#juvenile prison au

[wttcsms]

time, mystical time (cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine) ; simon "ghost" riley.

pairing simon "ghost" riley x f!reader  word count 3.3k  synopsis snapshots of the defining moments in ghost's life. content contains slight angst, mild descriptions of alcohol abuse (ghost's father) + domestic abuse (non-explicit desc., but the act itself is mentioned various times), a bit of tiny look into my take on ghost's background, nsfw content, slight size kink, breeding kink, creampie, domestic fluff, pregnant!reader in some scenes, children (dad!ghost) author's notes takes place in this au & honestly is a lot more enjoyable of a read if you read that fic (+ the other connected one shots [go on my masterlist]). fun fact: simon is referred to as simon in the scenes with only you and his family. he's ghost anywhere else.

His mother had always told him that as a baby, he was always rather quiet. Scared her half to death, she would say, ‘cause he’d rarely ever cry. Even the doctor got worried when he first came out. 

Looking back at his childhood — perhaps the lack thereof — Simon assumes it’s probably instinctual. With a deadbeat drunk of a father armed with a heavy hand, being quiet probably saved Simon’s life more times than he wants to admit. He’d be knocked upside the head for the littlest of reasons, shouted at for even less. 

I’m the man of the house. 

His father’s slurred justifications for doling out unfair punishments ring through the dark halls of his childhood home. Simon hears it while he cowers inside his closet. His room is dark because his father doesn’t believe in nightlights, and mum got slapped hard for daring to go against his wishes and trying to sneak Simon one. She thinks he didn’t see it, but Simon sees a lot more than he should. Since then, he’s been sleeping in the dark. It’s not so scary anymore. 

There are scarier things that lurk in the light, anyway. 

It’s stuffy in the closet, and he knows it’s stupid to hide here because dad will find him any second now. The punishment is bad when he gets to drinking, and it gets worse whenever Simon tries to hide. 

A loud thump against his door makes Simon hold his breath. Then, the door bangs open from the weight.

Kicking doors open comes second nature to Lieutenant Riley. 

The loud crash of the door popping from the rusty hinges shocks the poor girls previously trapped behind them. All of them stay huddled together, staring fearfully at the loud, big men toting even louder, bigger guns. The hollowed cheeks, hopeless eyes, and array of bruises on their skin makes him sick. It’s a hot summer’s day, and Simon hates that after all this time, his observation from his childhood still stands true:

There are scarier things that lurk in the light, anyway. 

A bit hypocritical, he supposes. After all, he walks around in broad daylight, and he’s certainly no saint.

With the help of the rest of his extraction team, Ghost makes quick work of herding all the girls out of this depressing underground prison and out into a free world. He’s careful to be gentle with his touches, nothing more than a gentle guiding hand. Even with his gloves, he can’t be certain he’s not tainting them. Sins don’t wash away as easily as blood does. 

He’s the last one to leave, but he doesn’t exit alone. 

For a while, he felt a tight grip on his arm. Someone’s been clinging onto him this whole time, and with everything that’s happened, he can’t find it in his heart to shake them off. With no other distractions present, he finally turns to see who’s gotten so attached to him.

This is it. 

This is the moment where Simon Riley claims his life begins.

It’s such a juvenile feeling, he thinks. Waiting for his phone to ring, wondering why you haven’t texted or called. It’s so silly. So what he saved your life? It’s not like you owe him anything. It’s his job. He had a duty. Nothing more, nothing less.

Besides, he’s an asshole. Not the type of asshole who thinks he’s entitled to your company since he rescued you, but the type where Soap and the rest of the team aren’t too surprised he doesn’t have anyone to come home to. 

He can’t sleep. 

It’s been weeks since he gave you that burner phone. Surely you would have called, even sent a simple “hello”, if you really wanted to. He knows there’s not much to do in that facility. He knows that you haven’t been sleeping well. He knows that he should go to sleep; he’s got an early flight to catch in an active warzone, and there’s no way in hell he’s gonna get any semblance of rest as a result. 

Instead of sleeping, he’s grabbing his own burner phone off the nightstand and staring at the screen. It’s a simple enough task, really. He can just head straight to his contacts list and click the only one that’s there. Isn’t it traditional for the guy to call first, anyway? Or is he just fooling himself into thinking that you’re waiting for him to make the first move? Do you want him to make the first move? 

He’s never experienced this before. This newfound, boyish anxiety. The equal mixture of both hopelessness and hope churning in his stomach every time he sees you; do you think of him as much as he thinks of you? The question is then followed by a decisive no. He hasn’t survived this long because of blind optimism, so there’s no point in indulging in it now. 

Will you come back then? 

You looked up at him while asking this question, and you looked like an angel unfairly punished to walk alongside man. He wanted to spend the rest of his life constructing a stairway to heaven that you could use to make it back to your rightful home. When you look that beautiful and then proceed to ask him a question, what else was he supposed to say besides,

Whenever you want me to. 

Perhaps God truly is as merciful as he is all-seeing, because after a minute of contemplation and staring longingly at your contact, his phone screen lights up with the notification he’s prayed for (the only thing he’s ever prayed for, really). 

You’re calling him. 

And true to his word, he’s on his way. 

He’s never said I love you before, and as a result, he’s too scared to make his first attempt to do so, even though you just told him those three words yourself.

(He might tower over you, but looks can be deceiving. Simon thinks you’re much stronger and braver than him, in all the ways that matter.)

I love you.

He resists the urge to beg you to say it again and again and again, on repeat for the rest of your lives. 

He doesn’t say it back immediately, but he does let you take off his mask for the first time.

He doesn’t realize that the wide-eyed, awestruck, soft gleam in your eyes as you take him in, fully, for the first time is the same starry-eyed look he gets whenever he looks at you. He has a feeling you’re well aware of it, but now he finds the courage to confirm it.

“I love you.” 

And with a smile that could bring him back to life, all you have to say is, “I know.”

His mask is in your hands, after all.

“You never quite outgrow it, do ya?” Tommy’s got his hands in his pockets, but Simon can still picture the wedding band on his younger brother’s finger. He had been happy when Tommy tied the knot with Beth, if not a bit jealous. 

Now, though, Simon’s got his own wedding band. It’s tucked underneath his uniform, hanging from the same chain his dog tags are. It rests against his chest, in a spot closest to his heart, right where it — you — belong.

Dad’s dead. Tommy says mum cried, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, she’s the one who faced his wrath for the longest. She’s been on the receiving end of all his harshness. She’s the one who’s taken the most hits, the hardest hits. Simon nods in agreement but doesn’t tell his brother that he thinks he might know why.

Simon knows his mother is a good woman. A long time ago, his father wasn’t the man he knew growing up. He doesn’t know when the change in his personality happened, and Simon somehow feels like it’s his fault. He was the catalyst, the trigger. While she was pregnant with him, that’s when the violence and the drinking and the anger started. He knows mum isn’t crying to mourn the man he became; she’s just finally safe to grieve about the man she loved and lost. Simon hasn’t been able to face her in a while since he’s come to the conclusion that his being born was the cause of everything horrible that has happened to her. 

“No, I suppose not,” Simone says. The house feels smaller than he remembers, but when he walks into his childhood bedroom, he’s transported to darker times. The room is as big as the whole world again. This room, this damn house, is his only world. He’s nine and cowering in fear again. He’s little again. He’s scared again. He wants to run away, but his scrawny little legs won’t let him. Dad won’t let him. 

Then he blinks and realizes that the room hasn’t changed all that much.

Within the next week, Simon gets the house demolished and the land sold. 

“Ta-da!” You present to him a knitted, baby-blue blanket. The beginning stitchwork is sloppy at best with considerable improvement the further he looks. Between every thread, Simon can practically feel the love that’s stitched in it. 

“You like it?” You ask him, looking at him expectantly. 

“It’s perfect.” 

“Liar!” Your laugh rings through the cabin, and Simon feels like he’s being bathed in sunlight from the warmth of the sound alone. It’s distinctly yours, and he doesn’t want to be the barbarian who just takes and takes, but he wants it all to himself. He wants to catch it from the air and stuff it in his pockets and save it for when he’s in a foreign country and can’t sleep at night. 

“Why would I lie? It’s perfect.” You’re perfect.

“I messed up, like, five times trying to get this damn thing started! And it was so hard to get into a good groove since Simon Jr. thinks he’s a little football player. He’s been kicking like crazy!” To prove your point, you get closer to Simon and take one of his large hands, placing it on your growing belly. He’s sitting, surrounded by tools and pieces of a crib that he’s trying to build, and all he can do is look up in admiration at you, the most beautiful woman to walk this earth, an angel too good for this world, the mother of his child, his wife, you. Your hand is on top of his, and you squeeze it gently, and he loves the way the diamond on your wedding ring glitters in the sunlight. 

“He’s a strong one, alright.” Simon chuckles, feeling the way his son bumps against your belly. 

“Must get it from you, then.” 

That’s funny. Simon was just about to say that he’s pretty sure he gets it from you. 

When he’s with you, Simon likes to take things slow. He can be rough at times, demanding and conquering you with nothing but brute strength and vulgar compliments. Like a true soldier, you take all of his transgressions in stride. 

Tonight is one of the nights where Simon will indulge and finally take things slow. He likes to savor every moment he gets with you because no matter how much time has passed, the pessimist in him doesn’t stop reminding him that time is fickle, and the future is never promised. 

But Simon wants to build a future with you. Simon has built a future, but he’s greedy. So, so greedy. He wants more, he wants all of you, he wants everything you’re willing to give him. The way you part your legs for him, how you willingly — lovingly — let him in, even though nature resists.

No matter how many times he’s split you open on his cock, even with the slickness of the previous two orgasms he so happily wrung out from you, there’s still resistance as the width and length of his cock struggle to slide into your cunt. 

“It’s okay, love, let me in.” His whispers of reassurance are barely heard over your little whimpers. You’re nodding, trying to be a good girl for him, but the fact of the matter is that Simon Riley is incredibly too big. He is a god among men, and you find yourself squeezing his hand tightly as the first few inches of his cock make its way into your warmth. 

“I know, darling.” He mumbles, but his gentle words are spoken roughly. Desire coats every syllable, and his voice is gravelly. He’s holding back, restraining himself from giving in and giving it to you roughly. His hand, so much larger than your own, squeezes back. He’s slowly pushing more of his length inside your needy cunt, and you moan at the feeling of being complete. 

You don’t realize the tears that are welling up in the corner of your eyes as he completely enters you, the tip of his cock perfectly pressed against your cervix. Simon’s always been good at mixing pain and pleasure, and tonight is a testament to that. 

“More, please.” It comes out like a weak, little whine, and Simon is putty in your hands. Completely malleable to your every whim and desire. His love wants more? He’ll give you everything. 

Your lashes are wet with your tears, and he watches as tiny streams of tears fall down your heated cheeks. Your face feels warm to the touch, Simon realizes, as he leans down to kiss away your tears. Poor thing. You must have exerted yourself too much when you were thrashing around earlier as he refused to remove his mouth from your precious pussy until you came in his mouth. 

You’re no match for the sheer strength and power of Simon, who’s built like a Greek god and probably just as powerful. You surrender to the overwhelming sensation of his cock stroking in and out of your cunt, and you’re damn near shameless in your greed and desire for more. 

“Cum in me. I want you to give me another baby, wanna grow our family with you.” You toss your head back in pleasure, feeling the way his grip on your hand tightens at your words. The two of you move perfectly together; you wrap your legs around his waist as his free hand grips your hip to keep you steady. 

“Yeah? My wife wants me to fuck another baby into her?” Simon grunts, doubling his efforts to ensure that his cock hits deep enough to press against all the spots that have your walls tightening around him. 

The throbbing of his cock and the allure of expanding your family with Simon, with having a part of him always, even after the two of you have left this earth, is enough to send you over the edge. The ecstasy is all-consuming; all you know is Simon. You feel him to the depth of your core, his heat pressed against your own, your shared bedroom heavy with lust and love. 

He loves the way your body goes slack from the intensity of your orgasm. It lets him know that he’s fucked you just the way you deserved to be fucked, filled to the brim with his cock and his cum and all his love. He kisses you hard, savoring the natural sweetness of your lips pressed against his own. He muffles your moans as you feel the endless stream of his cum spilling inside of you, the warmth of it all being almost too much to bear. 

“Mmmf,” You pull back from his kiss, just so you can look him in the eyes as you give him his favorite reminder in the world.

“I love you.” 

He responds with another deep kiss. It says enough. It says I love you, too, and we’re going for a round two. 

He has all the time in the world with you.

He doesn’t feel any pain. That’s odd.

He looks back to the last minute. He heard the distinct sound of a gun firing, and he stumbled a bit as fate had its cruel fun and allowed the bullet to miraculously hit him in the one area his bulletproof gear just so happened to miss. What are the odds? 

He looks down. A dark stain is forming on his uniform, and the spot only continues to grow bigger. He moves a hand down to where the stain is at — it’s wet. A fresh wound. Fuck.

The sentiment is shared with Soap, who for once in his life doesn’t have anything smart to say. Ghost wants to say something cheeky, then. Just to keep him calm. It worked with Tommy. 

What’s the matter? Don’t worry about me. Should’ve seen the other guy. Almost had him in the last round. 

The words, Ghost realizes with growing dread, don’t quite come so easily.

It’s like his brain knows what he wants to do, but nothing is going as planned. Soap is saying something, but he just can’t quite make out the words. Johnny, speak proper fucking English, why don’t ya? 

No. That’s not the issue. Ghost frowns, but he doesn’t think Soap notices because of his damn mask. He can’t speak for shit, and he can’t hear, either. Actually, now that he’s really trying to take in his surroundings, everything’s a bit hazy, too. Like someone’s put some stupid film over everything, and stuff’s all slightly blurry. Just out of focus, just out of reach. 

“—get you home, alright?” The words sound all jumbled up, and Ghost only really catches the last end of whatever Soap’s blabbing on about. He’s a good kid. Great soldier. Stellar human being. He mentioned something about going home, but that’s just silly. The mission isn’t over yet, get it? They can’t go home ‘til the mission’s complete. 

“—don’t close your eyes—”

Home sounds nice. Warm vanilla in the colder seasons, jasmine with equal hints of something fruity and floral in the warmer ones. You fill the house with these scents, even matching your daily perfume to it. Doesn’t matter much to him, though. He hugs you close to his body and breathes in deeply, and he can still smell just you. No perfume will ever compare. 

Oh, and a busy kitchen. You’re covered in flour, his son sits on the counter, his daughter in her high chair. The entire kitchen comes to life, and every time he sees all three of you giggling in unison, his favorite sound of all, this kitchen becomes his whole world. This is what he goes to war to protect.

Baby blue walls and a crib. Crayon drawings of a stick figure family. Watching his daughter’s first steps and his son clinging to your legs. 

Maybe Soap’s right. Forget the mission. He should just head home.

But first, he’s really fucking tired. He’ll shut his eyes just for a minute.

He blinks a few times, eyes struggling to adjust to the light. Light slaps against his face were the cause for his waking up. A damn shame, honestly. He rarely dreams, but when he does, it’s of you, and he was dreaming about something certainly worth remembering for the next time he’s reunited with you. 

He rolls over to confront whoever dared to ruin the one good rest he’s had in a long time, only to come face to face with bright, innocent eyes the same shade as his own. 

“G’morning,” his son says, the words still clumsy on the two-year-old’s tongue. When Simon doesn’t answer immediately, he resumes slapping his father’s face.

“I’m up, buddy.” 

The little toddler claps his chubby little hands together in pure joy. 

“Dada home?”

Like a sight for sore eyes, you appear in the doorway, gently opening the door and pushing it open. You’ve got your daughter in your arms, and you look ready to scold the young boy for disturbing Simon until you realize that he’s already awake. There’s that smile of yours that Simon loves so much, the one he swears could bring him back to life.

“I’m home.”

author's note i intended for these little scenes/glimpses of his life to be the things ghost sees as he's bleeding out on the field. get it? the whole "life flashing before your eyes" thing BAHAHAHA. don't worry, he's alive and very much well, enjoying much needed domesticity with you + your little family. the last scene is him fucking u good and well, and that's the lil dream he was having. muahaha

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #one shot #drabble #fluff #angst #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut

[fatehbaz]

In September 2022, the Australian High Court upheld a law that effectively allows “preventative incarceration,” or the imprisonment of people even after their sentence has been served, based on whether or not a court thinks the prisoner might be at risk of committing a future crime.

Indigenous people make up 4% of the population of Western Australia, but 40% of the state’s prisoners are Indigenous.

At Western Australia’s Banksia youth prison, 75% of incarcerated youth are Indigenous.

Australia allows for the imprisonment of children as young as 10 years old.

---

Excerpt:

Casuarina prison is a sprawling, concrete jungle on the southern outskirts of Perth, Western Australia (WA). It is a maximum-security, adult facility, home to people who may never leave its confines. However, on July 20, the penitentiary “welcomed” a new cohort of prisoners: 17 kids under the age of 18, who had been moved from the Banksia Hill Juvenile Detention Center to Casuarina [...].

When current WA Premier Mark McGowan was elected in 2017, his Labor party promised to lower the rate of Indigenous incarceration in the state, which is the highest in the nation. First Nations people are 16 times more likely to be incarcerated in WA than non-Indigenous people, a number that has only risen despite the promise of the government.

Dr. Hannah McGlade, a Noongar academic and human rights lawyer, isn’t surprised by the state’s failure to uphold its promise. “Our government cares little for Aboriginal lives,” McGlade told The Diplomat. [...]

In the past month, the Australian High Court upheld a law designed to keep the worst offenders in prison indefinitely, even after their sentences have been complete.

Known as the High Risk Serious Offenders Act (HRSOA), the legislation was challenged in Australia’s apex court when Peter Garlett, a 23-year-old Noongar man, was imprisoned after stealing AU$20 and a necklace while pretending to be armed. Despite this being his first adult offense, when his sentence was up, the Western Australian government asked the High Court to keep Garlett, now 28, in prison.

The court agreed, effectively paving the way for preventative incarceration in Australia.

Though five of the seven High Court judges upheld the constitutional validity of the HRSOA, many academics, lawyers, and activists who deal with the lives of First Nations people inside the legal system on a regular basis, note that this will only further trap Indigenous Australians in the carceral system. Garlett had been in near-continuous detention since he was 12, and this became the rationale for keeping him in prison beyond his criminal sentence.

One of the judges even hypothesized that the law could “potentially lead to the imprisonment of one seventh of the entire prison population of Western Australia for offenses that they have not committed.” [...]

“This is a crystal-clear example of an indirectly discriminatory law: one that is not discriminatory in its express terms but is discriminatory in its practical effect.” [...]

Though Indigenous people make up less than 4 percent of the state population, nearly 40 percent of Western Australia’s prison population is Indigenous. That is particularly troubling given the horrific record of Australian prisons. Since the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody in 1991, over 500 First Nations people have died while imprisoned in Australia. In 2020-2021 alone, 13 prisoners died in custody in WA – five of them Aboriginal.

No custodial or police officer has ever been found criminally responsible for any of these deaths.

The structural forces pushing Indigenous people into Australia’s prisons start early. In the Banksia Hill Juvenile Detention Center, three-quarters of the inmates are Indigenous. Despite its mandate to rehabilitate people for their eventual release, reports show some of the prisoners receiving as little as five hours of education a month. In April, the state’s prison watchdog outlined a series of “cruel, inhumane, and degrading” treatments in the facility’s Intensive Support Unit. Children have reportedly made suicide pacts due to their treatment, with some being kept in isolation for 23 hours a day. [...]

Penglis and McGlade point to the age of imprisonment in Australia being only 10 years old as devastating. [...]

---

Text by: Dechlan Brennan. “How Western Australia Criminalizes Indigenous Children.” The Diplomat. 7 October 2022. [Italicized first lines/heading in this post added by me.]

[toxicanonymity]

WIP Wednesday

work is paused wednesday for me, ha ha ha. yeah I'm still on a writing/reading break (aside from boyd-a-thon). but i'm dusting off a slasher snippet for your patience. we'll see what happens but night walks might be a snippet too based on poll numbers.

slasher Joel au | divider by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

ty for the tag @jennaispunk

Joel's mom puts down her glass and clasps her hands. She looks at the two of you on the sofa, then turns her attention to you. “He was top of his class, ya know.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, but he looks at her.

“Ma.” Joel’s tone is cautionary, but his eyes are pleading.

She smiles proudly at you, ignoring him.

You try not to sound as shocked as you are when you ask, “Really?”

She nods.

“Mama,” he whispers, sits back in defeat, and wipes his hand down his whole face.

She continues, “There were a couple other boys, went in ‘round the same time – took’em three tries to get their GED." She shakes her head like that's a shame. "Three tries, at least. Joel got his on the first,” she beams. “The Warden shook his hand.”

Your heart skips a beat, and your face gets cold, but you pray it doesn't show.

Notes: if you're not in the u.s., warden most commonly implies prison warden, and GED is like a high school equivalent diploma you can do self study if you can't or don't finish at high school for whatever reason (like having to work or pregnancy or if you're in prison or juvenile detention). this is something to be proud of, but Mama slasher is kinda cray in the way she talks about "his class" and clumsy in casually referencing his time as an inmate.

Also there might be another part before this for pacing (smut at the end of both parts).

WIP Weds tagging (in spirit) boyd a thon participants and anyone who thought about booping me.

#wip wednesday #slasher!joel #our poor sweet wayward himbo #dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #spoilers #i guess #but this was all pretty heavily foreshadowed

[vee-is-a-clown]

Okay hear me out about this Klance au:

Prison pen pals

Keith is in juvenile detention and there, Keith is signed up for this stupid pen pal program with a local highschool.

Lance is a local highschooler and has to write to whatever prisoner he's been assigned to for a class as extra credit because he's failing the fuck out of social studies and Mrs. Honey is a bitch.

The assignment entails keeping a correspondence with the prisoner long enough to at least have exchanged 3 letters and be able to tell the teacher something your pen pal said in the letters (their experience in juvenile detention or something). This is why his other classmates asked questions like "What's it like in prison?" and "Do you have any friends?" You know, easy questions that they could have their pen pals answer and basically be done.

Lance chose to be extra and ask stupid stuff like, "What happens when you drop the soap?" and "Did you kill someone?" in addition to the normal questions.

Keith answered really vaguely and sassily which annoyed Lance. He ended up getting intrigued by the mystery of who Keith Kogane is and ends up continuously sending him letters.

#lemme know if y'all wanna hear more about this au #I'm thinking of writing a fic for it but maybe not #idk #voltron #keith voltron #vld keith #keith kogane #klance #lance voltron #vld lance #lance mcclain #klance au #voltron au #clownie's Voltron aus

[naavispider]

I LOVE THAT COP AU

may I raise you juvenile corrections office Quaritch and juvenile detention centre Spider? (AKA prison AU)

You HAVE raised me! ✨ that is a stunning idea and I love it already! I don’t know much about juevie or the differences between that and say, pupil referral units (for kids who just get kicked out of mainstream) so I’d have to do a bit of research!

I can totally see Spider vibing as a Jean Valjean type, who’s been sent away for basically doing what he had to do to survive. The injustice of that is such a good starting point as I can really see Spider as this heart-of-gold good kid that obviously doesn’t deserve to be there, and I just wonder what potential Quaritch could play in this au.

Or if it went the other way and Spider had been so beaten down by the world that he’s allowed it to toughen him up a lot and he’s quite different to canon Spider in terms of his temperament. If he was always pushing back against the system and adding on time to his sentence for poor behaviour then Q would maybe see it as more of a challenge?

Either way I loVE this concept! You always have the best ideas ✨💞💙💞💙

#spider socorro #miles quaritch #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #miles spider socorro #atwow #recom quaritch #avatar modern au #ask #headcanons #prison au

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Today’s replies! One about ABO, a couple about our Prison Warden AU, a couple of random ones.

Anonymous asked:

Reading back on your other a/b/o headcanons, i can definitely see Rook claiming both Vil and Epel, probably in the heat (lol) of the moment. Although those two might have mixed feelings about it, Rook would be the happiest alpha at NRC.

(note: this ask was sent to us before we posted our yesterday’s ABO hcs, so Anon is likely referring to our KaliJami ABO post)

Oh how much Rook would wish to claim both of them! It would truly make him the happiest alpha at NRC lol, I absolutely agree.

Realistically, I think Vil doesn’t allow Rook to claim him _yet_, implying that they would do that after the graduation. And Epel is still so young and has so many things to experience before he is properly claimed…

… but all these reasons mean nothing in the heat (lol) of the moment. Both of them are so wonderful, Rook just couldn’t help himself. Twice.

Anonymous asked:

So how would Ortho feel if Vil escape from prison? Would he be disappointed, angry, or sad? Maybe all with the hint of ready his lasers.

Oh Ortho and his lasers, he is capable of ruining the entire prison in just one emotional moment 😭

Well, I think Ortho would be upset, but kinda happy for Vil. It’s bittersweet. He loved hanging out with him and was looking forward to their little chats every day, but he knew that Vil’s place wasn’t behind bars. I mean, technically it absolutely was, because Vil is a criminal, but Ortho saw Vil as an actor first and foremost, and he kind of wanted him to be free + to see him on a big screen again. The latter thing is kind of naive of him lol

If Ortho really wanted, he could’ve found Vil within an hour after his escape. But with the relationship they formed, he’s likely to mess with the search instead, preventing people from finding him. Breaking the law and defying his programming in the name of love 😔

But he’ll still be upset, sigh a lot and complain to Idia about how much he misses Vil :( Your little brother experienced a heartbreak for the first time, Idia…

Anonymous asked:

Hm...what kind of prison cells some of the inmates are in? Like imagine Lilia having him wear a straitjacket in a high secured cell because how dangerous he is. Funny if Jamil and Floyd ended up as cellmates which Flody have fun messing with him.

For some reason we always envision single-celling, so the idea of them having cellmates haven’t even occurred to me personally, but it would be funny to have Floyd as Jamil’s cellmate lol Because he is the worst person for Jamil to get stuck with. Jamil is so sneaky about the way he acts and presents himself in this prison, and Floyd would see right through his bullshit. But whether he’d get Jamil busted or not depends on his mood, so Jamil would get so paranoid. Did Floyd figure it out? Is he going to rat on him? Floyd won’t rat on him, but it’s because he really enjoys seeing Sea Snake get so nervous… or maybe he’ll make Jamil buy his silence~ Floyd also never lets Jamil sleep in general: he is verrrry friendly. And talkative!

Lilia would be someone to get into the isolated secured cell from time to time due to disobedience; just because he felt like having fun that day lol He would look gorgeous in a straitjacket. But that’s not always the case.

I feel like Rollo would constantly be in a straitjacket though, he is the “don’t give him anything flammable or anything at all for that matter” type of guy lol

Floyd could’ve also ended up in a secured and isolated cell, but Azul works hard on not letting it happen: he had to bribe someone to keep Floyd easy to bail out whenever it’s needed + Floyd would be kind of useless if he couldn’t get around the prison and do his mission (if he has one).

Anonymous asked:

Fellow being an inmate for scamming and well...mass kidnapping. I'm unsure about Gidel given he is a child and felt that he could be in a juvenile hall or being taken care of by someone outside.

We haven’t seen the event so I can’t say anything about these two, but I will say that Gidel has a vibe of someone who is capable of coughing out a lock pick that Fellow could use to escape… so if he gets away with stuff scot-free because of his age, all he needs to do is to swallow a lock pick and visit Fellow once lol

Anonymous asked:

after going thru ur art (GORGEOUS btw, i especially love your coloring! and i love all your ideas/hcs as well!) i reread fairy gala 2 with a new oruvil perspective and honestly i rly like it! so now i have a new spin on one of my favorite events bc of u! :D (iirc you haven't watched it, i highly recommend it! it's very very fun. and gay)

Thank you for your kind words, Anon!! <3 I am very happy to hear that you like my art and our ideas, it means a lot. Especially the colouring part hehehe.

Yesss giving people OruVil perspective YESSSS I am so glad that this is a thing now. We still haven’t watch either of the Fairy Galas, but hopefully we will in the future. I am so ready to dive into these two’s relationship in this one… and to draw Ortho’s Fairy Gala gear

Anonymous asked:

How does Idia act when he gets a crush on someone? Is it easy for them to tell? Conversely, how would he act if he found out someone had a crush on him? Embarrassed, in denial, grateful?

I always think about his conversation with Crimson Muscle in ch6, but also his conversation with him in Idia’s vignette, both of these feel like great examples of how Idia acts when he has a crush on someone. But this is a crush in its purest form: he trusts Lilia, he is comfortable enough around him not to openly confess of course, but to at least express how he feels about him. He gets giggly and happy, it’s almost like you can feel the butterflies he has in his stomach when you look at him. But he is still shy and awkward and anxious that he would say something wrong or that he said too much and annoyed his crush, but yet he is very eager to share his favourite things with him and spend as much time with him as possible… he is almost 100% emotionally domesticated by Lilia, this is why he is such a kitten when he talks to him online.

Eye-to-eye though, I feel like Idia is a bit of a tsundere lol If you know, you know, but for some people it’s kind of subtle. I feel like Idia’s love language is quality time, so his go-to is to share his favourite things with the person. That’s why he brings games to play with Azul and brings music to him, granted, he doesn’t probably even think that he has a crush on Azul – it’s kind of complicated between them, but he clearly wants to get closer to him… sometimes. For some, it would be an obvious sign of Idia showing interest. For Azul it’s just Idia being Idia lol He is a little slow when it comes to crushes.

Now, if someone had a crush on Idia, he would absolutely be in denial about that. He would refuse to even consider the possibility that this is someone’s earnest feeling and that they are serious about being drawn to him. Idia can’t really imagine someone having an actual crush on him, so he wouldn’t be ready. Even if it makes total sense and he felt it even before the confession (and he could have, because Idia is actually quite good at detecting these things), he would probably feel the urge to make fun of either himself or that person because wow you have terrible taste. It’s difficult with Idia, so thank god all of his potential boyfriends are very stubborn.

#replies #prison warden au #our aus #oruvil #azuide #lilidia #rookvil #rookepel #flojami

[cloverdaisies]

CLOVERDAISIES’ WATTPAD ☆ BOOKS

hi deobis! ∩^ω^∩ here is a link and description of my books in case you were looking for a read ! <3 if i’m not active on here i’m usually posting updates over on wp so don’t hesitate to come say hi!

# TARGET: lover

member: juyeon

genre: mafia au

status: completed

description: “late at night, a wander down the streets of downtown is not the safest trip for a young girl approaching her mid twenties to endeavor on..

when yanked head first in to danger, y/n can choose one of two reckless fates... he's cold, twisted, murderous in intent, nothing but a facade of someone who's lost his way in such a dark world...

is it possible that someone so cruel, could ever find love in this dysfunctional world of money, drugs & murder?

mission accepted - welcome to TARGET: lover.. ”

a/n: listen this is the first book i’d ever wrote, i know she’s not everyone’s cup of tea but she means a lot to be so please be nice to her <3

☆*:.｡.

# JUVENILE

member: sunwoo

genre: bad boy cliché, college au

status: completed

description: “LOS ANGELES COUNTY SHERIFFS DEPARTMENT: "the court hear by sentences that sunwoo kim, will face up to 6 months and 10 days in prison with no chances of parole on charges of vandalism and possession of Class A substances."

kim sunwoo returns to campus after being released from juvie but has the old him ever changed? still smoking, drinking and partying with his insane friend group. juvie didn't scare him one bit.

it's been 5 months since Y/N, introverted, clever and pretty, moved to LA. she's only heard rumors of sunwoo kim. the young criminal who no one wanted to get on the wrong side of, the news of him coming back was the buzz of the entire campus.

an unexpected encounter brings two opposite people.

a/n: probably one of my proudest works! juvenile is the most successful book of mine and to this day i still sm in love with the characters and universe i created in this lil world.

☆*:.｡.

# 1984

member: chanhee

genre: 80s, romance

status: completed

description: what happens when a present day girl gets sucked into the 80s - big hair, big stars, old cars and young hearts.. the year is 2021, full of social media absorbed teens using these little silver boxes called mobile phones... hopeless without today's unrealistic present... what happens when Y/N, your typical zombified teenager is warped into the past... does she come back with more than she bargained for ?...

a/n: probably the most detailed book i’ve ever written, 1984 depicts a whirlwind of a vintage romance that if you’re into the 80s vibes you’ll love.

☆*:.｡.

# ANGEL BOY

member: juyeon

genre: boarding school romance

status: ongoing almost complete

description: “when American dream girl Y/N finally pulls the last straw with her father, she gets shipped off to an all girls private school in England..

is there more to the school than lacrosse and rich girls?...

a Lee Juyeon fanfiction, based on and inspired by Wild Child”

a/n: i absolutely love the film wild child and became so inspired to write something like it, there’s a lot of characters to get to know who aren’t necessarily based on k-pop idols but i created them myself and i hope you could love and get to know them as much as i do

☆*:.｡.

# MENSWEAR

member: juyeon (sorry i’m in love with the man)

genre: angsty college au

status: ongoing

description: "i love you, i told you i do."

"i want to see sunshine, flowers, hold someone in the long grass on a summers day. i want to be in love like the poets write, the story the birds sing to. but i'll never be that guy. i'll never be your romantic shit show of a love story."

"but you are."

a lee juyeon fanfiction set in the same universe as juvenile, a kim sunwoo fanfiction. ”

a/n: right i absolutely loved juvenile so much that i had to write a spin off with juyeon’s character, yes it’s only at the beginning ! but summer awaits and i will be working hard to complete it ! <3

☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ !

i know it’s a lot of juyeon but there is more to come ! i can’t wait to cherish the summer and give you more members books ! i hope that this rough index could lead you into my little romantic world and give you some laughs along the way

sending my love always,

clover <3

#the boyz x reader #kpop imagines #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #the boyz #the boyz x you #tbz #the boyz fluff #the boyz angst #the boyz juyeon #juyeon #sunwoo #juyeon fic #sunwoo fic #chanhee fic #the boyz wattpad #the boyz scenarios #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fic recs #tbz imagines #deobi #kpop fanfics #kpop fanfiction

[bartonsarcheryacademy]

Okay, so I‘ve had this story idea- TWO YEARS AGO. I haven‘t started writing it yet, because I have so many other projects running, but I at least wanted to share the idea wit you all. Maybe you like it as much as I do.

SHIELD ACADEMY AU:

Clint Barton (just turned 19), got recently released from juvenile prison, where he was sent for a short detention time by a judge who was sick and tired of repeatedly seeing him charged with smaller crimes. He‘s out now, lives in a shared apartment with a 4years older Brock Rumlow (uhum) in a small town. To get through his probation time, he needs to keep a job. News travel fast in the small town and he lost his two last jobs. His social worker and somehow friend Phil Coulson (Yeah we need Phil) gets him at job at a janitor at SHIELD Academy, which is located outside town. Clint hates it, but takes the job, because damn he needs it. Principle Fury and his second in command Maria Hill (who else?) are sceptical, but they owe Coulson a favor, so they give Clint a chance.

Enter the rest of the Avenger crew as teachers- suggestions about who could teach what can be taken, but I have a rough idea. Of course they get curious why a kid suddenly works at the academy. The first approaches don‘t go well. Clint feels super uncomfortable at an elite Academy for the offsprings of all the rich and important people. It takes a while, but eventually Clint opens up a little- following is a reveal of a troubled childhood, a bunch of triggers and fears, an abusive room mate, zero self worth on Clint‘s side, stumbling into drug dramas with the not so clean students of the academy, developing friendships and ultimately - WinterHawk ship.

It‘s all planned out, and will maybe never see the light of day as a story, but I at least wanted to share the idea.

Opinions welcome

#fanfiction #winterhawk #hawkeye #marvel #authorproblems #storyidea #storyideadump #writerproblems #AvengersAU #ao3

[drewtanakagf]

A Red Queen Social-Political-Economic Meta devolves into prison reform (bear w/ me) 

links at the very end smile. ask me to elaborate a point or don’t idc. I will be talking more regardless.

How This All Started: 

Me, writing: do you think that rq story aus (canon-divergence specifically) can work w/out the existence of silver/reds or at the very least power/no power dynamics, or rather, how well would the plot work without that? 

Me, opening new doc: bc like, the rq story is built off the usurpation of the silver/red dichotomy and calling into question the validity of oppression with the existence of a third group which shares qualities of the two (if you wanna get sociopolitical with it). 

TL;DR: Cameron Cole’s role in the narrative works as a connection between the oppressive systems irl and in the rqverse by her simply being a Black girl from New Town and a Newblood silent. 

Norta’s Social, Political, and Economic System 

Thinking about it more, I think that RQ can be seen as a racial-adjacent (blood, in canon) oppression story and class oppression story, but combining those lenses to more closely mirror what we experience in real life is, iffy at best. Since race as we understand it in our world is purely social while in rqverse there is a biological difference (which uhm. I don't end up talking about eugenics but let's keep that in mind yeah?) in which the system of oppression is made from. That system of oppression then allows for the discrimination of Reds in society, which can be seen at its worst in New Town and tech towns in general. Reds are at the bottom of the social ladder with no hope of climbing above their station. 

Now as a class story, this is where economics would come in.  And since there is no economic mobility for Reds, RQ as a story rooted in class falls apart. Basically (without thinking myself in circles) it cannot be only a class story and it cannot be a story in which both social factors and economic factors combine, since there is no sense of "class" in the Red's lives, all of them suffer. But this is true only in the Mare's point of view, the Silvers in universe are separated by high houses, low houses, and "common." Yet, this is only where we begin to see politics come in as the Houses are separated by respect and power as well as wealth. The connection to monarchy is viable for those in the Houses and is all draped in political pomp and shit. idk man it's one am and i'm thinking too hard.  SO the sociopolitical works in tandem w the social-economical whilst for Reds politics is unfathomable bc they're second class citizens. 

Prisons in The USA 

WHICH BRINGS ME TO (the worse segue in history) TO CAMERON COLE *cheers whoops etc*  I cannot for the life of me get over how Cameron is pretty much the only Black Red "main" character and she came from New Town, which is a place where everyone works to create for the rest of the country. This is a little too similar to the reality of prisons and like, the generational Blackness of it all is a lot for me to NOT look over. 

Note: Prisons are long-term holding facilities where convicted people go to carry out their sentences, Jails are short-term holding facilities and most are awaiting charges or trial (Prison Fellowship). 

One thing to understand is that prisons are rife with modern-day slavery, especially in the US (which rq was written in the context in). Last I checked, the US held about 25% of the world's prisoners, about a million people incarcerated, not to count those still in the penal system (like in jail, probation, or juvenile detention). Not only that, prisons are often private, not public, so there is an active economical interest in having as many prisoners as possible. You need bodies to make money in that industry. Not only that, prisoners work for little to no money and aren't even guaranteed to be able to re-enter society. In fact, many prisoners do not, the prison recidivism rate is still over a third in the US, meaning that over one-third of prisoners commit a crime again and become re-incarcerated (Wisevoter). There are a fuck ton of reasons why this is, mostly, in my opinion, the lack of effective reform programs. But you cannot deny that there is a corporate interest in having prisoners in prisons to make money and make profits for the low cost of labor. According to the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), prisoners make $2 Billion in goods only to be paid an average of  $0.13 to $0.52  an hour, of which "the government takes up to 80 percent of these wages for “room and board,” court costs, restitution, and other fees like building and sustaining prisons. These wage deductions generally leave incarcerated workers with less than half of their gross pay" (ACLU). One more thing, who's populating these prisons? 

Statistically, according to the Federal Bureau of Prisons, White people make up 57.3% of prisoners nationwide while the next biggest racial group, Black people make up 38.6% (Note: This is by race, and the government's definition of race. Hispanic is considered as an ethnic group, which is why the data about Latine people is not on the federal website. Hispanic group makes up 29.7% of prisoners, to satiate your curiosity)(BOP). However, you have to take into account the rates compared to population. Let's take a look at New York State, which in the Rqverse includes The Stilts and Archeon. White people make up about 55% of the population and account for 23% of people in prison. Black people on the other hand, make up about 14% of the population and account for 49% of prisoners (PPI).  Like WOW! What a jump am I right? 

This disparity is again, attributed to many many things and long history of racial injustice and racist policing (looking at you stop and frisk, which is also a whole different problem i would LOVE to talk about), but as stated, has its roots in racial injustice and how the US never bothered to recover from slavery, Jim Crow, and treating minorities (most notably Black people) as second class citizens. 

Cameron Cole 

Okay, so now you have the IRL quick breakdown, let’s talk about Cameron Cole. Cameron Cole is a young Black girl who is from New Town and is a newblood with the power of Silence. That sentence is the core of her character as she stands in the plot (nothing about personality, we may get into this later idk yet. I have now officially passed 1k words on this. So. we will see fr.) Cameron’s identity as a young Black girl is not explored as, again, in the rqverse race isn’t a thing, it’s all about blood, baby! (that's what a vampire would say fr). So, in blood: she’s a newblood, one of those in-betweens that usurps the dichotomy yaddi-yadda, and is really just a socio-political thing, because Newbloods haven’t been around/ known for long enough in Norta to have bearing economically (class) and Maven decided to be Maven about newbloods in general, not just Mare’s standing as a Newblood ( he legitimized Newbloods as a blood group in Norta, essentially). But to get into the whole young Black girl, we need to draw the connection between prisons and New Town. 

Okay, no more jokes (though that is true), Black people are seen as second-class citizens in the eyes of the systems in place today, and that is reflected in Red Queen as a Black character is a victim of modern-day slavery within that universe. Her existence calls for comparison between the oppressive systems in the rqverse and the world as we know it. 

New Town is one of many  tech towns, dedicated to industry, building all of Norta’s mechanical goods and basically the cornerstone of Nortan economy. Everyone in there is forced to work despite the horrible conditions and have no chance of entering society and for little to no pay (sound familiar?). While the prison system in the US is a continuation of modern-day slavery, New Town just cut out the middleman of the police system and put them straight into modern day-slavery. Making the notable characters from New Town Black draws all these lines together and provide commentary on our world today: Black people still can’t win!

Now, as a Black girl, even in the RQverse, Cameron is still saddled with the same generational struggles Black women face due to the intersection of their Black and Woman identities. (source: am Black, am a woman). Because not only is the woman expected to look after household affairs and family matters, but now we’re dealing with racial inequalities. It’s a lot on a girl’s plate right? Cameron and Morrey remind me of all the Black women who have lost the Black men in their life due to violence and my own fears for my brother each time he leaves the house. 

Violence to us is like gun violence and police brutality and shit like that but to them is the war, where similar to the police system. Aw fuck new section time 

The Lakelander War as Control 

So my basic theory here is that the Lakelander war is used as the police system, not necessarily as like, actual policing but as a power move. It’s like Atlanta’s Cop City to me, a way to be like “heyyyyy don’t forget who has the power to kill you. Okie!” 

Back to Regular Programming 

Where violence is perpetuated by over policing and the war on drugs and such polices affecting minority populations irl, the war (and the duel things i forgot what they're called, and bowl of bones) exacerbate the uhm. Power dynamics. Reds are powerless Silvers powerful . “Look at what we can do” and shit. 

Edit: Lynching is also in this category. It’s about power, yeah.

 So Cameron has to save Morrey from this violence. I have to fear about my brother and dad and cousins. Like there is a connection there please tell me you get it I will cry its three am now im almost 2k deep like. 

Cameron, though, is not just a regular red, she is a Newblood and a  silencer at that. 

So how does she fight against her oppressors? She silences them, quite literally takes away their power. And isn’t that an apt metaphor for this all? 

Okay i'm going the fuck to sleep. Thanks for making it this far. Here’s a freshly baked cookie (imagine a cookie here) 

Links ( I gave up on the MLA LOL!) 

ACLU: https://www.aclu.org/news/human-rights/captive-labor-exploitation-of-incarcerated-workers 

Wisevoter: https://wisevoter.com/state-rankings/recidivism-rates-by-state/ 

Federal Bureau of Prisons (BOP) https://www.bop.gov/about/statistics/statistics_inmate_race.jsp 

PPI: https://www.prisonpolicy.org/profiles/NY.html 

Prison Fellowship: https://www.prisonfellowship.org/resources/training-resources/in-prison/faq-jail-prison/

#red queen #red queen series #cameron cole #red queen analysis #red queen meta #let me speak #we got to 1.7k words in like. two hrs. so #damn i need to be back in classes fr i only know the academic life

[tennessoui]

omg the return of my favourite au i missed playmaker like a phantom limb - something bout anakin 'this town's not big enough for two daddies' skywalker and obi-wan 'yes i do have time in this prison phone call for a guilt trip' kenobi they are so addictive i can only imagine what luke and leia's reaction will be when they find out obi-wan isn't tucking them in for the next few months the rates of juvenile arson is about to skyrocket

obi-wan, lying: I had to hide the body so as to not traumatize our children—

anakin: sounds fake the kids see and do 5 traumatizing things every day before breakfast but ok—

obi-wan: —because SOMEONE left me ALONE in the house so he could go on a BUSINESS TRIP which is a situation I never should have been in, ANI.

#asks #cop: you do know you only #have 3 minutes for a phone call right #obi-wan (pissed off and still covered in blood): oh you dont understand how much guilt #i can fit into 3 minutes. #playmaker au

[newgenog]

REVENGE

Notes: As was shared last week, we're only doing sneak peeks for chapter six, while I hustle to finish it by next Friday.

If you're just stumbling across this, and haven't already done so, please stop and start by chapter one.

This #Batwoman AU is based on the ABC tv series #Revenge. Ryan Wilder had just about everything taken from her when we met her, and she was doing her best to get it back. In this version of the story, that means taking some people down along the way. And, she's definitely no hero.

Here's (hopefully) the last out of sequence and context snippet from chapter 6.

CHAPTER SIX SNEAK PEEK

12 AND A HALF YEARS AGO, KANE COUNTY JUVENILE DETENTION CENTER

Ryan watches the sun slowly shift along the ceiling as she allows the hours to tick by from her bed. It’s late May, her birthday is nearing, and she’s managed to just barely survive two seasons in this youth prison. While nearly everything about her life has changed, some things are exactly the same as they ever were. Hardly anyone knows she exists, and for once in her life, that doesn’t bother her at all. She just needs to make it out of here alive, and that was proving challenging enough to do on her own.

Today would be slightly different than how she spent the average day - waiting for meals, stifling her rage, and trying to hold onto every single happy memory she had from her life before. It helped to remember that she’d had fourteen years that were good, and that the time she was being forced to spend here was just a moment when compared to that. Eighteen months could be a blip in the grand scheme of things, especially when she’d already served more than about a third of them.

This is also what Lucius Fox had asked her to hold onto. Not long after being sentenced, he began visiting her. He said he was a friend of a friend, and when he’d heard her story, he knew she could use something from outside of these gates to ground her, and keep her focused on getting out. He knew too many people who’d given themselves over to the all-consuming nature of being locked up, and he felt a calling to make sure that didn’t happen to Ryan, because he knew in his heart she didn’t belong there in the first place.

He would bring her little things to help with holding on, like her Ghost Kid comics, vegan snacks, a sketchpad and a journal to try to process her feelings with. He’d ask her to share what she’d written or drawn, to encourage her to really try and put anything on the pages, and to help her talk, because at first she struggled to know what to say to him. Over time, it helped him get to know her, and they found things to bond over from the stories she’d create or the memories she’d jot down.

He hardly ever missed a week, and against her initial resistance to hoping, she’d come to look forward to seeing him. He never really expounded upon how exactly he knew she didn't belong there, or about the friend that supposedly knew her mom, and why her future was so important to him. But, she’d begun to trust that he really wasn’t going anywhere, so she figured she’d find out the rest when she was meant to.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a fight just outside of her room. Kids fought all of the time, and she’d stopped paying attention to the commotion. It was just a part of the background noises that existed in this place. This time, though, there was something really familiar about one of the voices. As angry as it was, it reminded her of a time from her past when someone had raised their voice to defend her.

~~~~~

To be continued…

I've got one Friday left… I can do this!

Support the Writer and Actor strikes.

#wgastrike #sagaftrastrike #StopCancellingDiverseShows

#batwoman #wildmoore #ryan x sophie #wildmoore week #ryan wilder #sophie moore #save batwoman #fanfic #lgbtq #wmw23

[asukamood]

School Supplies (fmaa2)

***

It is almost time for me to go back to the terrestrial hell that we call school. I thought that I might as well write something about it before I disappear.

This is going to be about the Creepypasta Squad again, Bobby is 15 in this au much like Bunny in Fatal Flaws. The new school year is approaching, and he will now be entering high school.

***

Warnings: Strong language

Synopsis: “... By the way Bobby, did you remember to take your list of supplies?” Bobby rolled his eyes as he held up the sheet of paper for his brother Hacker to see.

“Of course, I did, who do you take me fo--”

“And did you remember to take a pen with you to cross out the things we already bought?”

Silence.

“Joy.” Hacker grumbled as Randy merely smiled in amusement.

***

They have not even stepped foot outside of the house that Bobby had already opened the rant floods about what he called ‘juvenile prison.’ His rants had gotten so frequent in fact that Randy was starting to wonder if he should make Bobby change schools.

Though, when he introduced the idea to Hacker, the latter only waved the remark back with the back of his hand. He said not to tire themselves out trying to find a school that might fit Bobby’s taste.

“All schools are the same.” He had said, half-amused and half-annoyed. “He’ll never be happy in any of them.” The way he said it concerned him, but he supposed he could not force him to say anything he wanted to.

Though, that still did not fix the current issue he was having.

“Middle school sucked balls!” The teenager fumed; aura murderous as he completely ignored Randy’s small sigh at the profanity. “There is no way that high school is going to be any better! Hell, I bet that people are going to be even bigger bitches!”

Hacker was absolutely dying to give him reason as his years in high school were one of the worst ones he had ever gone through, second only to being kidnapped by a criminal gang, but for all their sake, he did his best to swallow that urge.

“Who knows?” He said instead of vigorous agreement. “Perhaps, by some miracle, age would make them more mature.” Bobby scoffed at that.

“Yeah, and surely I’ll grow wings when I turn 18.” He crossed his arms around his chest as he walked in front of the two others, ignoring people's weirded out looks as he kept on rambling loudly about how infuriating his classmates have been thus far.

“Son, please. Do not speak so loudly, you are disturbing the other people.” Randy lightly scolded. Bobby rolled his eyes at the remark but still seemed to listen as his voice quieted down.

“They wouldn’t understand my suffering.” Frankly speaking, having never gone to school Randy had no idea if Bobby was being totally genuine or being totally dramatic.

It was not like Britney ever complained about it.

Randy shook his head as the thought passed through his head.

He could think of them another day, he had to focus on his two boys first.

Thankfully for both Randy and Hacker, the car soon came into view.

“Hey, Bobby’s going to be able to get his driving license soon, right?” Hacker suddenly remarked, the door to the front seat opened. “Why don’t we let him ride in that seat for now? From my experience, you learn quite a lot by just observing what is going on.”

Randy thought about it for a few minutes before finally nodding in agreement. “You have a point, does that bother you son?”

“Not at all!” Bobby responded happily before quickly jumping into the seat, slamming the door on Hacker. The latter gave him an unamused glare before sitting down in the other seat.

Honestly speaking, he could not care less about all that driving license stuff, he just wanted to sit in the front seats.

Randy probably saw right through him, but he did not comment as he started the car. The vehicle vibrated as it woke up before leaving the parking lot in silence.

“... By the way Bobby, did you remember to take your list of supplies?” Bobby rolled his eyes as he held up the sheet of paper for his brother Hacker to see.

“Of course, I did, who do you take me fo--”

“And did you remember to take a pen with you to cross out the things we already bought?”

Silence.

“Joy.” Hacker grumbled as Randy merely smiled in amusement.

***

Finally, after numerous distractions of Randy asking if the boys were hungry and trying to buy them some snacks, they arrived at the target aisle. Shelves beyond sight stood, filled with numerous items one dreaded to look at the prices of lied way beyond what a wallet liked to see.

School bags, pencils, pencil sharpeners, ink pens, art supplies, textbooks... they were everywhere, taunting Bobby and reminding him that he had in fact, less than two weeks before he was back in the land of no return if we do not count the holidays as one.

Posters of supposed sales framed the aisles, the logo of the store plastered on the banners in big font as a dumb quote “We make your purchases for school supplies easier!” gazed down upon them, a –30% or –50% sticker glued to the banner under several pictures of myriad items.

God, it made him sick.

Randy gazed upon the shelves and held his head with one hand as he sighed. “We may do this every year, but it sure feels like this gets more overwhelming as the time goes by.”

“It’s not just you.” Hacker raised an eyebrow as his eyes swept over the list. “Looks like it’s the same as when I went to high school, there isn’t really a list, it’s just like, three sentences basically telling you to go fuck yourself and do it on your own.”

“Huh?” Bobby, who had been debating between two Minecraft planners turned toward Hacker, an eyebrow raised. “What are you talking about? There is a list, it’s right under.”

“Bobby, that’s the list for 8th graders.”

“...Oh.” Hacker facepalmed. “Agh, whatever! Which one do you guys think I should pick? The Creeper one or the Enderman one?”

Randy tapped his chin in thought as he looked back and forth between the two. After a few seconds, he finally made his choice and pointed toward the Creeper one. “I think these colors match you.”

Bobby nodded. “Okay, thanks!” He dumped it in the cart, the first of many items to come. Even if he was not the one paying, Hacker was already dreading to see the exorbitant price that all those items will cost.

“What do we have to get next?” Hacker folded the ‘list’ before letting it fall in the cart alongside the planner like the long-lost forgotten feather of an ill bird. He crossed his arms.

“You’re the one who will tell us. In high school, you’re your own boss when it comes to supply. If you use folders, a document organizer or textbooks is all up to you. Personally, I always used document organizers because it was most practical for me, but we are different so really, you do you.” As Hacker’s words left his lips, Bobby frowned as he tried to visualize himself using all the items the former enumerated.

Randy scratched his neck, not quite knowing what to do.

“Well, we can think about that stuff later, right? There were still a few items listed on the paper if I remember correctly.” Hacker nodded.

“Yeah, there was that new calculator and all the basic stuff like ink and paper sheets.”

“Great, we can look for them first before we get to the complicated stuff then! What do you think about that son?” He turned toward Bobby, who nodded.

“Yeah sure, I’ll still try to think about it though.” Randy clasped his hands together as he walked blindly to another aisle.

“Great, let’s get going then!” An awkward Hacker called out to him.

“Uh, Randy, you’re walking to the gardening aisle.”

He looked at the shelves in front of him and sure enough, there were a few watering cans displayed with various price tags hanging above them. “... Oops!”

***

“God! We finally found it!” Bobby snatched the carefully wrapped calculator from the shelf aggressively, glaring daggers into it as if it had personally offended him and insulted his father. “We’ve been looking for this for so long!”

“I feel like you may be overreacting, son.” Randy calmly pointed out as he took the calculator from Bobby’s hands and examined its appearance. “It looks more polished than your last one and more complicated to use as well.”

“That’s because the one he was using in middle school was strictly limited to straight forward calculations, but this little baby can draw curves or even let you write programs with it.” Hacker explained as he looked over Randy’s elbow. “That also explains the rather high price.”

“The price?” Bobby raised an eyebrow as he looked at the price tag displayed on the shelf. “HOLY SHIT ALMOST NINETY EUROS FOR THIS CALCULATOR ALONE?”

Randy winced. “Not so loud, son.”

“My bad.” He quickly apologized, trying to get over what he had just read.

“It’s expensive but it’s so worth it.” He straightened up again. “I would have given you mine, but the old hag dumped it who knows where. I can still teach you how to use it.”

Bobby stuck his tongue out. “As if I would want to be taught anything that has to do with mathematics.”

“Well, with this calculator you can use cheat sheets--” Hacker began before Randy clicked his tongue in warning. A stern look on his face. Hacker sighed. “You can play Minecraft on it.”

Bobby’s eyes suddenly seemed to turn into stars. “Really?!”

Hacker nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, the controls are a bit more complicated, but you can.”

“When we go back home, you must teach me how to! No question asked and I don’t care if you have work!” Bobby excitedly and Hacker shook his head in amusement, a small smile twitching on his lips.

“Fine, since I have no choice but to.”

Randy looked at his two children with a small smile before his gaze dropped to the calculator still in his hands.

Britney would have been delighted to hear that as well.

#dreamswap #fluff #dreamswap hacker #dreamswap bobby #dreamswap randy #ds hacker #ds randy #ds bobby #creepypasta squad #slightly angsty #fmaa2

[megamindsupremacy]

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#tumblrtop10 #mads posts #winning this year looks like

[sixx-writes]

                               Room 208|Drifting III

Kurotsuchi Mayuri x Reader

Word Count: 3,350

cw: slow burn, dark content, future nsfw, modern au, surgeon!Mayuri, thief!reader, doctor kink, character death, suicide mention

AO3 Version | Masterlist

Summary: You and your partner decide to steal from a former surgeon who may not be all that he appears.

Pt. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Shiki's voice is background noise to you as your eyes drift off over his shoulder not bothering to make the effort of pretending to listen. You still felt the chill of steel pressing against your bare spine and the light caress of Mayuri's scalpel tracing over your skin. His 'operating room' was inside a delivery truck you'd passed a hundred times parked in the alley between the apartment building and a vacant space for rent.

Mayuri had promised if you tried to tell the police or anyone else what had happened he would make certain that you went down as well. Whether he meant prison or in several chunks on black market ebay you had no idea. You also harbored no doubts that he could and would keep that promise so you had no choice but to go on living in 207 like nothing had happened giving fake reports to Shiki on your progress with the surgeon.

A loud bang startled you from your thoughts and your attention snapped back to Shiki's annoyed expression. He had slammed his fist on the table like a caveman and it took everything in you not to throw your entire glass of soda in his face just to relieve some stress.

"What the fuck is wrong with ya? Ya look like your dog just fuckin' exploded or somethin'. Don't tell me. Did the doctor touch your special area?"

"Fuck you," you sneered with real anger, "why don't you just fucking grow up already."

You stood leaving your uneaten food behind and chair toppled in the middle of the floor while Shiki stared after you in mild confusion.

You hated this place, you hated Mayuri, and above all you hated yourself and what you'd become.

You'd fallen into depression after your father was shot. Murdered while dealing with a domestic dispute ending six years of his career serving as a policeman. After that you had spiraled starting with dropping out of school and concluding with you in juvenile detention.

In your absence your mother's mental state had continued to deteriorate unable to handle the loss of her husband and the day after your sixteenth birthday she overdosed on painkillers. The news had left you completely broken, you had begged and screamed to see her, knocking out the officer's tooth when he had tried to hold you back. You didn't remember much more after that as you'd needed to be sedated for the next several days until your hysteria settled.

The following months you were inconsolable and eventually you managed to escape. It was around that time that you met Shiki, only eighteen and already a master at pick pocketing and petty theft, he'd taught you the ways of the streets. After the first decent score the two of you had rented your first apartment and you had never known exhilaration like that could exist. Finally something was going right for you again.

It went on like that for a while, careful not to draw too much attention before moving on, and avoiding any yaluza owned businesses. Now at 26 years old, Shiki had approached you with a low risk high reward job involving a surgeon turned recluse that would set both of you straight for good. The two of you had planned to split the money and head off your separate ways once 'the big one' came along. An exit strategy into a normal life when the time was right.

Or that was how it was meant to go.

For some time now you'd had the growing suspicion that Shiki had no intention of giving up the lifestyle as he sunk deeper into it rather than trying to crawl his way out. He'd taken more of an interest in the yakuza and spoke as if he truly admired them instead of the loathing and distrust that you would have expected. Maybe it was because it was practically all Shiki knew, he was half your age when he was abandoned by his mother; a whore that he didn't remember the name of. His own name was given by the man that had found him in a cemetery asleep on one of the graves; 'Shiki', shortened from the word 'funeral', Soushiki.

It wasn't something that Shiki liked to talk about aside from how the man was a drunk and beat him sometimes until it became too much and he ran away. From the sound of it you couldn't help wondering if something worse hadn't transpired while Shiki was living with the man but it wasn't your place to force him into speaking on it. He had always done the same for you respecting your boundaries and not asking about your past.

Shiki may come off as an annoying dickhead, and most of the time he was, but he understood what lines shouldn't be crossed when it came down to it.

Instead of going home you'd wandered in a random direction with no particular goal in mind. It was something that you used to do more often before meeting Shiki. Anything to avoid going back to your room and him just yet. The sky was turning grey overhead by the time you reached an area of the city you weren't familiar with. Sex shops and other shady businesses infested the area, no doubt yakuza owned, and you tried to avoid eye contact with anyone that seemed dangerous. Or anyone at all really.

As you'd recently learned literally anyone could be a psychopath appearances be damned; including rich surgeons that secretly liked to collect body parts in jars.

Your stomach growled pathetically and you're reminded that you hadn't finished your meal back at the restaurant so you try to search for the least seedy food joint. You settle on a ramen shop with a hefty woman working the counter ordering yourself a bowl and savoring the rich broth chasing your hunger away along with a glass of shochu to wash it down.

It's getting late and you know your time delaying the inevitable is coming to an end. Begrudgingly, you pay for your food and leave the ramen shop behind just as the first rain drops fall on your head.

You considered several times to just go to your other apartment for one night to clear your mind but that meant seeing Shiki. It was unfortunate that you were petulant enough to choose going into a building where someone had tried to kill you to avoid an awkward situation. You sprinted across the hallway at the sound of the elevator doors dinging, key already in hand, not risking so much as a glance at 208.

Once inside you pulled off your jacket and shirt; it had rained almost the entire way back soaking you to the skin. You were slipping off your second shoe about to go for for your waistband when your focus shifted to the living room.

Mayuri was seated across from you, legs wide apart, one arm draped along the back of the sofa in the most casual way imaginable as if he hadn't broken in while you were out. It was the first time you'd seen him without a robe or some form of house clothes. Instead he was decked out in formal wear; a black dress shirt with the top buttons undone revealing a V of his slender chest and the sleeves rolled back to the elbow. It had came un-tucked from the tight pants that matched and you guessed he had gotten in a while ago growing more and more agitated when you didn't come home contributing to his disheveled appearance.

"Where were you?"

You didn't miss the accusatory tone behind the question.

"Around," you answered intentionally vague. You didn't want to give the satisfaction of letting him see how freaked out you were. The towel from when you'd washed your hair that morning still hung on the back of the second sofa where you'd tossed it, opposite of where Mayuri sat, and you grabbed it drying off your body not bothering to cover yourself. He'd already seen everything anyway. What did you care.

"Have you been drinking?"

"No."

 Yes.

The exchange was reminiscent of a disappointed parent whose daughter had stayed out too late. Just on the other side of almost normal. You didn't know why you bothered lying to him about what you'd been doing as if you gave a shit what he thought. All you wanted was a shower to warm yourself and to take a handful of pills to make you pass out for the next ten hours.

That was why you held onto the towel, dragging off your pants and stripping down to your bra and panties, wandering past Mayuri whose eyes narrowed but to your relief didn't try to stop you.

You locked the bathroom door, taking deep cleansing breaths trying to calm yourself, flicking on the light and going to unhook your bra when you noticed the man in your shower. You yelled in surprise pressing yourself back into the door fumbling for the handle. The man was clearly yakuza, his tattoos visible at the edges of his shirt, and had been dead for a little while; his throat slit and one of his eyes aimed off to the side in an odd direction.

Your fingers wrapped around the handle and you fell outside backwards stumbling right into Mayuri. The surgeon caught your wrists before you could do anything else while you kicked and yelled trying to break free. He'd had enough when you managed to land a lucky elbow into his stomach with all your thrashing and he snarled shoving you towards the couch.

You banged your knee painfully before landing on your side hyperventilating under Mayuri's annoyed glare.

"What.. what.. why..?" you were babbling senselessly. This was the first time you'd seen a dead body.

"Tch. That man was here for me. It was fortunate that he went into the wrong apartment. Nine years later and the small fry are still incompetent as ever."

"H-How did..?"

 How did you know he was here?

That was what you wanted to say but your mind was racing too fast for your mouth to keep up.

"I was waiting for you to return; there are matters that I needed to discuss with you. I saw that the door was open and let myself in. It seems it was the right decision wouldn't you agree?"

 Fuck.

Something else occurred to you that made your blood run cold, "Shiki. Oh, fuck."

Your phone was by the door and you scrambled for it, pulling it from your bag with trembling fingers, needing three tries to get it unlocked. You had new texts from him that he'd sent right after you'd stormed off out of the diner.

 S: U good?

 S: Sorry abt being a dick before ik alot of shit is bothering you I was just tryna cheer u up :(

A few hours passed before he texted again.

 S: Listen I'm gonna be late getting in today cause that yakuza guy just called and said he wanted to meet at that construction site something to do with the surgeon idk it could help us out

 S: If u need to get it off your chest we can talk when I get home if ur still up and maybe watch a movie or smth

 S: Anyway ttyls bitch <3

You stared and stared at the text until your gaze went through the screen unseeing and you gripped the plastic so tightly it creaked in your hand.

"What is it?"

Mayuri's voice came from somewhere behind you, close but barely audible over the roaring in your ears, and it snapped you into action. You pulled your wet clothes back on throwing your phone back into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Maybe it was nothing but the familiar feeling in your gut was telling you otherwise.

The surgeon didn't try to stop you when you ran back out of the apartment not waiting for the elevator and taking the stairs two at a time until you were back outside. It was still raining as you sprinted for the cranes in the distance marking the construction site Shiki had mentioned. Their tall black skeletons rose taller the closer you got and you were completely out of breath by the time you reached the chain link surrounding the area.

You tossed your bag over first following not far behind as you climbed the fence dropping into the mud with a silent plap drowned out by the rain. You passed two black sedans as you moved deeper straining your eyes for any sign of Shiki and your blood turned to ice as the scene came into view. In the clearing amidst the buildings lit by the security lights you saw your partner. He had been beaten quite horribly already; bleeding from a cut over his eye and lower lip washed pink as the water ran in rivulets over his skin.

He was clearly exhausted sagged in the mud while three yakuza surrounded him from all sides positioned to prevent his escape. You didn't think he would even be able to walk right now let alone have any real chance of getting away.

The man in front of Shiki landed a viscous kick to his face after asking him something you couldn't make out, not happy with whatever he'd said.

You were paralyzed as the man landed a few more viscous kicks into Shiki's gut until he was coughing a mixture of bile and blood. The rain had almost stopped and you could make out bits and pieces of what was being said.

"...no one.." Shiki said earning him another kick, this time to his face. His nose was mangled beyond recognition from the abuse, his once handsome face turned ugly by brutality.

"..anyone else know..?" the yakuza was speaking again.

The tall muscular gangster easily dragged Shiki up by the hair until he was at eye level, too weak to grasp at the arm that held him, Shiki's face contorted in agony. You don't notice where the gun comes from when the yakuza pulls it out from somewhere inside his suit. All you see is the suppressor pressing into the hollow of Shiki's throat as the hammer is dragged back and the safety released.

 You should be doing something, right?

Shiki's body is like a rag doll; his body is flopping so unnaturally from side to side with the way the man is shaking him like he has no bones left. You realize it's because his legs are broken.

"..don't think..lying.." the farthest yakuza says something and the man holding Shiki agrees.

Shiki coughs and your heart breaks a little more at the wet rattling sounds behind it.

You can't feel the tears mixing with the rainwater on your cheeks.

Shiki manages to spit in the face of the bastard and it only causes him to grin entirely unphased by Shiki's defiance. He drops him into a crumpled heap before rolling him over with his foot and pointing the gun at his face. Seeing someone get shot is nothing like how it is in the movies as it turned out.

The yakuza started to squeeze the trigger and you felt your mouth open in a scream that was muffled almost immediately by someone's hand clamping down across the lower half of your face. Someone was dragging you away from the horrific scene. Distantly, you knew you were going into shock; this wasn't the first time after all. You remembered this feeling every time you thought about your mother.

 But you had to do something right?

 Right?

The sound of the gunshot going off was a soft thwack; nothing like the overused sound effect. There was no explosion of blood to dramatize what was happening, Shiki's body convulsed once, twice, then lay still as the bullets seemed to disappear into nothing. No sign that the gun had even been what had killed him at all. Not all the movies and internet access in the world could have prepared you for the real thing.

Shiki was dead. Your friend and partner was reduced to nothing more than cooling meat in the rain, his glazed eyes seeing nothing as his head flopped to the side so sickeningly limp. Towards you. Accusing you for just watching it happen.

  I WANT MY MOMMY. YOU'RE LYING.

 SHE WOULDN'T LEAVE ME ALONE.

 MOMMY. MOMMY. MOMMY. MOMMY.

  Ah, yes.

 It was like that time wasn't it?

So why was it that you were dragged away while someone you cared about slipped through your fingers again? It wasn't right to leave his body behind like that. You wondered if the yakuza would dispose of him so that he was never found or leave him for the construction workers in the morning.

You couldn't even cry as shock fully enveloped you like a familiar heavy blanket and you welcomed it not ready to cope with anything yet.

Time seemed to dilate around you (or maybe you blacked out - you weren't really sure) and you became vaguely aware of riding in a vehicle. Collapsed against the passenger side door as the world outside was reduced to glowing trails of light reflected in the raindrops running along the glass. The only thing you could see was Shiki's dead eyes staring back at you from the darkness.

You were going to be sick, you realized, and only just managed to get the door open enough for you to empty your stomach contents along the highway. It left you lightheaded with a foul taste in your mouth and you patted yourself down trying to find a lighter. There was a crumpled blunt in your pocket, the pocket of the jacket that Shiki had gotten you for your birthday last year, and you barely got it between your lips with your hands shaking so badly.

As soon as it was lit Mayuri reached across and crushed it into the ash tray wordlessly.

"What the fuck?" you sounded hoarse.

It was the first thing either of you had said since he'd practically kidnapped you an hour ago. Maybe two. Who was counting at this point.

"Keep your filthy habits out of my truck."

"My mistake I'll keep my smoking to a minimum in the murder truck. Just out of curiosity how many people have you killed?"

"Twenty-seven," Mayuri said without hesitation or remorse.

The anger you'd intended to vent went out of you like a deflated balloon at such a high number.

"Did you feel better after you.. after dealing with Pernida?"

 What were you asking all of a sudden?

This was not the way you'd intended for the conversation to go at all.

"It's only natural for someone like you to equate what I did to something as trite as revenge," he drawled condescendingly, "It was never just about Nemu; it was about sending a message. No matter how deep the rot of Reio's influence goes he isn't untouchable. He has had to live with the shadow hanging over him for nine years as a constant reminder of what if."

You were reminded of Mayuri's angry outburst while you were on his operating table just for speaking his daughter's name yet he spoke as if what he had done wasn't entirely personal. You couldn't tell if he was delusional or in denial that he had stooped to the yakuza's level for his own pleasure to take revenge.

"If it was about sending a message then why do you have a fucking arm in your apartment?"

The surgeon grinned at that sending a chill down your spine, "Every year on the anniversary of Nemu's death I send a piece of Pernida to Reio's office. That arm is all that remains."

You didn't know what the appropriate response was to that without offending him so you stayed silent deciding that the windshield wipers were more interesting than finding out more about Kurotsuchi Mayuri. You'd had enough for one night and needed to dissociate from reality for just a little while.

#sorry it short but i was pulling my hair trying to get the angst levels just right without it being stupid lmao #kurotsuchi mayuri x reader #mayuri kurotsuchi x reader #kurotsuchi mayuri #mayuri kurotsuchi #bleach #aaaaksdjahbjdf

[brandwhorestarscream]

Ok I've officially watched every movie with xenomorphs in it. The cybermorph AU is chewing on my brain again, but the one that's really sticking out to me rn is that yautja-spawned xeno that--I'm assuming--was a princess/juvenile queen. Head crest independent of drones, check. Same weird breathing patterns? Check. Capable of reproduction? Check

The means of her reproduction is what really caught my attention. No facehuggers, but instead forcing sizable eggs (enough to cause visible distension in a human's throat when they were forced down) into a host, by herself, mouth to mouth. Kiss of death, if you will. I wonder, can all juvenile queens do that and it's just never been mentioned before? Only queens witnessed are either already adults in their laying stage, or a newly emerged infant not 10 seconds old. So?? Maybe

Imagine if one of the cybermorph subspecies could do that. Don't get me wrong, queen is still an egg-making machine and that will always be the primary form of reproduction. But 👀 imagine it's a special treat, reserved only for the worst of autobot prisoners and deserters. The queen regurgitating and forcing multiple eggs down their throat and immobilizing them with silk resin, fully awake and conscious as multiple larva swell inside their tanks and begin devouring them from the inside. My first thought was maybe an insectimorph queen, cybermorphs bred with insecticons 🤔

#cybermorph au #love me a little bit of body horror

[eddiebillysteve]

cat and mouse

(( harringrove prison au ))

chapter five | find chapter one + chapter two + chapter three + chapter four here

pairing | billy hargrove/steve harrington (+ billy hargrove/eddie munson + billy hargrove/eddie munson/steve harrington)

summary | a continuation of steve's first time in the showers and some flashbacks to billy's first time in the showers!

a/n | the italicized parts in the beginning and end are flashbacks!! please take notice of warnings!! but the middle is basically just smut. pure smuttiness. so 18+ only pls plsplsplsplspls. also please don't be mean to me bc i'm a female that's never seen or been with a man irl so i'm just trying my best HAHAa find it on ao3 here !!

warnings | aftermath and mentions of violence/gangr*pe (but nothing written about the act itself), dom/sub talk, billy considering steve his 'property', daddy kink, steve being a gay panicked confused mess, bottom bitch!eddie and steve, stuff like that !!

No matter how hard he tried, Billy couldn’t stop shaking. 

He’d mastered the art of putting on a hard, stoney face after living solely with his dad for so many years, but he still didn’t know how to stop the shaking. He couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in his eyes, either.

Tears of frustration, tears of fear.

They were met with snickers from the men surrounding him. He was cornered in the shower block, backed up and pressed against the wall. He’d been avoiding showering for too long, the guards had physically stripped him naked and shoved him in ��� and now the wolves were after their fresh meat. 

They’d been waiting for him to finally have to shower. They’d heard from his cellie, an addict who was too high to function most of the time, that he was taking make shift washes out of the tiny sink in their cell, and it just wouldn’t do. 

They wanted him. Needed him. 

There were four of them. One was bald and the biggest man Billy had ever seen, another two of them had beards. All of them were muscular and wet and he was sure they’d be able to snap him like a twig even after spending the last few months figuring out a workout routine to try to grow bigger, stronger.

He had been transferred from a juvenile detention centre four days prior on his eighteenth birthday. He hadn’t been there for long, only a few weeks, but long enough for the other adolescents to taunt him about how much of a bitch he’d be once he got to the adult prison. 

At the time, he’d fought them, told them he’d be the top dog and would rule the prison, but now he knew he was wrong. There was no way. He had no way of fighting them off, no way of escaping. He had to do whatever they wanted and he set his jaw, ready to take it just like when his father got into one of his punishing moods. 

“On your fucking knees, boy. Finally time to put all those fresh new holes to good use.”

*** 

“That’s it, baby,” Billy had his hands in Steve’s hair, holding his head steady. 

He’d chosen the first option, the soft option. Eddie was knelt beside him, showing him where to put his hands, rubbing his back, telling him it was okay, that he was doing a good job.

What Eddie said to him didn’t bother Billy at all; all he saw was two gorgeous boys worshipping his cock. 

“Come on, a little more. You can take another inch,” he grunted softly, hands tightening in Steve’s hair to push him down to the hilt rather than just another inch. His mouth was wet and warm and the amount of drool dripping down his chin was extraordinary, or so Billy thought. “Easy now. Take it.” 

Steve tried to push off, tried to shove at Hargrove’s thighs to get him away. He couldn’t breathe and was a few gags away from vomiting around the dick in his mouth. His reflex was in overdrive, given there’d never been anything so deep in his throat before, and he could feel the acid crawling up his throat. 

Luckily, Billy pulled out enough to let him breathe before it could get to the vomiting point. 

Steve gulped for air, trying to curl himself downwards and into himself to hide his drool stricken face and erection, but Billy still had a hold on his hair. He pulled his head back up, other hand clutching his cock to tap it against Steve’s cheek. 

“You’re doing real good, Stevie. Real, real good. You’re a good boy. You keep listening to me like this, and everything’ll be much easier for you,” Billy cooed. The shower head they were under had shut off, and he didn’t bother to turn it on again just yet. “Tell me, sweetheart. You a virgin? You’ve definitely never sucked a man off before, it’s adorable.” 

Eddie shot Billy a look, trying to tell him to cool it with the taunting before gently touching Steve’s chin to wipe at the saliva there. 

“Go on,” Billy yanked his head back hard, and Eddie paused. His hands hovered in the air for a moment before dropping to rub Steve’s shoulders instead. “I ask you a question and you answer it. Has anyone ever fucked your ass? Or is it gonna be real tight for me?” 

Steve winced when the hair was yanked again, finally shaking his head. 

No, he’d never been with a man. No, he’d never had his arse fucked by anyone or anything. He hadn’t even pushed a finger in out of curiosity. 

He’d only ever slept with women, which he already knew was drastically different than men. Going down on girls was always to return the favour; it wasn’t anything that he really enjoyed or got turned on from. It was because he was a gentleman and it was the least he could do when they’d so kindly blown him first. 

Billy was rough and scary but Steve had never been so turned on in his life. He wished so badly that he was repulsed but he just wasn’t, and it was the real reason for the tears slipping down his cheeks. 

“No, you’ve never fucked a guy? Or no, you’re not gonna be tight? Use your words,” Billy smirked, tapping his cock against Steve’s lips to accentuate his words. 

“Never did it,” Steve mumbled, pulling his head back and away. This time, Billy let his hair go to watch him fall back against Eddie. They were slippery and shiny from being so wet and Billy would have given anything for a camera to capture the two of them together. 

“Good boy. Well done. When I ask you a question, you answer me with words,” he crouched down before them then, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip. “Should I keep fucking your mouth, or switch to your tighter hole? The drains make for easy cleanup for blood. A whole lot less work when you do it here.” 

“No,” Steve immediately started to panic. “No, you said if I did it—“ 

“I know what I said,” Billy tapped his cheek and stood back up to think. “You really wanna keep sucking, don’t you? You desperate for a taste of cum, baby? I could turn you into such a good cum slut. Pass you around until your belly is filled to the brim with spunk.” 

He was mostly thinking out loud to himself, but Steve curled his knees up to his chest. He could remember when Nancy used to blow him, how she always made him pull out and cum into his hand or a tissue because she hated the taste of it and refused to get any on her face.

It was disgusting, she used to say. Her voice echoed through his head.

Billy started to stroke himself as he got a little lost in his thoughts. He had two bunks in his cell, could put Steve on one and Eddie on the other. It’d be double the income, so long as none of the men cared about having any privacy with their toys. 

If people wanted both of them in one go, he could charge even more. He’d make a pretty penny if he could train Steve how to be a good pet. He didn’t think it’d be too hard. 

“Open,” he finally instructed again, words directed at Steve, but Eddie went ahead to finish him off instead. Steve’s jaw was sore, he wanted a break. “Oh, shit, Eds. You can’t resist, huh? Been too long for you? You missing Daddy’s cock?” He snickered and pet his hand over Eddie’s wet curls. It was endearing, the way he looked up at Billy with the biggest eyes and his mouth stuffed full. “My sweet slut. Always so good at keeping daddy’s cock nice and warm, aren’t you?” 

Eddie made a tiny sound around him, scratching his nails down Billy’s thighs. He knew what to do and how to do it, and the next time he pulled out, Billy was ready to finish onto his face. 

Once he’d caught his breath, he reached out and wiped a string of it off Eddie’s cheek before going to Steve. He crouched in front of him again, holding the cum out between them. “Go on. Have a little taste and thank Eddie for keeping me from cumming down your throat.” When Steve made no move, Billy narrowed his eyes. “If you don’t want me to fuck your ass right now, you’ll suck my fingers clean, sweetheart.” 

It was almost more intimate than giving a blow job, Steve sucking on Billy’s fingers. It made him understand why Nancy always made him spurt into a tissue, too. The taste was disgusting.

“Such a good boy,” Billy murmured, pushing his fingers onto Steve’s tongue, then down his throat. They couldn’t get down as far as his cock, but still deep enough to make him gag. “And you know what? Good boys get rewards. Up you go.” He pulled his fingers out and stood up straight to help Steve get to his feet. “Eds, grab the shampoo, would you?” He reached around the boys to turn the shower head back on, carefully positioning Steve under the stream. “I like rewarding my pets, sweetheart, I just need a reason to do it. You close your eyes, and I’m gonna take good care of you now.”

Steve was hesitant, but Billy couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t yet proved to him that he had a soft side that liked looking after his boys, but now that he had cum, he was in a generous mood. Once he had the shampoo from Eddie, who had taken it upon himself to wash through his own hair, too, he lathered up his hands and started to work them through Steve’s hair. He took it very seriously, massaging his scalp and making sure it was all rinsed out once he’d finished. The shampoo they got at the commissary definitely wouldn’t be the quality of whatever Steve used to keep his hair so luscious at home, but it served the purpose and was better than a bar of soap that the inmates who didn’t buy shampoo used.

“That feel nice, baby?” He murmured into Steve’s ear, pressing a kiss to the spot beneath it. His hands moved south and worked at his shoulders for a minute, pressing into the knots that greeted him. “Good. I know you can be a good boy for Daddy. You just need a little coaxing, that’s all.”

Before he could stop it, Steve let out a moan. It just felt good, the way his hands moved. He hadn’t had a massage in years, and everything was warm and steamy. Argyle and Jonathan had cleared out, it was only him, Billy, and Eddie in the entire room.

“My little songbird,” Billy whispered, more to himself than Steve. “But I think I can make you sing a little louder than that.” He rubbed his hands down Steve’s arms, then along his waist, his hips. He squeezed the skin there, but Steve grabbed his hands before they could reach around to take hold of his cock.

“No, don’t. Don’t touch there,” Steve mumbled. He made an attempt to move Billy’s hands away, but Hargrove held them firm against his hips, gripping the skin harder and harder by the second. There might have been the slightest bruise left behind.

“Let me remind you, sweetheart, that this body? It isn’t yours anymore. It’s mine. The second you walked into my cell, it belonged to me. These hips? Mine. Those shoulders? Mine. This perfect little cock?” He released his side with one hand to reach around and wrap a hand around his dick instead. “Mine. If I want to touch it, I will. You don’t get to say no. Not anymore. Not to me.”

***

“Holy shit. Dude. Are you alive?” 

Billy could barely open his eyes, but when he managed it, he saw a sweet looking man with the longest hair he’d ever seen. He couldn’t believe how gorgeous it looked even when it was wet, couldn’t take his eyes off of it. 

“What the hell did they do to you?” 

The words rung through Billy’s head, eyes still focused on the man’s hair. His mom would have loved to braid it, he thought. She would have done two french braids and topped them off with hair ties that matched whatever shirt the man was wearing — not that he was wearing one now. He wondered if that meant they were at the beach, but he couldn’t feel any sand. He couldn’t actually feel anything at all.

“I need some help in here,” Argyle yelled out, a louder sound that made Billy wince, but then there was a soft hand petting over his head and he shut his eyes again. It could have been his Mom’s hand, it was so light. He missed her, wanted to curl into her arms and feel safe again.“It’s going to be okay, man. Just hang on. They’ll get you to the infirmary and fix you up.” 

Argyle had heard rumours of men being ganged in the showers, in the laundry room, in the church chapel, but he’d never believed the inmates he lived with, ate with, hung out with would be capable of something so heinous, but he’d been proven wrong. 

He’d never seen so much blood before in his life. It wasn’t bright red superficial blood, but dark, almost black gunk. It meant it was coming from somewhere inside. “Keep your eyes open, amigo. You can do it,” he said, quickly getting up to run out to the main door to shout for help. By the time he’d gotten back, Billy wouldn’t open his eyes anymore, wouldn’t respond to his words at all. He didn’t know if he’d ever see him again when they carried him off to the hospital wing. 

#harringrove fic #harringrove #billy hargrove #harringrove au #billy x steve x eddie #stedilly #harringroveson #mungrove #harringroveson fic #billy x steve #prison au #tw: violence #tw: r*pe #my writing