#Vincent you rat bastard let him BREATHE. IN THE MEETING ROOM?

[zeebreezin]

Uno Reverse Carding the same pair back into your inbox with 44. A kiss out of Beverley hubris.

Oh noooooo now I have to write Vincent, the horrors, how could you eeeeeever do this to meeee (guy who is lying voice) (Spiritual follow-up to this last bit of art)

44. A kiss out of Beverley Hubris

The meeting was a dry thing, really. A bunch of officers in a room yammering about plans concerning the state of affairs. ‘74 had, after all, been a good year so far. Recruitment was high, as Vincent Beverley had happily explained, and the probable uptick of dissent from the fresh faces had been dealt with quickly and cleanly. His smile dripped with confident charm. A clever twist of a word or two even got a few chuckles out of the senior officers, quickly stifled as things moved on. The subtle disregard for decorum was something he’d earned, in their eyes. A privilege paid for in brand new bright eyed faces and more than a little blood.

Besides, the meeting was little more than a formality, really. A little recap for the Commodore and any officers who’d spent time away. Something he’d usually accept with a sigh. Today, though, Vincent had to smother a dash of excitement as he laid out the current policies for helping their newly enlightened find their footing.

Not because of the topic, of course, but rather because of who was listening.

Sub-Lieutenant Roberts sat dutifully, across the long table, neatly tucked to the Commodore’s side, jotting down notes. The man hadn’t made eye contact with Vincent since that night, brushing past in an all too professional manner. It would’ve been one thing if he’d just been acting like nothing had happened between the two of them - but the artificial distance was, admittedly, amusing. After all, squeaky clean Sub-Lieutenant Elias Roberts, the former cabin boy of the Commodore himself had seduced a married man! Nevermind the rest of it - nor the amount of people in this very room who’d been talked into Vincent’s bed at one point or another. Isobel had found the situation quite amusing, when he’d told her.

He had to have a little fun with it, really.

Vincent sat down to listen to whoever was talking after his section of briefing was over, with a respectful nod towards the Commodore. The meeting wound down soon after. Vincent half-listened, and occasionally scrawled down his own notes. Occasionally licking the nib of his pen. Occasionally sparing a glance towards Roberts, a practiced look of professionalism on his face all the while. It was all set up, really. Those casual glances, a little backreading of his previous notes, his smile widening just a tad when the Commodore gave his closing remarks. It built a simple picture of each and every onlooker. Vincent Beverley was, after all, not a subtle man. Not here, at the meeting room table, where he was the slightly foppish recruiter whose eccentricities were overshadowed by results. It was a comfortable self to wear. One that was expected. So, of course, when the meeting ended and the officers were just beginning to clear, no one batted an eye when Vincent spoke up.

“Excuse me, Commodore Sir- would you mind if I held up your Sub-Lieutenant for a moment? I've got an update on something for him.” Vincent addressed the Commodore directly, the easy smile on his lips matched with a practiced look of respect. The pleasantries flowed freely, of course - and it was clear that Vincent had needed to speak with the man.

That was the other blessing when it came to long, excruciatingly dry meetings like this. People tended to clear out quickly. Soon it was just Vincent and Roberts in the room, the chatter of the other officers fading off into the distance.

Vincent kept his face as it was - light, charming, and on the edge of too casual. “I won’t take up much of your time, Roberts.” He said, waving a hand aimlessly as he circled the table. “Just a quick word and I’ll be on my way.”

“Very well, what is it?” Roberts was, as usual, to the point. He was also, as usual, unsubtle as Storm himself. Even now, Vincent could see him trying to assess the game that was being played as he approached Roberts’s side. But what reason could he have to protest the rendezvous? Everyone had seen him ask - and there would be questions if he returned with nothing new to say to his beloved commodore. It was a cruel thing, really, to trap a man like Roberts under his own responsibilities.

Crueler still, perhaps, was how Vincent leaned in, suddenly pressed against him, lips barely a breath from Roberts’s ear.

“I just wanted you to know that you’re not subtle, Elias.” Vincent whispered, mirth clear in voice. “You can’t avoid me forever, not in this town. What happened that night ruins us both if it comes out-“ The lie threatened to pull his smile wider, but his voice drew just a little less confident, a little more afraid. “So know that I won’t bite if you draw a little closer.” Vincent pressed a kiss against the side of Roberts’s cheek as he pulled away, a hint of tender desperation in the action. It seemed like a break in the persona, a gap in Vincent’s ever joyful self. Fear of being exposed, of harming his wife, of losing what he had - what did Roberts see in it? Vincent wished he knew. An act is only as good as the audience’s interpretations.

Vincent’s eyes were fixed on the doorway as he stepped out of Roberts’s space, pulling a sheet of paper from the table and handing it to the Lieutenant, before they snapped back up to make eye contact with the man. “-also, I have here the reports on those newcomers you asked for? Much of the usual, but well,” Any sense of vulnerability fell away in an instant, as the usual charm settled back into place, fast enough to give a less familiar conversation partner whiplash. “Let me know if you’ve any follow-ups you want conducted, hm? There’s not much else for me to be focused on, at the moment - so really, I’m all yours. Be seeing you, then?”

His casual tone was unfaltering as Vincent offered a slight nod, before he heading off, strolling into the Geode’s halls without truly expecting Roberts to respond. The look on his face said enough. Vincent knew he was flirting with disaster. But well… he was allowed a little fun, sometimes. He couldn’t wait to tell Isobel all about it.

[libraryofsouls]

jealousy meter - masked slasher edition

masked slashers jealousy hcs + how to quell their anger.

Asa Emory / The Collector

controls his temper really well but the vibes he gives off just screams murder.

if you’re being hit on, he’ll step in before ushering you behind him. sarcastically asks the stranger if they needed anything.

if they're persistent, asa will get more ....uncivil by the minute. he won’t start a fight though.

if they touch you - he’s going to be PISSED. now it’s personal. he’ll waste no time in prying their filthy little fingers off you.

again, he won’t start a fight but he’ll have any notable features memorized so he can deal with them later on.

rating: 8/10. won’t publicly fight anyone but this man holds grudges. touching you = stuffs them in a trunk for his own twisted amusement. might even show it off to you if he’s feeling particularly immoral.

solution: distract him. cling to his arm and take his attention away from the poor idiot who tried flirting with you. not usually a fan of pda but he’ll have an arm around you for protection. no amount of sweet-talking will stop him from abducting the creep later on though.

Brahms Heelshire

unsurprisingly gets jealous of the only other person you get to talk to.

who takes this long to drop off some groceries? why can’t he take a bloody cheque and just fuck off already?

somehow, in some way, he’s going to figure out how to get that fool out of the house without being seen.

was he... hitting on you? gasp! THE NERVE-- starts breaking objects in other rooms. scatters rat corpses all over the man’s car.

brahms will either be grabby hands at you as soon as you’re alone or just stubbornly keep you in his arms until you make him feel better.

rating: 10/10. hates it whenever the grocery boy drops by, especially when he’s blatantly checking you out. especially if he’s still breathing. AWFUL tantrums during and afterwards.

solution: praise him while showering him with affection. hold him tight and tell him how much you love him. kisses make his anger melt away fast. let him glue himself onto you until the next week or he’ll get upset.

Bubba Sawyer / Leatherface

thinks he’s not exactly ideal boyfriend material and he knows how much you prefer not being a cannibal.

big boy sad. initially gets mad when he sees someone flirt with you, but he’s plagued with insecurities. maybe you wanted someone normal and nice-looking. maybe you’re sick of living with the sawyers.

snaps out of it if he sees you uncomfortable. bubba is quick on his feet! don’t worry he’ll save you!!! literally saws the man in half.

creeper? dead. meat? acquired. yee? haw. he’ll quickly check to see if you’re okay. doesn’t quite understand if you freak out on him.

chainsaw go brrr. bubby doesn’t hold grudges and he’s not mad at you or ...whoever this guy was! he’s a simple man: he sees a problem, he saws it in half.

rating: 5/10. not above keeping you in a room to avoid unwanted attention. just gets sad and insecure a lot. tries to “save” you from everyone.

solution: just as easily swayed. please keep reassuring him otherwise he’s just going to keep tearing himself down. usually just reminding him how much you love him will work but why not give him some extra cuddles while you’re at it?

Jesse Cromeans / Chromeskull

very possessive. confident in himself and your relationship but gets an ego boost every time he successfully adds to his body count.

he sees a threat, he eliminates it. simple as that. jesse has more patience than the rest but his violent tendencies tend to get the better of him.

very observant so he’s most likely already blocking you from a creep. uses his towering figure to lowkey cover you. what is he doing, you ask? oh nothing, dear. pets you.

if they still stupidly pursue, he’ll be an asshole about it. “exit’s that way, pal.”

if a stranger tries to reach out for you - it’s game over. let’s just say he might not care if his partner has a weak stomach.

rating: 10/10. bathes in the blood of your fallen admirers. if he feels especially sinister he’ll let them live to pour salt on their wounds. snogs you in front of them after he’s broken both their legs.

solution: literally nothing. jesse’s just the type to kill people for fun. trying to reassure him would just feed into his ego.

Jason Voorhees

believes that his protection is the only thing he can offer you so if he happens to fail at that, he’s going to blame himself for the longest time.

if you’re within the stranger’s reach, alarm bells are rapidly going off in his mind. too close. they might hurt you. silently hopes you run away.

they might not even be able to get a word out honestly? being tackled by jason voorhees probably feels like being hit by a train.

if he’s somehow preoccupied with other trespassers and found you a bit late, he’ll see red as soon as he discovers a horny trespasser had been harassing his beloved!

full speed ahead! all aboard the jason train!

avoids killing in front of you if possible. at the best of his days he’s still questioning why you even stay with him. you’re not afraid of him now but you might change your mind if you see him off someone with his bare hands. it’s a risk he’s not willing to take.

rating: 7/10. similar to bubba, he often tries to “save” you from everyone. he’s also got a lot of insecurities himself so he might keep you in his cabin as an absolute last resort.

solution: heavy dose of TLC. jason’s indifferent towards verbal affirmations - he’s seen people lie all the time. the best way to reassure him is through actions: holding him, mending his clothes, helping around the camp, etc. it’s the little things that have the biggest impact on him.

Michael Myers

the most possessive out of the bunch. stalks you all the time because he’s mike myers and that’s what he does.

hates people and tolerates you at best. people around you though? ick. talking to you and smiling at you? disgusting. doesn’t even smile at you himself, but it’s not like you expect him to. and that’s why you’re his tolerable little thing.

flirting with you? VILE. he’s already made his way inside the premises. mikey is going to back this person into a corner and take his sweet time.

also stalks anyone you meet regularly. don’t be surprised if they rant to you about the harmless but unsettling encounters with a “masked man.”

you are not free from michael’s wrath. he’s going to mark you up in any way he can. if he’s feeling especially territorial he might even show up maskless at your workplace to “pick you up.” (cue him rawing you in the nearest restroom.)

rating: 100/10. AWFUL. he’s gone off the charts, folks! all you need now is a leash and a collar and you’re all set. luckily this hasn’t crossed his mind yet.

solution: bold of you to assume he’s doing this for you. you better believe mikey’s just doing this for his own satisfaction. this man is simply a asshole and nothing can stop him.

Thomas Hewitt / Leatherface

middle man tommy is both insecure and possessive, but he does genuinely care about you. unlike bastard hands mcmike.

very similar to bubba. he’s haunted by his insecurities and believes well in the fact that others can offer a lot more for you than he can.

he won’t jump in with the saw right away, but he’ll immediately come to your side. just kinda stands there and looks as menacing as possible, just silently daring them to try something.

he’ll make sure to put himself between you and the stranger. if they persist then he’ll get to the wrangling. won’t kill them if hoyt isn’t around but won’t let them go unscathed either.

lowkey gets clingy after the ordeal. you need to be in his sights now at all times. won’t keep you around the gore but he’s always within earshot.

rating: 9/10. more likely to keep you in a confined space for safekeeping. you’re too good for this world and tommy’s not about to let anybody hurt you.

solution: very similar to jason, he needs a HEFTY amount of TLC. more actions instead of words. would probably get emotional if you whisper sweet nothings to him though.

Vincent Sinclair

very insecure and would bend over backwards for you. doesn’t get possessive but worries you’ll get tired of him.

he’s also going to convince himself that you’re much better off with a “better-looking” boyfriend that can give you a normal life.

if a victim starts flirting with you, he's already close by, listening intently. wax man sneaky. he’ll knock them out mid-conversation and pull them away from you. saves them for last so they can watch all their companions get waxed.

if they touch you though, he’ll jump in and disembowel them in two seconds flat.

either way - he’s not going to turn them into wax figures. please don’t ask him why. he’s too ashamed to admit his jealousy.

rating: 6/10. stews in his own insecurities and sulks a lot. only time he’ll get angry is if someone touches you inappropriately - then he’ll get extremely violent.

solution: keep him company. seriously, you don’t even need any sort of activity. just do your own thing in the basement while he works on his art and he’ll be more at ease. (but he also enjoys random kisses throughout the day too, he’s just too shy to ask.)

[gemma-lemma]

Cloudy Days - JJ Maybank x Male OC

PROLOGUE

Parker Cloud had always been a good runner. Fast, with great stamina, and he'd always loved it. He had also been very good at parcours since the very moment he decided to pick it up in seventh grade. That was due to his best friend, Billy, who had seen videos on the internet and become obsessed with it. Within the first three months of picking it up, Billy had twisted both of his ankles consecutively, and Parker had broken a rib due to an unfortunate fall. But even though it had hurt like a bitch, it hadn't mattered, because he was doing it with Billy, who in turn had been the happiest boy alive. And seeing Billy happy had always been a priority to Parker. Because even though he understood only now, when it was already too late, Billy had not only been his friend. His feelings for the curly boy had always been slightly more than just friendship.

"One day, Park, we will be so good, that we can go to the Parcours-Olympics!" He had cheered,

getting a giggle for an answer. His golden eyes had lighted up, and he had thrown his fist up in the air as a challenge.

"Parcours-Olympics? Is that even a thing?" Parker had laughed, sipping on his cherry fruit pack.

"Of course it is! And if it isn't yet, then we will just invent it once we're grown-ups!"

Upon seeing the light in his eyes, Parker hadn't been able to bring it over himself to ask the question that had shot through his mind aloud. Were they really ever going to be so lucky to grow up? Because in all honesty, they already had known how the rest of their lives probably was going to look like. Following their parents into a gang, selling drugs and beating up the assholes who didn't pay, probably dying before reaching the sweet age of thirty because of some senseless gang war or a junkie gone rogue. He just couldn't bring it over himself to turn off that light in his best friend Billy's eyes.

That same friend Billy who was now bleeding out behind a dumpster in a dark alley of the slums of Jacksonville, North Carolina. And Parker could not even be there for him, telling him to hold on just a little while longer, or call an ambulance for that matter, because he was too busy running away from the guys who had shot him. Damn, he could barely even see his hand amidst the dark of the night, how was he supposed to find a way out of this fucked up situation? Parker wanted to scream his guts out.

It turned out, that after years of working for the Blood Hounds, a gang that was known for drug trafficking and violence, it still only took a single tiny mistake to cross another gang so far that they were willing to shoot them on the spot. The Aquila, Eagle. Parker would've laughed if he'd had the breath. This was all Damon's fault, that disgusting bastard. He must've known. He couldn't have not known!

Running through alley after alley, not knowing where to go or if they were still behind him, he pushed the picture of Billy's dilated eyes out of his head. He could not think now of the way the blood had soaked his white t-shirt, or the way his breathing had become more and more laboured, right before he sank to his knees. He could not think of the way he had begged him to run, before he landed in the ditch.

Upon meeting a dead-end, Parker came to a slithering halt. Fuck, and what now?, he thought to himself, looking around frantically and trying to suck as much air into his lungs as possible.

Just as he realised his one-way ticket out, he heard voices behind him and knew he had to hurry. With sloppy movements he jumped onto the dumpster and hauled himself up onto the brick wall. Though sore, his muscles knew the movement perfectly, and did not betray him. He was half-up the rain gutter, when the first shot rang and he flinched.

His hand almost slipped, but he could catch himself in the last second. Frantically, he glanced down towards the ground, where three men were stood, two of them pointing their guns at him, panting. If he fell, he would break his neck. If they hit their target, he wouldn't have to worry about his neck anymore.

"Come on, little hound. Come down and we promise we're not gonna hurt ya!" One of them called, wickedness in his raspy voice, and Parker wasn't sure whether he wanted to cry out loud or bark a laugh. If he came down, if he actually made it back to the ground alive, they would not only kill him, but also torture him for wasting their time and calories.

"Uh, sorry, Compadre, but I think I'll pass! Thanks for the offer, though!" He called down, dodging a shot, but not quite. It tore open the skin of his arm, and he let out a pained scream. If he didn't get out of there asap, they would shoot him down like a porcelain dove. And he certainly had never liked hunting.

So he decided to climb higher, hoping that the dark would affect their accuracy as much as it did him in not seeing the dead end. Three shots rang, each of them missing him, until he finally reached the roof. Once he was over the edge, he glanced down one last time and saluted mockingly.

"Hasta la Vista, babies." He called before running off towards the next roof.

That should keep them off for a while, he thought to himself and allowed himself to feel a little victorious. But what now? He would never make it back in time to save Billy, considering he was still breathing, and they probably already knew who he was, so no matter what he did, they would come for him. He couldn't ask Damon, the leader of the Blood Hounds, for help either, knowing that he would probably kick him out upon hearing what had happened to wash himself clean of any guilt.

Parker barked out a dry laugh. That man really was a rat with no honour. He hadn't even told them that the party they had announced to sell drugs at had already been claimed by the Aquila. Had they just known, Billy would still be alive, and Parker wouldn't be on the run, bleeding, scared. He wasn't even surprised by it. What had he expected from Damon, anyways? It still hurt, though.

So, what now? Now, he had to run until he reached a place where they wouldn't come looking for him. But where would that be?

As he reached the edge of the roof he was currently running across, he jumped down and right into a dumpster, wondering whether he should even dare to go home and get some things. He had a stash of money hidden in his mattress, after all.

Breathing heavily, he hauled himself out of the garbage and landed on the cold, hard concrete with a loud thump. Everything hurt, but he couldn't listen to his body now, when he actually had a genuine chance for to escape.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He murmured, trying to think clearly as he sneaked out of the alley and onto the dimly lit street. Right across from him was a 24hour supermarket that looked worse than a garbage dump, especially with the palm stickers on the windows. Someone had sprayed the coconuts into dicks with graffiti.

Upon studying the way the light inside flickered, a picture of surfboards and a beach crossed his mind, and a certain brother of his mum smiled at him through his memory, who certainly would not refuse him refuge.

That was what he was going to do, he decided. He was going to visit his uncle. Now that he had a destination, he just had to get the fuck out of here as fast as possible. Where even was he? He walked down the street a little further until he could read a dirty street sign and realized that he was only a few streets from home. Jackpot!

The run he broke into was the fastest he had ever run, and when he finally jumped up the stairs to his apartment, he was so out of breath that he couldn't even say hello to his father who lay on the couch, half empty beer bottle in his hand and feet propped up on the table. The TV threw little light on his dirty tank top, and when Parker barged into the tiny living room, he threw him an irritated look for interrupting his show. But Parker had no time for that. He made a beeline to his room, where he grabbed his school backpack and turned it upside down, emptying it on the floor.

"Boy, what has gotten into you? Why are you back so early?" Vincent Cloud asked, standing in the doorframe to his son's room. His son, who now frantically tore random pieces of clothing out of his closet and desperately tried to suck in enough oxygen to answer.

"Are you bleeding?!" He realised.

"We were set up. Or maybe not - I don't know." Parker gasped, throwing the covers off his bed and tearing the mattress open with a knife he fished out of his nightstand drawer. "The party we wanted to sell the drugs at, the Aquila had already claimed it. We didn't know." Parkers voice began to shake just the slightest as he grabbed a wad of cash and began to count it. He lost count several times, starting over and over while standing up and turning his body towards his father.

"Parker, where is Billy?" The older man asked, worry underlining his voice. Parker looked up at him with glittering eyes, barely shaking his head.

"Billy's dead, and they're coming for me next. They made it clear. I have to- have to get- get out of he- out of he-here." He gasped, starting to hyperventilate as the adrenaline left his veins. Was the room turning? No, the walls were coming closer!

Stepping over torn up schoolbooks and crumpled laundry, his father crossed the tight room and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, forcing him to look him in the face.

"Parker, breathe!" He instructed, and the seventeen-year-old followed the order best as he could.

"Do you know a place to hide?" Vincent asked sternly, hating the life he had dragged his son into. He often told himself that it had been the only choice he had had but could never quite live with that answer. When he had been younger, dreaming of being a father one day, he would never have wanted for his kid to live a life like that. He never would have wanted this for Parker and had been trying to get out of the gang for some time now to help his son secure a better future. It wasn't that easy though, he had come to realise, as the only way Damon allowed the members of his gang to leave was in a coffin.

"Yes, it's-" Parker began to explain, but he interrupted him quickly.

"Don't tell me. Just make sure you're safe. Send me an email or something once you are, and then build yourself a life. Get the hell away from your past, you hear me?" He said with emphasis, and Parker was close to tears. He nodded and counted his money again, ignoring the fact that he had miscounted probably at least twice. Then he split it in half and held one half out to his father.

"I don't know how much we owe. I don't know if they're gonna come for it. Take this in case they want it back or something. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Build yourself a future, son, and now go."

"I love you, dad." He said his goodbye, and his father nodded knowingly.

"I know. I love you, too."

Thanking his father one last time, Parker grabbed his backpack and left the apartment he had grown up in. The rest of his way to the harbour was barely more than a blur, he wasn't even sure how he landed on the ferry in the first place. He just knew when he was sat in some dark corner, that nothing would ever be the same again.

Only when he was hiding there in the protecting darkness of the night, he allowed himself to truly burst into tears, grieving the loss of his best friend, his father, and everything he had known. Hopefully, the future would be kinder.