opened it to reveal its contents. Alfred peered into the tiny abyss.

A collection of rusted and uncleaned surgical tools. Bloodstains were embedded in the metal like scabs covering a wound. Alfred coughed, positioned parallel to Peter. The latter pulled a bone saw from the bag. Inexpressive, he swung the saw around to face Alfred.

“I practice with animals. This basement is my secret place.”

Alfred did not retreat. The momentary shot of adrenaline he felt from identifying a potential threat intercepted and overrode the neural reception of the nauseating smell. Defenseless and not knowing how to fight hand-to-hand without harming himself, he dismissed attack as the main course of action.

“I had my secret place too.” Alfred whispered to Peter without looking away. “I spent my teenage years at boarding school in England. I had a group of friends there...” Peter listened carefully. “There was an attic in the dormitory where I lived. We would take the bad kids up there and punish them. I was in charge of the punishments. I called myself the master of ceremonies.” Peter put the saw down. “I wore a rabbit mask that one of the boys bought for a Halloween costume.” Alfred cleared his throat. “The important thing was not to leave a mark. We'd stick them on their backs with leather belts and ivory canes. We'd lock them in cages in the attic and deprive them of food and drink until we got bored.” Alfred gave Peter a nostalgic half-smile.

“Were you found out?” asked Peter, engrossed in Alfred's narrative.

“No. The school owed my family a favour and the law of silence was imposed.”

“Were you punished?” Peter's facial expression had relaxed considerably.

“Yes, but only the teachers. I was only whipped with the cane, not given any of the punishments in the attic.” Alfred glanced at the trapdoor. “I've had some practice with animals myself.”

“Do you listen to them too?” Peter mumbled excitedly.

“The voices?” Alfred answered automatically because of the remarkable number of times he had heard the same question in horror films.

“Are you schizophrenic too? The voices ordered me to kill you so you wouldn't call the police.”

Alfred smiled pleasantly natural.

“No, I'm not schizophrenic, but I also have strange thoughts. Have you ever tried it with a person? Do you know what it feels like?”

The suggestion caught Peter by surprise and off guard. He shook his head.

“It's a very pleasant sensation,” Alfred whispered.

Peter took a couple of steps back. He threw the bone saw onto the couch and dug his knees into the floor.

“You are the devil. You have come to me.”

“Would you like to try it?” offered the demon called Alfred.

“Yes.”

“I will see you next Saturday at the same time and in this house. I will tell you my plan.”

Alfred went upstairs and disappeared through the front door. Peter kept vigil for the rest of the night with his knees to the floor and the cellar hatch wide open.

2

Alfred returned around noon to the mansion he shared with his sister and father in the wealthy suburb of Raccoon City. Alexia was tending a rose bush in the back garden when Alfred appeared to inform her of his meeting with Peter Lee.

“Is dad in home?” Alfred yawned.

“No.” Alexia cut the stem of a rose.

“I have already seen the film.”

“So?”

“There was something else.”

Alfred moved closer to his sister so that she could hear his murmur.

“There is a trap door in the cellar of his house,” he said in Scottish Gaelic so that no undesirable would understand. “A mass grave with the remains of the animals he practices on. He keeps the instruments in a doctor's bag. The tools are stained with blood. He is schizophrenic and thinks I am the personification of his demon. He wanted to kill me, but I dissuaded him by telling him about the attic in the Jacob II. I think he now reveres me.”

Alexia cut a second rose.

“I've had an idea,” Alfred added hesitantly. Alexia prepared to cut a third rose about to wilt. “Do you think I'm a demon?”

Alexia did not respond, focused as she was on the rose bush. In reality, she knew what Alfred wanted, hence her accusatory silence.

“Don't tell dad, please,” he pleaded out of politeness, because he knew that telling his father was her responsibility, not Alexia's. “I'm going to do it, and I want Ogie[1] involved. He wants to be involved too. We've talked about it.”

“Maybe you should have been a priest,” said Alexia.

“You're right,” Alfred confirmed and turned away from her to go into the house.

Alexia was right.

His introduction to the priesthood was his last chance to achieve a self-awareness that would have enabled him to quell the Craving for good. The Craving was a phenomenon that his great-grandfather Thomas began to experience at the same age as Alfred, at fifteen, and which he tried to quell for the rest of his brief life without success. Thomas described the Craving as a visceral and irrational impulse to commit infamous acts. The subject, possessed by the Craving, did not reason like a human being, but indulged in the most despicable instincts. He was beast, but not man, and this beast had to be tamed to avoid being controlled by it. In the particular case of Thomas Ashford, the Craving manifested itself as an obsessive fixation on consuming human flesh.

In his manuscripts, Thomas recounted his frequent trips to London's East End to satiate the Craving. Dressed incognito, like a factory worker, he would pay whores a generous sum of money to lock himself up with them in the cellar or attic of an abandoned house. Out of Catholic devotion, Thomas never committed the sin of fornicating with his victims, nor of being suggestive with them or kissing them, for he was a married man and faithful to his wife. However, before beginning his ritual, Thomas would get drunk with his victim, as alcohol was his only source of weakness, and then kill her by suffocating her with a rope. Once the victim was dead, Thomas would begin a second ritual, described in his memoirs, which included the skinning of the skin, the Egyptian draining of bodily fluids as if to mummify the body, the dismemberment of arms and legs, and the opening of the cranial cavity with a saw for the subsequent preparation of the brain with spices and bourbon flambé. The meticulous cooking of the human flesh and other organs such as the heart and pancreas usually took no more than three hours.

Once the food was prepared, he would organise the feast in the same place where he had killed the victim. The sour taste of the cooked organs and the soft texture of the human flesh gave him an indescribable, ultraterrestrial, addictive pleasure. A tally sheet taped to the cover of one of the notebooks listed a total of 107 souls; 105 low-life women and two men of the worst kind with whom he had fallen out over a rugby match. On the same sheet of paper, the first name, surname, gender, age, nationality, occupation, city of residence, marital status and religious denomination had been recorded with detective-like meticulousness. All the victims were cut from the same cloth: between 20 and 30 years old, unmarried, lower class, living in London, Protestant and English. Thomas, in keeping with his moral principles, never devoured anyone who was Scottish and Irish, Catholic, old and socially worthy.

Thomas rationalised the Craving as a test from God to demonstrate the strength of his faith and as a punishment for the weakness of his spirit, which was prone to be intoxicated by worldly passions such as alcohol and lasciviousness. Since the Craving was reluctant to abandon his being, he took up a strategy based on a virtuous Catholic life, devoted to prayer and contemplation of the ten commandments, with some borrowings from the Franciscan rule and a ten-month stay in an Italian monastery. It didn't work, but it allowed him to bear the craving with temperance, reducing the number of people he devoured each year, and finally to die in peace with himself and his fellow relatives. He interpreted the cancer that took his life in his late forties as an act of divine commiseration for his torment and atonement for his own flesh.

Alfred read Thomas Ashford's memoirs during the summer before he started university and at a time when he was still unable to put a name to the strange thoughts that gripped him. To summon a demon you had to know its name, and its name was the Craving. The Craving that tormented him possessed a different nature. Cannibalism disgusted him, even if it was one of his favourite subjects as a spectator. His thing was the infliction of pain. Sadism.

It all started in the attic of King's House with the first time he put on the rabbit mask, and from then on he couldn't and didn't know how to stop. First, it came about as an escape from his depressing reality. Second, as a way to impose his power on the boarding school. Third, as an addiction. Fourth, as an artistic expression. And fifth, as a combination of all of the above. There was not a day that went by that he did not wish to ascend to the attic to carry out his sentence on all the boys who dared to break even the most absurd of rules. His group of executioners cheered and praised him, and each cheer revived his Craving. Such was the magnitude of the tyranny that the Jacobite core of King's House imposed on the school that Alfred was referred to the institution's psychiatrist. The psychiatrist ascertained the source of his affliction and recommended to the school authorities that Alfred be assessed by a forensic doctor specialising in serial killers, but the Headmaster declined the request because of its obvious social repercussions for the prince and his family. In the end, the decision was made to seal off the penthouse and disband Alfred's Jacobite clique by moving the boys to the remaining residences. Alfred was left alone in King's House. Henry, an ordinary boy, was the only one who survived him. Without his main source of amusement and without friends, Alfred's character soured.

As Henry was the only one who stayed by his side, Alfred made him the target of his frustrations and outbursts of rage. His abuse of Henry was verbal and emotional, as he lacked the physical substance to attack him. Henry endured his tantrums and hurtful comments with an imperturbability that would have made the Virgin Mary weep. On the last day of school, now sixteen years old and admitted to the University of Saint-Andrew, Henry approached him, shook his hand and then said: you are a monster, an unhappy, petty bastard with an inferiority complex. Your life is meaningless and you are nothing without your lackeys. You are alone and abandoned. You disgust me. Henry's words stuck in his heart like silver stakes.

Back at Ashford Hall, Alfred retreated to his bedroom, where he spent his nights weeping with rage and banging his head against the wooden bars of the canopy. He refused to seek help from his father and sister lest they mock his pathos. So, during the worst summer of his life and to keep from hitting rock bottom, he began reading the Bible at night to comfort himself with the motivational passages and exploring the cottage, sifting through the more than 150 years of stratigraphic layers that had accumulated over the previous five generations like an archaeologist.

On one of the explorations he discovered great-grandfather Thomas's safe. The box had been locked since his death and it took them a triumph to peel the lid off the box after Alexander helped him pick the lock because no one could remember where Thomas had hidden the key. From inside Alexander retrieved the photographs from when Thomas was alive and he was a baby, while Alfred kept a couple of the handwritten notebooks that most caught his eye to read.

From these notebooks, Alfred became familiar with the concept of the Craving and understood what was wrong with him, which increased his hatred for Henry. However, he did not want to end up like his great-grandfather. He did not want to be a slave to the Craving, so he made a decision inspired by Thomas' strategies.

He called in the chaplain of Ashford Hall and confessed to him all the sins he had committed in the Jacob II. The chaplain forgave him his sins in the name of God. Forgiveness improved his state of mind, but that was only the first step. The next step was to frequent the chapel with unusual assiduity. This habit caught the attention of Alexia, who spontaneously began to accompany her brother in his prayers, although Alfred knew that Alexia did not believe in anything resembling a divinity and that she was not praying either, but possibly reflecting in silence. Alexia's contemplative accompaniment cheered him greatly, enough to fracture the shell of decay in which he lived. He was not a wretch, he told himself when he was with Alexia in the chapel.

On August, 1st the Stuarts travelled to the Vatican for the confirmation of Alfred and Alexia and their cousin Auguste by the Pope. Alfred used the event to validate himself as an Ashford and a Stuart, and as the beginning of his test of faith. After confirmation, Alfred stayed at the Vatican to attend a minor seminary for young Christians in which he had enrolled at the time of his decision. The programme was geared towards a priestly ministry, but what interested Alfred was not the profession, but whether he could work in himself a radical change of conscience that would enable him to overcome the Craving and become a better human being than those who despised him, like Henry. Whether or not he would end up as a priest was another matter.

He entered as a boarder in a residence located on the outskirts of St. Peter's Square. Unlike the Jacob II, Alfred did not enjoy any privileges, even as a scion of the Defenders of the Faith[2] . He shared a dingy room with twelve other boys his age. The beds were a rotting jumble of wooden slats whose boards dug into his back through the starving mattress. The pillow still retained the shape of the previous head that had rested on it. The only ventilation available in the room consisted of a window with a broken latch through which a little wind filtered in along with the cacophonous nightlife of Rome. The heat was unbearable and undressing was punishable by a caning, so Alfred removed his pants in the dark and hid them under his pillow to keep his testicles from wrinkling. The food was, to say the least, vomitous. A concoction of two kinds of pasta with meat that looked like rat meat, sometimes fish, and lots of boiled vegetables. The menu at the Jacob II, while not good, tried hard to appear acceptable and not look like expired mashed beans. Alfred ate what he could and stole the rest from the kitchen when it was his turn to do the dishes. The one notable advantage of the seminary was the absence of bullying and mistreatment among fellow students because of the imposition of a pious, scripture-dedicated lifestyle. It was not forbidden, but they never spoke to each other. He did not learn the name of any of his co-religionists and they did not learn his either.

Apart from the obligations he had to observe as part of the pseudo-monastic coexistence, Alfred concentrated on his purpose of finding in Catholicism the inspiration to redeem himself from his Craving. He was initiated into the themes that most appealed to him, such as penance, martyrdom, atonement and the apocalypse. The apocalypse fascinated him with its annihilating descriptions and he copied down by hand the quotations he liked best in order to memorise them. Then he would repeat them mentally like mantras with the first morning prayer. But the apocalypse took him back to the rabbit mask and he saw the boys he tortured as the agonising souls in the nine Dantesque circles. Because of these visions, Alfred was afraid of failing in his enterprise and switched from the apocalypse to more generic Old Testament texts. These passages were not at all revealing to him, so they were easier to digest but duller to memorise, and he used them for the assimilation of new spiritual conceptions.

First he tried chastity. He faced his first contradiction with the biblical model of the family. A man and a woman united in holy matrimony. Alexander was married once and divorced, and never intended to remarry. In addition, his father was bisexual. He had lain with both men and women and at times with both, committing the sin of sodomy. However, Alfred had also sinned. He had had sex with Henry in his room at Jacob II and on two occasions. But that was the norm in British boarding schools. In the absence of women and in the midst of adolescence, there was no other option. Although homosexuality was frowned upon, it was tolerated if you were not caught. But Alfred, unlike his father, wanted to be a straight man like his grandfather Edward. He was decidedly heterosexual, the experience with Henry did not count, and he aspired to marry a woman he was in love with. Since his father was an ungodly man, he would make it his mission to resolve this contradiction. But then the problem of masturbation came up.

Onanism was proscribed by the Bible and in this sense he acknowledged that he had been a recidivist sinner. At the Jacob II he had pleasured himself in the company of his Jacobite friends and alone in the bedroom and study room with porn magazines that one of them was responsible for stealing from the village. Wet dreams were what he dealt with the worst. He would wake up on occasion with a major erection and a stained bed. At home he would privately tell Harman to take care of it, but at the Jacob II he had to lie on his fallen soldiers until the next mandatory change of bedding. At the seminary it was much, much worse. At the Jacob II he discovered a positive correlation between not masturbating and an increase in the frequency of wet dreams. Despite this, and to be consistent with his morality, Alfred vowed not to give in to temptation.

Unfortunately, the flesh triumphed over the mind. A stain was detected on the bottom of his bed and he was interrogated by the monk in charge of discipline. Alfred lied as best he could, but was still punished by being locked in a cell for a day. He prayed until he was hoarse, but to no avail. He continued to be assaulted by wet dreams and spontaneous erections. However, that was not the worst of it. The worst was that he was dreaming about Alexia.

The Bible also regarded incest as a sin and in this respect had another irresolvable contradiction. As the son of a royal house, 90% of his family tree was made up of relatives of varying degrees of consanguinity. The Stuarts, from whom he was directly descended, had preferred marriage between brothers and cousins ever since the first Stuart was crowned king of Scotland. Indeed, he believed that had he been born five hundred years earlier he would have been obliged to marry and procreate with Alexia for lack of a better marriage to a princess from another country to whom he would surely also have been closely related. Veronica Ashford married a cousin Douglas, though Stanley had him through an extramarital affair with a Prussian general. Stanley married a Campbell cousin, as did Thomas. Arthur married a distant cousin from a German royal house who was descended from Charles II of Stuart. Edward was the first to marry a foreign woman related to the Royal House of the Netherlands. But that was also the norm for his kind until relatively recently. The point was that he did not consider Alexia a sex object. Alexia was his twin sister, his partner, his best friend, not a piece of meat for pleasure. For this reason, these wet dreams repulsed him, causing him bodily and spiritual discomfort. But he could take no more, he had to act urgently.

Finally, prompted by the beatings he received when the new evidence came to light, Alfred opted for a desperate measure which, when he returned home, Alexia understood in relation to that specific context. After the night prayer, he slipped away and locked himself in a tourist confessional. He took out a picture of Alexia and masturbated to it. The flesh was weak and he hesitated about his ability to fulfil the purpose.

There was only one final solution left. Mortification of the flesh. He undisciplined himself so that the monk could flog him. But the blows rekindled the craving. Pain into pleasure and torment into ecstasy. He committed twice as many faults and received twice as many punishments. And, after a bad blow, he ended up in the infirmary with the skin on his back torn. At that precise moment, Alfred had an epiphany. He was deluding himself. Thomas fought an untamed force because that force was himself. The Craving was not a demon possessing him, but the manifestation of his desire. And because it was his desire, the Craving was himself. Thomas despaired of justifying his actions. Alfred would not justify himself. The Craving was the manifestation of his will. His God.

At the end of August he graduated from the seminary and flew back to England. He had accomplished the task of clarifying his conscience.

Peter called him a demon.

Alexia understood his feelings.

The Craving was back.

3

William Birkin was readmitted as chief researcher at the underground laboratory. They were laughing at him. They were definitely playing a sick joke on him.

He laughed out loud after reading the letter. A stunned Annette grabbed his hand to reassure him. What if they left Umbrella? Annette listed a number of companies that would accept him without hesitation. They could move to Chicago, near Annette's family. William denied the well-meaning proposal for one reason: the explanation. He had to know why, and he wouldn't stop until those responsible for such detestable behaviour towards him sang like a church choir. He hadn't worked at the company for more than a decade for nothing. He deserved an answer.

The platform descended down the hole to the lab's reception desk. William handed in his old card at the reception desk and received the new credentials. Chief researcher.

“They are waiting for you in the main laboratory,” said the receptionist.

“Who is waiting for me?” he asked, but the receptionist refused to answer.

He walked down the same corridor as the first time and leaned against the same wall for the second time. The electronic double doors opened. The lab was different in layout, instruments and machines; as if the previous lab had been a reverie. There was no table in the centre to hide what was at the back, nor did he recognise any machine like the one the blonde woman had used to destroy the only existing sample of the G-virus.

A delirium?

William advanced towards the centre of the open space.

It had been a nightmare.

A door creaked behind him.

William turned away.

A young woman and an older bearded man.

William clenched his fists.

The two approached him with a certain parsimony. The young woman held out her hand to shake his.

“Dr. William Birkin. I am Dr. Alexia Ashford, who will be chief researcher in this laboratory along with you. This is my father, Dr. Alexander Ashford, president and CEO of Umbrella Pharmaceuticals. It's a pleasure to meet you,” said Alexia.

William reflexively shook his hand. The shake was light and quick.

“It is a pleasure to meet you at last. Mr. Spencer has spoken very highly of you. I hope your results continue to be as brilliant as they were in the Arklay laboratory,” Alexander continued.

William shook his hand next. The shake shook him painfully from the exaggerated pressure with which Alexander had gripped his hand, and lasted for a couple of seconds that passed like centuries.

It was a nightmare.

A voice inside William climbed into his throat to scream, but his lips were sealed with the force of a million atmospheres. They were in front of him: smiling, feigning sympathy and congratulating him on achievements that had been memorised for the occasion.

It was a nightmare.

I had to wake up from the nightmare.

Silently, he approached one of the tables. He lit a lighter. The flame glowed with the intensity of the sun.

I had to wake up from the nightmare.

He burnt his hand.

He screamed until his jaw unhinged. He punched the lighter as he groaned in pain.

Alexander ran towards him. He was going to kill him. This man would kill him and he would wake up from the nightmare. With enormous strength, he grabbed him by the shoulders. However, he remained rigid.

“Are you all right, Dr. Birkin?” he said in a honeyed tone, and with a murderous look in his eye.

William mumbled an insult that Alexander did not understand.

“You can join us a week later. You haven't finished your stress treatment yet, have you?” said Alexia.

William looked at Alexia. Alexander stepped in front of him to obstruct his vision and increased the strength of his grip.

“You should go to the infirmary,” Alexander continued. “Talk to Dr Garcia. She will advise you.”

Alexander withdrew his hands. Then, guided by a supernatural impulse, William left the laboratory and made his way to the infirmary, as Alexander had instructed him.

I had to wake up from the nightmare. It was not real. Nothing was real. But his hand burned. He examined his palm. He felt the burning. He felt the mortality of his body.

It was real.

The nightmare was real.

4

Peter was tinkering with a statue when the doorbell rang.

Alfred.

“My name is Auguste.”

A burly, red-haired man accompanied Alfred. Peter invited them in. Alfred showed Auguste the statue presiding over the reception. Auguste commented that it was not bad.

Peter did not understand anything. He had arranged a meeting alone with the demon, and the demon had come with him. Auguste made him nervous. A gigantic guy with a rougher way of speaking than Alfred, although he identified that they both shared the same accent. When they got bored of staring at the statue, Alfred asked Peter to show Auguste his secret place. Was Auguste another demon? He didn't know, but Alfred trusted him blindly.

They went down to the basement.

Peter played the tape a second time. Auguste sat down in the armchair. Alfred leaned against the wall. The tape ended.

Auguste smiled and gave Alfred a knowing look. Peter had lost track of what was going on.

Auguste pulled a pistol out of his shorts and pointed it at Peter. The latter raised his hands in terror. Auguste stood in front of him with the gun in line to his heart. Alfred stood next to Auguste. He reached inside his jacket to pull out a switchblade. The blade shot out of the handle.

“Last week we agreed that I would tell you my plan,” said Alfred. “And I asked you if you'd ever tried it with a person. Sit down.”

Peter sat down in the armchair under Auguste's gun. Alfred stood behind the television.

“I'll make you a deal. I want you to be our enforcer. We will be your master of ceremonies. We will procure the meat and you will carry out our wishes. The rituals will take place in an abandoned factory we just bought. You will not ask about the identity of the meat, nor will you become attached to them. Your job will only be to be the executing hand. The rest will be our responsibility. In this respect, you will have to comply with a number of conditions. First of all, silence. If you reveal our activity to anyone, we will kill you. Secondly, you belong to us. You will obey us above all things. If you disobey, we kill you. Thirdly, the fault is yours. You are the one who killed those animals. And fourthly, our relationship will be limited to these kinds of encounters. You are not our friend. Do you accept?”

Peter swallowed hard.

“Who would I have to kill?” Peter trembled like a flan shaken by an earthquake.

Alfred positioned himself at Auguste's level.

“You will not ask about the identity of the meat,” Alfred stressed.

“I'm sorry.” Peter apologised, cringing.

“Do you accept?” Alfred repeated.

The devil required his services. The voices had casually led him to the climax of his vocation.

“Y... Yes. I accept.”

Alfred smiled and put the knife away. Auguste holstered the pistol in his trousers. The two began their retreat from the house. Auguste gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“I'll call you next Saturday night. That will be our time for the rituals,” Alfred announced without waiting for Peter's approval.

Alfred and Auguste went upstairs.

Peter had made a pact with the devil.

[1] Nickname of Auguste Campbell.

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Defender_of_the_Faith

[loadedberetta]

Impulse Part 1 - (1/2) Ghost x fReader x Soap

rating: E/18+ minors DNI

summary: A little confession goes a long way.

warnings: *deep breath* Porn With Plot; Threesome F/M/M; Reader with female anatomy & pronouns; open relationship; unprotected PiV sex (wrap ya tools); creampie; oral f/m receiving; SoapGhost; IUD/contraceptive talk; light biting scratching marking; light sub/dom dynamics; breathplay; praise; holistic imagery here and there; hints of voyeurism; being called "sir" in bed; size kink is you squint your eyes

word count: 5.7k

[EDIT: the work continues on ao3]

find me on ao3 // MASTERLIST

Interact only if you're over 18. Proceed beyond this point with caution. Every work of mine has a general warning.

gif by me using ezgif

a/n: SoapGhost with a Reader insert I'm not responsible for her. homoerotic af these two are the dream couple. Ghost is a service dom, Johnny is a switch and reader you're a bottom aren't you. MINORS GTFO :)) let the smut commence

You were standing at the door for an uncomfortably long time now, the porcelain dish getting heavier by the second in your hands. Not talking about the Tupperware balanced on top of it full of your nan's biscuits.

Finally, you heard some shuffling from inside the house, just as you tried elbowing the doorbell again with "MacTavish" written above it.

Keys turned, and your neighbour Johnny looked out the door he opened just slightly before recognizing you and fully swinging it open.

- Hello, love! - he called you with the pet name he had used countless times for you. You didn't mind, hell, you enjoyed the attention you received from the Scot next door. You had been in his sights for quite some time now.

The sudden realization that you indeed had a big, sloppy crush on him drew interesting lines on your face, making your cheeks burn. You spoke too quickly to seem uninterested.

- My nan dumped all this food on me, and I obviously can't eat it all before it goes bad. I heard you arrive yesterday night and I- - you rambled on.

He let you talk, and his tired and light blue eyes lingered on you. You basked at the moment for just a second too long, and it turned awkward.

- C'me on in and, uh... let's get this sorted out - Johnny flashed a small, tired smile at you that still would have knocked most women off their feet.

Come in? You were wearing your large tracksuit bottoms you still had from back at your alma mater down in Cornwall and a huge jumper you only dared to wear at home it had so many oil stains and other unidentified marks on it. But most of all, what bothered you above all else was the fact that you were scarcely wearing any underwear. Yes, there was a vest under all that but that was all. And a pair of socks, it was only spring after all.

You've never been inside Johnny's apartment before. You figured it was the same layout as yours, just mirrored. Remembering where the walls stood before you had your side remodeled, you pieced the layout together quickly.

Johnny had already disappeared into the small kitchen, and you could hear the almost cartoonish sounds of pots and pans clanging.

You took a quick look around as you were insanely curious about what he could own inside the tiny home. You noticed some coats hanging from the wall, mounted on a retrofitted coat rack. There were some jackets you recognized, a navy blue and a grey one for sure. You were so preoccupied with taking in the sights, you didn't notice Johnny poking his head out the kitchen door. He rested his vision on the lines of your shoulders for a moment before addressing you. Hearing your name surely scared you. You've maybe heard him say it once or twice before, and you remembered your thighs clamping together with wanton washed over by embarrassment each time. 

He chuckled. - Come in, I dinnae... bite - he finished as if he couldn't figure out what he meant by that himself. 

To punctuate the sentence, he took the box of biscuits off you, as if to coax you into the kitchen. His movements were quick and to the point. He didn't move a muscle that didn't need to be moved. Taking a few steps forward, you crossed the threshold of the small, but neat kitchen. He turned over to his fridge and opened it. 

You wished you could take a picture of the moment. It almost looked domestic. 

His voice was a little muffled as he spoke: - I s'pose you don't want leftover kebab from yesterday. Coffee machine's gubbed too - he pointed behind himself at a half-disassembled coffee maker.

You snickered. - It's fine, Johnny. You don't have to give me something back every time - you teased him for when he went to Tesco to just get you a slice of cake last autumn when you lent him a spanner from your toolbox, the exact measurement that he was missing from his kit. 

You let him keep it after. He didn't know, but red velvet cake was your absolute favourite dessert.

He dumped the cookies out into one of his own containers and exhanged the empty one with the heavy porcelain still resting in your arms. You sighed with relief. Relief... and yearning, and much more. But he didn't need to know that. 

You shuffled around awkwardly. - It's cottage pie. - A realization struck. - You eat meat, right?

You've made this mistake before, bringing prosciutto canapés to a vegan friend's housewarming party. Your face flared up. Again. 

Seeing Johnny lean back against his counter, easy morning light bouncing off his massive shoulders eased your mood a little, however, it did little for the warmth spreading across your face. - I wouldnae last a day out in the field - he said plainly.

Oh, yes... He was in the military. You didn't know which branch. You didn't recognize brass, like ever. You didn't dare look it up either, as if he could see your search history just by looking at you for some reason.

- How was deployment? Bearable? - you asked uncomfortably, now that a general silence had set in between the two of you. Still, neither of you dared (or wanted?) to move.

Dust particles played in the streaks of morning light. 

- I didnae get shot this time - he replied nonchalantly, probably to ease the tension. He was comfortable talking about stuff like this.

This time. The comment forced a small amount of air out of your lungs. 

- I'm just a wall over if you ever... need help. - you tried wording your offer. 

Johnny smiled and traced a hand through his mohawk. The hair choice fit him perfectly. He let it grow out a little a while ago, and you practically chewed your lips bloody every time you saw him. - Thanks. 

You caught yourself looking at his hair. You looked away in embarrassment as his hand stopped mid-air. He had to have seen it. You immediately bit your lip and tried focusing your stare elsewhere. 

You heard him suppress a small laugh.

- What? - he asked as you sucked your lips in. 

- I just... - you tried burying your face into your collarbone, - it's, okay... 

You huffed a breath and gathered every ounce of courage in your body. It felt unreal, as you asked him; - I was wondering-- I've been meaning to ask you- if you-- Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?

There. You said it, there was no going back from there anymore. 

You blinked up at him, the morning sun illuminating his features painted him to be an angel. A deathly handsome, and quite cute angel at that. You couldn't have seen if he blushed or not. You hoped he did. 

His hands dug into his hair again. This time you didn't look away, awaiting his answer, and allowing yourself a look now that your intentions were clear.

- I'd-I'd love to. 

Oh no. Here it goes. 

- I'd love to, - he repeated himself as your heart thrummed with anticipation at an incredible pace - ...but I'm kind of seeing someone at the moment. 

Fuck. You pressed your lips into a thin line and looked down at the tiled floor. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

- ...is that a problem for you? - you heard Johnny ask from seemingly below the water, as his words were barely audible behind the blood rushing in your ears. 

You looked dumbfounded at him; - For me?

Is he asking--

- Yes, for you. It's uh... an open relationship - he pulled you from your thoughts gently. 

Relief and excitement washed over you. It was more than okay. 

- So... so that's a yes? - you asked unsurely.

- If you're in, I am too - he smiled at you. The rays of the sun behind him were accentuating his already broad shoulders and shone through his freshly ruffled hair. 

- What didya have in mind? - he crossed his arms in front of himself, gently pushing his pecs upward. You could tell he consciously eased his accent for your sake.

You laughed a little in nervousness. - Nothing really, I didn't have this thought out, sorry - you palmed your arm with your crossed hands. Intrusive thoughts. 

He moved. Grabbing the cottage pie, he squat down and put it in the fridge. 

- If you didnae 'ave an idea, I might do - he muttered from behind the fridge door.

- You... do? - you asked still in disbelief, waiting to wake up from a dream in your bed, sweaty and turned on, already reaching for your bedside drawer. 

- But that involves skipping first base - he rose from behind the door, eyes trained on you. 

Oh.

No, this had to be a dream. 

Your confidence seemed to have vanished from earlier. Fucking gone, that's what you were reduced to. Suddenly, you were very aware that you had no panties or a bra on, the fact totally evading your mind when your mouth was bigger than you could have handled.

Johnny must have noticed you became startled, as he raised his hands slightly, unhooking them from in front of himself. 

- Dinnae fash yersel',  sweetheart. All in due time - he spoke in a honeyed voice that somehow made his suddenly sharp accent sound mellow and welcoming. 

- I didn't mean-- I- - you fumbled with words as you still struggled to comprehend the fact that not only has he agreed to go out with you but that he already broke the first-date-kind-of ice between the two of you in just under a minute. 

- You dinnae mean what? - he pushed himself away from the counter and rose to his full height. He almost looked divine in the increasingly warm lighting of the raising sun. 

You seem to have forgotten all the English, or frankly any language you might have known.

- I mean I'm free whenever... - you managed to pull a coherent sentence together relatively fast, surprising yourself. You tried looking anywhere but at Johnny out of fear of combusting on the spot if you did. 

He adjusted his white cotton shirt before he opened his mouth to speak. One sly motherfucker. 

- So, even now? - he asked as he flattened the shirt on his abdomen. He knew what he was doing. 

Reality has been defied so many times that day, you might as well have said yes. And you did; - Yeah, I mean---

You could barely finish your sentence, as Johnny crashed into you, knocking you off-balance and into the kitchen wall behind you. It was all so sudden, cathartic and electric, that your instincts kicked in before anything else could have connected in your brain. You found each other's hungry lips effortlessly and melted into a sloppy and erratic succession of deep kisses. Devouring eachother, your body jolted with electricity, as did his. His hands never stopped, rumpling your jumper upwards, and dipping his fingers just past the waistband of your joggers experimentally. For a good while, the kitchen was filled with nothing else but rustles and moans growing in volume. 

Staccato whimpering broke from his mouth moving on from yours to nip at your neck, as you dipped your nails into his back through his shirt, earning a particularly strong bite to your jugular accompanied by an open-mouthed groan. The rush of adrenaline that was already brimming your floodgates threatened to burst even heavier afterward. 

- Hey, hey-- - you breathed at him, your one hand moving up to his neck and head to catch his attention. 

Johnny immediately rose from lapping your collarbone with his tongue, letting your shirt go, the neckline of which was irreparably loosened and torn.

- Hm? - he hummed attentively, raising his own hand to your cheek and gently cupping it. - Too much?

- Yes- I mean no,... - you tried, looking off to the side. Your mouth was red and burning from the five o'clock shadow Johnny sported, breath spent and clothes tousled, you didn't need less. You needed...

- ...slower? - he asked, head cocked to the side like a giant puppy to try and catch your gaze. He slid his broad hands down to rest them on your waist, and a strand of hair fell into his face, enhancing his most captivating feature yet. He finished your sentence, and you just nodded with warmth spreading in your body, feeling comfortable, yet still turned on by his presence. 

There wasn't another word exchanged between the two of you, as your lips melted again, this time with less rush and fever, but not a hair less passionate. This time, Johnny took his time to explore you, to take in every curve, nook and cranny that your body had on display. At one point, he picked you up, and set you down on the small dining table, slotting his heavy body between your thighs, spreading them at a heavenly angle that let you grind against the fabric of the tablecloth. Your pleasure ramped up again as Johnny's palms settled on the apex of your thighs, foreshadowing what he had in store for you later. 

You've almost lost touch with this world, as you were so enveloped in his. His small, shallow breaths matched yours, and he utilized his size advantage on you efficiently. He smelled of body wash and linen sheets with a hint of gunpowder and sweat that matched his energy perfectly. It felt as if his touch was everywhere, his eyes saw your purest and his lips tasted your innermost core. You've lost track of time and forgot where you were, or who you were frankly. 

- Morning to you too Johnny... - the grumbling voice almost made you choke. 

You jumped, and your thighs clamped together, trying to hide the obvious. Recoiling from Johnny's face in front of yours, you looked in the direction of the kitchen door where the voice came from. 

A large, looming figure stood in the doorway, barely fitting into the comfortably sized opening. He was dressed in soft jammies, but every item on him was black. The white of his skin that invited your gaze was barely visible in the large eye-slit of the balaclava he donned, as the proximity of his eyes was painted with something resembling a grayish-black eyeshadow. It would have been an understatement to call him frightening. With the mandible and jawbone painted on his mask, his eyes lidded and exhausted, he looked like the Devil incarnate. 

- Haw, it isna good wae to introduce yerself to a guest! - Johnny's accent thickened as he spoke incredibly fast. While talking, he hugged you closer to him as you froze in his embrace. - Hen's hidin' awae, look - he referred to you huddled close to his chest, your hands tucked between you and him, face disappearing into his shirt. You tried to disappear, to sink into the ground, or vanish into thin air, but you remained in the tight embrace of Johnny, locked in that warm spot you secretly never wanted to get out of. 

A moment later, his embrace eased just the slightest, and a hand touched your chin, tilting it upwards against Johnny's pecs. You leaned into the gentle guidance and lifted your head for your eyes to see over Johnny's shoulders. 

- And why's she hidin' away? - the voice asked, now from behind Johnny. Your eyes met his, as he stared down at you with Johnny between the two of you. The sun shone through the wisps of his mask and painted a silvery halo around his head, his dark eyes being the only counterweight to the angelic look he suddenly donned. Those deep, searching eyes were of a sinner, who had given up on repentance and embraced the devilish chaos life has chosen for him. 

- Ah dinnie ken... - you heard Johnny's teasing voice rumble through his broad chest, as he slightly moved and trembled. - Ghost-- - Johnny's voice choked as you felt him shudder around you. 

The apparition must have been called Ghost. He spoke:

- An' why don't we give her a good time? - he cooed into Johnny's shoulder in the most affectionate form of Mancunian you've ever heard. Your full attention focused at that point on the light scratches Ghost painted on Johnny's neck with his covered mouth that made the man under him shudder and whimper swearwords into the thick air. Ghost's hand snaked down Johnny's side and rested on your thigh. His hands were even broader than Johnny's, resting more firmly on your plump flesh, squeezing it very light almost as if he was introducing himself to you. 

You felt Ghost's sly other hand slot between you and Johnny, and find the hem of his jammies, slightly touching your thighs with the back of his hand. - 'can feel you're already mad for it, Johnny... - he purred into his ear as his hand on your thigh shifted to your bum to nudge you closer to the two of them. Your cunt clenched and electricity crackled up your spine as your inner thigh met Ghost's strong hand massaging the stiffie Johnny sported. You and Johnny shared a moan and Ghost's rasped chuckle echoed in the wake of the sounds the two of you made.

You canted your hips down to catch some friction on the table, but your attempts were quickly shut down by Johnny, who'd come back down to Earth to swiftly swoop you up with a growl to carry you deeper into the dark flat. Over his shoulders, you saw Ghost give him an appreciative smack on the arse before following him, eyes trained on you like a dark guardian. Images swirled in your head of fallen angels you'd learned about from your friends when trading urban legends at sleepovers, long ago. Ghost seemed like every single one of those spawns in one terrifying amalgam, yet he was his unique figure in a sinful and wicked vessel that was his battered body. 

Johnny in the meantime, muttered small praises into your ears as if he was confessing. The journey wasn't long to the dim bedroom, but his praise was indeed efficient and resulted in you soaking your grey joggers even more. You rested and bobbed against his soft body and raging erection constantly, which was also a big positive. 

Instead of throwing you down onto the bed, as you expected, he sat down on the hard mattress and let you straddle him. His hands were quickly at work, kneading your cheeks with deadly accuracy as you heard the faint creaking of a floorboard behind you. That was all the warning you got before Ghost's hands appeared on the edge of your vision and settled on Johnny's shoulders. 

- Sweetheart, - you heard his voice call to you... or to Johnny? - do you want this?

Realizing it was you he addressed - having not been told your name -, you answered him a breathy 'yes', as Johnny continued to lap circles around the spots he already nibbed on your neck. Ghost's hands slipped onto your shoulders, gently massaging them with keen precision.

- We got tested before last deployment... - Johnny stopped for a moment, resting his hands on the sweet spot of bunched-up flesh at your hips. 

The two pairs of hands on you felt... comforting. You were in safe hands. Safe, big, and strong hands at that, their owners ready to make you have the best time of your life. You trusted Johnny, and he trusted Ghost, which meant you did too. 

- 'mclean too... - you swallowed some air into your thirsty and deprived lungs. - Got an IUD, so don't worry about---

- Oh I won't... - Ghost's hand slipped under your jaw and tilted your head up forcefully with a trained, fluid movement. Your neck became exposed, allowing Johnny to return to his ministrations. - Do you want to get filled up, sweetheart? - Ghost purred from above you, as he forced your gaze to catch his. 

- Yes - you strained to talk or even to breathe, and Johnny's renewed attempts to shower you with affection didn't make it easier either. 

- You... you call me sir, understood? - he tightened his grip on your jaw as you felt your quickening heartbeat in your throat, your skin bruising under his fingers. 

- Yes... sir - you breathed out, as he let you go. 

Falling onto Johnny's shoulder, you breathed in deeply a few times. He came to stroke your back a couple of times comfortingly before letting his hand fall onto the small of your back, pushing you onto his tenting erection. You shuddered a moan and bucked your hips into his lap, earning yourself a playful smack on your bum. 

The two of them were so different, yet the extensions of the other. Johnny was playful, reckless, and intuitive, while Ghost seemed to be more meticulous and sober with a hint of sinful wickedness, the two of their personalities slotting together like puzzle pieces. You didn't feel like an intruder to them somehow. They made you feel honoured, worshipped, and as if you were in the right hands. Not one movement was misplaced, not one word misheard. 

- You listen to me and Ghost, yes? - Johnny breathed into your ear as he pushed you down on himself. - Bonnie? - he asked you again when you failed to respond as you bit down on your lips hard in order to stifle a feral grunt, a hint to your embarrassingly growing pleasure just by dry-humping Johnny. 

- I-- yes. - you forced out, and a staggered cry followed after. 

- Sweetheart, turn around. - you heard Ghost order from behind you. Johnny helped to flip you towards Ghost, your back now facing his abdomen, his sheathed cock slotted between your bruised cheeks. 

Your jaw hung slack as you took the sight of him in, finally from close-up in the screened darkness of the bedroom. You realized how tall he was really, from the angle from below. The light snaking in below the drawn blinds hinted at his strong face and did justice in lighting his broad shoulders and sides, supported by two long treestumps of legs. You only hoped he'd be this well-equipped everywhere, and it soon looked like you'd get a taste of the masked revenant. 

- Good girl... - he praised as he raised his hand to stroke your face, and slotted his thumb in your welcoming mouth. - Show me how pretty you can suck it dry.

Your cunt clenched empty in agony as Johnny's hands dipped under your waistband from behind, and started kneading your thighs, inching his way slowly toward your aching centre. You shivered, as Ghost tested the waters on how unleashed he can be with you by dipping his finger deeper into your mouth and swirling it around. 

- Sir... - you were surprised for a moment as you heard Johnny from behind you call out to Ghost with aching need. 

- Can he? - Ghost found your teary eyes and cocked his head with question.

You gave him a dazed nod and an appreciative 'mhm' with his thumb still in your mouth.

- Go ahead, Johnny - he reassured him in almost a sweet voice. He didn't move until he received the command.

Finally, Johnny's hands brushed against your mound and struck your centre gently for the first time. Ghost deftly removed his finger from your mouth as you let your head fall back onto Johnny's shoulder. His hands were strategic, precise, and deadly, just like on the battlefield,  and the thought terrified and turned you on at the same time. They could have used their strength to kill you with ease, but rather took pleasure in working you up to the high heavens. 

Your eyes squeezed shut and your hands flew back to grip Johnny's neck behind you, and pulled him closer, urging him to work up his speed. Hips involuntarily shuddering above him, he let out a few satisfied growls himself. You noticed a grip around one wrist and Ghost drew your hand to himself. His legs moved closer and spread yours - as well as Johnny's - further apart, opening you fully to the hand already working you. 

Already coated in your leaking slick, Johnny's fingers slid between your lips with wispy ease just as your hand disappeared under Ghost's when he pressed it against his own clothed, half-hard cock. 

- You feel what you're doing to me and him, do you? - he asked you but expected no response.

You really couldn't answer, as for when Johnny's two fingers slipped inside of you a moment later, you only had a sharp moan to spare. Your walls clenched around the digits entering you, and they filled you well enough for now. The stretch wasn't uncomfortable, but you knew you had so much more coming. He moved, friction practically none as your wetness made everything sloppy and velvety. To make up for the missed sensation, Johnny's thumb worked your needy clit, flicking it seemingly aimlessly. You knew, hell, you felt how precise his movements were, however, how trained he must have been. 

In the meantime, Ghost didn't let your wrist escape, instead used your hand as a toy to catch some friction and ease his painful ache. You were stuck in the most beautiful scene of all; two men eager to touch you as well as eachother, with you following suit. You would have never thought this is how your day would go when you left your apartment a door over that morning with a faint voice in the back of your head telling you to ask Johnny out for a coffee. This was so much more honest and guttural, the true reflection of your feelings towards him. And Ghost added into the mix, not a notch less arousing or attractive than Johnny, you had your plate full, and you wanted seconds. 

- Trousers, off - Ghost commanded and pulled your soaking wet joggers down in one movement, the fabric digging into your skin violently. Your legs shut slightly for him to remove the piece of fabric from you, but opened immediately after, as Johnny had worked you up to the edge already. 

- Come on, no- don't stop-- - you whimpered into the thick air while flexing your leg muscles to heighten the sensation of the impending finish you neared. 

- Needy little cunt you have... - Ghost purred from above you. - Come on, Johnny, give it to her. - he ordered, and he delivered. 

Drawing an intense and prolonged cry from you, he carried you through your high. You knew Ghost was watching, probably already touching himself, but instead of feeling embarrassed, a wanton feeling washed over you and carried your trembling body into overstimulation. 

Panting, you realized how tightly you held onto Johnny's nape with both hands, escaping Ghost's grip sometime in the past few hazy minutes. You knew this was a brief stop instead of a final destination, so you looked through your teary lashes up to Ghost, only to see him lowering himself onto his knees in front of the bed you and Johnny were perched on.  

- Bonnie, I- - Johnny's hand gave your oversensitive mound a last love tap before taking his opportunity to look over your shoulders at your unclothed thighs with Ghost's head settling between them. 

- Need you in me, Johnny-- - you panted at him, heart racing from what had just transpired and in anticipation for what might be coming next. 

Johnny made quick work of his jammies and in a moment, his weeping cock waited at your entrance, nudging you ever so slightly with each breath he took. In one swift movement, he was in you. Filling you halfway for a moment, you breathed into the stretching sensation and squeezed your eyes shut still overstimulated. He pushed further, the fiery sensation transforming into something otherwordly, and taking residence deep in the pit of your stomach. He didn't move at first, not until you did, drawing a shaky moan deep from his lungs. Finally, you opened your eyes, searching for Ghost. 

He was there, watching. Unwavering, he was kneeling by the edge of the bed. One of his hands appeared from underneath, and with ungodly slyness settled low on your stomach. He looked over your shoulder, locking eyes with Johnny. 

- You've been good Johnny. You've earned your reward - he mouthed his words barely louder than a whisper. 

Johnny's breath hitched, and he flinched. You felt his head fall on your shoulder, and he grit his teeth together. - Move. - Ghost drilled into your eyes with his stare, but you knew the command wasn't meant for you. Mostly because as soon as the words left Ghost's mouth, Johnny started pounding into you with careless, shallow thrusts.

- Lean back, MacTavish - Ghost ordered. As you've accustomed to it happening, Johnny did, leaving your back exposed but his hands free. Your sex still exposed towards Ghost, his hand slid lower on your stomach, his thumb eventually reaching your clit, millimetres away from Johnny's cock fucking the living soul out of you. Most of this, you only felt, as your eyes slammed shut the moment Johnny started moving in you, filling you to the brim with the delicious stretch you so craved. Added to the mix were Ghost's deft fingers playing with your clit, and the dangerous composite of almost volatile sensations threatened to go off with a devastating explosion. You didn't see, rather felt that his other hand was at work too. Johnny writhed under you, palming every surface of your body with desperation, hinting at the fact that Ghost was working on him along with you. 

Ghost's hands played carelessly with his balls, making Johnny see stars. 

- Fill her up for me, would ya, Johnny? - Ghost purred as it was your turn again to climb the ladder up into heaven in search of another orgasm to be ripped from you by Ghost and Johnny. 

Unable to answer, Johnny only let out a shaky moan from underneath you, that hurled you towards the finish line. You weren't shy with your own noises, but soon determined you couldn't have been if you wanted to. Ghost was somehow even more light and fiendish with his moves as if reciting adoration with his hands, flicking through pages, or tapping the keys of an organ all in the name of worship. It was you, it was Johnny who he worshipped with endless adoration and devotion. 

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, he unhooked his plush mask from his jaw and pushed it above his lips onto his nose. You saw this as you opened your eyes when you felt his hands disappear from you, leaving you breathless on the way to another orgasm. Johnny kept his shattering pace, although his thrusts became shallower, letting you rely on Ghost's touch more. 

Catching a glance at his unmasked jaw made you notice how pale he really was. The moment didn't last long, as he bestially licked his lips only to extend the flat of his pink tongue while moving towards the spot you and Johnny were conjoined. You bit your lips maybe a little too hard, but the pain only spurred you on more. 

- Fucking-- - Johnny gave meaning to the breath forced out of his lungs underneath you as Ghost's tongue pressed against the underside of his cock, his hands still pawing at his extremely oversensitive balls. His hands squeezed your hip, and nails dug into your side, making you hiss in pain, but none of you cared. 

Soon, Ghost's tongue teased your clit, and it was your turn to crumble. Palpitating sobs left your mouth, and a tear rolled down your cheek that got caught on the edge of your mouth, salty taste melting into your saliva. 

- Good girl, sweetheart. Good. - Ghost praised in the moments his mouth wasn't smothered on you, but you barely heard it over the ringing in your ears as your pleasure erratically built in you.

You didn't need long as you clung onto dear life not to take you out with the force of your second orgasm. It wasn't as long as the first one, but it took you with equal force, pulling the strength out of you from even deeper. Your whole body became electric as you clamped down on Johnny, and a stray cry left your mouth travelling all the way to the high heavens. 

White flashes barely faded from the edge of your vision as Johnny sat up and embraced you, locking you into place as he came with erratic and sloppy thrusts. Ghost sang with praise the whole way, which staggered you. 

- Take it, Johnny. Good boy. You deserve this. 

You couldn't have imagined how a gruff man like him could be so devoted and ready to give. Yes, he took what he wanted, but his acts showed how deeply he cared about Johnny and apparently... you.

Pounding the last of his seed deep into you, Johnny fell back on the bed with a thud but remained sheathed in you. Ghost got up and opened a drawer nearby, pawing in it for a fresh towel. When he found one, he locked eyes with you and you understood him. You slipped off of Johnny and shakily got up, reaching for the towel. Instead of giving it to you, Ghost squat down and cleaned you up, holding your shaky waist with one hand for leverage as his other roamed around your body draped in the scratchy towel. 

You instinctively rested your hand on his shoulder for the same leverage. When he was done, and you were clean, he nodded his head towards the bed. Johnny was laying propped up on his elbows, watching the two of you share an erotic yet domestic moment. His heart fluttered, but only he could feel it. 

Ghost threw the rag at Johnny as you climbed back into bed but you were faster than him, and snatched it off his belly, where it landed. You cleaned him off diligently as Ghost rounded the bed and without a word, sat on - presumably - his side. His mask was back on his whole face, but the white paint glistened here and there, making you remember how precise and--

Ghost's purr pulled out of your thoughts. He looked like a crow or a puddle of what used to be a crow as Johnny's figure loomed into your vision, appearing on Ghost's side, laying a still trembling hand on his abdomen. Both their eyes were still full of lust and want, and so were yours.

- Fun's not over yet, sweetheart. - Ghost smiled under his mask as Johnny grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you closer to them, planting soft kisses up your leg as you skidded closer.

part 1 (2/2) coming tomorrow

[subspaceember]

Things I do not understand about the design of my parents house

Bathroom

The shower head is mounted a foot too low. I'm around 5'10 and my eye level is right where the pipe comes out of the wall. (This is the case for every shower in the house) which means the water starts to hit you around your nipples

The toilet paper holder thing is in between the toilet and the tub and requires an uncomfortable reach, actually hard to use, and so no one does

None of the towel racks are within reach of the tub, there's one on the opposite end of the room and on the opposite side of the toilet

There is a fan - however it just vents into the attic - no actual vent was ever installed - also it's the scariest looking fan ever made, you can put your hand through it. The one downstairs was a complete afterthought, when we moved in there was just a random plug hanging out of the ceiling that went to the fan - which vents into the drop ceiling... of the basement

That's right the bathroom that's in a basement and has no window that can open and also used to have carpet in a house with no HVAC system has NO FUNCTIONAL VENT FAN

There is a window - it's just a regular window that faces the front lawn, so hopefully no one's out there. There's blinds on it, but they're mounted away from the window so you can still absolutely see in if you stand in the right spot

It has an absurd amount of countertop - not really a bad thing, but it's very overkill for a bathroom

The soap tile thing came off the wall and refused to be glued back on - so there's just a big duct tape patch there now

General

The entire downstairs is drop ceiling, yup like an office building.

On top of that the entire downstairs was originally only lit by single bulb fixtures, like for closets, just bare bulbs in a dark, damp basement - except bathrooms which were fluorescent lamps

The basement has a very uncomfortable hallway, it's about 3 feet wider than most hallways and is of course lit by one light bulb

There's a random angled wall here, so one of the rooms has a random angled wall for some reason

The house has TWO water heaters, a more common full size one and a smaller like half sized one. Guess which ones plumbed to the showers - that's right the small one, the big one is only connected to the kitchen sink, washer, and the nasty added on shower in the garage that no one has ever used.

Right - there's technically a third bathroom, it is IN the garage, i mean it's literally added on it's like a box that just juts out into the room. No one has used this bathroom as it is - like i said in the garage and thus smells of dust and mold and also there's no floor.

The floor plan is very odd, there's a BIG room and I mean big on both the first floor and the basement, and lots of tiny rooms, including the one my parents tried to move me too, which is quite frankly too small for a twin bed what you're supposed to do with a room that size I don't know.

There's no water filter of any kind here, not really a big deal, although the water is literally pumped out of the ground so uh sediment is in everything - like, the water filter for drinking has dirt in the top of it

The dust the downstairs of this house has dust like no other dust, the networking stuff is out in the garage where the dust is the worst, and it's killed 2 ethernet switches and a modem, it's this thick brown dust that - even though the house has been cleaned - will never go away

The deck - which is covered in plastic fake grass terf carpet and is nasty - is actually held up by a big iron rod that was clearly added much later than when the house was built, along with a much newer staircase

There's just a big gap in the wall on the side of the carport with a 5 foot drop - no one knows why it's there

Oh yeah also- the carport is on top of the garage - the garage is not accessible for cars, as it's on the basement level, so hearing a car roll ON TOP OF THE ROOM YOU'RE IN is really nerve-wracking

There were no lights of any kind originally installed in the back of the garage, it was literally permanently dark (the part under where the cars park btw

I mentioned the lack of HVAC - the house does has an oil-burning furnace - which smells of oil and makes a loud BANG every time it turns on and off

The stairs

The stairs don't really fit so there's no landing and instead there's a angled stair to rotate into the hall basically right across where the landing should be - I've tripped and nearly died on this a lot.

The stairs have only one light, at the top, which is almost impossible to reach to change bulbs, (you have to put a ladder at the top so you're at risk of falling down the entire stairwell if you fuck up) oh and this means the weird angled step is ALSO in the dark :)

The stairs extend out into the hall which is great for tripping over and dying on the concrete floor.

I'm living in the house of leaves

[dollsonmain]

Getting started early...

So, this (crooked faceplate) drives me BATTY. I know how to fix it though am a little bit limited by how the electrical box is installed. It can only be adjusted so much.

This having the wrong screws and paint on the outlets also annoys me, but it’s less annoying than crooked. It is a little crooked.

I’m appalled that people that don’t even know how to center and level outlets and switches DIYed the basement. I don’t trust their wiring work.

I start unscrewing the faceplate, and the switches start to wiggle.

They should not wiggle.

No, yeah, the whole box is crooked. And crushed. I don’t know how Rolly pulled that off...

Why is there a huge hole in the..... You know what:  I should expect this by now.

Anyway, adjusting the cant of the faceplate SHOULD still be easy enough (can you see how the holes in the metal brackets are actually rather larger? That’s so you can make small adjustments to the position of the switches within the box), I just have to adjust their position on those visible screws, there but... I have to install some spacers because those switches are just floating. All that was holding them in place was the plastic face plate.

Rolly did that a LOT in the basement. Sometimes I discovered it when changing outlets, sometimes I discovered it when I went to plug something in and the entire outlet went back into the box a whole inch, destroying the cheap, plastic face plate.

That’s caused by poorly mounting the boxes, miscutting, and/or improperly installing the sheetrock/drywall.

Anyway, I have to cut the power to get in there well enough to add in spacers, which I already have tons of because of finding this exact issue all over the basement so I just ordered a whole bunch of them.

I’ve no preference between the two types, they’re both good and equally easy to use. These go behind the switches on the mounting screws, I say, because I don’t assume everyone knows what I do.

Hope I can find my small level. That’ll help getting them straight.

I have a feeling that hole will be exposed when the plate is on straight.

I don’t know if I can get the heated floor (don’t trust THAT, either) dial off the wall to patch the drywall there or not.

[chromatose-a-digital-requiem]

go go go… maybe they have Scooby Doo instead

{{YOU}} think they also probably wouldn’t have Scooby Doo, but whatever. A band-aid is a band-aid, even if they’d be… relatively ineffective at patching up literal stab wounds. At least it would be something to tide {{YOU}} over until {{YOU}} can actually find something better. {{YOU}} make {{YOUR}} way through the room, stumbling and bumping into things. {{YOU}} try to stay on {{YOUR}} feet, since if {{YOU}} fall, it’s probably going to push that slasher deeper inside of {{YOU}}. Just bumping into boxes and whatnot was already enough to make it slightly worse. {{YOU}} really didn’t need any more of that. {{YOU}} were starting to get tired of hurting. Literally. Both the blood loss and the constant pain were beginning to exhaust {{YOU}}.

Eventually, however, as {{YOU}} felt around, {{YOU}} found something. Mounted on the wall, a cold box with a series of switches on it. From what {{YOU}} could gather, it felt like a breaker. Maybe {{YOU’D}} be able to turn the lights on in there, and finally {{YOU’D}} have a better grasp on {{YOUR}} surroundings!

However, just before {{YOU}} could reach back to begin fiddling with the switches, someone else walked in, making {{YOU}} stiffen. Whoever it was, they must have had the breaker’s switches memorized, as suddenly, the world around {{YOU}} was filled with light again. {{YOU}} shielded {{YOUR}} eyes for a moment, trying to get used to the sudden visibility before looking back, only to be met with what {{YOU}} could only assume to be a face of anger.

???: Good Automaton- I spend a little time off so I can get some rest for once, and when I come back, there’s a GUEST in here!? Out of all things!? Good Automaton, what is U.V doing in there!? And what the hell are you doing in here!?

Uh oh.

[roleplayfinder]

✨🌈💎💒 the short and sweet: looking for male characters from DC, Spider-man: Across the Spiderverse, and the Legend of Zelda series, specifically for M/M plots 🪷🌙🪽

the long and sweet: Hi! 20 yr old he/she here looking for 18+ writers (and characters) to do an rp based on one of the fandoms above. I’m mostly looking for canonically “older” men from DC and ATSV, a lá Bruce Wayne, Miguel O’hara, y’know, that general age range. I can be persuaded pretty easily to take one of the Robins or Superboy, but I have a general preference for the Established Adults. I’m open to a pretty wide variety of plots, but I have a few prebaked ones I wanted to share!

Plot 1 - stupid social media au. M/C manages to snag the coveted BruceWayne @ on the in-universe twitter variation, and essentially holds it ransom until Bruce himself gives him whatever terms we agree on ooc to get it. Kind of a silly bastardization of enemies to lovers

Plot 2 - College au, incidental roommates! This applies to any of the fandoms, essentially what it says on the box: our characters end up as roommates by chance in a tiny little dorm room that they have to share with not only each other, but a mounting sense of sexual tension

Plot 3 - new assistant! pretty simple, and mostly with Bruce or Miguel in mind (unless we’re switching things up with a corporate au or something), M/C is hired as an assistant to yours and things devolve from there

I have more that I can share if you’re interested, I just don’t wanna bog down this ad with too big of a text wall. Now that you’ve gotten this far, I’ll drop the bombshell that the pool of characters I play is pretty limited, and the ocs outweigh the canons. That being said, I can write a couple canons, but I generally prefer using ocs and I promise I can make it worth your time <3 final notes are just that I’d prefer for some nsfw elements to be present, maybe like a 60/40 ratio of plot to smut, and I’ll contact whoever likes this post to talk rp details. Happy hunting!

.

[unboundtravels]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑 | @lastsurvivor

A hum echoes out across pearly white walls, with pale yellow roundels providing light, along with a brightly organized glowing console in the center of the room. Complex arrays of buttons and controls befitting the strange ship were organized along six panels. In the console room, a man wearing baggy yellow trousers, a white dress shirt, and a maroon tweed waistcoat with blue patterns along it— quietly adjusted a blue necktie whilst he rolled up his sleeves. Quietly, he hummed, pink flamingo-colored hair tied back in a bunch whilst amber eyes surveyed the console in all its complexities. The TARDIS, she was called, a time-space vessel that soared through the cosmos— the fourth dimension was its personal highway, but she occasionally used the fifth and sixth dimensions as backroads. 

"I do like to be beside the—" Humming of the glover-kind tune halted as a beep distracted the Timelord. "—Distress signal?" He circled the console, heading over to the communications array of the TARDIS. "Ah, here we are..." He dials in on the signal, which isn't hard to discern or lock onto— "Looks like we just so happened to be passing by. Space year... 2147..." He began to pull the TARDIS out of the Time Vortex, so the ship could materialize in space near the source of the distress signal. Flicking up a switch on the console that caused a wall-mounted monitor to display the craft the TARDIS was circling, 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙤𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧's brows furrowed in mild curiosity at what he saw on the screen. 

"A commercial escape craft? Looks to be detached from a commercial vessel..." He talked aloud, recognizing specific design patterns associated with other space vessels the traveler had come across before. From a cursory glance of the vessel, The Doctor was able to tell that it was floating in a low power mode, with life signs aboard being relatively faint, and he pondered aloud, "What is it doing all the way out here, though?" Precise scans did pick up life, which prompted him to investigate, "Let's see what we can find, shall we?" Grabbing his multi-colored coat off from the coat rack, The TARDIS engines began to circulate with groaning and wheezing that indicated the ship was landing aboard the escape craft.

Materializing tightly within the frosted escape craft's interior, the POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX's door sign which read pull to open was yanked as if the door would need to be pushed open. A flashlight beam pointed outward, The Doctor sticking his head out as he observed the state of the interior. Automatically, The TARDIS had extended an air shield within the escape craft's interior. The artificial gravity circuits were still enabled, so all the TARDIS had to do was make the interior breathable. That only left The Doctor to complain about the temperature, however. "I think their heating might be on the mend." He mumbled quietly before his flashlight found the ship's main terminal. Approaching it, The Doctor used clever hands to re-enable the ship's primary computer, causing lights to activate across the terminal. Age had gotten the better of it, so The Doctor's patience was put to the test as he navigated through the ship's flight recorder.

"The Narcissus... Escape craft belonging to The Nostromo..." The Doctor's eyes read a brief report on the ship's status, as well as a list of current crewmembers. Only one name popped up, and The Doctor aimed a flashlight toward a chamber in the room. "Ah. That would be you." He looked back at the computer once more, "That distress call... You were waiting for someone to come pick you up." Without any hesitation, The Doctor entered specific commands into the computer, disengaging the cryo chamber so that whoever was inside would begin to awake. He approached it whilst it hissed quietly, kneeling to the side and aiming the flashlight in an upward direction, so that whoever would emerge would see the man clearly. 

"So... who are you...?"

[suntelecomcn]

A Simple Guide to Understanding Network Cabinet

A network cabinet plays an essential role in the data center. It is used for organizing routers, patch panels, switches, networking equipment, and accessories. Network cabinet helps improve cable management, physical security, ease of installation, etc. This article provides a simple guide to understanding network cabinets.

What is Network Cabinet?

A network cabinet is a piece of equipment used to combine installation panels, plug-ins, sub-boxes, electronic components, devices, and mechanical parts and components to form an integral installation box. It provides the perfect environment for housing and protecting network infrastructure components. It is particularly suited to the back office and commercial building infrastructure applications.

Types of Network Cabinet

Wall- Mounted Network Cabinet

A wall-mounted network cabinet is used for all rack-mounted equipment conforming to ANSI/EIA standards. It has a solid and reliable modular steel alloy frame structure for a maximum static load capacity of up to 60 KG, movable aluminum magnesium alloy equipment mounting pillars that can fit different depth equipment, multi-place with cabling passageways for various cabling requirements, and high adaptability(optional wall-mounted or ground-mounted fixing to ease meeting the installation).

 Widened Steel Alloy Network Cabinet

Widened steel alloy network cabinet is used for all rack-mounted equipment conforming to ANSI/ EIA standards. It has a solid modular alloy steel frame, a maximum static load capacity of up to 800 KG, widened cabinet structure design, is equipped with vertical cable ducts to orderly lay a large volume of cables, and movable aluminum magnesium alloy equipment mounting pillars for different depth equipment.

Outdoor Network Cabinet

An outdoor network cabinet is used for connections between cabling elements. It has heat insulation, water-proof and dust-proof performance, good corrosion resistance, and 19-inch equipment mounted.

Applications

A network cabinet is used in the copper network, FTTH access networks, telecommunication networks, CATV networks, local area networks, data centers, etc.

Things to Look Out for When Choosing a Network Cabinet 

Access: Different equipment has different access points. Therefore, your network cabinet should provide several access points for the various devices. Make sure you understand the equipment you need to store in your rank and their usage in and out. You can only determine that you require a cabinet rank that can open on the side, back, or front.

Weight: The network cabinet should not be too bulky that you cannot lift it when setting it up or in case you need to move it. However, it should be the perfect weight to hold all your equipment without collapsing due to the weight of the equipment.

 Dimensions:  It is wise to choose a rack with physical characteristics that are appropriate for you. Consider the room's square footage and the size of the equipment that will be housed inside the cabinet.

Available space: When setting it up or relocating it, the network cabinet shouldn't be so heavy that you can't lift it. It should, however, be the ideal weight to support all of your equipment without collapsing under its weight of it.

Conclusion

When you are designing a data center, deciding which network cabinet to deploy should be put in the first place. The right one that meets your installation demand can help you improve power protection, cooling, cable management, and physical security.

Sun Telecom specializes in providing one-stop total fiber optic solutions for all fiber optic application industries worldwide. We are devoted to not only meeting the need of customers but; also providing our customers with basic and in-depth knowledge about fiber optic products and solutions through articles. Contact us if you have any needs.

[petermorwood]

I'm surprised to see a How-To like this dated to the 1950s, when I'd have thought rotary dials weren't exactly new tech, but @dduane suggested It might have been because small US communities still relied on party lines and switchboards, where a number, PEnnsylvania 6-5000 for instance...

...was asked for rather than dialled personally, and actually using a dial phone might be an unfamiliar experience.

Oddly enough, this How-To doesn't actually explain how to USE the dial (on another page, probably) so here's how.

UK dial left, US dial right, operating principal the same.

Lift the earpiece or handset, put a fingertip into the appropriate numbered hole on the dial, drag it around to the finger-stop...

(ETA: the dragging went clockwise. The stop is curved on the "correct" side to meet the finger, and straight on the "wrong" one.)

...then remove the finger and let the dial rotate back to start position.

Don't force it, auto-rotation is what sends the number as a series of electrical pulses, so forcing it confuses things. (Voice of long-ago experience.)

Repeat for the remaining numbers, then speak when the call is answered. End the call by putting the earpiece / handset back in place.

*****

Aspects of outdated but still-in-memory social history fascinate me, partly because they were part of my life though now they seem to be museum exhibits, and also because various details are useful bits of info for fictional world-building.

For instance, in a small town or village it was common knowledge that the switchboard operator - not a government tapper, just a person you or your family might meet every day - could be listening to any phonecall, so sensitive subjects were avoided or worded with care.

Read on.

*****

I grew up with rotaries and the first I ever used - standing tiptoes on a chair - was one just like this wall-mounted contraption, which had been in my Grandad's grocery shop since about 1930, when his phone line was first connected.

Grandad was an earlier adopter. I've got a shop receipt stamp showing the phone number back then, which had only three digits. Numbers in the same town are now eight digits...

The "candlestick" phone (far more common in historical movies and TV dramas) had most of the same working telephone parts, but needed a table or desk to rest on and its connection box with bells mounted on a wall, whereas the wall-mount has this box built-in behind the dial and mouthpiece.

Also, since typical style of use involved two hands...

...if only to brace it on the table (they were top-heavy and could overbalance)...

...it was a lot less convenient for making notes or taking down orders.

NB an interesting little detail in that first photo - a sandglass egg-timer attached to the phone for timing calls.

*****

Writer Side-Note 1: the hooks for the earpiece have a spring. Take the earpiece off and it snaps up to make the connection, put the earpiece back and it drops down under the weight, breaking the connection.

I sometimes wonder (and should probably find out) if early phonership being higher in the US than across the Pond influenced why US light switches work the same way as the phone hook, up for on, down for off. UK / Irish ones are the opposite.

Certainly those hooks are why "pick up" means answering a call and "hang up" means ending it, even if nowadays both are done by tapping an on-screen icon.

Indeed, we still "dial" a number even though actual dials are long gone - unless they've been put back as an app, see below... :->

"Ringing off the hook" suggests a phone so busy that bits of it are jumping off - but also, that it's so busy it won't shut up even when disconnected.

In fact it would shut up if that happened, and gave rise to another phrase which nowadays has a slightly different origin and meaning.

Lifting the earpiece off its hook and putting it to one side without making a call meant anyone phoning the number would get a busy signal. Thus "off the hook" meant "can't be contacted", often with an implication of "doesn't want to be contacted."

Nowadays the phrase owes more to fishing than phones, so "off the hook" means "avoided a threat / got away" - though perhaps there's still a telephonic echo in "isn't caught". YMMV.

*****

Writer Side-Note 2: older phones didn't have a dial. Instead, lifting the earpiece made a connection (indicated AFAIK by a light) at the local "switchboard exchange", indicating that someone wanted to make a call.

The "telephonist" (usual term for working with an office network) or "operator" (usual term for working with a public network) would reply, find out which person (office) or number (public) the caller wanted to reach, and make the connection by hand.

The usual conversation went something like this:

"Hello, caller, which number do you require?"

"Mr Brandybuck's office, please," or "HOBbiton 3-5-7-9, please," or "Bywater police station, quickly!"

"Thank you, caller. One moment, please. Connecting you now... You're through."

The operator could also listen in to any conversation and, at small local exchanges where they weren't too busy and knew one or maybe both callers, they often did.

In fact and fiction this habit made them a useful source of gossip, information and evidence, and callers' awareness of it also meant that any "interesting" phonecall would be framed in guarded or oblique language which might sound a lot more suspicious than it really was.

*****

Whenever a caller in "Downton Abbey", "Peaky Blinders" or whatever rattles the hook of a phone up and down, it's because they're trying to get the operator's attention that bit faster by making the switchboard signal light blink.

Anyone who's pressed the call button on a lift several times to make it hurry up, even when that button's lit to show it's on the way, will know exactly what I mean. However, an old-style phone linked to an old-style switchboard might actually have had an effect. With lifts, not so much.

*****

Rotary phones got a lot sleeker as time went by...

...though they still had spring-loaded switches - those two little black nubbins - to open and close a connection. These too could be jiggled to "speed things up", though by this stage the exchange was usually automated so it was no more effective than prodding lift buttons.

Despite that, "picking up" and "hanging up" remained a fairly accurate description, especially with wall-mounted phones.

This style of phone, or at least their hand-set design, still provides the basis for phone icons in many / most smartphones.

*****

Rotary phones went out of style in favour of push-button designs, including cordless ones...

This carried over to mobile phones, first big...

...then not so big...

...then small, then smart and getting big again...

Smartphones also started with push-buttons before going over to touch-screens, and now what goes around comes around, with apps for those touchscreens to simulate both push-button and rotary phones.

To complete the retro experience there are (or were, anyway) vintage-phone charging docks with working handsets.

Install a rotary-dialler app in this, and it's back to the future.

Especially if there are cradle switches to jiggle so the cell connects faster...

:->

“How to Use a Dial Telephone” 1951.

[atplblog]

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