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asahicore · 1 year

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gorgeous - lhs

"you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you / and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room" - gorgeous by taylor swift

series masterlist - part one - part two - part three

prompt 45 of the 100 kisses list, "we shouldn't do this" but they do so anyway

pairing. best friend's brother!heeseung x fem!reader synopsis. Heeseung comes back from his first year of university a new man - forget nervous, fidgety, dorky Heeseung and say hello to confident, teasing, flirty Heeseung. This change of attitude doesn't help your longstanding crush on your best friend's brother, and neither does the rising tension between the two of you - a tension that is bound to explode. genre. f2l, did i mention this was a best friend's brother au?, only fluff in this part but more to come, perhaps suggestive due to tension between reader and hee and makeout session lol word count. 8.1k (yes an asahicore fic under 10k thank u very much) a/n. hi loves i'm super happy to be posting this bc its the very first fic out of the 100 kisses event and its a project im really excited about !!! i know i said like 2 days ago it'd take me a while to write this but i got super motivated over the weekend and it turned out shorter than i thought and bestie @k-ingzo zo did a super amazing job at beta reading this so i was able to post it really quickly !! anyways hope you enjoy this, pls lmk,, and hope u look forward to the rest of the series as well !! ok bye

Nine years ago

“Y/N, honey, come meet your new friends!”

You rushed down the stairs at your mom’s call - at eight, you were always excited by the idea of new friends. She’d also called Naeun down, but lately, your sister had been acting like doing anything your parents asked her would cost her her life.

There in your living room were four unfamiliar faces, but your parents were smiling warmly, so you weren’t too nervous. Instinctively, you found your mother’s side and she rested her hand on your head, bending down to talk to you.

“Y/N, these are the Lees, they’ve just moved to the neighborhood.”

“Hi,” you greeted shyly, and were met with four hi’s in return.

“Heeseung and Seeun here started going to the same school as you,” she informs, nodding her head towards the young boy and girl. Now that she said it, the boy looked really familiar. You thought you recognized him from school that day - his glasses were definitely memorable. “And Seeun is the exact same age as you!” Your face lit up at that, and her expression mirrored yours as her lips curled into a smile. “Why don’t you show her your room?”

“Sure! Come on,” you said, holding out your hand for Seeun to take. She looked back at her parents who were nodding vigorously at her to follow you. You just played for half-an-hour, and Heeseung joined you quickly, saying he was bored with the adults downstairs. He didn’t talk much, instead found some of your toys to play with in his own corner.

When the Lees left, you were thinking two things: one, you couldn’t wait to tell Chaeyeong about Seeun, and two, that boy with the big glasses was really, really cute.

Now

“Seeun, why the hell didn’t you tell us that your brother is a mega-hottie now?!”

This is what your friend Chaeyeong whisper-screams in lieu of a greeting as she barges in Seeun’s room, plopping down on her bed like it was her own. It might as well have been, considering how long the three of you had known each other.

“If you ever refer to my brother as a mega-hottie again, I’m terminating this friendship,” Seeun replies, not bothering to look up from the bead bracelet she was currently making.

“Oh please, just because you’re his sister doesn’t mean you haven’t noticed how attractive he’s gotten,” Chaeyeong insists, but it just makes Seeun scrunch her nose in disgust.

“Chaeyeong, please stop making it so obvious you’re an only child,” Seeun sighs. You let out a giggle at your friends’ conversation as you search for another color that could go well with the pink beads you’d chosen for your own bracelet.

Stealthily, Chaeyeong leaves her spot on the bed and sneaks up to you. “Y/N!” she exclaims suddenly, wrapping her arms around your shoulders in a sneak-attack hug that makes you yelp. It makes you drop your half-finished bracelet, the beads falling all over the carpeted floor around you. You look up at Chaeyeong with a pout, but she just smiles at you and starts picking up the beads, gathering the tiny pink jewels in the palm of her hand.

“Y/N, you’re with me on this one, aren’t you?”

You ignore Seeun’s side-eye and give in to Chaeyeong’s encouraging expression. “I guess he does look very…” you pause to carefully consider your word choice. “Different,” you settle on.

“Different? That’s it? Y/N, you should really consider getting some glasses, seeing how you’re so blind to hot boys.” Cue a loud groan, Seeun’s courtesy. You just giggle again, slightly shaking your head at Chaeyeong’s antics. She rolled her eyes, disappointed that you didn’t back her up, but she drops the subject and switches to Seeun’s upcoming birthday party. Something great about being generally quiet? People don’t question it when you don’t partake much in a conversation. You listen and laugh as your friends bicker, but your mind is on something else.

Or rather, it’s on someone else.

Because Chaeyeong is absolutely right - Seeun’s brother has glowed up so much during his time away at university that you had a double-take when he opened the door for you earlier.

The sentence this is so unfair plays over and over in your head.

You’d heard of the freshman fifteen, of college first-years being so stressed over grades and having so little time that their diet consisted of instant ramen, quick cafeteria lunches, and an ungodly amount of coffee. And alcohol, on Friday nights, of course. After seeing how freshman year treated your older sister, you were dreading going to college, imagining it to be the complete opposite of what TV and movies had shown you.

So how the hell had Lee Heeseung gone from high school loser to campus hearthrob in the span of a mere nine months? (After some thinking, you realized that, well, if a woman can create a whole human being in nine months, maybe a regular guy can undergo great physical and mental change in that time, too.)

In September, when you’d last seen him, he wore the same glasses he had for all of high school - those slightly crooked ones that made his eyes look even bigger than they already were. He always had to push them back up his nose but he never bothered to get them fixed, even though all they needed was for the arms to be tightened. You remember his tic-like habit of readjusting his glasses, a habit so strong that he did it even when he wasn’t wearing them. Maybe they bothered him so much that he decided to get rid of them once and for all, you guess.

Indeed, when he greeted you at his front door earlier (even after years of knowing Seeun and her family and no matter how much they reassure you that it’s okay, you’re unable to come in without knocking first, like Chaeyeong does), he wasn’t wearing his thick lenses you’d grown fond of. His eyes didn’t look unfocused like they usually would without glasses, so you assumed he’d switched to contact lenses - you knew it wasn’t Lasik surgery, because Seeun was always complaining that her parents wouldn’t pay for her or her brother to receive it.

But it wasn’t just the glasses, of course not. There was an ease and confidence about him that he didn’t have before - no awkward giggles, no darting eyes, no weirdly positioned limbs. He held the door open for you and kept his eyes on you as you walked in, saying it was nice to see you again and asking if you were happy to be done with high school. You already weren’t expecting Heeseung to open the door in Seeun’s stead, so him actually looking at you while he spoke instead of mumbling a few words in your general direction and scratching the back of his neck rendered you completely flustered, cheeks heating up embarrassingly quickly.

His hair was different: it used to sit there atop Heeseung’s head, unsure what to do with itself, but now it was purposefully cut and slightly pushed back. When he turned his head, you saw something shiny dangling from his left ear.

Heeseung had a piercing. Shy, nervous, fidgety electronics club president Heeseung had a goddamn piercing, and it looked amazing.

And then he laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh, and then ruffle your hair. You could’ve died right then and there. “You’re still just as cute as before,” he mused, beaming down at you. Then he walked away towards the living room, saying Seeun was in her room upstairs. As if nothing happened. As if you weren’t on the verge of combusting, your saving grace being your friend’s voice calling out your name. You ran up the stairs, wanting to get as far away from Heeseung and his smile and his voice and his touch as possible. You busied yourself with the pearls and the small bracelet-making station Seeun had organized, trying not to think about the vein that ran down his forearm or about how his shoulders looked wider than before. And you’d managed to do that, until Chaeyeong brought him up.

It wasn’t unfair because he’d grown mysteriously hot - it was unfair because to you, Heeseung had always been the cutest boy around, but now other people had surely noticed too, Chaeyeong amongst them. Now, you were just one of the many girls that had a crush on Heeseung, even if yours dated back to the first time you’d met him when the Lees moved into the neighborhood.

Their parents had been delighted that two girls of their daughter’s age - eight, to be precise - lived on their street. You were delighted that the cute boy you’d seen at school that day was her big brother, just one year older. Chaeyeong and you gladly welcomed Seeun into your friendship and you had each other’s back through the awkward phases of your early teenage years and the stressful times as high school seniors getting ready for college. You shared everything - clothes, jewelry, homework answers, gossip, tears, laughter. Secrets.

You liked to think there wasn’t a thing you didn’t know about them, but you couldn’t say the opposite was true - there was a secret you had to keep from them. A secret that grew bigger and bigger as time passed, but that you needed to keep locked in.

You had the biggest crush known to mankind on your best friend’s brother. It was either keep quiet or tell both of your friends; you trusted Chaeyeong, but you didn’t want her to carry that burden. You had no idea what Seeun’s reaction would be if you admitted you liked her brother, but you didn’t want to risk it. Every best friend’s brother (or brother’s best friend) romance you’d read had told you that the former was always against and deeply disgusted by the idea of their friend dating the latter. The last thing you wanted to do was make things weird, so you said nothing and suffered in silence, as one does. And so, for years, Heeseung was your little secret.

But not anymore, apparently. And it felt unfair. You didn’t have much of a chance to begin with, but now, getting with Heeseung was inimaginable. You’d just have to continue pining from far away, just as you’d gotten used to.

Four years ago

Your heart pounded as you made your way to the bus stop, steps heavy and head full of thoughts. Even though your older sister told you there’s nothing to worry about, you couldn’t help it. You were used to walking to school, not taking the bus. After three years of seeing the same people roaming the hallways, it was nerve-wracking to arrive at a place where most faces would be completely unfamiliar. You didn’t know what your teachers would be like, you were scared your classes would be a hundred times harder than before, you heard the cafeteria food was really bad. In short, you were absolutely dreading high school. And today was your first day.

The only thing that calmed you down was knowing that in a few minutes, you’d be with Seeun and Chaeyeong, and just seeing them would make you feel instantly better. You were meeting at the bus stop.

But when you reached it, neither of your friends were there. You shouldn’t have been surprised, since you’d come ten minutes early, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. That is, until you recognized someone else.

“Heeseung?” you called out before you could stop yourself. The boy snapped his head in your direction, and his eyes widened at the sight of you. Simple things like that made your heart burst with adoration for him.

“Oh, h-hi, Y/N.” He smiled the shy smile you loved so much and looked back at his feet, holding on tightly to the straps of his backpack. You stood next to him, close enough to have a conversation if he wanted to but not so close that it’d be weird.

Heeseung was the only person you felt awkward around. Even though you were on the quieter side and strangers weren’t your favorite people per se, being around people you didn’t know well wasn’t your definition of torture like it seemed to be for Heeseung and other kids from your school. But Heeseung’s awkwardness was contagious, and your crush on him didn’t help your ease of mind - so you imitated his posture, swaying back and forth on your feet as you held onto your backpack straps just to have something to hold onto. You smiled at the ground, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by looking at him, but that meant you missed the growing blush on his cheeks.

“So,” he started, “nervous?” He glanced quickly, just once, at you. You were so surprised at his breaking the silence, used to a quiet Heeseung, that you forgot to answer, simply staring at him. His panicked expression and mumblings were what jolted you out of your daze. “I-I mean, you know, cause it’s your first day and everything, and I was really nervous last year- I am today, too, actually- so I thought maybe, you know, you’re nervous too, but maybe you’re not, I don’t-”

He said all of this so quickly, you started laughing, slightly bending over. He let out a chuckle too, but as you continued laughing, a pout started to form on his lips. “What’s so funny…” you heard him grumble as he kicked a non-existent pebble.

“Sorry,” you said, regaining your breath. “I’m sorry, Heeseung.” The sound of his name made him glance at you again. You wished you could kiss the pout off his lips. “I was nervous, actually. But I feel better now.”

A quick smile appeared on his lips, but he willed it away. “I’m glad my embarrassment made you feel better,” he sighed.

You gently kicked his shoe with yours to make him look at you. “No, it’s because you made me laugh. I needed it. Thanks,” you corrected with a smile. Heeseung may have made you feel awkward, but the easiness with which he always got flustered made you love to tease him slightly.

His smile widened as he looked away once more, the blush having spread to his whole face by then. “Whatever,” he murmured. There was no time to say anything else because Seeun called out your name, practically skipping towards you.

She gave you an excited hug as a greeting before turning towards her brother with a glare, punching him hard on the bicep, making him wince in pain and reach his hand to cover his arm where she hit him. “Thanks for waiting for me, loser.”

“You were gonna make us late!” he whined, rubbing his arm.

“Yeah, ‘cause I obviously missed the bus,” she tutted.

You watched the siblings with an amused smile, used to the exact same kind of banter at home. Your sister, who was in her last year of high school, had decided not to drive you for some reason only an older sister could make up and pretend was reasonable. Your parents had tried to convince her, but you didn’t mind taking the bus with your friends, so they didn’t push it, just glad they could somehow keep the both of you happy.

Heeseung didn’t say anything in return. Your eyes met for a moment, and his frown relaxed into a smile when he caught your expression. It lasted a second but it was enough to make your stomach twist. Seeun, oblivious, grabbed your arm and started telling you about all the things she was excited about for today. You were worried Chaeyeong wasn’t going to make it, but her footsteps were loud as she ran, reaching you just as the bus stopped in front of you. Heeseung took what you soon found out was his usual spot at the front of the bus while your friends dragged you towards the back of it. You tried not to let your thoughts drift towards the boy with the messy black hair and crooked glasses, but his shy smile replayed in your mind all day. For a year, you’d gotten used to not going to the same school as him - you didn’t know how you’d survive seeing him at least five days a week once again.

Now

You were really determined to not let Heeseung’s newfound confidence sway you, physically shaking your head every time a thought of him popped in your head (useless) and racking your brain for reasons you shouldn’t like him (not many of those). There was just one teeny, tiny problem.

He was making it impossible to pine for him at a distance.

It seemed like everywhere you went, he was there. Maybe that was due to the fact that your most frequently visited place was literally his house, but still. It was frustrating. You didn’t need to be met with his stupid smile whenever he opened the door for you, you didn’t need to catch him cutely napping - how was that even possible?! - in the living room, a random sitcom still playing on the TV, you didn’t need to hear his laughter when his friends were over, and you definitely did not need to see him half-naked as he came out of the bathroom, hair wet from the shower and sticking to his forehead, towel wrapped low around his hips and his abs fully on display. Because of course, you had to be in the hallway, heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water, at the exact same time as him.

You almost start to resent the fact that Seeun had the comfiest bedroom out of the three of you, as well as the most snack-filled house, which was why you had decided years ago to hang out there the most. Especially during school breaks, you were there almost every day, so you were bound to see Heeseung a lot. But for some reason, that didn’t seem to be enough, and over the course of June, you also ran into him while shoe-shopping with your mom, then another time as you entered the public library just when he left it, and another when your friends and his had decided to get ice cream at the same time. It was like you couldn’t escape him.

The worst part? Every time he saw you, while you simultaneously wanted to run away from him and into his arms, his damnedly handsome face broke into a stupidly beautiful smile that looked far too genuine for your heart. “Y/N! Funny seeing you here!”

No, Heeseung, not funny.

You didn’t want to be that girl whose brain cells stopped working whenever she encountered an attractive male specimen, but that was apparently who you were meant to be, because all words left you when you saw Heeseung. Although you’d been somewhat flustered around him in the past, he was always much more so than you, which reassured you and gave you enough confidence to actually talk to him. But now that he had realized how handsome he was and was clearly using that newfound knowledge against you (or so you thought), you were unable to string a coherent sentence when his shiny eyes bore into yours.

You think he might’ve sensed your awkwardness, because he never lingered, never made useless small talk, just asked about your favorite ice cream flavor or the book he’d checked out, patted your head, then was on his way.

There were so many butterflies in your stomach, you were scared it might fly away.

One afternoon in the middle of July, you and your friends come back from the city pool completely exhausted after playing around for hours in the water. All bundled up and close together, you try to nap on Seeun’s bed. Keyword try, because even though your friends’ soft snores quickly start to fill the silence of the room, you can’t seem to fall asleep, no matter how heavy your eyes feel.

Quietly, you get out of bed and head downstairs to the kitchen, hoping a cold glass of water will help sleep come to you like it usually does. You shouldn’t be surprised to see Heeseung in the dining room/kitchen area, busy with a puzzle, the pieces of which he’s spread out all over the table, but your heart still does a flip. He must be really engrossed in it, because he doesn’t notice your presence in the room until you fill a glass with ice, the sudden sound making his head snap up at you. You hate that his face breaks into a grin as soon as he sees you.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! What are you doing?”

“Just getting some water,” you explain, raising your glass with a small smile. Your whole body tells you to run away, back to Seeun’s bedroom, but something in your gut tells you to stay, to get closer to Heeseung. So you do. “What about you?” you ask, slowly making your way towards the table and peering at the puzzle in progress.

“Just whipping up some brownies,” he retorts with a devilish smirk, big eyes looking up at you.

You fight back a smile in vain. “Shut up,” you mumble, but take a seat next to him anyway. He seems slightly taken aback by the sudden proximity, and you are too, but you keep your gaze focused on the puzzle in front of you so that you can’t think too much about how close you’re sitting, and how your knees could touch if you angled them just so.

For a small while you sit in silence, watching as he puts pieces together and even finding a couple of your own. It’s a one-thousand piece jigsaw that he’s clearly only just started, but Heeseung doesn’t seem fazed by that. You like seeing how his eyebrows slightly furrow when he’s searching for a particular piece, and the pleased smirk that graces his lips when he finds it. You break the silence after a few minutes.

“So you still like puzzles, then?” you ask, voice low. You’ve always been told you speak quietly - even too quietly sometimes, but you can’t always help it. Especially in situations like this, when it’s silent around you anyways, you don’t see the point of raising your voice. When Heeseung replies, he speaks at the same volume as you, and there’s something comforting about it, about speaking quietly in such a spacious and sunlit room - the words you share are for you two, and you two only.

“Yep, ever since that day.” He glances quickly at you and smiles at the piece in his hand, and it’s like getting a glimpse of the Heeseung you had known all those years. Your heart warms at the sight.

“That day?”

This makes him look properly at you, his eyes darting back and forth between yours as if searching for something there. Your heart is now on fire. “Don’t you remember?”

You tilt your head in response and he turns his attention back to the puzzle. “It was at this table, too. I think your grandparents- your grandma, I think? Anyway, someone had gotten you a puzzle for your birthday.”

You ‘ah’ in realization. “Of course!”

Two years ago

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this, it’s so complicated,” Seeun pouted apologetically, looking at you sadly. “We’ve been here like an hour and we’ve barely gotten anywhere.”

Chaeyeong, head on the table, groaned in agreement. You followed your friend’s gaze to the puzzle in front of you - she was right, you hadn’t made much progress. But you liked it. The picture was pretty and you’d like to see it completed, but more than that, you liked finding the right piece, figuring out strategies.

You hummed, mirroring Seeun’s pout. Chaeyeong snapped her head back up to look at you. You’d think she hadn’t slept in days, but that was just bored Chaeyeong. You loved your friend and her over-dramatic antics. “Can we just take a break?” she asked, tone like you’d kidnapped and forced her to do this.

“You guys go ahead.” You smiled. “I like it, I can just continue this for a while and you guys do whatever you want.” The three of you spent so much time together that you didn’t need to be doing an activity together to be happy - being in each other’s general vicinity was enough to be considered a hang-out.

“You sure?” Seeun asked.

“Yeah, ‘course.” You chuckled at the obvious relief on your friend’s faces. “Just don’t watch the next Extraordinary You episode without me, okay?”

They both gasped and clutched their hearts like you’d accused them of murder. “How could you even think that, Y/N?!” Chaeyeong exclaimed.

“We would never!” Seeun added.

You shook your head at your friends’ antics, laughing as you waved them off. “Just go, already.”

“Yes, ma’am!” And with that, they were off, running up the stairs to Seeun’s bedroom.

You were only on your own for around ten minutes - the front door opened and closed, and the quiet shuffle of shoes being taken off and replaced with slippers let you know Heeseung had just come home. Seeun always made a show of being exhausted after school, groaning as she threw her backpack to the ground, while Mr and Mrs Lee always announced their arrival with a sometimes cheery, sometimes tired ‘I’m home!’. But Heeseung, quiet as always, simply set his backpack next to the stairs, slipped into his slippers and made his way to the kitchen, fond of a quick snack after school. Even Chaeyeong made herself more known when she entered the Lee household.

Every day except for Fridays, he came home two hours later than his sister because of either magic or electronics club (yes, magic club. It was cute, okay?!). You always looked forward to the monthly meeting of the book club you were in, partly because it meant you could take the bus back with Heeseung afterwards. Even if the ride was usually mainly silent, just sitting next to him was enough for your heart to do all sorts of tricks worthy of an Olympic gymnast.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he greeted softly, probably surprised at seeing you alone at the dinner table.

“Hi, Heeseung. How was the electronics club?” You wanted to make conversation, but you winced immediately at your words - was it normal for you to know what club he had on what days?

But Heeseung seemed to pay it no mind, just smiling shyly, a blush already creeping on his cheeks. “It was nice, thanks.” He opened the fridge, taking out a carton of milk. “Do you want a glass?” When you didn’t respond immediately, he was quick to add, “Of milk? O-or orange juice? Or I can make some tea, if you want-”

His hands were already busy with preparing whatever drink he thought you might want. You held back a chuckle and smiled as you answered, “Milk is fine, thanks.”

His blush spread all the way down his neck and you turned your attention back to the puzzle so he wouldn’t see your grin. “Right, milk. Milk,” he stammered, then got two glasses out of the cupboard.

You loved moments like these with Heeseung - flustered, light-hearted, slightly awkward, moments that made you want to giggle out of nerves and delight. Basically every moment with him was like this, so it’d be more accurate to say you loved every moment with him.

“I didn’t know you liked puzzles,” he said, an upward tilt to his voice, as he set your glass next to you and took a seat across from you. He peered down at the pieces spread out in front of you, fixed his glasses on his nose, and took a big gulp of milk.

“I didn’t either,” you said with a chuckle, and stammered out an explanation when he looked up at you questioningly. “My, um, my grandma gave this to me for my birthday last month. She’s got a lot of grandkids, you know, and I think she might’ve mixed up my other cousin who likes puzzles and me…” Heeseung nods slowly, the corners of his lips tugging up in amusement. “But I don’t mind it,” you add, “I’m having fun, actually. Seeun and Chaeyeong are of a different mind, though. It’s a bit hard doing it on my own but I like it anyway.”

“I can help you,” he suddenly blurted out, and he looked just as surprised at his words as you were. “If you want.”

You smiled at him, and Heeseung and you actually looked at each other, actually held eye contact for three seconds, until you felt your face burn and had to look away. “Sure, yeah, that’d be nice.”

Although it took some time to finish the puzzle - putting 500 pieces together was a lot trickier than you thought it’d be - Heeseung and you managed to do it, high fiving celebratorily after almost two hours of hard work.

Now

“I just had a lot of fun that day.” Heeseung shrugs. “Plus, I already liked things like Legos and Rubik’s cubes, so it made sense I’d like puzzles, too.”

You nod in response, watching as he twirls a puzzle piece between his thumb and middle finger. “It’s funny that my grandma’s mistake is what made you discover your love for puzzles.”

Heeseung chuckles along with you, and you’re relieved the atmosphere is somewhat lighter than before until he looks straight into your eyes, locking your gaze in his own, and a breath gets trapped in your throat. “I’m glad she did that, otherwise we wouldn’t be here right now.”

You’re still staring at him, dumbfounded, mouth agape, when he looks away with a smirk and turns his attention back to the puzzle, analyzing it seriously as if nothing happened. You come back to your senses after a few seconds, clearing your throat before imitating Heeseung and trying to focus on the puzzle once again. But that’s hard to do when your hands brush ever-so-slightly every time you fumble around the pile for a particular piece, or every time he hits your knee with his, inadvertently or to tease you, you’re not sure.

The first thing to do when starting a puzzle is looking for all the side pieces to build the frame. When Heeseung spots one in the pile next to you, he leans in to grab it, and he’s suddenly close enough for you to get a whiff of his cologne that had faded over the day. You think he’ll just take the piece and sit back in his seat, but instead, he turns his head towards you, and that’s when you realize just how close you are. Close enough that it wouldn’t be hard to close the gap and have your lips on his - just as the thought hits you, his eyes drift down to your parted lips. Is he thinking the same thing?

You take a sharp breath in, eyes fixed on Heeseung, mind racing with thoughts and assumptions of what might be going through his head right now. But your brain goes haywire when a smirk blooms on his lips, clearly enjoying your reaction. His gaze finds your eyes once more and he raises the piece between the two of you, in the small space that separates you. “Got it,” he says quietly, voice lower than usual. It makes your insides melt. He could be very well talking about you - he’s got you absolutely wrapped around his finger, and he seems to know it.

He turns back to the puzzle, smirk still on his lips, and you’re so embarrassed and confused that your flight instinct kicks in. The screech of your chair as you push it back and stand up makes Heeseung look up at you again, his smirk having dissolved in surprise and - disappointment?

No time to ponder, you need to get. out. of. here.

“Right, well, that was fun, haha,” you breathe out, actually saying the word ‘haha’ and wanting to run away even more thereafter. “I should probably head back to the girls, now.” You’re already backing up and walking away when Heeseung calls out your name, but you just turn around and rush back upstairs, yelling out a small “bye, Heeseung!” on your way.

You’re already back in Seeun’s bedroom when Heeseung shakes his head at your sudden disappearance, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Cute,” he says under his breath.

To minimize any chances of running into Heeseung, over the next two weeks, you ask Chaeyeong and Seeun if you could hang out at your house more often, using the excuse that you want to spend as much time as possible there before leaving off to college. They don’t question it too much - next year, they’ll be able to come back fairly regularly to their parent’s houses, since the college they’re going to is less than an hour-long car ride away, but you’ll be further away, too far to come back home often.

It just so happens to be the university Heeseung is studying at, but you don’t need to worry about that right now. They had one of the best English Lit programs in your area and you’d been wanting to go there for all of your high school years - you used to think of Heeseung’s going there as a pro, but right now, it felt more like a con.

You manage to only run into him twice over the course of those two weeks, and both times, just in passing. But now it’s the night of Seeun’s birthday party and it’s impossible to pretend he isn’t there even when you’re in a crowded room together. Heeseung and Seeun’s parents have lended their house for their kids to have a party there, using it as an opportunity to have a date night, and Heeseung and his friends have graciously provided a big portion of the alcohol, saying it was their birthday gift.

You aren’t the biggest fan of alcohol, so you opt for the fruitier, lighter drinks, but still, two hours after the party starts, you can already feel your head start to spin, your voice is louder, everything makes you laugh. When a friend from school tells you they’re playing seven minutes in heaven in the hallway upstairs, you think that's the funniest thing you’ve ever heard and immediately agree to join.

The sight of Heeseung sitting in the circle, already looking at you with a lopsided smile, almost sobers you up completely.

You’d tried to avoid him as best as you could, but it was like you couldn’t escape him - maybe that was due to the fact that the heart of the party was kept to the kitchen and the living room, just a few people sitting on the stairs at the entrance to get away from the noise, but still, it annoyed you to no end that you had to keep seeing him everywhere. Maybe that was also what made the alcohol easier to down.

At some point, you were in the kitchen, doing a shot of God-knows-what with girls from school. You heard his voice before you saw him, and it made you roll your eyes but also your heart skip a beat. “Didn’t know you were such a drinker, Y/N.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, and when his face came into view, you wanted to slap it away. Or kiss it away, maybe.

“I’m not, I’m just trying to have fun,” you retorted, eyebrows slightly furrowed as you poured yourself another shot. I Gotta Feeling by Black Eyed Peas started playing in the next room and the girls shrieked before rushing to the made-up dancefloor. You wanted to join them, but something kept your feet firmly planted at the kitchen counter.

Before you could bring the shot glass to your lips, however, Heeseung stole it from you and downed it himself. “Hey!” you protested, but it was done, and he was scrunching his nose at the bitter taste, shaking his head. You wished he could stop being attractive for one damn second.

“You don’t need that to have fun.”

He placed his forearms on the kitchen counter and leaned on them, forcing him to look up at you. You had no idea what the hell he meant by that, nor did you want to try and figure it out - all you knew was that you couldn’t stay there with him when he looked at you so intently, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, hair perfectly disheveled and biceps apparent even under his t-shirt sleeves.

“You’re right, I don’t,” you made yourself say, and spun on your heels to join your friends on the dancefloor.

And a few drinks later, here you are, sitting in a circle on the hallway floor, Heeseung right in front of you, leaning back on his palms and looking down at you with that same stupid smirk once again.

The game goes as such: one person spins the bottle twice, and the people it lands on have to go to a bedroom closet for seven minutes (timed carefully by Jake, Heeseung’s friend who is taking this game very seriously) to do whatever they want, while the others occupy themselves with other games. When the seven minutes are up, the doors burst open, and you have to leave the closet.

And because it wouldn’t be any fun otherwise, after a few rounds, the bottle points straight at you, then straight at Heeseung, and before you know it, everyone except for Seeun is cheering, and Heeseung is holding out his hand for you to take, and you do, and he raises you up, and together, you head to his closet, as per the rules of this stupid middle-school game you should never have agreed to play in the first place. You can barely Seeun’s voice as she shouts, “Y/N, I trust you!”, which just makes Chaeyeong burst into laughter and whoop louder for you. You’d also barely registered Heeseung’s friends clapping each other’s backs, smiling like they were in on something.

The sound of the closet door shutting is what snaps you out of your daze. You hadn’t even realized Heeseung had kept your hand in his until he released it, leaning his back against one wall of the closet, facing you. All three bedrooms in the Lees’ house had built-in walk-in closets which meant you weren’t sandwiched between Heeseung and his clothes, but still, you wished you could put more distance between your two bodies - one step closer, and you were done for.

It wasn’t just Heeseung’s presence in the narrow space - it was his scent filling your nostrils, the combined smell of the cologne he was wearing, of the fabric softener on his clothes, and an unfamiliar scent you somehow recognized as unique to Heeseung, his skin, his hair, smells you’d wanted to discover for years but never got close enough to. Well, now you did. And it was intoxicating - you wanted more, wanted to bury your face in the crook of his neck and inhale. You wanted to know what his reaction would be, if he’d let you, if he’d push you away.

All those thoughts were running wild in your head. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. Your stomach was in messy knots, your hands were sweaty and you had no idea where to place them, your eyes wouldn’t stop darting around the dark room. Everywhere but Heeseung. You could feel his eyes on you, but you were too nervous to meet them.

Your breathing must’ve gotten loud enough for him to hear, because all of a sudden, you feel his hand take yours, and he’s stood up from his position against the wall, his body too close to yours for your heart to handle. His thumb rubs what he must think are comforting semi-circles on the back of your hand, but the touch just destroys any capability of thinking straight you had left.

“Y/N,” he calls out, and the sound of his voice makes your eyes close shut. You cannot give in. You had seen Seeun’s disgusted expression when you and Heeseung were picked for the game - if just the idea of you and her brother kissing repulses her, what would she say if she knew it actually happened, or if you started dating? You may have the biggest crush ever on Heeseung, but no one was worth losing your friendship with Seeun.

“Calm down,” he says, and you wish you could be as steady as his voice. “There’s no reason to be nervous.”

This makes you scoff. “You touching me is not helping my nervousness.” The words are out before you can stop them, and in the darkness of the room, you have to concentrate to make out the tilt of Heeseung’s head. You don’t need to see it to know he’s smiling, the satisfied smirk that has been gracing his features for the past month and a half.

“Yeah? Why is that?”

You take your hand out of Heeseung’s and cross your arms over your chest. “You know why,” you say, not intending your voice to come out as weak as it does.

Heeseung takes another step closer to you, and the only ray of light that comes through the panels of the closet door hits his face, making it visible for you to see. “I do, but I want you to tell me.” Another step, making you back up until you hit the wall behind you.

You call out his name shakily. His lips are right in front of you at this point, and you can’t not look at them.

He places a hand delicately on your waist, as if not wanting to scare you off. “Yeah?” He’s so close now that you can feel his breath fanning on your lips.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you say, and finally, your voice is strong like you want it to - but Heeseung isn’t deterred by it.

“Do what?” he asks, pretending to be stupid. “We haven’t done anything. Not yet.” He adds the last part in a whisper, his eyes drifting down to your lips, and you can feel your resolve crumbling piece by piece, the opposite of completing a puzzle.

“You know what I’m talking about,” you whisper back, voice almost pleading with him. Stop this before it’s too late, you want to tell him, but for some reason, at this point, you’re more scared of nothing happening than something happening.

“I do, but I want you to tell me,” he repeats, and you can’t help but let out a chuckle. Laughing helps relieve the tension, but it’s back as quickly as it left when his hold on your waist gets tighter, bringing you closer to him. Your hands that had fallen to your side come up to grab the sides of his t-shirt, gathering the fabric in your fists. There’s no going back now, you can tell - you wait for Heeseung to make a move, both dreading it and craving the relief that will come with it.

Heeseung’s free hand comes up to your face, and he traces your jawline with a knuckle before taking your chin in two of his fingers, gently raising it so that your face is angled up towards him. His touch makes your skin burn and takes away your ability to breathe properly.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you repeat, voice barely audible, a weak and half-hearted attempt at stopping this now that you still can.

“No, we shouldn’t,” he agrees, and before you can say or do anything else, Heeseung presses his lips to yours, finally, finally.

His lips are just as soft as you’d expected them to be, and the kiss is light, slow, careful. You’re grateful for it, because you’re not a very experienced kisser - if Heeseung had plunged his tongue directly into your mouth, you wouldn’t have known what to do. It’s almost like he knows this, like he’s giving you time to figure it out, to get used to it. His hand snakes its way to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him, while the other cups your cheek with his palm. You, on the other hand, have completely forgotten about your hands, only able to focus on where your lips meet.

It’s easy to fall into Heeseung’s rhythm, to let him take control of the kiss. But maybe it’s too easy, because soon enough, you start to want more - as amazing as this is right now, a slow kiss like this is not enough to have dissolved the tension in your body. You remember your hands and inch them up to his hair, your fingers finding purchase there and slightly pulling as you open your mouth just a bit wider, hoping Heeseung will get the message.

For a second, you think you’ve got it all wrong - Heeseung pulls back an inch, peering down at you. You’re both breathing heavily, and you’re scared you might have gone too far. But then, he murmurs a small fuck under his breath, and just like that, his lips are back on yours, your back is pressed against the wall again, his body encaging your smaller one. The kiss now is nothing like it was seconds ago - it’s turned hungry, hot, messy. You love it.

You had no idea you would want to kiss Heeseung like this, but now that you were doing it, you couldn’t get enough. The intensity with which he held you, the feel of his tongue against yours, the small groans that escaped his lips every time you pulled on his hair, it was all making you more drunk than the alcohol had.

You swear you haven’t even been kissing for two minutes, but then, all of a sudden, the doors are snapped open, and light pours in the closet, and Heeseung’s lips aren’t on yours anymore. You hadn’t heard the timer go off, too engrossed in Heeseung to pay anything else any mind. When you turn your head, Chaeyeong and Jake are staring at you and Heeseung, mouths wide open and eyes darting back and forth between the two of you.

“Oh. My. God,” Chaeyeong says, while Jake starts laughing. A shy smile appears on Heeseung’s lips, even plumper and pinker than usual from your kiss. His hair is a mess, and you’re sure you don’t look too different. He scratches the back of his neck, and you can’t believe this sheepish boy is the same that was kissing you roughly not a minute ago.

“Chaeyeong,” you cry out, voice already pleading as you take a step out of the closet and take both of her hands in yours. “Seeun can’t know about this.” She raises her eyebrows in surprise but nods her head in agreement, and you’ve never been so thankful for your friend as now.

“Would she really mind?” Jake asks, looking at you, then at his friend. You turn to look at Heeseung behind you, who purses his lips.

“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling she would… She’s always told me she didn't want me hanging out with her friends,” Heeseung says, and you and Chaeyeong exchange a look; this was news to both of you.

You have no further time to discuss it, however, because Seeun’s voice calling out your name and Heeseung’s make all four of you widen your eyes. Chaeyeong fixes your clothes and hair as best as she can, then smiles at you reassuringly and nods, prompting you to imitate her. She ushers Heeseung into his bathroom and tells him to “freshen up or whatever,” and you, Jake and Chaeyeong leave the room just as Seeun reaches the door.

“Where’s Heeseung?” she asks, not a trace of suspicion in her voice, peering behind you into her brother’s dark room.

“Just needed the toilet,” Jake answers quickly, and that seems to convince her.

She turns to you, an amused expression on her face. “Hope that wasn’t too awkward.”

You’re so surprised at your friend’s quickness to assume that nothing could happen between you and her brother, as if the idea was truly unfathomable to her, but you figure it’s for the best. You all head back into the party, Heeseung appearing some five minutes later. He scans the room for you, and when you make eye contact from across the crowded living room, he smiles, his shy, genuine smile that you’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

You already miss him, you realize, his lips, his touch, his scent. That’s how you know that you’re in deep, deep shit.

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#enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #enhypen scenarios #heeseung scenarios #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung fanfiction #enhypen imagines #heeseung imagines

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mahiiimahiiii · 3 months

Text

the less i know the better

Cw/: hurt & comfort, sloppy “I’m sorry for being rude” sex, service top gale, body image issues, shapeshifters and enchanters have some things to discuss, multiple orgasms, some crying, taking care of each other, piv, durges previous encounters, mentions of durges necrophilia, gortash ruins relationships like no one’s business, mentions of squirting and intense orgasms, durge is in they feels.

a/n: i would like to have a big bath, like swimming pool sized. we didn't get a beach or bathhouse episode so i took it upon myself.

what do we want??? Service top gale!!! When do we want it?? At a decent time!!!! I’m pretty sure I pinched my shoulder at the gym and it stingssss. Please play the world’s tiniest violin in my honor. I love bathhouse scenes, so I hope y’all enjoy this one.

(durge is a wood elf storm sorcerer, once again they are brown with loose curls at chin length hair)

(read on a03 or below the cut!)

(if you like what i write- please consider donating to my ko-fi!)

“You could’ve told me that one of your alias’s was lady gortash sooner.” Gale’s voice soured slightly, as you shuffled back into the tiled specialty changing room. You dispelled a few things, taking a few shuddering breaths.

“How was I supposed to know.” Your steps are a bit shorter as you step out of your boots. Hair once silver returning to a charcoal black. The crimson left its stain on your eyes, its color pulsing with every anxious heartbeat.

“You didn’t know what? You’d think something as important as being spoken for would be remembered.” His back turned to you as he worked on un-buttoning his robe, the stiff white collar of his shirt slowly revealed.

you held your head in your hands, rubbing the khol around your eyes. Your previously too perfect features dissipating, revealing the molted and decaying flesh underneath. As you stared at your own face in the mirror, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, you blinked them back. “It’s not…it never was like that.” Your voice warbled more than you thought it would. The reflection that stared back at you in the large vanity mirror looked pitiful.

“Oh.” His tone softened, “Avi…I didn’t mean to push.” He turned around, hesitant to approach. His eyes were round pools of emotion. Your ears twitch at the sound of your own chosen name, one gale insisted you find- he qualified his nagging on saying ‘the dark urge isn’t a great name for such a gorgeous person.’

“I didn’t know it would hurt this much, I felt… a stinging loss when I saw him. It got worse, when I got called that. Urgh- I don’t like this very much. Feeling like this. Unhappy.” Tears began to roll down your cheeks staining your skin with dark burgundy and black smears. You wiped them on your robe’s sleeves, setting your head in your hands again.

He placed a warm hand on your back, rubbing small circles.

“It��s ok to cry, I do it a lot.” He chuckled softly, kissing the crown of your head. He inhaled your hair’s scent, draping himself over you. A few tears trailed down your cheeks, you buried your head into your arms.

“You must think me weak.” The steaks of enchanted silver that danced in your hair faded into deep brown. Your ears shortened their length not as elegant, bones popped and reshaped, freckles and moles began to fade onto your skin. Scars, and marks and all. Your hair returned, short curly and shaggy, you looked now like a typical wood elf. What you were bred to be. Unremarkable.

“Not at all really…” he curled a strand of hair behind your twitching ear, the pads of his finger ghosting the fragile flesh. “Let me embrace you fully, it’s what you deserve.” His breath brushed against your ears; your skin itched under his touch. “It’s my apology.” His voice was light, “to show… my devotion to you.”

“You needn’t do any of that.” You chided, pushing in the chair, your robes hung off of you slightly. “I don’t wish to become another idolization, I’m but a mere mortal.”

“Nothing but mere, and anything but mortal.” He twirled a curl of yours, fingers braided in your hair. He cups your chin, tilting his head his pupils wide. His lips curled up into an easy smile. “You are mine, despite having… a rather unfortunate birth parent.” He giggled. He led you to the chair that draped his clothes, you curled up, embraced by his cloaks scent. He unlaced his sleeves, and the side of his shirt, finally tossing it at your head. You tucked it behind your head, watching his nimble hands remove his taught pants, the golden buttons glinting in the light. He stepped out of them, his calves flexing as he moved. It left him in his bloomers, which shimmered and crackled with weave. You had seen him in this state of undress multiple times before, every time it felt like the first, a breath of fresh air, an embrace, an urge much sweeter than the ones embedded in your flesh and crawled along your spine. He hummed, unlacing his underwear, again throwing them at your head. Should you be gross? You held it to your nose and inhaled, a rumble rising through your chest. a sound akin to a moan rose from gale’s throat. They smelt of sweat, ozone, and rosemary oil.

Of course, he applied rosemary oil to his crotch. He stretched, bending over as his bones stretched under his skin. “Come, sit up. Let me help you.” You followed his command, he worked diligently to unlace the corset that held your robes together. “I do rather like this look on you. Plum is such a becoming color.” His lips tickled your neck as he placed a knee fearfully close to your slowly heating core. “You look gorgeous, like this.” He kissed a mole on your cheek and another on your forehead; “much better than pretending to be something your not.” He removed the corset with ease,

his fingers hooking under your robe. He wiggled it over your head, a similar wrap shirt that he wore clad your shoulders. He sharply inhaled at the realization that that you didn’t wear your usual camisole underneath. Your breast peaks and nipples erect. “Oh, my love, what you do to me.” He kissed up your chin to the corner of your mouth, his hands slipping to the sides of your shirt to loosen the wrap.

You exhaled, leaning into his touch. Perhaps this was the one person able to make your urges feel at bay, to feel safe. A thought creeped into the back of your mushy skull, what if he wasn’t. The easy smile the lord held, his posture- warm and inviting. The sweetness he held in his eyes, how his hand caressed your shoulders, fell at your hips and drew you in. You could taste him, you could remember his scent, embedded in every primal part of your head. He smelt deeper than gale, whiskey and crude oil, musk and amber. Your skin itched to taste his sweat, and the coppery tang your tongue knew so well. to trace the bites of the blade along his hips and stomach, the almond scented paint that clung to your hair. The clench of his thighs along your shoulders. You felt disgusting, fantasizing about another man’s touch in the presence of the one you loved.

“Gale- stop for a second.” You noted a flash of concern in his eye, he knelt back down again, tilting his head in a silent question. Tears budded again, as you held your head in your hands. “I am ashamed. I can’t… I’m terrified of my own thoughts. Flashes I see the lord, in the way I see you now. He will not leave, be gentler- and diligent” you paused trying to think how to phrase it. “To possibly… take my mind off things.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, “perhaps we should establish something, and you’re sweet for saying that. I’m glad you felt safe enough to tell me.” He sat back on his haunches. “Perhaps… the shower will help? Ill leave you to finish undressing if you feel uncomfortable.” He squeezed your shoulders, kissing your forehead. “I’ll depart for now then. Come join me when you feel ready.” His movements were fluid, hands drawing a sharp sigh from your lips. He left through the open doorway into the showers. His nails scratched against the doorway; your core ached immaculately. You finished off his work, the dark plum verses bright magenta robes draped against each other on the chair. You felt oddly exposed without your enchanted spells guarding you, waddling into the cedar and teakwood showers you felt more at peace. Gale was nowhere to be seen, but a satisfied groan emanated from the bright hallway ahead. You settled down on the stool testing the water on your hand before handling the wand. The water smooth and warm against your skin. The soaps and skin serums to remove dirt and dead skin smelt herbal. Tonics infused with healing potions, an intriguing way to go about things. You scrubbed your skin until it was red and raw, you felt clean but not clean enough. You sat in the steam of

the water for a moment, debating on continuing forward. You decided too, the warmth of the light and the pools beyond beckoning you forward.

The light was blinding once stepping out the hallway, plants and fauna lined the tiles surrounding the baths, a plush bed with towels and robes on top of it. a table next to it and a patterned robe with tassels. Candles, sherry and crystal goblets, candies and small sandwiches, a platter with fresh fruits and perfumes, and bottles that shone like gems. Gortash really pulled the full 9 yards. Towered over the bath, curiously was a statue of Mystra, her gaze focused on the bath itself, arms outstretched in a surrounding gesture, the sun perfectly framed around her head. It was almost reminiscent of a greenhouse. Gales head peaks between the waves of foam. He floated upwards, paddling to the side of the bath to grip the edge and prop his head in his arms.

“Feeling better?” he beamed, rose petals and violets clung to his hair, they floated on the surface of the foam. You walked towards the steps, dipping your toe in carefully. It was a wonderful temperature.

“a little.” You hum, lowering your weary limbs in the water. “it’s a little unnerving to have a statue of my partner’s ex staring at my naked form. I feel judged.”

“Often statues of Mystra are depicted with her eyes closed…” he swam closer to you, “I am... uncertain why this one is open, perhaps its just another god that looks similar.”

“Let us hope it’s just that.” You settled on a side edge seat, the sun a warm lazy glow on your skin, a warm and floral breeze churned the air. He almost seated himself in your lap, his head tucked into the alcove of your neck, his face a mottled pink from the hot water. His eyes laid shut; his breath warm against your chin. You leaned your head against the tile, allowing him the access to fully intwine with your limbs. You began to become drowsy, tapping his shoulder you escorted him to the bed, comfortably placed within a warm sunbeam.

You both curled up again like lizards on a hot rock. An overwhelming sense of contented sleepiness taking hold of you. Your dreams, or what you could call them flitted with the same images of the man, contented to a stretch within your core- they filled you with bliss. His voice moved against your senses like molasses, crashing wave after wave as his blunt nails dug into his skin. He smelt of crude oil again, wearing a black undershirt underneath his overalls that hung off the dips of his hips, the pale skin contrasted with dark moles on the edges of his thighs. His

nose was buried in your neck, one of his hands covering your mouth and nose the scent of gasoline making you lightheaded.

Keep quiet his voice hissed in your recesses, you bit down on his hand, drooling onto his fingers like a fool. Another snap of his hip’s heaven sent to your core.

He suggested a bath after making a mess of your temple attire, his warm hands scratched your scalp in the cool night of the moon.

His poor bhaalist, his assassin, right hand to the tyrant, his.

You slept on the cool bed curled up on his chest, nose crested his sternum listening to his sighs and mumbling as he slept.

But that was under the moon, you lived in the sun now,

You stretched your legs out a pinging pain setting off in your calf. he muttered, adjusting his body to snuggle closer. His legs intertwined with yours, a throbbing heat coming from his crotch, you could feel the weight on your thigh- a gentle twitch now ang again.

“Gale- “you whisper.

“Mmph.” Was his plain response, rolling over to face you, his eyes closed shut. He had a slow and easy smile on his lips. Rain began to patter on the big glass roof, the vibration of the droplets making small ripples and rivulets from the puddles that gathered. You traced the curve of his chest, your fingers knitted through the hair on his skin.

“Do you love me, gale.”

An eye snapped open. He began to laugh, loud and throaty his cheeks pink. “what a silly question!” His tone changed, one more serious and concerned. “Is something troubling you? A thought deeming you not worthy of my affections?” He raised his brow.

“More memories.” You rub your eyes, “the lord permeates most of them, I feel… disgusting to say the least.”

“it’s not your fault- “he rubs your shoulder, his fingers tracing the soft scars from your flaying. “You had no memory, and frankly that was previous- you don’t mind my discussion of Mystra, so I won’t mind your discussion of… gortash.” He pauses, chewing his inner cheek. “Tell me about him, little love.” You were the one to pause, closing your eyes, searching for the best recollection. “His skin was warm, for once. It made an aching difference in my heart. The only flesh I’ve touched was to consume, or in an act of kill. This was even not to say- that those I’ve killed were simply safe in death. I’ve rutted against and filled with- the same cooled flesh. Malleable,

stiff to the touch. Cold.” You shiver out of instinct. “He liked how I looked without the glamor; he said I was beautiful. He told me I was pretty.” A tear pricks at your eye, you warbled slightly continuing your thought. “no one has told me that before. A part of me felt- that glamor was the only way to command respect. Who would respect the most common creature? Not gifted with power and strength like Sarveok, or fantastic shape changing like Orin. A part of me thinks he’s lying, as is his nature. But Enver- Gortash, I know he was hurting too. It makes it worse, those shared moments we had.”

“You were gifted with plenty more than your family ever will have. Orin isn’t the least bit as beautiful, in my frank opinion. I never liked the silver hair on you, clashes too much with your eyes.” He cups your chin, his thumb stroking absently at the sides of his chin.

“Tell me how I look then, in this form.” You plead softly.

He sighs dreamily before beginning. “What I see is a witty and intelligent person. their skin dotted with freckles like the night sky. A mole on the most kissable spots on their face. Pretty and rosy cheeks, greater in hue than any in a garden. A voice like a ringing bell, or the clink of a crystal goblet filled with wine. Their skin as brown as a deep butterscotch, its taste smoother than any whiskey. Don’t get me started on your scent- “

You giggle, kissing his lips sweetly. “No- do, I’m enjoying it.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, “oh I will, but if you insist…” he kisses your nose, rolling you onto your back, your thighs seated on his low hips. He bent down adding kisses as emphasis with his words. “you’ve always smelt like the weave- fresh and bright like citrus fruits.”

“Must be the oranges I eat for breakfast.”

“Oh, hush you- “he kisses you, his hands wrapping into your long curly locks. His lips trail down your chin to your neck, he inhaled deeply. “One thing I do not like is your adult name you chose, with your 50 years of living and you chose ‘Avrice.’”

“It sounds nice- “you insisted. You were 50, which was around late 20’s early 30’s for a human.

“My sweetest love- do you know what ‘Avrice’ means.” He asked within your neck, to this you shrug. He snorts within your skin, placing small kisses on the alcove of your neck. “It means greed.”

“Explains a lot. I’m certainly greedy for your affections. I’m greedy to not be known as just-another-bhaalspawn. I am more than bountiful in company- I lust after all that life has to offer.”

he laughed again, his voice like the warm roar of the hearth, “indeed you are my love, indeed you are.”

“Can I try… something else, I’m in the mood, I think.” He hummed; his gaze soft.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” You replied sarcastically, shifting your thigh up. The pressure earned a soft groan from him.

“You know how I don’t last as long as you? I have a small idea on that end. Perhaps I start you off sooner, if that makes sense.”

“I’d be up for it- as long as you are gentle.”

He hummed again, this time in acknowledgement. His movements were slow, deliberate. A quick cast of buzzing mage hand, which busied itself on uncorking a bottle of oil. It scooped some of the liquid out spreading the lubricant out on its fingers. The oil smelt of jasmine and tropical flowers. He helped your legs into a bent position before seating himself on your waist, you felt one of the soft buzzing digits braces against your opening. Gale cupped your cheek bowing over for a kiss, his hands reminded you of the branches of a willow tree. His hips gently rocked against your torso, a slow and satisfied grunt drawing from his lips. He kissed you again, showing a devotion to the way your lips felt on his. Then you felt it, a soft buzz underneath a bulb of spongey tissue, the incorporeal hand must’ve entered quite easily into you for you not to notice. The thumb of the spell pressed against your clit, enveloping around it slightly. A warm heat spread steadily to your core, not enough to be considered stereotypically pleasurable, but quite lovely, nonetheless.

You wound an arm around him, your hand rooting itself in his curls as his thighs and calves spilt off your body onto the sheet below. He smiled between kisses, wanting your other arm around him. His beard scratched at your skin in a nice way. Your hands navigated to his hips, letting out a low gurgle when one of the fingers drew circles inside of you. He chuckles lightly as your hip bones tap his stomach. You felt it fleetingly, a little burst of flame that made your chest tighten. How quick was that? He could tell too, a peck to your nose before the intensity of the spell picked up, the thumb against your clit lightening up for a moment- before engulfing you again.

“That is one then, hm?” he smiled sweetly, combing a hand through your hair. “I shall make my way down- unless you have any objections.”

“No- “you murmur softly, scratching the back of the wizard’s scalp, a contented rumble emanated from his chest. with your legs lowered his sat back on your thighs He palmed your chest, the pads of his fingers grazing over your nipple. He gently pinched the flesh, hardening it between his fingers. The other neglected nipple went into his mouth,

his lips encompassed the flesh of your chest. he sighed, a happy one at that, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

The other hand not in use went to his groin, cupping and palming his balls quite gently. His hands traced the seam of his perinium, pressing up into the sensitive tissue just below the skin. His mouth and hand switched, leaving blooms of bruises and bites in his wake.

He began to mark the skin of the other breast, his tongue swirling around the pebbled nipple, eliciting a soft groan from you. He began to kiss lower, his lips hovered over every freckle. Every mole was cataloged and memorized by his kiss, every scar traced and groped.

You admired the soft dip of his stomach, full of soup, he would always say. The warm curve of his hip, and the twitch of his ear. How his brow furrows, and the sunspots on his cheeks. The crinkle next to his eyes, and the smile lines and dimples on his cheeks. What a gorgeous man you’ve managed to acquire, you were more thankful every day.

He spread your legs like softened butter, kissing down your calves and thighs. He settled back onto his knees, his joints popping underneath the weight. The fingers curled inside of you, a stretch warming up your walls. He braced the sides of your legs, bowing his head to hover over cunt. He stretched his leg out, laying off his stomach, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your legs locked his head in place, spit dribbling off his tongue. The pressure lightened off your clit, the tip of his tongue tracing anxious circles. His lips covered the sensitive nerve, providing ample suction. The transparent fingers lovingly stroked your insides, cramping down on them ever so slightly. His lips were downy and soft, her eyes pools of deep dark brown. They gazed at you through long brown lashes, they fluttered every so often.

“You are a treat- “he was almost breathless, enraptured with your pleasure. His tongue was warm and thick against your folds. His kisses against your clit were sloppy and wonderful, drool and slips of tongue, his beard scratched your inner thighs deliciously.

You bucked your hips against his nose, to this he squeezed your thighs to stay still. He removed himself, sweeping down quickly to your inner thighs. He quickly bit down; his teeth left indents.

You groaned again, your abs tightening, you felt a quick forced rush like a cramp in your lower abs. Gale chirped in surprise, a wide smile growing on his lips.

“Aha! I have turned on the tap it seems.” His tongue memorized the outlines of your folds, sweeping up the salty ejaculate. Your face burned. Gale’s gaze turned quizzical “this hasn’t happened before?”

“No- not really.”

His eyes widen, and brows raise. “The child of bhaal I know very well- that has done heinous things that in the eyes of any a god would have them hell bound, hasn’t had their tap turned.”

“there’s only so much you can do with a corpse.”

He huffs, a slight frown at the mention. “Not even your noble friend?”

“No, no- I suppose not. I received pleasure- yes, but not that. It feels odd.”

“it’s completely normal, don’t worry your head.” He stroked your thigh, shifting his weight back to his haunches. “Is this position ok?” he slid his knees under your thighs,

The hand dissipated inside of you, another jingled into life to grab the bottle of lubricant. He poured it over his hands and shaft, lubricating it. he smoothed the rest of the hydrating oil onto your knees, giving both a peck.

He lined himself with your entrance, holding your hips before leaning forward into you. His head bowed, lips grazing yours as he let out a slow and shaky moan. He hit hilt, a tight squeeze forcing a rumble from his chest.

“Gods- “he hissed, “look how tight you are now- for me- so sweet like this.” He nestled his head into your neck, pulsing slow shallow strokes into you. “My pretty star, hm? Does this feel good?”

“Quite lovely- thank you” you gasp out, pressing him closer into your skin. Your toes curled uncomfortably, yet your heart sang. The buzzing returned to your clit, the sounds from your cunt were absolutely sinful, wet and erotic- followed by the steady slap of gales thighs against your ass. Again, you felt a taught pressure in your groin, catching gale off guard. Moans fell from his lips, as he canted his hips into you. You could feel his cock head nestling near your cervix. Your eyes clamped shut, your thighs steeled around him. He let out another happy groan, buried now balls deep inside of you. You rocked together in earnest, happy sobs leaving your lips as a sweet numbness spread throughout your body.

His breath was warm against your neck, leaving scattered kisses along the alcove. His thrusts became languid, like ocean waves, another orgasm crashed through you. Gale let out a louder hiss, his teeth scraped against the soft skin of your neck. “At this rate. I’m about to break- can you cum for me once more?” he whispered against the cusp of your ear. You nodded feverishly, your hands scratching up his spine, he lifted your legs over shoulders using your thighs to brace and stabilize his weight. His thrusts now were sloppy and excitable, kissing your calves and knees. You reached for him, holding his

hand. His breaths puffing out, as he rutted into you, your knees folded back as he found a rhythm. He began to sputter out, kissing you sloppily, his mouth hot and tongue needy. He cried out, buried deep within you. You felt a warm rush as he rode out his orgasm, another snap within your core had you shattering like a mirror. Another warm rush cascaded around you, dripping down and around his crotch.

“The tap turns!” he exclaims breathless, seated within your heat. He softens inside you, turning you to the side, and flopping next to you.

You felt fresh in your newly laundered robes, they smelt like roses. It seems the bath had a similar effect on your companions. All left contented, a flush of alcohol on their cheeks, and a pep in their newly shiny step.

You held hands with Gale taking your leaves, the less they knew the better.

113 notes · View notes

scarletsaphire · 2 months

Text

Clockwork didn't fix anything. Danny's parents, his friends, his sister, everyone was dead, and gone, and all he had left was Vlad. At least the older halfa was doing everything in his power to help him, with no nefarious plans at all. Right?

5th fic for phic phight, and this one is a doozy both in word count and in prompt fills! This one is for: @underforeversgrace, @faeriekit, @scarletsakuraaa, and @shadowfaerieammy. The prompts used will be in the end notes, as always, but having said that, I do not recommend reading them until after reading the fic. You'll see why :)

Danny couldn't say when he woke up. It wasn't as if being awake was all that different than being asleep anymore. It didn't matter whether he was staring at the back of his eyelids or at the lavish canopy hanging over his bed, everything would still be the same. His friends would still be dead. His family would still be dead. And he'd still be in this stupid mansion with the second stupidest man half-alive as his only company.

Danny didn't have any right to complain. It was all his fault, after all. If he'd just been smarter. If he'd just been honest. If he'd just been better. If he'd just been anyone but Danny Fenton, future world renowned fuck up, than everything would've been different. Everything would've been better.

When Clockwork had first shown him everything with his other self, he hadn't really understood. He knew it would hurt, losing everyone like that. He knew it would hurt in the same way that you might know breaking a bone would hurt, before you ever did. A distant kind of hurt that didn't hold a candle to the real thing.

He remembered thinking that his future self was being dramatic in separating his halves. Or maybe it had been Vlad's manipulation, his desire to be the only remaining halfa causing him to force that Danny to become the monster he'd seen through Clockwork's time mirrors. As much as losing everyone would hurt, there's no way it could hurt that badly, right?

Laying here for what was probably the fourth day straight, Danny knew that he'd been wrong.

He didn't turn his head at the sound of the door opening. He didn't turn his head when he heard Vlad's footsteps, sharp and deliberate, crossing the room that was far, far too big for him. He didn't turn his head when he felt the bead compress under Vlad's weight. He didn't even turn his head when Vlad's face appeared over him.

"Good afternoon, Daniel," he said.

Danny didn't reply.

Vlad sighed. "Little badger..." he said softly, resting one hand on the side of Danny's face. It was soft and caring, two thing Danny didn't think was possible of Vlad before last week. "I understand you don't want to, but you need to eat. Even if its just some soup. I can have somebody bring it up to you, or I can do it myself, but I'm not going to sit aside while you waste away."

Even if that's what I want? The thought floated through Danny's head, hazy and distant, but he didn't say it. He didn't say anything.

Eventually Vlad's disappointed face disappeared from his view, and his footsteps retreated from his room. A few minutes later (or maybe it was an hour? Or the next day? Danny didn't know, and he didn't care) he returned. There was the soft sound of porcelain on wood, and then Vlad was sitting on the side of the bed again.

Danny didn't fight as Vlad lifted Danny upwards, so that he was sitting against the large, plush pile of pillows instead of laying on them. He watched languidly as Vlad lifted the bowl back off the bedside table from the corner of his eye, and set it gently in Danny's lap. "Come now, Daniel. Just a few bites. It's got ectoplasm mixed in, so you won't need any more than that."

Danny did not move.

"Your only other option is for me to spoon feed you myself, and I think we both know how you would feel about that."

That got Danny to move, if not actually start eating. He turned his head to glare at where Vlad was sitting. He was surprised to see Vlad's look of relief so clearly on display, but he pushed aside any surprise in favor of annoyance. "If you even think about it I'll bite you." His voice was hoarse, and he became suddenly aware of just how dry his throat was, and how sore. He didn't know how long it had been since he last talked.

"If that's what it takes for you to eat, than I will do it," Vlad replied.

Danny huffed, before looking down at the bowl in front of him. Calling it soup would be a stretch; it was nothing but clear broth. Despite this, the thought of eating it made his stomach churn.

He glanced back up at where Vlad sat watching him expectantly. The older man made no signs of leaving, and he was right; Danny really didn't want to be spoon fed. He wasn't a child.

Danny took the spoon in his hands clumsily, bringing it up to his lips and slurping the warm, clear broth. It stung going down, but as soon as he'd finished swallowing, he felt a little bit better. He let the spoon fall into the bowl again, ignoring the broth that splashed out, and he pushed the bowl away from him.

"There. Are you happy now?"

Vlad pursed his lips together. "You need to eat more than that, Little Badger."

"Why?"

"Because you need food to survive?"

"Too late." Danny slumped backwards into the pillow pile, letting himself slide back down to a laying position. His eyes found the same fold in the canopy he'd been staring at for the better part of a week on instinct. "If only it had worked right the first time."

"Daniel-" Vlad cut himself off before restarting his sentence. "Danny. I will not pretend to understand how you're feeling, but do you really think that your friends and family would want you to stay like this? Even your father-" His voice was surprisingly free from disdain, which was impressive for Vlad. "-would've wanted you to be happy."

Danny didn't reply, and Vlad sighed again. "I'm going to leave this here, for when you do decide to eat." He moved the bowl from Danny's lap back to the bedside table, and then stood up and made his way back towards the exit. "Please try, Daniel. If not for yourself, then for them."

The door was shut with a soft click, leaving Danny to his thoughts once more.

By the time he mustered the energy to sit up and grab the bowl, it had long since gone cold. That was okay. Danny didn't think he deserved a warm meal anyway.

---

Another week had passed during his stay at Vlad's mansion. A week of blackness, followed by canopy, followed by another fight with Vlad, followed by darkness. The only reason he knew it had been a week was because of the different foods Vlad had been bringing up. While the first day had been nothing but broth, the day after it had been proper soup, albeit blended together into a liquidy mush. The day after it had been all soft vegetables, and the day after that a small slice of buttered bread had been included.

Danny hated to admit it, but the food had helped. He still didn't want to be awake, or aware, or existing in general, but he felt less like he was on death's door again. Whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen.

This time when Vlad came up to his room, Danny did turn to look at him. Unlike the previous days, he didn't have a bowl with him; he didn't have any food at all.

"Good afternoon, Daniel," Vlad said softly, coming to sit on the edge of the bed just like he'd done every earlier day. "How are you feeling?"

"Bad," Danny said. His voice wasn't ass hoarse as it had been the first day, but it still wasn't anywhere near good.

"I'm not surprised. Do you think you might be up for taking a short walk to the dining chambers?" Vlad asked. At Danny's obvious dismay, Vlad backtracked. "You don't have to, of course, but I thought that it might do you some good, to get out of the bed, if only for a few minutes. That way I can have someone come in and change the sheets, and you'll have a chance to stretch your legs."

Danny didn't answer; he didn't need to. He wouldn't be moving here anytime sooner. Maybe anytime ever, if he had his way. He would lay in this bed until he died, or until the world died around him. Whichever came first.

"Daniel, please," Vlad said. "If not for yourself, and not for me, than for the housekeeper that needs to get these stains out. The longer you wait, the harder it will be for them."

Danny didn't know enough about laundry to argue, but it sounded true. He didn't want to make things harder for anyone; he'd done enough of that already.

It was not easy for him to get out of bed. Even sitting up took as much effort as most of his fights did, and that was without really using his legs at all. Standing seemed like an impossible task.

He was about to let himself fall back to the bed, housekeeper be damned, but Vlad's hand caught him before he could.

Danny looked to Vlad, expecting to see ridicule in his eyes. It's what Danny deserved, after all. Instead, he was met with nothing but compassion and concern, and a second hand, wrapping so very gently around his wrist.

"Let me help you, Daniel."

Danny didn't have much of a choice. If he wasn't strong enough to get out of bed, he certainly wasn't strong enough to fight off Vlad. (And maybe, a small part of him wanted the help. A small part of him trusted Vlad, after everything he'd done. A small part of him just wanted to get out of this pit he'd dug himself into. Danny ignored that part.)

It was only with Vlad's help that he was able to stand, and even then, he fell right back down to the mattress. His legs were weak and wobbly, as if he'd never walked on them before, and black dots crowded his vision. He didn't want to try again, but Vlad was still holding onto him, ready to help him back up.

"I know you are strong enough to do this, Daniel."

Danny wasn't as certain as Vlad seemed to be, but there wasn't much he could do about it besides try again. This time instead of falling back onto the bed, he collapsed into Vlad's side. He clung onto to expensive suit purely out of instinct, nails tearing through the fabric.

He glanced up at Vlad, but was once again met with only compassion. "Well done, Little Badger. Let's go get you something to eat, shall we?"

The majority of the walk had Danny clinging to Vlad's side, legs shaking with every step. It was only after they'd made it a good few doors down, and the smell of herbs Danny couldn't name drifting from down the hall gave him the strength he needed to walk on his own, although Vlad kept a steadying arm around his shoulders.

By the time they'd arrived in the dining room, Danny was exhausted, and embarrassingly winded from such little effort. Still, Vlad didn't say anything, simply guided Danny to a chair before sitting down at the one at the head of the table.

"As I said, Daniel. I knew you could do it," Vlad said with a smile. Danny still said nothing, but Vlad didn't seem to care. He waved his hand, and a cart was pushed out by some invisible force. By the fact that Danny's ghost sense didn't go off, it wasn't just that they were invisible either.

"It's just magnets," Vlad answered Danny's unspoken question. "I have the controls under my side of the table."

"But then why the hand thing?" Danny asked.

Vlad smiled at him. "You know me. I cannot help a bit of dramatics."

Vlad handed out the food, a chicken noodle soup for Danny and something for fancier, and far less recognizable, for himself. Still, Vlad didn't eat, instead resting his head on his hands and watching as Danny fought with his spoon. He debated asking about it, but decided not too; it was too much effort.

The soup was good, and after only a couple of bites, Danny found his eyes falling back closed. He couldn't tell if it was because of the effort of walking here, or because of the soup himself. He didn't have the energy to fight against it, and before he knew it he was laying his head on the table, letting the black void of sleep consume him yet again.

He woke up several hours later, tucked comfortably into his bed with clean, fresh sheets.

---

It was now routine for Vlad to come and get him from his room. It wasn't always for food; sometimes it was get Danny to shower, or to watch a show, or simply to get him out of bed for a little bit. Rarely was Danny ever moving around for more than an hour, and never was it of Danny's own accord.

Not that he wasn't allowed to wander around; Vlad had made it very clear that Danny was welcome anywhere in the mansion, or on the mansion grounds, at any time. Danny just never was.

At least, he never was before today.

He wasn't sure why today was different; he'd woken up well past noon, when the sun was already starting to set, and been struck by such a strong desire to be anywhere but here that it was nearly suffocating. He'd practically run from his room, down hallway after hallway, never noting his surroundings longer than it took for him to figure out the next hallway, the next staircase, the next entrance.

It was only after he'd hit a dead end that he collapsed on the floor. He grabbed fistfuls of the soft, plush carpet underneath his feet, pulling them out in chunks and tossing them aside before doing it all over again. It wasn't enough. None of this was ever enough, he wasn't enough, just like he hadn't been enough to save them.

That's what he'd been running from, after all. That's what he'd spent the past weeks, the past month, the past however fucking long it'd been in bed hiding from. The fact that he wasn't enough. The fact that they were dead, and he wasn't, because he hadn't even been fast enough to die with them.

The carpet was barren now, nothing but the hardened glue the strands had been connected to, and Danny had no choice but to move his hands to his head, to his hair. It hurt, but it didn't hurt enough , it wasn't anything like they would've gone through, what they would've felt, what he should've felt instead.

He couldn't fight against the scream that bubbled up from his chest, even though he knew he should, that he needed to. He felt the way the scream tasted on his tongue, tangy and acrid and long overdo, even as his vocal chords vibrated in time with his core. He could hear the sounds of shattering glass and breaking vases, of wooden furniture smashing against the walls around him as he wailed but he couldn't stop it, just like he couldn't stop his fingers from pulling out his hair, just like he couldn't stop Sam and Tucker and Jazz and Mom and Dad and everyone from dying a horrible, horrible death and-

Warm hands met his, pulling them away from his head. Danny fought against it, scratching and screaming and crying as he tried to curl back in on himself, but it was no use; he was already exhausted, and clearly whoever this was was just stronger than he was. By the time they had succeeded at lowering Danny's hands to his lap, Danny was openly sobbing.

"It's ok, Little Badger," Vlad said, taking Danny into a hug. Danny didn't fight against it this time, burying his face into Vlad's shirt without a care for how his tears or snot would mess it up. "I'm here."

That was part of the problem though, wasn't it? he wanted to say. You're here and I'm here and they aren't. They aren't, and I am, and I should be dead in the rubble with them. I should be the one who died, so they could live, just like it was always supposed to be.

Danny couldn't say anything. His throat stung from the wail, and his eyes stung from the tears, and his head stung from the places he'd pulled out his hair.

It might've been an hour before Danny had cried himself out, maybe longer, but through the whole thing, Vlad had stayed their, holding Danny close and whispering soothing, meaningless words. It was only after his very last sniffles had died out that Vlad pulled away.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked.

Danny shook his head. It was the truth; he wasn't.

"That's okay. You don't need to be. I will be here regardless."

It was disconcerting, hearing words that kind come from Vlad Plasmius's mouth, but then again Vlad had been nothing but sweet to him since he came here however long ago it was. There was a solid chance Vlad would've had to carry him up to the bedroom; Danny couldn't remember. He couldn't remember anything about his arrival here; he could barely remember anything from his time here anyway.

Danny didn't flinch away when Vlad's hands came up to his face to rub the tears off of his cheeks, not until he noticed the deep gashes pushed straight through the pure black gloves and into his skin. Tiny beads of already dried ectoplasm sat beneath the cuts, many of them smeared into a faint pink sheen.

Danny pulled away, grabbing Vlad's wrists to inspect them. Vlad did not fight. "You're hurt."

"It's just a scratch, Little Badger."

Danny shook his head. "I hurt you."

"Just as I have hurt you in the past. You didn't mean to."

That was right. Danny didn't mean to. Just like he didn't mean to wreck the potted plant that sat in tatters in the corner of the room. Just like he didn't mean to ruin the carpet, to the end tables, or anything else. He ruined it all, just like he ruined everything else.

He felt his eyes burn again, but this time no tears came. All he could do was tremble in place, hands gripped into tight fists, making sure that his nails dug into his own flesh this time, not anyone else's.

"I've said something wrong, haven't I." He heard Vlad say quietly. "I'm sorry, Daniel, for whatever it was." A beat of silence, before he continued. "Would it help if I let you clean up?"

Danny had almost forgotten that was a thing he could do. This was a mess he could fix, a problem he could solve. He nodded once, quick and shaky.

"I shall go get some supplies, and then we will clean this together. You wait for me here. Understood?"

Danny nodded, and Vlad went off down the hall.

It would be nice, to clean up one of his messes for once.

---

"I don't understand why I need to do this," Danny asked. He was sitting on an operating table in Vlad's own lab, elgs dangling off the edge.

It was weird, entering it for the first time. He was struck with a horrible amount of deja vu, and once he'd fought that off he'd been overtaken by just how different everything was.

His parents' lab had always been messy, to an almost comical and definitely unsafe degree. wires and scrap metal and inventions in various points of construction littered every possible surface, and in some cases impossible surfaces as well. Despite the mess, his parents knew where everything went, where everything was. Danny could still remember the exact order of every single blaster and tool from when it was his turn to clean the lab, despite having not done it for... two, three months now?

Vlad's laboratory couldn't be more different. Not only was every surface visible, it was practically shining. Chemicals and instruments lined the walls on carefully designed hooks or holders, and there were no visible blueprints at all; Danny didn't know if they were holed up in drawers or if Vlad stored them somewhere else. Or maybe he'd given up inventing completely. He had been busy taking care of Danny these last couple months.

"Because you have been through a period of extreme distress, and its important that we monitor your health," Vlad answered, pulling on a set of gloves.

"I guess," Danny said, picking at the hem of his shirt. "But you're not a doctor."

"You are correct," Vlad said. "I do seem to recall a rather unfortunate accident while working on my PhD dissertation."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay, Daniel. I understand being hesitant about this. But as the only other halfa, and with nearly all of the education required to be a doctor in this field, I would argue that I am the best person to do something like this with you."

"Right. Okay. And it's just a check up, like a normal doctor would do?"

"There are some other things I will need to test for," Vlad said. "But they will be a handful of scans, nothing more. The worst thing I will be doing is a blood test, and I will make sure you are well aware when that will happen." He turned back to Danny with a smile. "I try not to lie to you, Daniel. Not unless its necessary."

Danny trusted Vlad. It was still a novel concept, but he did. The older halfa had been almost unreasonably kind to him during his stay at the mansion, and hadn't so much as insulted his father more than once or twice. He'd done everything he could to help Danny, and had asked nothing in return. The least he could do was sit still for a quick doctor's visit.

They worked through the tests in near silence, Danny listening to the instructions the best that he could. It was only once Vlad had stepped to the side to wheel over a cart, something to measure the strength of his core, that Danny spoke. "In the other timeline, you'd built a statue."

Vlad stopped. A full, complete stop, as if someone had pressed pause on him. Danny had begun to worry that Clockwork was about to make another appearance before he started moving again. "Oh?" was all he said.

Danny nodded. "Where the... accident. Occurred."

"I suppose you are asking if I can do the same?"

Danny nodded again.

"I can see why you might think it's a good idea," Vlad said slowly. "But I will have to disagree."

Danny's heart dropped. He'd been sitting on this idea for a few weeks now, waiting for the perfect time to bring it up. He had thought Vlad would say yes; technically, he already had said yes, even if that timeline was no longer accurate. "Why not?"

"I just think that something like that is more likely to make you start living in the past," Vlad explained, just as slowly as before. "I know you have not told me everything from this 'other future,' but it is quite possible that doing such a thing encouraged your other self to do all of that, is it not?"

He hadn't thought about it that way, but Vlad did have a point. Maybe the statue had been a tipping point for the other him; had he gone back to cry over their makeshift, communal grave? Had he gone there so many times that he could fly the route by heart? That his knees were in a permanent state of bruised and muddy from the time he spent kneeling there.

Danny only hummed in reply.

"I suppose that does lead well in another topic I've been meaning to talk with you about," Vlad said, wheeling the cart over to where Danny sat. "I also don't think its a good idea for you to return to Amity Park."

Danny threw his head up to look Vlad in the eyes. "What? Why?"

"It will be much, much harder to avoid... sour reminders, so to say," Vlad said. He pressed some buttons on the machine, pointedly not looking at Danny. "It will be much harder to continue as you have been in the last few days, when you are faced with their passing again."

"But-" Danny swallowed hard. "But what if a ghost attacks?"

"Do you really think there hasn't been a single ghost attack since you first came here?" Vlad asked.

Danny's eyes widened in worry. He hadn't really thought about it, not between everything else he'd been through, but Vlad was right. The ghosts didn't take days off based on how Danny was doing before, and they certainly wouldn't now. With his parents dead, that only left Valerie and the Guys in White, and while Valerie may have been competent, she was only one human. The Guys in White were hardly worth mentioning.

Vlad rested his hand on Danny's shoulder and gave a slight, reassuring squeeze. "Relax, Daniel. I thought of this as soon as I saw what state you were in. I have used my connections to make sure that your town is perfectly safe from any harm. And, not to brag, but I do believe my precautions are just as strong as you are. Perhaps even more so."

Danny sagged in relief. "Oh thank the ancients."

"Actually, I think you should be thanking me," Vlad teased. "Now, straighten up. The scanner doesn't work as well when you're folded up like that."

Danny obeyed. It was a good thing Vlad had thought ahead like that; Danny didn't want to see what an Amity Park without a Phantom to protect it.

---

Things had been going well. Almost unreasonably well, for only a couple of months having passed. Living with Vlad had become almost enjoyable, and Danny was feeling good.

Maybe that was why he was flying back to Amity Park.

He'd realized, some time after digging himself out of the vat of survivors guilt and depression, that just because the most important people to him weren't around anymore, it didn't mean that there was nobody left who relied on him. He was Danny Phantom, Amity Park's number one line of defense against ghost attacks. He couldn't disappear forever, not until his town was safe.

He'd let himself stay out of the fight for long enough. Part of that time, he didn't have much of a choice; sitting up had been too much effort, let alone a proper fight. The other part, his fears had been assuaged by Vlad's promises to keep the ghosts out. As much as he might not approve of Vlad's methods, he knew that they worked.

That didn't mean he could just leave his home behind. He had a job to do.

And maybe, there was a large part of him that still screamed in agony whenever he saw a creepy book from Vlad's collection, or when he booted up Vlad's ancient computer, and his first reaction was to message Sam and Tucker. How the voice in the back of his head that encouraged him to go through the motions of self care sounded a bit too much like Jazz, or the lab Vlad did his check ups in, and how his initial reaction was always that it was too neat , not nearly enough life in it. That part needed... something. Closure, maybe, or maybe it just wanted to drag Danny back down into the depths of his despair.

Either way, Danny needed to get back to Amity Park. Even if only for a little bit. Even if Vlad didn't want him to.

He made sure to stay invisible as he passed the welcome sign to the city; he wouldn't be surprised if the Guys in White had gone a little crazy in his family's absence.

The city was in surprisingly good condition, for what he could tell. He couldn't say anything about the Nasty Burger's disaster site; even now he couldn't get himself to look at it, but everything else was almost exactly how he imagined it. There wasn't an abundance of ectopuses roaming the streets, none of his normal rogues gallery had take over the town, and the Guys in White had either gotten much better at hiding, or they'd not taken up the reigns as much as he'd expected them too.

It was nice, seeing just how well Vlad had kept his promise. If this was how well the city ran with him gone, maybe the fruit loop was right; maybe he could move on and stop clinging to the past.

Danny drifted aimlessly through the streets, keeping high in the sky to avoid any ghost scanners that may detect his presence. He didn't have a real destination in mind, and was almost surprised when he found himself floating above the park.

He was surprised when he saw a familiar red hat.

Danny blinked, then shook his head, then rubbed at his eyes, but the hat didn't disappear. Neither did the familiar figure whose head it was sitting on, nor the girl wearing far too much black for the warm, sunny weather.

It was Sam and Tucker, sitting on their park bench, just like they'd done a thousand times before the accident. They were talking animatedly with each other, and while Danny was too far away to hear, he knew them well enough to fill in whatever inane argument they were having by their gestures alone.

They were alive. They were here, and they were talking, and they were alive. Danny didn't care how, didn't care why, didn't care about anything besides getting back to his spot on the bench, empty besides them after months and months of tears. They were alive.

Danny entered a steep dive, not caring to keep his speed in check, the only thing on his mind being his friends smiling, happy, living faces. He would be back by their side in just a few minutes, back where he belonged.

And then he was. Danny Fenton, lazily slotting into his spot on the bench as if he had never been gone. As if the last few months hadn't happened. He was shoving papers into his purple backpack, complaining loudly about some English assignment he didn't want to do.

Danny Fenton sat on the bench, in his normal, human form, and Danny Fenton watched him, frozen in the air, invisibility hiding his ghost form from view.

The person on the bench was him, he knew it with a certainty he couldn't remember ever feeling before in his half life. That Danny was him, and yet here he was, still floating dozens of feet above ground. Something was horribly, terribly wrong, and Danny had a feeling that he knew exactly who was at fault.

---

Danny was sitting on a billboard, overlooking the perfectly intact Nasty Burger when Vlad- when Plasmius found him. Even though he was in his ghost form, he was a mess, nothing like his normal, distinguished self. His hair was a mess, and he moved with a twitchy, anxious quality that Danny had become far too familiar with over the years.

"There you are," Vlad said, the relief palpable in his voice. "I was worried about you, Little Badger."

Danny hummed, not moving his eyes from the fast food restaurant. "It's still standing."

Vlad sat next to him, close enough that Danny could feel how he kept his body tensed. "They must have rebuilt it."

"Right."

"Daniel, I understand that you've missed this place, but you can't just fly off like that," Vlad admonished. "If you had just asked-"

"I did ask," Danny interrupted. "Several times. And you said no every time."

"I didn't realize you would go to such drastic lengths to get back here. If I had known, I would've brought you."

Danny hummed again. "So you could make sure that everyone had a convenient reason to be out of town, right? So you could make sure that I didn't see anything that would ruin the lie you've built up?"

"Ah," Vlad said, any warmth and worry he'd had in his voice gone. "You saw them, then."

"Yeah, I saw them. And I saw the real Danny too. Because I'm not real, am I? All those tests, all those check ups, they weren't to make sure I was still healthy, were they? You were testing to make sure I wouldn't, I don't know, melt away or something, weren't you?"

Danny finally turned to look at Vlad. He was staring through Danny, pure red eyes unmoving and unfocused. "I really thought you had changed, Vlad. You've been so nice to me, and now I find out that everything was a lie? That I'm a lie? You let me go through all of that, just because, what? You were lonely? Was that it?"

"I am sorry, Daniel," Vlad said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you really think an apology is going to make all of this better?" Danny said, just barely shy of shouting.

"I'm not apologizing for that."

The pain hit all at once, a horrible, burning, piercing feeling that seemed to be coming from everywhere all at once. It was pure agony, coursing through his veins, a type of pain he only remembered from the portal. He couldn't stop himself from falling forward, straight into Vlad.

Danny clung to Vlad's arms, squeezing hard enough that he knew it would hurt, but he didn't care, couldn't care, not over the horrid pain he was going through. Distantly, he felt Vlad's hand on his head, carding hands through his hair so very gently, just like he had done a dozen times before. He couldn't tell at what point it stopped being hair and started being pure ectoplasm.

"Hurts," he slurred, his voice muffled and distorted as he choked on his own melting flesh and ectoplasm.

"I know, Little Badger," Vlad said, voice soft. "It'll be over soon. I won't let this happen again. I promise."

---

Vlad did his best to gather as much of the ectoplasm as he could. He wouldn't be able to use it again, of course, not with how tainted it would be from the dirt and debris on the sign, but he couldn't find himself to let it go. The ectoplasm would be placed in a vial in the lab, safely tucked away in a cupboard with the other failures.

He did his best to blink back the tears he felt gathering in his eyes. He'd gotten attached to this one; how could he not? It was so close to perfect, so close to success. If it hadn't been for this little trip, it would have been.

Vlad took a deep, deep breath. Next time would be different. He knew what to do now; this Daniel had given him the answer on a silver platter.

It would only be a matter of time before he got his son. His Daniel.

Only a matter of time.

---

Prompts used: ScarletSakura - Danny finds out he’s a clone, what happened to the real Danny? shadowfaerieammy - What if Danny's clone was actually identical to him? faeriekit - Two Faced underforeversgrace - It hurt. He always knew it would hurt. He didn't realize how much.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny fenton #vlad plasmius #phic phight #tw depression #tw survivors guilt #tw self harm #tw hair pulling #tw manipulation #post tue

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areyoudoingthis · 5 months

Text

Rated E, 6,971 words.

Ed gets a lazy morning full of warmth and orgasms. - Stede's hair is a random mess of flattened curls and golden strands sticking up wildly in every direction, and there's a bit of drool drying in the corner of his mouth. He looks adorably peaceful as his chest rises and falls at an even rhythm beneath the blankets, and Ed blinks sluggishly and tries to shake off the fog of sleep so he can drink in every minute detail.

Stede's hair is a random mess of flattened curls and golden strands sticking up wildly in every direction, and there's a bit of drool drying in the corner of his mouth. He looks adorably peaceful as his chest rises and falls at an even rhythm beneath the blankets, and Ed blinks sluggishly and tries to shake off the fog of sleep so he can drink in every minute detail.

The hair is probably his fault, he thinks with a self-satisfied smirk as the memories of the previous night start trickling back. A thrum of contentment goes through him as he remembers holding on to it a little too enthusiastically, and Stede being keenly on board with it.

He struggles to wake up fully, fights heavy eyelids and the inviting warmth that threatens to pull him back under, doesn't want to give in to it because Stede is soft and devastatingly cute right next to him, and the whole world seems to be holding its breath just for the two of them. Basking in the perfect stillness of this moment seems a lot more tempting to Ed than sleep.

He stretches his arms over his head with a yawn and shuffles around until he's settled comfortably on his side. His knee twinges when he bends it, and he winces and thinks again that he's gotta get around to finding a new brace for it soon - he can already tell it's gonna bother him all day after the workout he gave it last night. The bruises in his thighs and neck ache a lot more pleasantly, though, and excitement shoots through him when he pictures what he's gonna look like standing naked in front of the mirror.

He shifts his leg around until he finds a position that doesn't hurt his knee, yawns again and enjoys being snug in their big new bed under their soft new blankets. He makes a game of counting the freckles on Stede's nose to stay awake - there are a lot more now that he's stopped carrying his little parasols with him whenever he's in the sun, and Ed loves them but also misses how fucking cute he looked hiding under those. He's up to thirteen and starting to map out constellations on his skin when his mind suddenly grabs onto a thought and pushes it insistently to the front. Is this the first slow, relaxed morning he's had in... years? Maybe ever? The room is bathed in golden sunlight, he woke up with a smile on his face and he feels content and at peace. The bed is warm, Stede's body's warm next to him; Ed feels warm in every way that counts. And not just that, he feels safe and home, for the first time in a long time.

Next thing he knows, blood is rushing in his ears and he can feel his pulse rocket in his neck at the same time as the breath gets stuck inside his chest and every one of his limbs locks up. His heart is racing madly, and he's irrationally terrified of moving an inch and having all of this disappear on him somehow.

He knows that's not how it works, knows Stede and the bed and the house are solid around him and they can't vanish that easily. But things haven't exactly been stable lately, and easy and safe are not things he's used to, especially not first thing in the morning. He's used to his days beginning with a rush and a whole lotta clatter, generally with Izzy yelling at someone before the sun was even up. And the past few months have been even worse than the uszh - he didn't do a lot of waking up because he wasn't sleeping much to begin with, relying on drugs and sheer stubbornness to keep him going instead. His nights and days had been blurring into one big endless nightmare for a while.

He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that part of his life is over now, Stede came back and he loves him and they've retired to become innkeepers, he's left all of that behind. But the memories and the dread of those achingly empty days still cling to him. It's hard to shake them off when they stretched for so long and he can still count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he's woken up next to Stede and been able to enjoy an uncomplicated lazy morning in bed with him.

Their first morning together he was up at dawn while Stede still slept, doing his best to forget everything that happened before he was dragged into his room and had the breath kissed out of him, trying to drown all his demons at once by sinking his leathers to the bottom of the ocean, useless as it was.

Their first few days in the cabin have been fun (because anywhere is fun with Stede), but not exactly restful - there were piles of dust and cobwebs and bird shit everywhere when they got here, not to mention the weeds and a critter or two, and they really shot themselves in the foot by not bringing any furniture with them. For days they've been making do with a few blankets on the hard floor and getting up with the sun to get this place cleaned up and as close as they could to inhabitable. This is his first morning waking up in their brand new bed, in their neat, bug free room, with nowhere to be in a hurry and no one demanding shit from him. It's disconcerting in its newness.

He tries to ignore his racing mind and relax back into his previous calm state, fills his lungs with the unfamiliar smells of their new home and the familiar scent of the man sleeping peacefully next to him, focuses on the warmth of the sunlight caressing his face, listens to Stede's soft snores and watches his eyelids flutter in sleep. He tells his brain firmly to stop being a dick so fucking early in the morning, but it's hard to get it to shut up once it's awake, especially when it's running a mile a minute and making his heart beat loudly in his ears like it expects an attack any moment.

He gives up on it after a few minutes, turns around on the bed and burrows into Stede, seeking body heat and the reassurance of his presence by Ed's side. Stede shuffles in his sleep, tugs Ed closer as if he's welcoming him home even in dreams. Ed sighs happily and lets himself be pulled, shelters comfortably in his arms and feels his heartbeat beginning to slow down already. It's amazing what Stede's touch can do to him, it's like his mind and body react to him more readily than they do to Ed's own commands sometimes.

He sighs as his body releases all the tension it was holding and decides then and there that this is how he wants to wake up every morning from now on, warm from head to toe in a room brimming with sunlight, sheets soft under his skin and bed full of the man he loves, with no one demanding shit from him.

He's hovering in that pleasant state between awake and asleep when Stede shifts some more against him and Ed can suddenly feel his erection pressing between them. His mind rushes back to full wakefulness, heart rate picking up again for an entirely different, far more enjoyable reason this time. He smiles in delight - this is already much more like his idea of a perfect morning than it was five minutes ago. He pushes closer and tilts his hips into Stede's body, repeats the motion a few times and feels his own cock stir in interest.

The sheets rustle behind him and Stede's face presses into Ed's back, so close that he can feel his delicate eyelashes brush his skin as he blinks his eyes open, hear the vibrations as he rasps, voice still drenched in sleep, "Morning, darling."

Ed beams, much happier now that Stede has joined him in being awake and their day can start.

"Mornin' babe."

He grinds into him a little more intentionally, enjoys the enticing drag of Stede's cock against his ass and is really fucking pleased they went to bed naked last night.

"Mmm, feels nice," Stede murmurs, arm tightening around Ed's middle, cheek nuzzling his skin. He smiles against his shoulder blade and his breath tickles the nape of Ed's neck as he asks, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, bed's great, 's like lying on a cloud." He yawns, feels the remains of something unsettled still stirring within him so he adds, "But I missed ya."

"While you were asleep?" Stede's tone is playful, like Ed just said something really funny. But Ed means it, has spent weeks missing him, months, years even. Probably his whole life.

"What if I did," he replies, and it comes out a little petulant.

He doesn't want to talk about where his mind was before Stede woke up. Wants even less to own up to how lost he was barely a week ago, unable to sleep and crying on the floor of the captain's cabin on the Revenge, playing with dolls painted to look like the two of them and believing that Stede had left him for good, feeling the lowest he's ever felt in his life as a result.

He means so much more than a few hours when he says he missed him, but he doesn't want to get into it while they're cuddling in bed after having barely woken up. Doesn't want to crack himself open and start rummaging around in his tenderest bits when he's already almost ruined his own perfect morning by panicking before he was even awake for half an hour. It's all still too raw and it's too fucking early in the day to be bringing up that heavy shit anyway.

They have talked over the past few days, a bit here and there, but the time they spent apart still seems like such a tangled thing to start unraveling. He's aware that they’ll have to talk about it eventually if they want to avoid crashing on the same rocks and shredding themselves against them all over again, but it's scary as fuck if he's being honest. And he doesn't want to think or talk about that or anything else right now. All he wants is for Stede to make the bad memories go away, to hold him close and fuck him slow and deep while everything feels sleepy and quiet around and inside him.

"Missed you too," Stede answers, easy as breathing, brushes his hair aside to drop a gentle kiss behind his ear that feels a lot like understanding and acceptance. The dark thoughts scatter like shadows, like Stede's opened a window somewhere inside Ed's mind and now bright sunlight's streaming in like the tide.

He hums at the contrast between Stede's soft lips and the tickle of his early morning stubble on a sensitive spot, delights in the lazy pinpricks of heat it sends scattering through him and the way his mind has gone quiet again at the touch.

Stede strokes a warm hand down the line of Ed's body, lavishes soft, affectionate kisses between his shoulders that have him melting into syrupy bliss.

Ed keeps grinding idly against him, chases his own sweet pleasure in Stede's body while the morning stretches hazy and indulgent around them. Stede licks and sucks at his pulse point, lets gentle fingers roam in a lazy caress over his skin, and Ed's floating dreamily on a cloud of want and slow rolling heat.

"Need you, Stede," he sighs, barely even aware of what he means other than more and closer, his motions becoming more insistent with every press of Stede's lips and tongue on his neck.

Stede holds him tight to his chest as he starts rocking against him in turn. Ed's back bows and his breath quickens, heat pooling thick in his hips and his chest with the intoxicating combination of Stede's hard cock and tender touch.

"What do you want, darling?" he murmurs, low and intentional, and Ed shivers as his tone shoots electric down his spine.

"Don't wanna move," he answers, and he doesn't, this right here is perfect already.

Stede chuckles in his ear, warm breath ghosting over his skin and making every hair on Ed's body stand on end. A low moan escapes his lips before he can bite it back.

"'s nice," he defends.

"It is," Stede agrees. "But I meant a bit more specifically."

Ah, of course, Stede's still learning his way around this, isn't he, around sex and intimacy and all the wondrous things they can get up to together. It's so fucking weird how it feels like they've been doing this -being Ed-and-Stede, openly in love and having a go at this relationship thing- for a hundred years, but it's actually only been a few days. And it's not like Ed isn't getting used to all of it too, not like Stede hasn't introduced him to a whole lotta new and firsts himself.

He dreams of five, ten, fifteen years from now, when their bodies know each other so well that they can move together on their own, know all the right spots to touch that will make the other shiver, where to kiss and where to bite down, when to be gentle and when to be rough, how to use their hands and tongues to make each other scream. He wants to spend his life learning Stede inside and out, thrills in anticipation of the journey that will get them there.

"Just keep your hands on me," he asks. He wants Stede to keep touching him for another two or three weeks for a start, thinks he might starve if he stops.

"Happy to," Stede agrees.

And he takes the request to heart. He slides an arm under Ed and splays his hand against his stomach to hold him steady as he rocks against him, unhurried and uncoordinated, chasing mindless friction more than any goal in particular. He traces the fingertips of the other one all the way from his hipbone to his armpit, has Ed's eyes falling shut and a sigh escaping his lungs with how good it feels to be touched so sweetly.

Stede presses his lips over and over to the sleep-warm skin of his back as his hand wanders over the rest of his body, skates up his inner thigh and his stomach to run through his chest hair, lingers there a bit longer than anywhere else. Ed smiles. Stede seems to have a fascination with all the hair on his body, and he's more than happy to indulge it.

He turns his head in a silent request and Stede doesn't make him wait, meets his lips for a wet, sloppy kiss that's so fucking hot it's got Ed halfway to hard in an instant. He thinks he could start writing poems about how good kissing Stede is, much better stuff to write about than what inspired his last song.

He gasps into Stede's mouth when his palm drags indolently over his tits and catches on a nipple, hisses and arches back eagerly against him when he does it again, on purpose this time.

"You're sensitive here," Stede comments, as if he's making an observation and plans to start taking notes any minute. He probably is, the lunatic.

"Yeah," Ed replies, although it comes out more as a breathy moan than an actual word, because Stede's gently rolling the nipple against the pad of his thumb now.

"You really liked it when I sucked it into my mouth last night," he breathes hotly into his ear, and Ed's brain scrambles.

"I really fuckin' like your mouth, as a general rule."

Stede groans and snaps his hips a little harder, and Ed makes a mental note of his own that goes Stede really fuckin' likes it when I praise him in bed . He's pleased that they're well on their way to reaching his five year sex goals, good thing they're both overachievers.

"You certainly seem to like having it on your cock," Stede says, and Ed's mouth waters at his brazenness and the way he says it, like he's savoring the word on his tongue the same way they've discovered he likes to do with his actual dick.

"I like it when you're using it to say dirty shit that drives me insane, too," Ed volleys back. This seems to be rapidly escalating into a dirty talk competition of some sort that Stede appears determined to win.

"Hmm, good to know," he smirks, and proceeds to latch his lips onto one of the bruises he left on Ed's neck last night and suck, hard. Ed moans and shudders, feels it reverberate all the way through him and settle molten between his legs.

"Fuck, that's great, too. Don't stop."

Stede's a really quick study, keeps playing with Ed's nipples as he nibbles on his neck like a fucking hungry vampire, rolls them between his fingers and pinches them, experiments with roughness and pressure, and before long Ed's blood is boiling with urgent need.

He starts mindlessly humping his hips into the air, hunger scorching through every inch of him and threatening to unravel him, dick aching to be touched. He decides to do something about it and tangles his fingers with Stede's, pulls his hand down to where he needs it, to where his cock is hard and leaking for him, all for him.

Stede moans deep in his chest and does exactly what Ed wants, fists his dick in the warm palm of his hand and begins stroking him slowly.

"Like that, babe. Love your hands," Ed hums in satisfaction, rocking his hips into the touch.

He swims in rapturous heat as Stede spreads the precome beading at the tip over the head and slides his fingers loosely around it, enough for it to feel fucking fantastic but not to drive him towards the edge anytime soon, like he's planning to take his time with Ed's pleasure this morning. Ed's breath hitches at the prospect.

Stede hooks a leg over his waist and smooths his foot languidly along his shin, makes sparks dance on his skin with the intimate touch as he fans the flames gathering in his belly by pumping his cock at an agonizingly slow pace at the same time. Ed grunts and bucks his hips, feels impossibly, maddeningly close to Stede with his body all over him like this.

He goes to move his own hand out of the way but Stede holds on to it, whispers filthily in his ear, "Show me how you like it."

Ed's eyes roll into the back of his head, and an obscenely loud moan tears out of him as whatever remained of his brain evaporates at the shameless invitation. Stede's gonna fucking kill him one of these days with the things that come out of his mouth.

He blinks a few times until he can focus again and reaches his free hand under the pillow, finds the oil he had the forethought to tuck out of the way last night before it ended up spilling all over their nice new sheets. Stede gets the hint and helps him get the flask open, and Ed pours some on his hand before he stoppers it again. It slips from his fingers and thuds onto the mattress when Stede's slick palm closes around him in a loose stroke.

"Fuck, Stede, the way you touch me."

"Help me make it even better," Stede murmurs, striking the perfect balance between suggestion and demand to have Ed's brain freezing and then hastening to comply.

He tangles their fingers back together, guides Stede to put the right amount of pressure around him and starts moving their hands over his length. His mouth falls open on a soundless gasp at the unexpected onslaught of sensation. They've barely even gotten started and it's already so much better than doing this to himself, and it honestly doesn't surprise him - Stede's hands on him are enough to have fireworks going off behind his eyelids under pretty much any circumstances. And holding hands around his dick as he shows him how he likes to be touched is one of the sweetest, hottest things anyone's ever asked him to do in bed.

He pulls out all the stops, shows him how to switch between squeezing his fist up and down the shaft and focusing more delicate touches on the head, gasps every time the pads of Stede's fingers brush against his heated flesh. He can feel his eyes glued to every motion of their joint hands, decides he might as well give him a show and presses his thumb into the slit, follows it with a twist of his wrist that has his toes curling and a string of moans and curses dropping from his lips.

"God, you're beautiful like this, Ed," Stede pants, voice full of wonder, like he's watching a really pretty sunset or staring at a nice painting.

Ed shivers and turns his head to find his lips again, trades messy kisses back and forth as he keeps fucking himself with Stede's hand. He's heard a lot of things during sex in the past, some of them praises even, but no one's ever called him beautiful and love and darling like Stede does, like Ed's something precious and cherished and he needs to make sure he hears it as he's making him come undone.

Stede bites his lower lip greedily as he lets Ed use his fingers however he likes, and Ed moans into his mouth and keeps showing him every move he has. He can imagine the cogs whirring inside Stede's skull, memorizing details about his dick the same way he memorized the parts of a ship before he ever got on one or fifty different names for the wind that he likes to bring up at random. The idea is insanely fucking hot.

"Let me try it now?" Stede asks after a while of letting Ed fuck his hand with abandon. Ed curses as white hot lust rushes through him, setting every last corner of him aflame.

Jesus fuckin' Christ on a cracker.

He removes his fingers and this time Stede lets him, proceeds to imitate everything Ed showed him with dedicated precision, has Ed dissolving into a blissful puddle in his arms in no fucking time at all. It'd be a little embarrassing, the way Stede manages to take him apart within seconds with a few touches, if he didn't feel so fucking safe and loved at the same time as he's going mad with the pleasure cascading brightly through every inch of him.

Stede keeps working him in his fist until he's got jerking off Ed's dick down to an art, starts growing bold and adding a few flourishes of his own eventually. Ed moans with every heated stroke of his fingers, can't stop himself from rocking into them and seeking more.

"You're so sweet, darling," Stede says, licking his shoulder blade. "You even taste sweet."

"That's probably the oil from last night's massage you're tasting," Ed grunts. He doesn't think his skin tastes of anything in particular, except maybe sea salt, and probably not even that anymore.

"Mm, I'm not sure," Stede goes on. "I'll need to do more research before I can give you an official conclusion."

Ed snorts. What a loon. He's so absurdly gone on him.

Stede wraps his fingers around the head of Ed's cock and flicks his wrist just like he showed him, and Ed arches his back and presses his hips forward into it, delights in the flames that spark through him as Stede's fingers touch him exactly the way he likes. It may not even take them five years after all, they may have their whole sex life figured out by the end of the year at this pace.

And then Stede's hand leaves his dick altogether to cup his balls and play with them lightly, and Ed whines in surprise as much as pleasure, writhes helplessly under his touch, dizzy with lust and drunk on him. He didn't even show him this, this is one hundred percent Stede and his fucking fascinating mind at work.

He keeps rolling his balls gently between his fingers until Ed feels like he's about to snap.

"Stede ," he whimpers.

"Is this working for you?" he asks, sounding both genuinely curious and a little smug at the same time, as if he already knows what the answer's going to be.

"Yeah," he replies, honest and raw. It's not like it's a secret; Ed isn't playing hard to get here.

Stede hums and kisses his jaw, switches to stroking his fingers down Ed's thighs, a barely there whisper that makes goosebumps break out wherever they go. He moves promisingly close to his dick and Ed tries to thrust into it, but Stede draws away to rake his fingernails lightly through his pubic hair instead, and it pulls a choked gasp from Ed's throat. He presses his fingers gently into one of the purple bruises that decorate Ed's thighs, and Ed outright whines at the pleasure-pain that pulses through him. Every touch feels like silk and lava, has fire catching on his skin and in his veins. Stede's hands are fucking magical.

Stede never stops rolling his hips as his hands tease and caress, and it's all driving Ed mad, the warmth of his body pressed so close, the tantalizing drag of his cock against his ass and the way it catches on his rim every now and then, the fingers now stroking slowly up the underside of his dick, sparking sheer, blazing need in his core. It's like Stede’s in no hurry to go anywhere, and Ed suddenly needs more, needs to feel him all over him, to be drowning in him until there's nothing else left in the world.

He reaches a hand behind him and digs his fingers into Stede's waist, presses himself as close to him as he can and cants his hips.

" Ed ," Stede groans, clutching him tightly.

"Want your dick inside me."

He feels Stede shudder and bury a whine in his neck.

"I won't last long, darling. I'm already close, you feel fantastic like this," he says, running his fingers delicately over the swell of his ass as he ruts his cock between his cheeks. "And watching you fall apart under my touch... God, Ed, you're absolutely perfect."

Ed feels warmth flush all over him at the praise, feels suffused with so much love he doesn't think his body will be enough to hold it. It drips liquid like honey through his veins, settles golden in his heart.

"Doesn't matter," he reassures, voice saturated with affection and need. "Wanna feel you come inside me."

Stede moans brokenly and stills against him, takes a few deep breaths and says, sounding strained, "You're not helping matters, Edward."

Ed chuckles. Like he should be sorry for a little begging after every dirty thing that's come out of Stede's mouth this morning?

Stede nips his shoulder. "Keep that up and you won't get what you want," he scolds.

Fuck, that's hot. He likes it when Stede tells him what to do, has for a long time, decided it was maybe his third new favorite thing in the world as soon as he heard the words I'm your captain come out of his mouth (the first two are Stede in general and the way he's always so gentle and attentive with him, in bed and out of it). He makes it his immediate goal to see what it takes to get him to do it again.

Stede pats the bed until he finds the oil where Ed dropped it earlier, and soon enough he's got a slick finger teasing at his entrance. Ed thrills with anticipation for what's coming next - if Stede's hands feel wonderful on him, they're even better in him. Stede draws lazy circles around the muscle, pushes in tentatively with two fingers at once, and Ed's whole mind flares bright at the pressure right where he needs it.

"You're still so loose," Stede purrs, stroking his fingers slowly in and out of his body. His voice sounds awed at the discovery.

"Yeah, happens when you got fucked into the mattress a few hours ago."

It doesn't hurt that Stede's been reducing him to putty for what feels like ages with a single hand on his dick, either, or that he gave Ed the best massage of his fucking life last night. Every muscle in Ed's body feels relaxed and loose.

Stede groans and bites down on his shoulder again, thrusts his fingers deep into the heat of Ed's body. Ed gasps and writhes in his arms.

"Fucking hell, Edward."

"Like the thought of fuckin' me often enough that I'll always be ready for you?" he challenges.

Stede crowds closer, brushes Ed's ear with his lips, whispers his next words right into it, "Are you doing it on purpose, darling?"

Ed feels strangely caught out even though he has been literally asking for it, reels for a second until he reminds himself that this is Stede, he can trust him with anything. He exhales the breath he's been holding and answers, "Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?"

Stede responds by crooking his knuckles sharply and keeping the pads of his fingers pressed against his prostate until Ed goes dizzy with it, whimpers at the unrelenting waves of pleasure rolling through him. The world fades for a few seconds, is reduced to Stede's fingers and frantic heat and Ed could swear the sun's come down from the sky to burn inside him for a moment.

"Look at that, you can be quiet after all," Stede growls. "You wanted me inside you," he punctuates the words with a deep thrust that has Ed's breath hitching and sharpening into a whine. "Wait until I've given you what you want," he does it again. "And then you can talk as filthy as you like."

Ed's mind blanks at the order, mouth falling shut and brain emptying of anything but the need to do as he's told. Stede's fingers are stretching him so sweetly already, he can be good and wait to have his cock.

For the next few minutes he takes everything Stede gives him as quietly as he can, focuses on the firestorm gathering in his hips and practices being patient. He's helpless to staunch the needy little sounds that escape him with every knuckle that slips past his entrance as he works him open, but he doesn't break until he can feel the blunt head of Stede’s dick press against him and slip into his hole.

"Can I talk now?" he bursts, at last. It sounds breathless to his own ears.

Stede laughs, a ragged and frenzied thing.

"Can't promise this won't be over really quickly if you do," he grunts as he sinks into him inch by lovely inch. He presses closer and closer until he's buried inside him balls deep, and Ed floods with ecstasy at finally getting what he's been craving.

"Don't care," he pants. And he really doesn't, just being joined like this with him is everything. "You feel fuckin' amazing inside me, Stede. Fuckin' love the way you fill me."

" Darling ," Stede moans, and rests his forehead on Ed's shoulder, breathes heavily like he's struggling to keep it together as much as Ed is, like this is all a little overwhelming for him as well. "You feel wonderful, too. Always so good for me." Ed dissolves into dazzling brightness at the neverending praise.

Stede plants his foot on the bed and drapes himself over Ed's back, starts rolling his hips at an easy pace. It's fucking great to feel him move against him his in this position. He's curled tight around Ed's body, blanketing him better than any fabric he's ever covered himself with, skin soft and warm, muscles hard underneath, holding him close against his chest as if he never wants to let go.

Ed's heart beats thunderously at the closeness, a river of fire flowing through his body with every maddening drag of Stede's cock inside him. He pants and lets himself be tugged by the current, rides the waves of pleasure Stede keeps him swimming in and knows that he's safe as long as he's got him, could never drown here.

It's all already so much, and then Stede adjusts the angle until he finds the one that makes Ed curse as stars erupt behind his eyelids.

"There?"

"Yeah, shit, right there," he groans.

Stede feeds the heat coursing liquid inside him with every snap of his hips, wrings every ounce of ecstasy he can out of him. This is all Ed wants for the rest of his life.

"Does it feel good, sweetheart?" Stede asks, pulls almost all the way out and slides hotly back in.

"So good, Stede. Fuck , do that again." Ed knows he's babbling a little incoherently, can't be bothered to give a single fuck about it. His mind is blissfully quiet and he's dying for more, and Stede is so good at giving him what he needs.

Stede builds up a slow, burning rhythm, brushes relentlessly against Ed's prostate and takes him higher and higher with every thrust. Ed shuts his eyes tight and focuses on the warmth of Stede draped over him, the way his lips and tongue brush over his skin everywhere they can reach, the blazing pleasure unfurling inside him. He loses track of what's coming out of his mouth, could guess it's probably a combination of Stede's name and shameless pleas for more.

"I love your body, Ed," Stede whispers like a confession as he moves inside him. "Love all of you so much."

The words wash over Ed like the sun glittering on the waves, light him up from the inside until he feels like his skin should be glowing with it. He practically sobs Stede's name as he intertwines his fingers with the ones pressed against his stomach, pushes back into him until he's as close as he can be.

Stede kisses his shoulder, his neck, his scalp, and Ed feels every press of his feverish lips as another declaration of love, thinks of names written in permanent ink and vows of his own he'd like to make some day. He feels bathed inside and out by the sunlight streaming through the window, by the warmth of the love being poured into his body.

"Love you, Stede," he whispers back. "Love you so much."

Stede buries his face between Ed's shoulders, snaps his hips a little faster, and they pant together as he fucks him just like he wanted, gives Ed exactly what he needed when he woke up feeling out of sorts about his life being too nice all of a sudden. His brain is definitely on board with too nice now, would like another hundred mornings like this one, please and thank you.

Stede's cock is perfect inside him, all velvety heat and delicious pressure as it stretches and fills him just the way he likes. It sparks something wild in him every time it slides in and out of his hole, every time it presses just right against the perfect spot inside him. He's so close already, and then Stede snakes a hand around his waist to wrap around his dick again, and Ed is melting, surrounded by red-hot flames on all sides.

"So close, Stede. Fuck. Please don't stop, please, please ," he begs.

Stede's movements stutter and his pace becomes a little more frantic, but he doesn't stop, keeps driving heatedly into Ed's body as his hand works his cock in the tight, hot circle of his fist in tandem with his hips. Heat swells inside Ed like a hurricane with every touch, with every inch of their skin pressing together, with every needy noise Stede lets out above him.

"Yes, yes . Come on, Ed." Stede sounds halfway to wrecked already, pace turning all the way from sweet and lazy to erratic and desperate as he speaks. Ed's almost ready to let go, too. "You feel - ah - too good, darling. I'm- god , I'm gonna come."

"Go ahead, babe, let me feel you."

Stede moans his name, keeps thrusting rapidly for a few more seconds before he buries himself deep inside Ed once, twice, and spills hotly within him.

Ed whimpers and comes right after, the feeling of Stede's cock pulsing inside him, of his come slick and messy in his hole enough to push him over the edge, too.

He's engulfed by heat, mind and body full of nothing but Stede and molten pleasure. It's like hitting the water at a hundred miles an hour and executing a perfect dive, the waves parting easily around him to lick welcoming tongues of fire all over his skin. Pure ecstasy ripples blindingly through him until it's all that's left and Ed is being consumed by it.

He makes a mess of Stede's hand as he comes all over it in hot, thick white ropes that seem to go on forever. Stede keeps working him through it, milks every last drop out of him until Ed starts shaking from too good and too much.

Stede releases him then, wipes his hand on the already ruined sheets and runs it over Ed's feverish skin in tender, soothing motions, whispers praises into his ear - so good, Ed, love you, you were amazing -, until Ed comes down and sinks against him, limbs heavy and mind light. He drinks in the warmth of Stede's body, feels his heart beat wildly against his back and cherishes the proof of his life flowing strong and steady through him.

"You gonna keep talking like that all day?" he asks, in between gulps of breath.

"Would it be such a big problem for you?"

He chooses that moment to pull out of him. Ed shudders.

"Fuck me, Stede. We won't get a thing done if you keep running that mouth of yours."

"I remember you having a few dirty things of your own to contribute," Stede remarks as he brushes Ed's damp hair out of his face, strokes his palm lazily down the curve of his waist. "Had to shut you up about it, in fact."

And he did it so beautifully, treated Ed just like he needed. He feels tingly all over at the memory, will make him do it again if it gets him fucked this thoroughly then, too. He brings Stede's hand to his lips and kisses his palm, a wordless thank you for taking such good care of him.

They lie contentedly together, exchanging soft touches as they wait for their breaths to even out and their hearts to settle. It's peaceful and perfect, until Stede's stomach rumbles loudly in the quiet room. Ed laughs until he has tears in his eyes.

"Maybe we can table our discussion until after breakfast," Stede concedes.

"Oh, it was a discussion, was it?"

"Would you like to think about it as more of a healthy competition?"

Ed pounces on him and kisses him until he's stolen all the air from his lungs. Stede flounders in shock for a fraction of a second before he's kissing back with equal enthusiasm, buries a hand in Ed's hair like he'd be more than happy to go at it all over again. Ed's stomach is the one that interrupts them this time.

"Make me breakfast while I run us a bath and I'll let you win this time, 'kay?"

"That wouldn't be sportsmanlike, darling," he complains, and pinches his ass.

"I'm starving here, babe." He sits on Stede’s hips and gives him one of the pleading, wide eyed looks that he's quickly discovered will get him anything he wants.

"Oh, alright, that's uncalled for, Ed. You're playing dirty."

"Thought that's what you were all about these days," he teases good naturedly as he bends down to steal one more kiss from Stede’s lips.

He feels cheerful and airy as he gets out of bed and slips on his favorite soft robe, stumbling start to the morning all but forgotten after being wrapped in Stede's warmth and loved so earnestly and absolutely.

Stede comes to join him, wraps his arms around him from behind and smiles as he hooks his chin on Ed's shoulder.

"I win, anyway. I get to hold you forever," he declares.

Ed's knees go a little weak at that. He didn't know it was possible to love anyone this much before Stede, didn't think he was even capable of loving like this. He remembers standing on the edge of a cliff and declaring himself unlovable, remembers the hair-raising fall that followed, too.

But he was willing to do something about it after all, wasn't he? He's learning to ask for what he wants, learning to give himself permission to accept what Stede gives freely, learning to believe that he means every praise he gives, every I love you he gifts him. He turns around in his arms and kisses him tenderly.

"And I get to be held by you." He smiles against his lips. "I think we both win."

Stede's eyes shine brighter than the morning sun.

Ed can hear him sing all the way from the bathroom as he makes breakfast for two, a catchy, cheery tune. He manages not to burn the toast this time.

#gentlebeard #blackbonnet #ofmd #ofmd fic #our flag means death #my fic #i can't believe i'm finally posting fic again

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flanaganfilm · 1 year

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Mike, can you tell us your experience premiering Oculus at tiff 2013? I recently saw Perri Nemiroff’s interview with you (looking like a baby btw- so young) and it made me think about what your mindset must have been as in getting yo experience the launch of your career, post Absentia, at one of the most prestigious festivals.

Oh, I remember that very well... a lot changed in a very short amount of time. And I think I know the interview you're talking about, I keep trying to link to it here but it doesn't take...

So there are few things to point out about Oculus and about what was happening in my life at the time. When Oculus got greenlit, I was working full time as a reality television editor. I used to sneak out of my job at lunch to go to "doctor's appointments" whenever I had to come for production meetings or casting sessions (they started to think there was something really, really wrong with my health).

Making the movie was an amazing learning experience - it was my first "real" movie, and full of lessons. It was the first collaboration with people who would become pillars of my career moving forward, like producer Trevor Macy (who is now my partner at Intrepid Pictures and who has produced everything I've ever made since) and my DP Michael Fimognari, who is one of the most important collaborators of my life. It was also the first time I worked with a young actress named Kate Siegel, who played the spooky ghost in the mirror.

We went into TIFF with distribution already in place. FilmDistrict had committed to the project during the Cannes market before we shot the movie, so we thought we were set. It was going to be my big theatrical debut.

Just before we premiered at TIFF, FilmDistrict abruptly and bafflingly dropped the film. I still don't really know why. They had committed to a worldwide theatrical release for the movie, but for reasons that were never made entirely clear to me, they dropped us just before the festival. Suddenly the whole enterprise was in jeopardy, and I didn't know if anyone would pick the movie back up.

I was absolutely terrified.

Being my first "real" movie, I didn't really know how this world worked and couldn't understand why our distributor didn't want to release it. We'd made the movie they had been excited about, they seemed to really like it, and we'd done everything they asked - it was a shock to the system. So when we rolled into tiff, we were homeless and trying not to let FilmDistrict's abrupt change of heart poison our chances of another sale.

I had never been to TIFF before but heard about Midnight Madness, which had seen huge sales from Cabin Fever and Insidious. Bidding wars had broken out while the films were still screening. But being part of the program was absolutely no guarantee of distribution - in fact, this might be the highest this movie would ever rise.

Trevor Macy and I went to the world premiere of The Green Inferno, which was playing the night before we played, and the audience was ROWDY. Like, shouting and hollering throughout the movie. We looked at each other with wide, nervous eyes - if this was the Midnight Madness audience, they were going to hate our movie the next day. We were considerably slower, ponderous, and atmospheric in a room that seemed to demand visceral, overt entertainment. I left the screening feeling dejected and a little doomed. Trevor was more upbeat, citing conversations he'd had with the programmer, Colin Geddes, who assured us he'd put our movie in the best possible spot for its success.

Our screening was September 9th, 2013 at midnight. I was petrified, and we were sold out. I remember walking into the theater feeling like this was the most important screening of my life. I wasn't alone, thank goodness. Trevor Macy, Michael Fimognari, Brenton Thwaites, Katee Sackhoff, Rory Cochrane, and James Lafferty were on hand. The film seemed to play well. It was the opposite of the screening the night before, which Colin had told us would happen - "watch," he had said. "The Saturday night slot is the big crazy one. You guys are Sunday, and it's going to be completely different. They'll plug right in."

He was right. You could hear a pin drop for most of the first half, and then there were moments of scattered applause that picked up as the film progressed. By the end, people were jumping in their seats and cheering for young Tim and Kaylee. There was an audible gasp when the anchor swung. And the applause at the credits seemed heartfelt and loud.

Most of that is a blur for me. I found this grainy pic from the Q&A after the film. I still had no idea how it had gone, or what was going to come out of it. I remember having hard time putting words together, and I vividly recall feeling like I sounded like an absolute moron whenever I talked, and trying to pass the microphone over to the actors as often as I could.

It's tough to see everyone in the pic, but from left to right it is Colin Geddes, Michael Fimognari, myself, Trevor Macy, Katee Sackhoff, Brenton Thwaites, Rory Cochrane, and James Lafferty.

When I stepped out of the theater, though, I became aware that everything had changed. I was immediately surrounded by people who had seen the film, suddenly shaking a ton of hands and realizing that it had been a hit. I walked into the theater by myself, utterly anonymous, and feeling every bit like an imposter. But everything was different when I walked out. I remember someone from the press talking about it years later, and saying "I was there that night - you walked into the theater with nothing, and walked out with a career."

People were asking me to sign stuff. That had never happened in my life. People wanted to get pictures. It was SO. FUCKING. WEIRD. Someone snapped a picture during that little whirlwind, and you can see it on my (young, skinny, hopelessly naive) face - an overall bewilderment, a gentle disbelief that this was happening:

I loved my experience at TIFF. And it absolutely started everything. Relativity, Blumhouse, and WWE Films joined forces to make an offer on the movie at the festival, and we left with a theatrical distribution deal. My career had officially begun. Now, I wouldn't feel like it had for several more years - I remained in fight/flight/survival mode well through Gerald's Game - but in retrospect, yes, that's when it happened.

Thank you for asking this question, it's been a while since I've looked back at this period of my life. It kinda makes me want to watch that movie again. It has been a LONG time, and I owe it a lot.

Maybe everything.

#oculus #tiff #toronto film festival #midnight madness #I cannot and will not accept that this was only ten years ago

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darkhymns-fic · 2 months

Text

A Cat of Good Behavior

When Vaggie came by, pissed that the bartender was drunk out of his mind once more, she noted the bell collar then. “This some new dress code?” she had asked, her stare holding several shades of scrutiny. “Dress code,” Husk repeated, his tone deadpan, his chest so hollow that only more alcohol could fill it. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Alastor gets Husk a new gift to wear for the day. And Husk, despite all his protests, plays the part so well.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Alastor/Husk, Angel Dust, Niffty Rating: E Word Count: 6416 Mirror: AO3 Notes: This is a higher-rated fic, so only an excerpt will be shared here. Please read the rest on AO3 and mind the tags! It's toxic radiohusk, my beloved.

Husk found the package in his room, perched just on top of his bed covers. It was a small white box, wrapped neatly with a red bow.

Instantly, he felt a strange sense of revulsion from it.

Alastor had a habit of just going into his hotel room whenever he pleased, whether it was to just wile away the time or get Husk to go on an errand. It happened so often that Husk had learned long ago to never expect any privacy. Of course not. Not when he was someone else’s property.

And Alastor also loved leaving Husk with little surprises.

He wasn’t sure what to do at first; leaving it alone just made it feel too ominous, and throwing it away would probably attract the Radio Demon’s anger in some way or another. No, the only other option was opening the damn thing, and Husk couldn’t begin to guess what his boss was leaving him with. It could have been anything, like a disgusting entrée from Cannibal Town, or maybe a nest of ticks just to piss Husk off.

…He was hoping if it was anything, he’d rather it be the Cannibal Town delicacy. Hell ticks were a pain to get rid of.

Swallowing, Husk delicately unwrapped the bow with one finger, as if touching it any more would invoke some sort of curse in his already cursed afterlife. But when the bow was fully unraveled, and he could open the box lid, he had to blink twice.

It was a bell collar, fashioned from bright red leather with golden clasps. The bell in front was impossible to miss, which was as big as his thumb, with its surface holding a shine to it.

Fucking kidding me with this.

Husk looked at it for a few more seconds, his irritation slowly building up until he couldn’t help but swat the damn thing off his bed. The collar made a soft ringing sound, the accessory thumping onto the carpet. It echoed in the air, enough that he couldn’t forget the tone of the bell if he tried.

He was way too tired to understand Alastor’s new game now.

#hazbin hotel #radiohusk #alastor #husk #fanfiction #one shot

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desire-mona · 1 month

Text

dps boys hcs! this has been requested of me! lets make it modern bc thatll be fun

- todd absolutely DESPISES "booktok" and its addiction to smut. can go on a VERY long rant abt how only reading things with sex scenes is, in fact, a porn addiction.

- knox has tried on many occasions to become an influencer, failing every single time and blaming it on the algorithm or whaver

- neil, type of mother fucker to not be on social media like at all. has one private instagram that he posts on maybe twice a year, and has a tiktok only to watch the videos todd intermittently sends him.

- ^^^ followed immediately by a text saying "i sent you a tiktok go look at it" which always sparks a mini argument about whether or not its easier to just save the video and text it to him. goes nowhere every time.

- meeks has fashion taste that makes him look insufferable, band tee's and the worst jeans you ever did see, exclusively. also modern meeks would have clear glasses frames.

- saw someone say charlie would vape, id like to add to that. has a COLLECTION of elf bars, its vast, its colourful, it's annoying, it's turning his coughs wet.

- pitts was a fast fashion guy for a total of 6 months before finding out all the shit about how unethical the industry is. didnt get rid of any of those clothes bc thats wasteful but he IS fighting for his life whenever anyone looks at his wardrobe.

- cameron is a BIG analog horror fan, local 58, walten files, fnaf tapes, thats his jam. can we popularise cam being a big horror fan in general bc im so attached to that hc. horror cam i love u.

- all the boys have a life360 circle (enforced by cam and pitts due to charlie's horrendous reckless driving) and todd CONSTANTLY needs to be yelled at the charge his phone.

- neil's phone is ANCIENT, had the same one for nearly a decade, and its evident. has a bigass crack right down the middle, the back is shattered and held together with tape, a phone case, and a dream. theres marks from shit burning into the screen, most notably a rectangle in the bottom corner from the billions of facetime calls with todd that ultimately set his phone on fire every time.

- todd is secretly a grade A yapper but ONLY in digital form. his online presence is VAST, but impressively anonymous. has a very active substack, letterboxd, poetry tumblr, and even started his own blog. no, not a tumblr blog, a blog blog.

- charlie's car is decked out in the most idiotic add ons that you can think of. comically large mirror dice, a bumper sticker that says "honk if you want me bad", stupid car door lights that project a photo of jimmy fallon onto the ground when u open them, the whole 9 yards. took neil, pitts, and cameron 20 minutes to talk him out of getting flame decals (as a bit.)

- knox refuses to play any other videogame besides GTA, which he plays concerningly often. if ur having trouble reaching him then odds are hes on GTA. its the only hobby of his that his parents know about. christmas is tough for the overstreets.

- meeks is well aware of his general ☝️🤓 demeanour so he started making jokes about it before anyone else can. any time he says anything remotely smart sounding then he MUST do the voice and put up a finger. it became a force of habit and he did it while talking to a teacher once, he left the room mortified.

- pittsie lives on spotify, he has a playlist for every possible emotion, over 3k liked songs, and 200k+ minutes listened when wrapped season rolls around. additionally he does every spotify stat game available, and forced the boys to download a spotify activity widget thing. (WHAT DO YALL KNOW ABT AIRBUDS ‼️‼️ add me @ monahatesya xoxo)

- cam loves to make jokes about DARE and the "this is ur brain on drugs" ads but he is, in fact, the main demographic of said ads. said this before, saying it now, will most definitely say it again, he is beyond susceptible to peer pressure. marijuana isnt a gateway drug for everyone but it certainly is for him.

bonus! chris and keating! just for you!

- chris is avoiding the lesbian masterdoc purely out of fear. not out of fear of being gay, but out of fear of the sheer amount of subsequent other things she'll likely also have to find out about herself.

- keating spends an inordinate amount of time on youtube, which nobody actually expects. big video essay fan, imagine the shock from the boys when he pulls up youtube for a lesson and he's halfway thru the 4 hour iBinged iCarly video. was previously a james somerton fan but considering... the james somerton part.. hes now a defunctland loyalist.

#desire mona #WHOO #i successfully remembered all the hcs that got deleted please clap #i forgot how fun these types of posts are #i luuuvvvv getting specific with it #also congrats swifties on the new album release personally i very much dislike her (for the carbon emission reasons not the misogyny reason #) but im glad yall are eating good #dead poets society #neil perry #todd anderson #charlie dalton #knox overstreet #steven meeks #gerard pitts #richard cameron #chris noel #john keating #banger

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samcscreams · 9 months

Text

It can't be a coincidence

Hello friends! This one shot was inspired by @doctorwhoarchive it would not have been possible without her! Also took an inspiration form this post. Im also super proud of this one. Its my biggest project yet and I put a lot of time and effort into it so I hope you like it!

Also a shout out to @monarchsrus for all the writing advice!

Trigger warning: Drug Use

Word count: 7.5k

__________________________________________

It was like any other day. Sam rolled over to turn her alarm clock off. It had been about 9 months since she’d been able to actually wake up to the sounds. No, most days she wakes hours before her alarm clock goes off and just stars at the ceiling waiting for time to pass her by.

After turning it off she rolls over and sit on the edge of her bed. After taking a much needed deep breath she begins to get ready for school.

She shuffled over to her closet and pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and makes her way to her sisters room.

“Knock Knock. You up yet Tar?” She asked as she slowly opened the door.

Her baby sister was still curled up under her covers. Sam sighed knowing she was gonna have to be responsible and wake her up. She just looked so peaceful while sleeping, it broke her heart to be the one to ruin it.

“Hey time to wake up big girl.” Sam rubbed circles in Taras back to coxes her out of sleep.

As Tara started to stir awake she smiled at the sight of her big sister.

“Morning Sammy” She said with a toothy grin as she rubbed sleep from her eyes

“Im gonna use the bathroom. Make sure you pick out some clothes and pack your book bag” Sam said as she left.

Tara felt the emptiness of the room eat her alive. Sam would normally help her pick out her clothes and at least say good morning in return. But lately Sam just wasn’t the same. Tara sat up in bed wondering if she did something wrong.

After Sam was done in the bathroom she was putting her clothes on when she noticed her jeans were now officially two inches higher than when she got them.

“Dammit” She muttered to herself. Sadly, she had gone through a growth spurt only a month after she found the diaries.

Therefore Christina has been less than eager to go shopping with her daughters. Christina also thought since Tara never seemed to grow and could still fit into some of her preschool shirts the other one should be just as fine.

She was not fine, far from fine but she would never tell anyone that. So when Sam went to put on the t-shirt she pulled from her closet she flexed just a bit too hard casing the back seem to pop. She looked over into the mirror and almost chuckle as she looked like the hulk ripping out of her own clothes.

She needed a plan and fast as she would need to head down stairs to make tara breakfast soon. Then it hit her, her dad not dad left his clothes. He’s gotta have something she could take.

Sam snuck into her mothers room and over to her dads not dad closet. Upon entering she took a deep breath taking in the lingering smell that used to smell like safety, like home. She looked up towards the top shelf. There were a random assortment of old band shirts so she grabbed the top one. ‘Nirvana, perfect’ she thought to herself and snuck back out not waking her mother in doing so.

She grabbed her combat boots, as they were the only shoes that fit her, and luckily they made up for the two inches that her pants didn’t cover on her legs. She then grabbed her zip up hoodie and made her way down stair after seeing tara was no longer in her room.

“Tara?” Sam called as she hit the bottom floor.

“In here Sammy” Tara called back from the kitchen

Once Sam made her way to her sister she was greeted with burnt toast and half squeezed OJ.

“Tara what are you doing?” Sam asked trying to bite back her temper which was becoming alarming harder to do recently.

“I wanted to make you breakfast. To make up for making you mad.” Tara with her big doe eyes stared directly into her big sisters looking for any sign of reassurance that she was forgiven.

“Making me mad? Baby girl what do you mean?” Sam pulled her baby sister in for a hug pushing Taras bangs away to get a clear look at her. Yet Sam could feel the guilt bubbling in her gut.

“You don’t help me get ready for school anymore. I though I did something wrong.” Tara said looking up at Sam tears pricking the corner of her eyes.

Sam mulled over Tara’s words realizing she had been pulling away since last December. But even more recently with starting high school. They’ve been promoting Stab-a-Thon for months at school and truth be told it was starting to get to Sam. She was numb most days to deal with the fear of who she was. Who she could be.

“Im so sorry. I didn’t realize. But no little one. You’ve done nothing wrong. High school is just a lot sometimes. It’s really not your fault.” Sam said as she kneeled down and cupped Tara’s face.

“Oh okay.” Tara respond with in a timid voice.

“Do you like breakfast?” She followed up with, as a smile grew across her tiny face.

Sam took a burnt piece of toast and took a bite. Immediately the ash flavoring coated her mouth. But she swallowed and put on a show.

“Mmmm when did you become a five star chef?” Sam asked making Tara erupt with glee

“Now hurry, go grab your book bag and put on your shoes. Mom will be up soon and we gotta get you to school now don’t we.” Sam said ushering Tara off.

She turned back to the burnt toast on the table and threw it in the trash and went to make some fresh pieces. ‘Tara won’t know the difference’ she thought to herself and right she was. As they made their way out the front door Tara was happily munching on her buttered toast she thought she had made.

Sam was just happy to have gotten everything done without running late for school. As they rounded the corner to walk through the town square, Sam froze in her tracks. Hanging from each lamp post was a Ghostface decoration. She knew it was only a matter of time before she was going to have to face people dressing up as her personal nightmare. But for the whole town to be covered in the reminder of what was in her blood made her stomach flip. It wasn’t until Tara started to tung on her sleeve that she snapped out of her trance.

“Sammy come on. What are you doing?” Tara said trying to get her big sister attention.

“Ya what sorry” Sam said looking down at her sister. She moved to take Taras hand as they continued forward towards Taras elementary school.

“Ouch, too tight” Tara tries to pull her hand from Sam’s. Sam immediately lets go not realizing she tensed her muscles at the sight of a a poster in the book stores window. ‘Today at 1pm Out of Darkness’ Sidney Prescott’s face beaming brightly behind the words.

“Sorry.” Sam said shoving her hands into her jacket pockets.

“What’s gotten into you?” Tara asked rubbing her now throbbing hand. Her big sisters been distant but not careless. Tara waited penitently for her sister to respond but alas all there was was silence.

Sam was frozen again. The sound of a car door caught her attention as she looked behind her and saw none other than Sidney Prescott in the flesh. Her blood ran cold at the sight. It was one thing to hear about her and the stories but there she was clear as day. Sam couldn’t hear anything but the sound of her heart beating in her ears. Her hands started to tingle inside of her pockets as her air ways closed.

“SAM” Tara yelled looking around to figure out what had such a grip on her sister.

“Shit sorry Tara. It’s just…” Sam looked to Tara who was eagerly waiting for the truth.

The truth.

Sam couldn’t face that. Sam couldn’t begin to explain to Tara what was going on with her. Not today. Hopefully never. So she switched on. She had to be there for Tara. She needed to keep it together for her.

“… been hard to sleep that’s all. Im sorry for being weird. No more of that as of now! How about after school today we watch some movies. I'll even make popcorn.” Sam said with a smile on her face. She had to pull it together. She promised to always be there for tara. Just because her life is turning out to be a shit show doesn’t mean she can’t make sure Taras isn’t.

“You mean it?” Tara said jumping a little as she walked.

“I promise” Sam said holding out her pinky. Tara took it with her own and then turned back to walking.

Lucky for Sam, Tara didn’t say anything else as they finished their walk to her school. Her mind raced ‘why was Sidney Prescott in town?. Nobody had seen her in years. Why of all days, times, years was she here?’

Before Sam new it they were outside Taras school.

“Have a good day. Love you” Sam said as she kissed Tara’s forehead

“Love you too!” Tara said walking off towards her group of friends. Sam waived at the twins and Wes.

As soon as Tara was safe inside Sam made her way to school. She put her headphones in and tried to tune out the world.

Only to catch a car rolling by right next to her causing her to jump a little.

“Hey Carpenter” Asked Kirby Reed leaning over to yell out her passenger side window.

“Oh hey Kirby” Sam responded digging her hands further into her jacket pocket.

“Need a ride? I gotta pick up Jill and Olivia still but I'm sure they won’t mind.” She asked with a genuine smile.

Sam thought about it as Kirby had always been so nice to her ever since she got paired with her for adopt a freshmen. It was a program for incoming freshmen to get paired up with a senior to show them the ropes. Sam forgot she signed up before everything went down. She’s honestly glad she did but would never admit to it.

“No i’m gonna walk, thanks tho.” Sam said thought a tight lipped smile.

“Suit yourself freshie” Kirby said stepping on the gas sending her flying down the street right past Sherif Riley.

Sam chuckled as she watch the car try and slow down as the Sherif yelled climbing into his own car.

Not too much later Sam was standing on the lawn of Woodsboro high school. Students swarmed around her going in every which direction. She took a deep breath as she made her way to the front on the school. Only to catch as she walked pass a group a seniors the one piece of information she needed to realize today was going to be her worst nightmare.

“Here is my Woodsboro massacre anniversary question. What is your favorite scary movie?”

‘Shit what’s today’ Sam thought to herself as she puled her old flip phone from her back pocket.

September 28th 2011

“Fuck” Sam muttered to herself.

Today was the 15th anniversary of the original massacre. The one where Billy Loomis her father and Stu Macher killed a bunch of kids at a house party. ‘How could she be so stupid. She knew this day would come. How could she forget’ Sam’s thoughts ran wild as she went to her locker. She couldn’t help but notice the growing pit inside of her. It settled low in her stomach gnawing at her as if it was trying to tell her something.

Once making it to her locker she opened it and put away her book bag and grabbed her stuff for first period. As she went to grab her books she saw her hand was shaking, she grabbed the side of her locker like her life depended on it and took a deep breath to try and steady herself. As her luck would have it, it didn’t work. So she wrapped her arms around her books and hurried off to her first class.

“Sam wait up!”

Sam turned around to see Vince Schneider running up beside her.

“What do you want Vince” Sam said dryly

“Nice to see you to sunshine. I just wanted to ask what you were doing tonight. Ive got a hook up if you're interested.” He said with a sly smile

“What makes you think i’d want to do that?” She asked

“Well you dropped all your old friends in the last year. Just thought you could use the company. Anyway, you know where to find me.” And with that he was gone.

After Sam had found the diaries she effectively pushed everyone she knew away. Not that there was a lot of people to push away in the first place but even acquaintances became strangers agin.

Sam sat in the back of her class and just waited for the bell to ring. It wasn’t that she was dumb or anything she just found it hard to care about how mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. When would that ever be useful?

On days like today time alway seemed to mess with her. One second she was here, the next someplace else. Sometimes time wouldn’t move at all and she'd be suck for what felt like hours. She thought herself lucky when the bell rang faster than she expected. In hindsight she wishes first period never ended.

Sam got settled into second period. She bounced her leg along to the sound of her heart beating in her ears. They were reading The Great Gatsby and were just about to start the open discussion when everybody’s phone started to buzz.

Sam pulled her shitty flip phone out of her back pocket, to her surprise and slight embarrassment she had nothing on her phone. It seemed that everyone had gotten a text about something. Why didn’t she?

“Oh my god Marnie Cooper and Jenny Randall were murdered last night. Says they were stabbed to death. They're saying it was Ghostface” One kid says as the rest of the class starts to erupt with chatter.

“Look” Some other kid said standing up and walking to the windows. There were already news vans racing down the street to set up and start interviewing students.

Sam want to get up to join her classmates but she couldn’t move. Her legs were cemented to the ground and no matter how hard her brain yelled at her arms, they wouldn’t budge. All she could hear were three words dancing around her mind making her skin crawl and the pit in her stomach grow.

Stabbed

Murdered

Ghostface

Everyone was up staring out the windows but her. Sam could feel her hands start to go numb. At first it was just her pinky finger but the more she sat with the knowledge the more the numbing traveled up her arms.

‘Were her classmates staring at her? When did they all start looking at her? Why were they staring? Do they know. They have to know. They all know.’ Sam’s head was screaming as her breath was becoming more and more labored.

‘Leave, Run, anything’ She heard break through the chatter in her mind. So Sam did exactly that. She ran, leaving all her stuff behind. Pushing through anyone in the hallway, she slammed the bathroom doors open and took the first available stall and locked it behind her curling up into a ball.

At this point her vision was starting to blur and the numbing had spread all over her body. She couldn’t even hear anything over the pounding of her heart inside her chest.

‘“Breath Sam just breath” She muttered to herself as she rocked back and forth in the shall.

Sam wanted to distract herself to calm her mind but there was no escape from the tormenting thoughts. ‘Why was this happening now. Someone had to know. What if she’s next. What if this is all her fault? What if they target Tara?’

“Tara” Sam said though numb lips. If she didn’t know any better she would assume she was having a stroke.

“Hello? Is someone in here?” A voice echoed thought the empty bathroom.

Sam was unwillingly shaking her leg causing the toilet seat they were resting on to rattle which alerted anyone who enters the bathroom of her existence.

“Hello?” The voice said again

Sam tried to speak, she really did, but her words caught in her throat.

“This isn’t funny. I can hear you.”

Sam tried to move again. Only her body was stuck shaking as her mind simply could no longer control her limbs. Sam could hear the girl walk slowly over to the stall she hid behind.

“If you don’t say anything I'm gonna open the door” Said the girl from the other side.

A beat passed and all the air seemed to evaporate from the room as the stall door swung open.

Sam’s body relaxed at the sight of Lindsay White, someone who she use to consider a friend. Well a friendly acquaintance at least.

“Samantha? What the hell is wrong with you? You scared me half to death. With the news of the Ghostface you really think it's funny to scare people?” She said holding a stern disappointed look across her face.

“Its Sam and what kind of psycho opens a bathroom door on someone?.” She said in a dry tone

Sam became free of her panic at the familiarity in front of her. She moved off the toilet seat and out of the stall.

“Ya, ya you go by Sam now. Whatever and you could have said something.” Lindsay said rolling her eyes

“What are you even doing in here? Oh my god have you been crying? What it’s not like you new them or anything” Lindsay noticed the red hints to Sam’s eyes and her face was slightly swollen and tear stained.

“Im fine Lindsay. Just drop it.” Sam snipped

“Drop it, Yeah… Like you dropped me?” Lindsay’s eyes narrowed at Sam. She moved only inches away staring at Sam through the bathroom mirror.

“We weren’t even friends” Sam said refusing to meet Lindsay’s eyes in the mirror as she washed her hands.

“Wow. Didn’t realize I meant so little to you.”

Sam waited a beat hoping the silence would send Lindsay away but Sam’s luck ran out a year ago when she opened that stupid diary.

“What even happened to you? One day you’re saying hi to me in the hall’s, asking to do projects together and the next I don’t even exist to you. Like ya, your dad left or whatever but you barely ever saw him anyway. You got cold and distant.”

Sam was gripping the side of the sink so hard her knuckles were turning white. Lindsay’s voice was like nails on a chalk board, effectively bubbling the constant rage that lay deep in Sam’s stomach.

“Lindsay just go” Sam said looking up to finally meet Lindsay’s gaze.

Lindsay stumbled back at the look on Sam’s face. Her eyes were dark and hooded.

“Oh my god. You did it.”

Sam’s heart imploded at the accusation completely dropping whatever expression she had a moment before.

“What? No… I…” Sam said almost sounding like a pleading child begging for their parents to understand.

“I know you Sam, you always had that glint. But it's more now. It’s different. Something inside you broke over Christmas break causing a dark cloud to always follow you around. Why else would you be hiding in here when the news dropped?” Lindsay’s voice was full of realization as if she found the last pice of the puzzle. But her words made Sam’s skin buzz with fear of the truth.

‘Your just like him’ She heard rattle around in her mind. Bile burned the back of her throat as she tried to swallow her emotions. So before Lindsay could add anything else or, Sam in turn make things worse she pushed pass the girl and ran out of the bathroom. Sam’s mind and body barely keeping up with the panic rising and falling inside of her. Her brain was on fire as her mind started to attack.

‘Murder, killer, you're just like him, Ghostface, stabbed to death, you did it, broken, you can’t escape it, darkness, psychopath, you did this, this is your fault’ Sam just kept running. If she ran fast enough maybe it would all stop maybe the voices would just shut up.

Before she knew it she was three blocks from the school and completely out of breath. She sat down on the closest stoop and tried to relax.

‘Think about the things that make you happy’ Sam remembers one of her mothers friends saying after her father not father left.

So Sam did exactly that she thought of Tara.

“Oh my god Tara” Sam said out loud as she bolted to her feet. Without even thinking her body moved towards her sisters elementary school. If she was gonna feel any better about the events of the day she needed her sister by her side. As they say anyone is a suspect and if that was the case she needed to protect her sister from anyone.

Upon reaching Taras school she saw the line of parents and cars rushing to pick up their children as news of Ghostface spread.

Sam made her way to get in line but stopped only feet away. Frozen once again she saw none other than her mother waiting impatiently in line at the school.

Her mother never picks Tara up. Even when Taras sick she calls Sam out of school so she can go pick her up and deal with it. With that being said their mother defiantly hadn’t called Sam out of school yet.

‘Fuck she can’t see me’ Sam thought to herself. She needed to get out of there and fast. At least she knows Tara’s gonna be at home. She would say safe but Christina as been becoming more and more erratic since last December.

As Sam is backing away she bumps into someone.

“Oh hi their Samantha. Are you here to pick up Tara?” Judy Hicks asked trying to steady the young girl in front of her.

“It’s Sam. But um, no, my mom is. I just came to make sure she got her.” Sam said shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“Sorry, Sam, but before I forget is there a chance you could babysit Wes tonight and tomorrow? With all this craziness id feel much more comfortable if he was with his friends.” Judy looked down at Sam who seemed hesitant to answer.

“Ill pay double” She added

“Okay, ya I just gotta go back to school and get my stuff. You can drop him off whenever. I think my mom should be home with Tara” Sam shot the deputy a small smile before turning and walking back towards the high school.

“Be careful Sam.” Judy added as Sam walked away.

Sam kept walking towards the school but truth be told she’d rather get hit with a car than go back inside of that place. She just need a place to lay low for a bit. Going home was the obvious choice but now that she knows her mother will be there its the last place shell go.

So Sam walked and walked and walked until she came upon a park that wasn’t far from her home. She had taken Tara here to play plenty of times when their parents would fight or if she was babysitting the kids. The park was the first place all day Sam felt safe. So as if her body knew, exhaustion hit her like a truck. From having a plethora of panic attacks to walking what felt like a marathon she was about to collapse. So as soon as she came upon a park bench she sat down. Then she made the mistake of laying down.

‘Just a few minutes’ She thought to her self. It felt so good to just breath for a moment. She was so tired that her mind was finally silent.

“Yo Sam.”

Someone said as a hand shook Sam’s shoulder jolting her awake. In a panic she looked around trying to make out her surroundings. It was well past night fall causing Sam to strain her eyes as she realized who was there.

“God dammit Vince. You scared the shit out of me.” Sam barked

“Whoa don’t yell at me. Your the weirdo sleeping on a park bench with a serial killer on the loose” Vince shot back

“Whatever” She replied as she got up from the bench and stretched. She then noticed the other two kids a few yards away. They were smoking something.

“Why the hell are you here tho for real?” Vince asked sincerity dripping from his tone.

“Its none of your business okay.” Sam’s irritation was bounce off of her like hot oil

“Jesus fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Vince took a moment to take in Sam. His heart pinged seeing this disheveled girl who had clearly been crying most of the day. He saw a similar look flash in her eyes one he can relate too. One that say the world is just too much to take.

“There’s something about you carpenter. We're connected, I don’t know how yet but we are.” Vince looked at Sam with compassion and understanding. It made Sam’s skin burn like a magnify glass being held up to the sun.

“And somehow I'm the weirdo” Sam said as she gabbed her phone from her pocket to check the time.

“My phones dead. What time is it?” She asked putting the useless bric back into her pants packet

“9:18”

Sam sprinted before Vince could say anything else. ‘How the fuck did it get so late. She was suppose to watch Wes, Tara and the twins. Her mother’s gonna beat her senseless’ She thought to herself making her way down the street.

Sam took a second before entering the house. She knew It wasn’t going to be good but with all the kids over maybe that would lessen the punch of her mothers words. Christina would hate if those kids reported back to their parents how poor of a mother she is.

Then it hit Sam. The unnerving sounds of shear quiet. She couldn’t hear anything. There was no birds chirping or bugs buzzing. There wasn’t even the sound of the wind rushing though the trees. But worst of all there wasn’t the sounds of four 9 year olds running wild within the house. It was like the world was frozen with fear.

Sam sucked in a deep breath as she opened the front door. She yelled out for her sister to have some form of hope call back to her that everything was going to be okay. That her light was inside this haunted home and she was safe. But no words answered back. Just empty echoes of a broken house. Sam could feel the numbing tingles prick her pinkies once again. As she moved through the house every alarm in her body went off telling her to leave. To just turn back around and go. She knew she wasn’t safe, but when was Sam ever good at listing.

“Mom?” Sam asked once spying the older women standing in the kitchen wine glass in hand.

Christina took the last swig of her drink and began to poor another. Not even bothering to look up at her eldest.

“Where’s Tara?” Sam asked trying to suppress her panic. Yet her words fell on deff ears as her mother just continued to drink. Sam’s panic quickly shaped into anger. She didn’t like not knowing if Tara was safe or not.

“Mom where is Tara?” Sam said again more sternly finally pulling her hands from her pockets.

Yet again her mother completely ignored her.

Sam could feel the way the numbing sensation dissipated in her hands. She could feel them start to itch as they bawled into vengeful fists.

“I swear to God, if you don’t answer me I'm gonna…” Sam was cut off before she could finish

“Your gonna what Samantha? You're gonna hurt me? Huh? Is that it? You're gonna grab that knife and go to town? Gonna make daddy proud?”

Her words were like shrapnel from a bomb, logging themselves deep into Sam’s skin. But Sam stood there and took it. Absorbing the blows and pulling the pain into her rage.

“Fuck you. Im not playing this game. Where’s Tara?” Sam hissed at her mother.

“You couldn’t even last a year. I mean I knew it was inevitable, turning into him. It's always their Samantha, right in your eyes. I bet you’ve been planning since the night your bastard mouth ruined my life. You’ve just been biding your time until that bitch Prescott came back to town.” Christina could barely stand but that didn’t stop her from unleashing every vile thought in her mind.

Sam knew she should have walked away. She knew she should have taken the last bit of her sanity and walked away. But holding the rage back was becoming harder and harder with the bullets that left her mothers mouth. If she moved now she might not have control over what she did next and Christina could tell. She could see the way her daughter was seething under her words. Most mothers would stop at the visible anguish they cause their children. But Christina wasn’t most mothers.

“I sent Tara away to the twins house with Wes. As you should have been the one to watch them but I knew they wouldn’t be safe with you.”

“Excuse me” Sam spit out as red seeped in around her vision. She knew acting on her range would only prove her mother right.

“Don’t act coy, you heard me. God Samantha how do you live with yourself. How does it even feel?” Her mother started to cry, fake tears of course but it didn’t stop Sam’s heart from wincing at the sound.

“Answer me demon child. How did it feel? Say it! How did it feel to gut those kids Samantha!” Her mother yelled from across the counter.

“Just stop. Please” Sam felt the tears sting the back of her eyes. She didn’t realize she was teetering on the edge of rage and sorrow effectively falling to sadness. She would much rather feel the burn of rage than see her mother beam with pride at her tears.

“You were never a good liar Samantha. You’ve had plenty of time to deny my words but you stood there as if they were true. Because deep down you know they are. Deep down you're the same monster he was. As soon as I heard the news I knew it was you. Thank god I went to pick up Tara when I did.”

Sam’s breath hitched in her throat. She could feel the shame spread across her chest as she realized the only reason her mother was at Taras school was because she thought Sam had killed those girls. The realization hit that her mother wasn’t being mean for the fact that Sam caused her father not father to leave, like in the past. No, she genuinely believes Sam is following in her real father’s foot steps.

“You can kill me but I'll never allow you to hurt Tara” That was the last thing Sam remember’s hearing. A ringing replaced any and all sounds that followed and her vision was more crimson than before.

“Don’t you EVER say I would hurt Tara. She is everything to me. That’s something you could never understand. So don’t act like you care. Don’t act like I'm the threat here. We both know who you are so let me make everything clear. If you hurt her I will follow in his foot steps without even thinking. Do you understand.”

Fear flashed across her mothers face as she nodded and made her way out of the kitchen. Only to get one last word in before she walked down the hall.

“He was possessive too, just like his mother. Guess it runs in the family” her voice was soft as if she was whispering words of love to a child. Yet the words weren’t full of love but full of poison.

Sam stood there as the words washed over her mind. ‘Was her love for Tara toxic? Could she hurt her? Did it run in the family’ she thought to herself realizing she was holding in her breath. As she turned to leave she saw in her hand was a kitchen knife. Not knowing when or how she got a hold of it she threw it in the sink shuddering at the loud clinking sound it made as it settled.

“Can’t run from who you are Sam.” A deep voice echoed through her mind

Which in turn made Sam jump out of her skin but the voice was right. There was something wrong with her and she couldn’t get a grip on it. So Sam did what she does best and ran. Right out the front door and down the street back towards the park.

Before she new it she was coming into view of Vince and his friends again.

“Carpenter, back so soon?” Vince said trying to hide a sly smile.

“I just need it to stop” Sam said march right up to him.

“Whoa whoa what are you talking about?” He asked trying to stepped back at her sudden closeness.

“No, no questions. I just… I can’t handle this anymore. I can’t feel like this anymore” Sam said running her hands thought her hair. She was coming apart at her seams.

One of the other kids that was there walked over to a pacing Sam.

“Here you want this” They said holding out a joint to the clearly panic stricken girl.

Sam slowly reached for it. Her hands shook as she tried to carefully grab the object of her desires. But Vince saw all too clearly that look of fear in her eye. So he reached out his hand to stop hers.

“What the hell” Sam snapped at him like a dog nipping at its owner for taking its food.

“You don’t want that. It will just make your more paranoid” Vince said while rummaging around in his pocket.

“This is what you really want” He finished pulling a small pill out from his coat.

“What is that?” Sam asked in a soft broken tone.

“Xanax. All your little worries will be long gone with this baby” Vince said with a smile placing the pill into Sam’s hand.

Without even thinking Sam swallowed the pill and walked over to the bench she was laying on before. Within minutes Sam started to feel better. It was the first time in a while someone was honest to her. All her worries were slowly drifting away along with herself. She doesn’t remember most of the night. Just the feeling of floating away.

In the morning she woke to a killer headache in a house she didn’t quite recognize. Only to see Vince and the other kids all passed out around her. She made her way to the first bathroom she could find to try and wash up. She had another long day ahead of her and school was the last thing she wanted to attend.

She turned the water on to wash her face. As she waited for the water to warm up she finally took in her appearance. Her hair was a tangled mess and her skin was pale from exhaustion. But mainly her eyes seemed haunted and tired. They were still blood shot from the drugs she took the night before. It made her shudder, the look of herself, she honestly didn’t really know who was staring back at her in that mirror.

Sam tested the water again and slashed her face taking deep breaths as she fought off the impeding thoughts of what to do next. She knew she had a lot to face today. Yesterday was just so overwhelming it felt like her brain split in two.

Wiping her face off she looked back up to see how well she washed off the last 24 hours. Only to see someone else staring back at her. She jumps out of her skin and fell to the floor. Trying to take deep breaths to calm down.

“Come on Sam get it together. Nobody is there. It's fine. You're fine.” She says to calm herself down.

Sam slowly stands back up and faces the mirror. Her legs turn to cement as an explosion of anxiety and fear spread all over her body. Her lips go numb and her hands shake as she stars none other than Billy Loomis in the eye.

“Y.. y… you’re not R…real. It’s just the drugs” Sam stutters out

“We both know it’s not the drugs Sam. We both know why I’m here” Billy says in his hunting voice.

Sam can feel a cold sweat run down her spine. She can feel the way a dark pit forms in the center of her body. She can feel how she wishes it was fear, how her heart yearns for her gut to tell her this is all wrong. But it doesn’t. The pit only grows as she stares her father in the eye and it feels like power. All consuming, all intoxicating power. Her hands start to itch causing her to look down breaking the connection Billy had with her. She examines her hands noticing things she never had before. The way they're covered in scars and bruises. The way they’ve been itching and burning every time her anger goes unchecked. The way they have the power to kill and how much they crave it. So, she shoves them in her pocket and bolts out the door. She can’t think of what’s next she only knows that nobody around her is safe. That what’s happening can’t be a coincidence, Sam is at fault and everybody knows it.

Before Sam can get to the front door she runs right into Vince. Knocking them to the floor.

“Fuck Carpenter”

Sam ignores the boy and gets up to leave but he stops her before she can go, effectively catching her wrist in his grip.

“Wait are you okay?” He asked noticing the shine in her eyes.

“Its whatever. I gotta go” Sam said pulling her arm from his grasp.

“Fine, just here” He said putting a small baggie filled with Xanax into her hand

“But I…” She started and was cut off before she could continue

“You seem like you need it more than I do” He said with a soft smile

“Thanks” She said with a nod and turned to leave.

Upon making it outside and down the driveway Sam could feel the weight of the little baggie in her pocket. She pulled it out and looked down at it rubbing the plastic between her fingers.

The back of her mind was buzzing with all the suppressed thoughts of what just happened. She knew that door would break eventually.

“You can’t run from me Sam” A voice broke through her rattling mind causing her to pop another pill before she could even blink.

In a nearby car she could she the outline of Billy glaring at her leaving perpetual goosebumps on her skin. But as the Xanax started to take effect her skin returned to its softness and her vision was clear. She relished in the way her mind grew quiet and her body got lighter.

But with a quiet mind comes a lack of judgement. So Sam found herself standing in the kitchen of her own home when all of a sudden she felt a weight collide into her and wrap its arms around her.

“Where were you?” Tara said clinging to Sam with all her strength.

“What?” Sam said trying to push the doe eyed girl off her.

“You promised. You said you’d be here and you weren’t.” Taras voice broke as she looked up at Sam. Tears were already falling from Tara’s eyes before Sam could even understand what her baby sister was talking about.

“You said we would watch movies and have popcorn. You lied” The hurt in Taras eyes was enough to cause Sam to sober up enough to at least communicate.

Sam got down on her knees to better look Tara in the eyes.

“Im so sorry. It’s just complicated Tara.” Sam said trying to sooth her little sister.

But Tara just pushed out of her grip. The hurt in her eyes dissolved into betrayed.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Tara asked causing Sam to rub them and look away.

“Nothing their fine. It’s not a big deal, now can we please move on?” Sam’s tone was unnatural and out of place. She couldn’t quite grasp the situation at hand and was perpetually digging herself further into a whole she started 9 months ago.

Tara walked over and grabbed her book bag by the front door.

“Your right Sam it’s not a big deal. Im gonna walk with the twins today.” Tara said and walked out the door.

Sam could feel her heart shatter into a million pieces but nothing came of it. The drugs she took stopped the pain from reaching anywhere inside of her. She was numb but not in the ways like before. Funny enough she wanted to feel it this time. She needed it to. Maybe if she could have she wouldn’t have walked down this path.

“And you said you’d never hurt her” said the devil up the stairs.

Her mother had sent the last nail for Sam’s coffin because she was right. Sam hurt Tara and she couldn’t even care. She’s been hurting Tara without even noticing. She’s going to keep hurting Tara. She’s been predestined to destroy everything around her and theirs no stopping it now. So Sam pulled that small little baggie out of her pocket. The last whispers from the angle on her shoulder were screaming to stop. But she didn’t. She took another pill from the bag and popped it into her mouth and headed for the front door.

“Where the hell do you think you're going Samantha? There was another murder last night and I cannot let you leave in good conscience.” Christina said trying to get under Sam’s skin.

But Sam just turned back to her mother. Nothing in her eyes.

Christina grew irritated at how unbothered Sam was towards her.

“If you leave I'll call the cops. Don’t think I won’t Samantha.” She spewed losing her temper quicker than shed like.

“Call them then. See what I care” Sam said slamming the front door behind her and walking down the driveway.

“You come back here right now. Don’t you dare leave me Samantha. Come back. I swear to God don’t leave me.” Her mother yelled as she walked onto the grass of their home.

Christina only wanted a play toy that would never leave. She wanted someone to abuse and project onto but would forgive her. That would bend and break to all her empty threats. She loved her toxic game of pushing and pulling. So when her father not father left for real Christina needed a new object to break.

Tara was too weak and fragile she told herself but deep down she knew Sam was always going to protect her. It made her sick with jealousy. So when she pushed Samantha for the first time and saw a glimpse of those eyes she loved so many years ago, she relished in having a toy that didn’t easily break.

“Your just like him. You're evil. You hear me Samantha, you’ve got the devil in your blood.” She was hysterical at this point. She knows she didn’t lose this time. Christina just didn’t think her new toy would stop playing the game.

So no matter what her mother yelled from their yard, Sam just kept walking, letting the drugs take over her mind. She wasn’t mad, or sad, or scared. She wasn’t anything. She was completely empty.

Sam then had one singular thought that changed the next 10 years of her life.

Maybe if she could just stay empty, she wouldn’t be able to destroy the life around her.

#I really hope this is good. I’m so nervous about it but hey I love it so ya🙃#oh and sorry for sadness #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #scream #fuck christina carpenter #samantha carpenter #kirby reed

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palmviolet · 15 days

Text

true detective rewatch s1ep5 thoughts — two meta posts in one day now we're cooking on gas

— each episode post seems to have had a different central idea thus far, i guess because each episode presents a different variation on the big themes. this episode's theme is: time. here the whole circularity of the series is made most evident, as rust presents his thesis statement: time is a flat circle. this episode is so concerned with time because it's the episode that crosses the most time periods, encompassing '95, '02, and '12 at once. it addresses rust and marty at each different phase of their lives as we see them, showcases the dramatic changes they go through, highlights the effect time has on them while rust insists that this effect will be circular, undone.

— on some level this is metatextual. as a television show it can be rewatched, rewound, paused. and its nonlinear structure means we the audience somewhat take on the role of those extra-temporal beings who can see time for what it supposedly is — a circle. when marty talks about feeling “like the future’s behind you, like it’s always been behind you”, it's ironic because his future is already behind him, as a character frozen in television time, cursed to repeat it. this is the function of rust's specific statement of despair regarding the children at ledoux, that they'll be in that room 'again, and again, and again' — it invokes the tradition of procedural crime television, in which horrific murders are rehearsed to the viewer's satisfaction, week after week after week, differing only in minutiae. the metatextual details of TD (including its preoccupation with the exploitation of the camera — think the photos of dora that incite the ledoux connection, the photos taken at shepherd's flock) are designed to reflect on this critically. not to condemn us for watching it, necessarily, but to condemn a state-led condonation of violence that is reflected in societal media habits.

— and then, as @black-market-wd4o astutely pointed out in the tags to this post, there's the way rust and marty each sit within this metatextual engagement with time. rust considers the infinite circularity of time as a source of horror; marty believes he has all the time in the world. he longs for a time that is frozen and unmoving in which his daughters will never grow up and become sexual beings (echoing rust's twisted relief that his daughter will remain forever an innocent child) and he will remain virile and strong forever.

— but in this episode, time begins to catch up with him. we see marty studying himself in the mirror, worrying over his gut and his thinning hair, looking longingly at his rodeo belt buckle kept in his locker. this is the same buckle he's wearing during the ledoux showdown — a symbol of his performative strength not only as a sportsman but as a character of the american west, a man in the tradition of the old frontier heroes, protecting his women from the 'savage' native population. rodeo is more complicated than that but at its heart it captures the american death drive as it marries with the colonial project — and the buckle represents marty's chase for immortal infinity, paradoxically acquired by confronting real danger, just as he felt in that moment of power over ledoux.

— but rodeo is staged. at every turn in the series, marty's macho strength is undermined by rust's lived experience, and his first moment of real violence is against a defenceless prisoner. marty's past heroism was never heroism at all, and so his longing for the past is a longing for something that never existed — hence, he's already living in a sort of eternity.

— similarly with the eternal past, at the end of the episode rust returns to the school they visited in '95. he finds it full of devil traps; the final shot is of him holding one up to the light, framed by a broken window with stars drawn on it. the meshing together of childhood (a school) and death (the devil traps) collapses time. here's the shot:

he's facing left, which to a western audience (ie. an audience that reads left to right) implies a looking-backwards, a reversal, and the stars invoke both ledoux's 'black star' but also the stars and the darkness he talks about in the series' final scene. framed by the window, he's trapped in this cross-section of past and future (death and childhood; childhood and death) but the window is also broken, implying a possible escape from the circle.

— a final small point regarding laurie: we don't get much of laurie, but what we do get is more subversion. we see her and rust cuddled on the couch as she's flicking through channels on the tv; then we cut to marty in 2012, as the detectives ask him what went wrong between laurie and rust. marty says, “what always happens between men and women. reality.” but what we just saw wasn't reality; it was the television. it's another metatextual point about an ingrained misogyny that isn't real, that is favoured and propagated by fiction but does not need to have a basis in real life. marty and rust only believe that reality precludes respect for and peaceful coexistence with women; we, the audience, ought to know better.

#true detective meta #rust cohle #marty hart

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skyistheground · 4 months

Note

Found here through the one Inscryption animatic!

Could you tell more about that AU?

sure thing! i don't develop it much right now but i am really glad you took interest in an old project!

the au is essentially P03 took his charicatures. ocs. uberbot personality matricies and built them bodies to help out around the factory. it was very self indulgent. i also made an au of an au relating to the old data with them (which was slightly implied in that animatic but not a lot)

(the art is a bit old forgive me)

this is the only image i have of them together that isn't whiteboard doodles. i will go from left to right

curator/the archivist

as the title implies. manages the archives. has a lot of busywork and responsibility. the archives is a big room where everything is represented by a file. it's a computer library in physical form

all the responsibility makes them seem like the most calm/patient and.. kinda? it's more that they are good at hiding when they are frustrated. already has a pretty big managerial role with the librarians so will check in on everyone else's work

nexus/g0lly

collects things from the internet, works closely with curator. the glowy bits are projections, including the arm (where the crank would be... opposies w/ p03. it doesn't work btw). the wheel is optional and she can extend it back to float but doesn't because that's less fun. i forgot exactly where the scratch came from?

she has the vibe of p03's younger teenage sister (it did this to himself) and is very whimsical. she doesn't really bother him that much, more afraid of upsetting him than anything. more often bothers the other bots with random things she finds

kodak/the photographer

manages the factory's security system. all of the cameras are his eyes he can tab between. he is also part furnace and can run on biofuel. likes to leave the factory from time to time to go on walks. he cannot float like the first two but walks around on tripod legs

prefers to keep to himself most of the time. he does his job and then takes his breaks walking around in the projector woods. wants to go to the real woods some day but that requires either crossing an ocean or everyone seeing you and how you're clearly not supposed to be there

sketch/unfinished

robot project that p03 started but never finished. it did have an intended job but i honestly forgot. mute/blind unless given a face by someone else. i remembered wanting to redesign it but as it exists now, the cables attach to the ceiling and there's only designated spots it can run around. body is pretty frail (compared to the other bots. it's still metal) so the others are careful

acts animalistic and strange until given a face. then mirrors the personality of whoever it can follow around. it slowly learns over time and one day will have its own personality

the au with the old data i mentioned has to do with my oc k. who is the old data that got pissed p03 backed out of uploading it to the internet so took him over to do it themselves. took over during the unfinished boss fight (in this au not like the actual uberbots themselves did the game thing. since p03 wanted to do that himself) but the takeover was known and alerted for. the exact details of this version of the au are lost on me but here is k as p03

and k as k once they lost (because they were still stopped) and became a permanent addition to inscryption world because they couldn't lose the consciousness she gave himself after possessing a sentient character (yay newer art)

#asks #do i even tag.... anything #kverse #i haven't used that in forever #inscryption #why not for sorting purposes #it felt good to talk about them again even if i don't remember everything

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lotusunset · 2 years

Text

Far too many pics of the Palais Garnier (Part Three!)

In October of 2022, I had the extraordinary experience of getting to complete an 15+ year old dream of mine to visit the Palais Garnier. I took a metric fuckton of pictures and now I want to share them with you all, the PotO community!

Before I start dumping, a few things:

Please reblog this post. I usually don’t post a lot, therefore I don’t have a big following. I’d really appreciate people sharing these as much as they can. When I was a dumb kid in ye olden days of the internet, finding a post like this was the sort of thing I would have been hyped up on for weeks. Help spread that kind of joy!

Feel free to use these photos for any sorts of graphics, artistic reference or any other fandom related projects, as long as it’s not for profit. Please just credit me in some way. In fact, I'd love to be tagged to see whatever creations come from sharing all this!

This is part three, which is a continuation of pictures from the interior. I will continue to share information from the tour I took in this post as well. In fact, these are some of my personal favorites, as I never knew about some of these rooms as just some silly American girl on the internet. I hope you guys enjoy these even more than the last!

Part 1 (Exterior) | Part 2 (staircase) | Part 3 (HERE) | Part 4 (stage)

This is the grand foyer, an area that is pretty heavily photographed already. Standing in this room is almost as impressive as the massive staircase. The paintings on the walls and ceilings depict a lot of mythological scenes. In one of them, there is a hidden portrait of Garnier, along with the other artists that were involved in creating the paintings. The doors leading to the 2nd level balcony are located in the grand foyer.

Historically, only the gentlemen were allowed in the grand foyer, as it was seen as a place for them to converse and do business until one night, the Queen of Spain decided that she didn't care about such arbitrary rules. Ignoring it completely, she entered the room. The men all decided to leave, offended that even a queen would dare to encroach on their space. As word traveled around the Opera that night, all the other women soon joined the Queen in the foyer, wanting to see for themselves that she was there. Afterwards, men and women were begrudgingly allowed to mingle.

I found this to be a very interesting room. At the end of the grand foyer, this room was full of sunlight and comparatively simple decorations. The wealthy patrons themselves served as the real decorations of this room, as they would gather here for refreshments! The common folk, while not permitted to enter, would come to simply watch the rich people indulge in lots of expensive treats.

In fact, the menu still hangs on the wall in the form of all the portraits! All the women are holding items that symbolize various food items, tea, coffee, wine, game meat, fish, ice cream, citrus fruits and pastries.

I couldn't help but imagine Raoul taking various treats and sneaking them out to share with Christine.

We weren't allowed to go down this hallway but it just continued to make this place feel like a giant maze.

These two rooms were nearly identical, though on opposite ends of a hallway. A few mistakes were made during their construction. The top room is known as the Sun room, for its warmer ambiance. The bottom is the Moon room.

Firstly, the rooms were meant to be swapped locations. The Sun Room was supposed to lead into the gentlemen's smoking room, but the Moon room leads to it instead. On the ceiling of the Sun room, salamanders are painted. The little amphibians were believed to ward off the danger of fire and protect the building. By the time the mistake was caught, it was too late to change it.

The other mistake can be seen in the mirror illusion in the Sun room. Because of a fault in the construction of the mirrors, the glass is too curved and the error is magnified with the illusion. The light appears to bend around a corner, instead of repeating on into infinity.

I imagine Erik was quite cross with the workers when he realized these errors occurred. I certainly wouldn't have wanted to be on the receiving end of his temper that day!

Looking at the star motifs painted on both ceilings, I wonder if they could have inspired Christine's Star Princess costume in the musical.

PART 1 (exteriors) | PART 2 (staircase) | PART 3 (here!) | Part 4 (stage)

#phantom of the opera #poto #le fantome de l'opera #palais garnier #paris #opera garnier #christine daae #raoul de chagny #erik #photography #art reference #history #architecture

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silver-scripts · 7 months

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Lockyle: Only One Bed Preview

When confronted with the ~only two rooms~ debacle at Albury Castle in The Creeping Shadow, I'm sure I'm not the only one who immediately imagined a "only one bed" fic.

It's one of the projects I'm working on for nano and probably won't be edited until December, so here's a sneak peek :)

This isn't edited so sorry about any typos

The group of them stared at the two sets of keys in front of them.

Two.

“Well, personally I’m too tall to fit in a twin bed or on the couch, so I’ll be taking the room with the big bed,” Kipps said. He reached out to snag the key, and Lockwood lunged forwards as well. Evidently their old rivalry still went deep enough that neither of them was willing to concede to the other.

But there were two keys, and they each pulled away with one. The game changed.

Holly eyed George and then Kipps, calculating the odds. “Well I’m not sharing a bed, so I will be taking the cot,” she said quickly, taking a step towards Kipps. She slung her bag over her shoulder and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, smiling tightly. Kipps grabbed his kit bag and the two of them headed upstairs. A moment later, a door closed.

And then there were three.

George, Lockwood, and Lucy stood staring at each other. A breath passed, and George took his glasses off to clean them on the bottom of his shirt. Carefully, he replaced his glasses and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He teetered on his heals as if he was waiting for someone to say something.

“Well,” Lucy started. She wished, suddenly, that she hadn’t bitten her tongue and had asked Holly to split the twin. It would have made the most sense. And yet here she was now, resigned to taking the couch. She could already imagine how much her back was going to hurt in the morning. “I suppose it makes the most sense for me to-”

“I’m more than happy to take the couch,” George said simply. “Personally, I like my personal space. And I can’t imagine either of you would be rather fond of spending the night with me.” He smiled at them delightedly and grabbed his bags, heading off to plop down on the couch by the fire. “Have a good night!”

“Wait,” Lucy called. “You-”

But George had already disappeared, and she was alone with Lockwood.

If he was phased by the idea of having to spend the night with Lucy, he didn’t show it. Instead, his eyes sparkled the way they always did, and he sent her one of his signature grins. He grabbed both of their kit bags.

“Onwards,” he said, swinging the key merrily around his fingers. He headed for the stairs.

Lucy felt jittery in her skin, but she took a heavy breath and forced herself to follow him. Might as well get this over with.

Upstairs, Lockwood meticulously put the key in the lock. He turned it, and the door popped open with a resounding click. He nudged it open with his foot and dropped their kit bags just inside the door.

“Charming,” he said.

Lucy followed him inside. The room was smaller than she’d imagined — even smaller than her tiny room in the attic. There was just barely enough room to walk around the twin bed, which was fitted with a faded, brown, hand-made quilt. Matching nightstands adorned either side of the bed, and each was outfitted with a reading lamp and small bowls of lavender.

A fireplace stood at the foot of the bed, and its dusty mantle was lined with old, black and white photos of the town. An ancient, tarnished mirror hung above it, and Lucy stared at herself in the reflection.

Lockwood walked to the window and gave a curious peek outside. The night glittered back at him, and his eyes shone as he looked out at the town.

“Well Danny’s right about one thing,” he said simply. “There are quite a few ghosts out tonight. No sign of the so-called ‘Creeping Shadow’ though.”

“That’s not altogether surprising,” Lucy said.

Lockwood shrugged. “Maybe. But you never know. We can do all kinds of research tomorrow — I suspect the townsfolk will have quite a bit to say. In the meantime, we should probably get some sleep.” He stepped back from the window and ruffled through his bag on the floor, withdrawing a toothbrush and a set of pajamas. “Shall we?”

Lucy’s heart fluttered in her chest. “Of course,” she said quickly.

Lockwood stepped past her and into the hall, where he disappeared into the bathroom. She closed the door to their room behind him and locked it, that nervous feeling in her chest growing stronger. She pulled the over-sized t-shirt she always slept in out of her bag, suddenly aware of how ratty it was and how badly it probably needed a wash. Her pajama pants weren’t in much better shape. She changed quickly, feeling overly self-conscious about her choice of sleepwear.

Why should she care, anyways? She never cared when Lockwood saw her in the mornings — hair disheveled, teeth unbrushed, imprints from her pillow still on her cheek as she stumbled into the kitchen for tea and toast. This shouldn’t be any different.

There was a knock at the door, and Lucy opened the door to be greeted, unsurprisingly, by Lockwood. He held his suit folded neatly in his arms and had changed into a pair of neat white pajamas. “Bathroom is free,” he said, heading into the room. “You might want to get in there before George does. Or Kipps, god knows how long his nightly routine probably is. I imagine it takes a good amount of upkeep to prevent him from looking like a ghost himself every day.”

Lucy snorted. She gladly followed his advice and headed to brush her teeth — partially to get away from him, but also because she’d made the mistake of using the bathroom after George once, and it was safe to say it was not a mistake she was ever going to make again. Even the skull had wrinkled his nose at the odor, and he didn’t even have a sense of smell.

Teeth brushed, she pulled her hair up into a ponytail and headed back into the bedroom. Lockwood had started a small fire while she was gone, and had turned off the main lights in the room. His reading lamp was on, and he was tucked beneath the bed covers already and had his nose buried in a local newspaper. When he had acquired it, Lucy had no idea.

“Erm,” she started awkwardly. “Would you prefer it if I took the floor?”

Lockwood looked up at her from the newspaper and blinked. “What?”

“Would you prefer it if I took the floor?” she repeated, motioning to it stupidly. “I’m sure I could drag down a pillow and blanket or something.”

“What are you talking about?” Lockwood asked. “Why on earth would you sleep on the floor?”

“Well…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re comfortable, is all.”

“Why should I ever feel uncomfortable in your presence?” Lockwood asked. “Anyways, I hope you don’t mind, but I started a fire. It was feeling a bit brisk in here.” He folded the newspaper over and tossed it onto the nightstand. “No offense to Aldbury Castle, but its news is incredibly dull. They haven’t even reported on any of the hauntings. Their front page news story is about how some farmer’s sheep went missing.” He huffed. “What’s the point of even having a newspaper if you’re not going to talk about anything important?”

Lucy snorted, thankful for his change of topic. “So getting into it isn’t one of your goals, then?”

He grinned. “I never said that.”

Shaking her head, Lucy closed the bedroom door behind her and stiffly slipped into bed. She pulled the covers high up over herself and turned to face away from Lockwood. It was a twin, so there wasn’t exactly much room to spare, but all the same she put as much space between the two of them as possible.

She felt Lockwood move, and a moment later his light switched off. “Good night, Lucy,” he said softly.

“Good night, Lockwood.”

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockyle #the creeping shadow #only one bed #my fanfic #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #save lockwood and co #fan fiction

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denimbex1986 · 4 months

Text

'Since its debut screening at Telluride, All Of US Strangers has been greeted with critical raves, multiple awards nominations and filmgoers moved to tears by its quietly devastating story. Set in modern London, though featuring periodic detours to one of its southern suburban towns, it tells of a screenwriter, Adam (Andrew Scott), who tentatively begins a relationship with a charismatic neighbour, Harry (Paul Mescal).

As the romance develops and deepens, Adam is drawn back to the place where he grew up and the suburban childhood home he left when he was 11 after his parents died in a car crash. There, both his mum (Claire Foy) and dad (Jamie Bell) appear to still be alive, just as he remembers them from decades earlier.

Writer/director Andrew Haigh (Weekend, 45 Years) used the home he himself was raised in as the location for the scenes featuring Adam and his parents. It lends a deeply personal resonance to a film that received seven prizes at December’s British Independent Film Awards and is now in contention for six Baftas, including for outstanding British film.

Screen International spoke to the director about four key scenes from the film - spoilers follow.

Adam and Harry meet for the first time

The scene: When a fire alarm drives him from his tower block apartment, Adam sees Harry looking down from a window. Soon after, a drunken Harry turns up at Adam’s door. The pair have a flirtatious conversation, but Adam turns Harry away.

Andrew Haigh: “We found it complicated to find a building to double for Adam’s tower block, because they are usually owned by multinationals who don’t want you to film in them. But we found a building in Stratford, on the edge of London, which suited a person like Adam who has locked himself away from the world and has a routine that keeps him in that aloneness.

“We did the interior of Adam’s apartment on a soundstage, and had big LED panels with the outside of London projected on them. I wanted the film to have a sort of strangeness from the very beginning that felt slightly shifted from reality, and those LED panels gave it that. Director of photography Jamie Ramsey was able to do something slightly different with the focus - the deep background outside is more in focus than it ever would be if you were shooting in a real apartment. That was enormously useful in bringing a slight oddness to being in this room.

“When Adam opens the door on Harry, we first see Harry’s face in a mirror on the wall. There are a lot of mirrors and reflections in the film, and I like it here because it’s as if Adam is being faced with a reflection of himself — someone else who is intensely alone and is reaching out and looking for help. It was a hard scene for Paul — he’s got to play drunk, be flirtatious and sexual, but also some desperation has to be leaking out underneath the surface. It can’t just be a ‘meet cute’, there has to be a reason why Adam shuts the door on him.

“I can’t tell you how many different sounds we listened to with Joakim Sundström and the sound team. There are so many levels of sound going on within this scene — different air vents, different tones, the deep rumble of a lift coming up and disappearing. I love also the moment of silence between them when it gets really quiet. If people are eating popcorn in the cinema, they are going to have to stop eating at that moment.

“There was a bit of dialogue at the end of the scene where Harry got quite angry with Adam. But it just didn’t feel right in the end, it felt like it was pushing it too far in one direction.”

Adam comes out to his mother in the kitchen

The scene: Returning to his childhood home in Sanderstead, Croydon, for the second time, Adam finds his mum alone. Over tea and flapjacks in the kitchen, he tells her that he is gay. Her discomfort and judgmental attitude make for an uncomfortable encounter.

Haigh: “What is important about this scene is that it is doing two things. It is about a son telling his mother that he is gay, but it is also about an adult living now being reminded of what it felt like to be gay in the 1980s. I remember growing up at that time [Haigh was born in 1973] and how Adam’s mum feels is how everybody thought about gay people. It was a rough time to be gay, and suddenly Adam is back there again - all this icky pain starts to bubble up as his mum is talking.

“I didn’t want to demonise the mother. It is clear to me, and Claire plays it exactly like this, that she absolutely adores her son. But she lives in a time when her opinions have been formed and forged by the culture she lives in. Claire knew she had to be that person from the ’80s, and she absolutely threw herself into how her character would have felt. It’s a hard thing to do, and she did it beautifully.

“The role of tea is paramount and we talked a lot about it. When does the mother pour? When do they just hold their cups? When does Adam play with the flapjacks? They’re all fundamental to understanding the subtext. The mother has made flapjacks, something he always loved as a kid, and at the end she decides not to eat them. That’s quite brutal, as if this beautiful, nostalgic thing has been fundamentally altered.

“Costume designer Sarah Blenkinsop wanted all the costumes to have texture. You know what the teal velour tracksuit Claire wears in this scene feels like to touch, and that is another way to drag you back into the past. The whole film is trying to find ways to transport us back to a past, and if your mother had worn something like that, it would be something that you would always remember. The costumes and the way the house is decorated are to remind the audience we are in the middle of the 1980s.

“The house we shot in was not a big house. It’s a small, semi-detached house with a whole crew in there trying to film the scene. But I love the limitations because it means no-one can be in the room apart from you, the actors, the camera [operator] and the boom op. Everyone else is away, and it makes it feel so intimate.”

Adam and Harry go to the Royal Vauxhall Tavern

The scene: After having sex in Adam’s apartment, Adam and Harry go to a nightclub. There they drink, dance and snort ketamine. The evening becomes dreamlike and euphoric as the drug kicks in. They kiss passionately on the dancefloor.

Haigh: “Before this, there is a beautiful moment with Adam and his dad where you feel a deep connection and that something has been solved between them. There is a lightness to Adam at this point; a burden has been lifted and he wants to go out and show the world he’s in the early stages of a romantic relationship.

“I used to go to the Vauxhall Tavern all the time in the 1990s. There was a night called Duckie on Saturday night, which I was always going to. I lived in nearby Kennington at the time and it was a special place. It was an alternative venue that played such a wide range of music, so for me it felt the only choice to shoot in.

“Club scenes are difficult to get right, and the only way to get them right is to feel like you are in a club — that it’s late at night, you’re sweating and you’ve been dancing too long. So we played music for ages, and everyone was dancing before the camera was even rolling. We shot during the day in the height of summer with 150 people, so it was really hot and sweaty. But it needed to be loud and feel like you were being pushed from one side to another.

“The lighting in the club was limited, so we put in lots of vibrant pinks and deep purples. There is something sexy and dark and erotic about that colour scheme that speaks to gay clubs of the past. The scene feels so different from the rest of the film, but it also recalls colours that we use elsewhere. I love how the lighting scheme develops and how we start to make it stranger and a little bit uncomfortable.

“I don’t think we planned the shot where Adam and Harry kiss, with the light streaming behind them. But I wanted them to kiss each other and the light was behind them and it felt like such a magical moment. It’s like the whole world disappears around them and you’re just focusing on this beautiful, sensual, wondrous moment. They’re gay people in the safe space of a queer club and they can be exactly who they are, in public.

“There’s no point pretending the club scene is not associated with drug-taking — it has been since the dawn of time. You may as well be matter-of-fact about that, rather than try to make a moral argument.”

Adam and his parents go to the High Hat diner

The scene: Sensing their time together is drawing to a close, Adam goes with his parents to an American-themed diner he enjoyed visiting as a child. There they ask about how they died, before departing.

Haigh: “I knew there would have to be a goodbye scene. This film would make no sense if the parents were constantly going to be there. They’ve come back to help Adam, and he has got to the stage where he doesn’t need them anymore.

“Beginning the scene with ‘If I Could See (Through The Eyes Of A Child)’ by Patsy Cline was a bit of a random choice. I wanted a song that spoke to the Americana of the location — a theme restaurant in a brutalist shopping centre that was actually a TGI Fridays. When I was a kid, the height of glamour was going to a Happy Eater or Little Chef by the side of a motorway, which were the British version of American diners. The most exciting moments from when you were young can be so strange when you look back at them.

“I love the triangular composition, where you see all three heads. You’ve got the parents on both sides of Adam, helping him move forward like angels on his shoulder. They’re like an extension of Adam’s mind, and of course you could see the film that way if you wanted to - that all of this is only existing within his head.

“We had a lot of questions about how the parents would vanish. I wanted it to be simple because that is what happens when you lose someone. We used an optical effect to have the light in their eyes gently fade. And then they are gone, and it’s just Adam alone with three milkshakes on the table and nobody else around him.

“Crying on camera is a strange thing — it has to feel real and honest or it looks like it’s been forced. With Andrew, there was no holding him back; there was nothing he could do but cry in that moment. It was an emotional scene to shoot and it took some stamina. We spent a whole day on it, and half of the crew were crying.

“Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch did a wonderful job with the music. She was smart in saying we didn’t want much in this scene, and that overplaying it would make it far too sentimental. It is on the edge of sentimentality anyway, but you’ve got to stay on that edge; you can’t fall over the top of it. It was a real balancing act, and I think the way her score builds and shifts and rises is really powerful.”'

#Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch #Andrew Haigh #All of Us Strangers #Andrew Scott #Paul Mescal #Jamie Bell #Claire Foy #Royal Vauxhall Tavern #Sarah Blenkinsop #Jamie Ramsay #Joakim Sundström #Patsy Cline #If I Could See (Through The Eyes Of A Child)

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