was messing around with some expression and palettes
tagging my favorite yancy simps: @oonessawness @dannyishere @drewbabie
Yancy joins the egos pride icons list!
Pride icons masterpost
“What do you think they are?”
“Well, one of ‘ems a vampire for sures.”
“Yeah but like, what about the other two? ‘Cause they smell frickin’ rank, dude. ‘Specially the angry-lookin’ one.”
“Like... wet dogs or somethin’.”
“Yeah, totally! ... Maybe they just have BO.”
“We outta tells Dark abouts this.”
“... In like, two minutes? The vampire is playing the kazoo again and I think the angry guy is about to snap it in half.”
“Oh shit, youse might be right.
“I’ll do it!”
“Miles, give Enis his kazoo back!”
“NO! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!”
“Miles, we’re stuck in a strange forest, no clue how we got here, and we have to work together to get out!” Dodger walks up, her footsteps... aligning to a beat.
“We have to work together!” she sings, reaching for the kazoo. “We have to keep the peace!”
Miles stumbles away, kazoo still in hand. “I’d rather fight off a flock of angry geese!” he sings back.
“We need to find a way out, so we need to get along!”
Enis grins, and joins in with a slide and throwing open his arms. “And that’s why we’ll sing this healing song!”
“I don’t want to deal this.” Miles throws the kazoo away and starts stalking off. “I’ll find my own way home!”
“Oh, come on,” Dodger scoffs.
Dodger and Enis both pops up next to Miles, hugging him and singing at the same time. “You know we’ll always be there wherever you will roam!”
Bing and Yancy sit in the tree, gawking.
“Are they singing?” Bing whispers.
“Yeahs,” Yancy whispers back.
“Dude, you outta pop in and join them.”
“Yeah! You like singing like this, totally seems like your thing.”
“I’s don’t sing no mores, remember?”
“You totally hum and sing to yourself like, all the time.”
“... Well I’m not gonna do’s it in front of other people.”
Bing and Yancy watch the spontaneous-kazoo-battle-dance-choreography scene for a minute more.
“... I don’t think you’d be the embarrassing one if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Alright, FINE! I guess... this journey isn’t just mine. Enis, here’s your kazoo.”
“I knew we could count on you!”
And just as suddenly as the musical number began... it ceases. They pick up their stuff, and set off again.
“Doesn’t mean you can play it again yet,” Miles growls, not even looking behind him as Enis lifts the kazoo to his mouth.
Enis slowly lowers it.
“Okay, dude, Dark’s gonna flip out about this, I’m flipping out about this! What the heck was even... like, dude, what?!” Bing laughs a little, and pulls out his phone. “Should I send a memory recording, dude?”
“Youse got enough wi-fis?”
“I’ve got data, it’s chill. ... Oh, he’s calling. ... Hey, Dark! Yeah, Yancy and I are out together. We’ve uh, actually got some stuff to tell you.”
Hello lovelies! I've been working on this one for a bit and I really hope you guys enjoy it!
The jail cell was cold that night. You would think I would be used to it by now, but tonight the chill was nearly unbearable. Despite the extra blankets (a gift from the prisoners I was told), I laid there shivering, trying to maintain some semblance of warmth.
After a few minutes of freezing, I sighed and reluctantly got out of bed. The coldness of the concrete floor leaked through my socks, causing another shiver to run through my body. I reached under my bed and pulled out a flashlight, another gift from the others. I wasn't sure where it had come from, but I was glad to have it nonetheless. Staying here for as long as I had, I knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially if the horse had a criminal record.
I silently made my way to the barred door and fished out a bobby pin from my pocket. It took days and weeks of begging, but Yancy had shown me how to open and close the cell doors in the prison, making this nighttime journey possible. I listened for the guards, but thankfully they all seemed to be elsewhere.
I gingerly stepped out of my cell and ran towards Yancy's. The halls were pitch black, but thanks to my handy dandy mystery flashlight, I could see exactly where I was going. By the time I reached his cell, I had started to realize how silly I was acting. Why am I doing this again? Then another chill ran through me and I remembered. Oh yeah. Cold. Maybe he could spare another blanket, or tell me where to get a heater of some sort.
I peeked through the bars and saw Yancy curled up on the top bunk, seemingly asleep. I fished out the bobby pin again and picked the lock, keeping an ear out for guards. After a few tense minutes, I managed to unlock the door and swung it open, wincing at the slight squeak of the hinges.
I entered the cell and slowly closed the door before making my way to the bunk bed. On the bottom bunk, Heapass was snoring away, occasionally mumbling in his sleep. I stood on my tiptoes and poked Yancy's cheek once, twice. On the third poke, he opened his eyes.
"Whu..." He said before rubbing his eyes and looking at me. "Oh, hey. What're youse doin' here?"
Just then a violent shiver ran through me, making me almost drop my flashlight.
Yancy sat up a bit, looking at me with furrowed eyebrows. "You cold?"
I nodded. He looked at me for a split second before scooting farther into the bed and patting it. "C'mon, let's getcha warmed up."
I hesitated. This wasn't... exactly what I had in mind. It was against the rules for inmates to share the same bed. I knew that, and I knew that Yancy knew it, but the stubborn cold was so damn persistent.
I glanced down at Heapass, who snorted and muttered something about a gongoozeler.
"Don't worry, he won't wake up. He's a deep sleeper, he is."
Finally, I took a deep breath and climbed up into the bunk bed, turning off my flashlight. I suddenly felt nervous all over again. The bed was incredibly narrow, and I was hyper-aware of the lack of space between us. If Yancy noticed as well, he was much better at hiding his awkwardness than me.
"Jeez, youse colder than a popsicle," He remarked as he wrapped the blankets around us. Like me, he had also been gifted with extra items, though his were slightly more worn than mine.
With some adjusting, we finally found a comfortable position for us both. The downside, it meant that Yancy was almost laying on top of me, making my heart beat faster than normal.
"Feeling better?" He asked softly.
I nodded, my face heating up like a kettle. I couldn't remember the last time I had someone hold me like this. It felt... nice. I was definitely warmer than before.
A moment later, I heard Yancy humming softly. It was the chorus of I don't want to be free, the musical number that he used to welcome me to this place. I felt my eyes growing heavier and heavier.
As my body finally relaxed and I was moments from falling asleep, the tune changed into something I didn't recognize. It was a soft melody, almost like a lullaby. It was the last thing I remembered before falling asleep.
BRIIING BRIIING. I groaned as the morning alarm blared, covering my head with the pillow. My least favorite part of the day.
In a flash, I suddenly remembered what happened last night. I sat up and looked around. I was back in my own bed, in my own cell. Was I dreaming? It felt so real though.
"Hey! Get your lazy butt up!" said the guard walking past, "It's time for breakfast!"
With another sigh, I got out of bed and made my way to the dining hall. I saw Yancy there, leaning over the table with a small pencil, scribbling furiously. I got my food and sat down next to him. He quickly folded up the paper and stashed it in his pocket before I could tell what it was. He looked up at me and smiled like normal, but there were slight bags under his eyes.
"Hey there," he said, "Didja sleep good?"
I nodded, wondering what he was doing that was so secretive.
"That's good. Glad to hear."
We sat together quietly, eating our gruel. I wanted to ask about last night, but I couldn't find a way to bring it up. Part of me still wasn't sure if it actually happened. And I didn't want to embarrass Yancy or myself if it turned out I was wrong.
As we brought up our empty plates to the kitchen, Yancy suddenly cleared his throat.
"I think the warden has a new pin today."
I frowned but turned to look at him. The warden was standing against the wall, staring down the prisoners as they ate. Unfortunately, he was too far away for me to check Yancy's claim. I then felt a slight tug on my clothes. I looked back at Yancy, but he just put his plate up and walked away, mumbling something about rehearsals. For a moment, I could've sworn he was blushing.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. I looked back up, but Yancy was long gone. I started to open it, then a loud cough jolted me back to reality.
"Quit holding up the line." the chef barked at me. I quickly got out of the way and ended up back in my cell. I had a few more minutes until the legally allowed activities started. I pulled out the note again and unfolded it.
I didn't want to say anything in the dining room, cause I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. But I'm glad that you trust me enough to come to me when you need something. That being said, if you ever get cold again or you just need a cuddle buddy, don't hesitate. Yours, Yancy.
There were a couple of marked-out words besides 'yours' as if he couldn't decide how he should've ended it. I found myself smiling, a bubbly feeling erupting in my chest. I read it a few more times before I absolutely had to leave. Tucking the letter into my pillow, I made my way to the yard, smiling the whole way there.
“Why try and prison break when hard time is totally great?”
((Yancy has a plan on how to get Y/N out of the Institute, but it means you’ll have to get your hands a little dirty along the way. Still, better than what Mark has planned for you if you decide to stay--assuming escape is even possible.
Warnings: fight scene, brief references to blood/bleeding, and some light language.
Also, this and the next two parts are shaping up to be long ones, just so you know going in.
Links here to Part 39: Dark’s Offer and to the series masterlist.))
You thought you had never truly seen Yancy in his element until after he decided he would help you break out of the Institute, a feat that you still thought would be nearly impossible to pull off even as he described his plan to you. It would have been impossible to pull off in the short time that you had if you didn’t have Yancy on your side.
By the time the two of you reached the cafeteria, Yancy had already worked out all of the details—surprisingly fast, for someone who insisted that in the normal run of things breaking out should be the last thing on anyone’s mind, but you didn’t comment on that as he pointed out the people needed. Most were prisoners with the right access, along with a guard or two that would be willing to look the other way, and the two of you spent your lunch subtly going around the room and striking up conversations about favors owed and the cost of seeing that a few items here and there found their way to your shared cell during the break after lunch.
You, of course, didn’t have any favors you could call in, and if this worked no intention of being able to pay off any in the future, but Yancy? He either had something over half the people in the room or access to something the other half wanted, whether that be the pack of cigarettes he had stowed away in your cell or a promise of protection until an inmate was to be released.
By the time you were due to meet Google, everything that could be prepared in advance was in place and Yancy promised he would see through the rest. When you could only nod and failed to find any words to say, he frowned and asked, “What, youse don’t trust me?”
“No! It’s not that, it’s just—” You stopped, unable to voice any of the uncertainties in your mind when you knew Yancy would take offense to any of them. What if this didn’t work? What if Mark got involved, and made things even worse? What if getting out of here wasn’t the right thing to do, when you knew how much of a danger you would be to anyone around you tonight?
You took a deep breath and tried to force those thoughts down, at least until you might actually have to deal with them. “It’s about time for me to meet Google, isn’t it?”
“I’ll meet youse on the way up,” Yancy promised, walking with you as far as the hall with the elevator, where the magitek unit was waiting as expected. He glared daggers at the machine, but kept his distance while you walked up to Google.
Google looked you up and down and frowned before commenting, “Your attire has changed.”
“Extra clothes under my uniform to keep me warm,” you said, the excuse at the ready. “It’s cold down there, even when I don’t almost drown. Is that a problem?”
“Only with the general human condition,” Google said, using his card to activate the elevator. “As long as your exterior uniform is unaltered and the identifying marks are not removed or covered in any way, it is not a violation of the rules.”
You tried not to look too relieved as you stepped into the elevator and took a position between Google and the researcher who had already been on her way down to one of the other levels. When Yancy told you about the rule, you were pretty sure Google would accept it, but it still felt like a huge step to clear that first hurdle.
The elevator made more stops this time, but by the time it reached the level with the cells it was just you and Google again. You followed just a step behind, the noises from the other cells even harder to ignore this time. One in particular made you stop and stare until Google’s voice interrupted your thoughts.
“Keep moving. Delays will not be tolerated.”
You hesitated before moving on, sure that you saw a smirk on the magitek unit’s face before he kept walking. That more than anything confirmed your suspicion, and you made a note of that particular cell number as Google used his card to open the door that led into the observation room next to the Host’s cell.
“Well, look who came back,” the guard seated at the control panel said, spinning around to look at the two of them. “You’re officially our first repeat customer.”
“They are not a customer,” Google corrected.
“It’s a—oh, never mind,” the guard muttered under his breath, clearly realizing that it wasn’t worth the effort.
“Am I dumping barrels of fish into the water again?” you asked and the guard shook his head.
“Nah, he doesn’t go through fish that fast. He probably could, but I think he’s holding out to get something a little bigger, if you know what I mean.”
“You will be fulfilling another task today,” Google explained. He produced a plastic box full of bandages, wraps, and sterilizing wipes along with other first aid equipment. “The subject is in need of fresh bandages again, and it has been decided that you will replace them. Assuming that you can get the siren to comply. The last attempt required us to sedate the subject, and led to more injuries than is deemed efficient.”
“An absolute nightmare,” the guard said with a shudder. “Told the supervisors I’d quit on the spot if they ever asked me to step foot in that room again.”
Not that he seemed to mind sending other people in, although he at least reminded you to put on the noise-cancelling headphones before he would open the door.
You could feel more than hear the door sliding back into place behind you, and your own heartbeat was achingly loud in your ears with the headphones blocking everything else out.
“Host,” you said as you approached the pool of dark saltwater. “It’s Y/N again.”
Your voice sounded strange to you, and you weren’t sure if you were being loud enough to be heard until you saw the Host bob into view in the right corner of the pool, closest to the observing room so that the angle kept him largely out of sight of the observers.
He said something as you approached, but you could only hear the faint sound of his muffled voice until you went ahead and pulled the headphones off.
“The inmate is reminded that wearing the headphones is for their safety and the Institute—” Google’s voice came from the headphones, distant and tinny when you laid them on the ground before walking closer to the pool. They said they couldn’t hear anything on their end, but you couldn’t take that chance today.
“The Host is not sure if he should be pleased that Y/N is here once again,” the Host repeated for your benefit. “Are they well, after he…?”
“Not even a cold,” you answered, and he relaxed a little. “I’m supposed to be changing the bandages around your eyes. Is that okay?”
The Host considered for a long moment before he sighed and said, “Only if Y/N talks to the Host while they change his bandages. He must warn them, it is not a pleasant sight as far as he has been able to gather.”
He heaved himself up on the corner of the pool and leaned back against the concrete wall that formed a small lip between it and the edge of the pool so that you could better reach him while his lower half remained in the water.
You crouched next to him and made a show of going through the box of supplies as you whispered, “Can they hear us?”
“The Host suspects they record sounds, but do not listen directly for fear of what he might do,” the Host answered. “Although he would not put it past certain…machines, to be capable of reading lips.”
Which meant that, with your back to the observation room, Google couldn’t see what you were saying, but he might be able to make out the Host’s responses. Good to know.
“I talked to Mark last night,” you said quietly as you laid out the fresh bandages and gauze alongside the bottle of ointment and, surprisingly, a small pair of scissors. You would need them, but it was still strange that they had so easily given you something that could be used as a potential weapon, even if you doubted that they would do much against Google. “He promised he could help me, cure me if I played along with what he wants me to do. And then—”
You broke off but the Host just nodded. “And then he gave Y/N an offer difficult to refuse.”
“…Yeah. I’m about to cut your old bandages off, okay?”
The Host obligingly leaned toward you and stayed still as you carefully used the scissors to cut through the stained bandages, near his ear where the stains weren’t as obvious even if it meant a few hairs were trimmed in the process. You paused briefly when you saw the open wound that traced its way across both of his eyes, the smell of blood thick in the air between you.
“What happened to you?” you asked.
The Host shifted slightly, his tentacles curling and uncurling under the water in a way that made you realize the question might have been too personal, until he finally said, “The Host has done things in his past that might make Y/N reconsider speaking to him, no matter how desperate their situation might be. This is the price of one such action, and one the Host has come to tolerate.”
You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so instead you doused a provided cloth with the ointment and gently began to dab it onto the wound. The Host inhaled sharply in a hiss, and one of his tentacles found your wrist while another reached for your chest but stopped short. The tentacle around your wrist wasn’t tight, but you thought that was only because the Host had managed to restrain himself just in time.
“Sorry,” you said, but the Host shook his head.
“Continue,” he said, although he did not let go of his grip on your wrist. “What will Y/N do now?”
“My choices are either stay here and beg Mark for his help, or try to escape,” you answered as you continued applying the ointment. “And without help, I’ll be a danger to anyone around me tonight during the full moon.”
You put down the cloth and began to apply the gauze and bandages as you continued, “Could…could a siren sing a song that would make a werewolf less dangerous, do you think? To make them stay calm or-or just sleep through the night?”
The Host leaned closer to you, his head near your chest as you wrapped the bandages around his eyes and snipped off the end with the scissors. As you finished, he said, “The Host is confident in his song, but he will not sing in these walls.”
“What about outside of them?” you asked and he sat back, seeming to consider you a moment before he bared his teeth in a smile.
When you stooped to pick up the headphones on the way back to the observation room, Google’s voice started berating you almost immediately.
“Disregarding commands and misuse of Institute property is not to be tolerated. Future misbehavior will result in—”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure,” you interrupted with a sigh, finding it easier to fake boredom when that was what you had to listen to. “Can you open the door already?”
The guard pressed the button to release the lock on the door and Google pulled you inside, just like last time. Just like last time, the magitek unit studied your face as if looking for some sign of the siren’s influence, but this time he was distracted by the clunk of the door as it stopped short when he tried to pull it closed.
Google looked down and found the culprit: a small pair of metal scissors that you had dropped on your way in. It was as he bent down to remove them that you pulled the first object Yancy had procured for you from your pocket.
You had run through this moment multiple times in your head, considered what your first move had to be, and decided it had to be take care of the guard. Google was the bigger threat, but the guard was stationed next to a panel of buttons that could easily lock down the room and call for help in a single instant.
Which is why you went for him first, pressing the small device to his chest and causing him to give a small grunt of surprise before his eyes flickered close. Just like Yancy had showed you how to do.
“’S just a stunner, see? One touch and you can make a person take a little nap for a few hours or so,” Yancy had said. “Better that than to give ‘em another reason to keep youse in here for life, yeah?”
But even just the three seconds to put him under was enough time for Google to realize something was wrong. It felt like he took crowbar to the side of your head before you flailed out with the stunner in hand as the magitek unit bore you to the ground.
Through the stars, you could see Google’s face twitch, but the stunner didn’t seem to have any other effect on him. Not that you thought it would, but you had hoped for something before you dropped the device and pushed and kicked upward with all your limbs. It was like trying to hit an old-fashioned metal car, only you actually managed to heave him off of you just long enough to get up and barrel into the magitek unit.
Only to have his hands grab your shoulders and use your momentum against you, bodily throwing you through the unlocked door and into the Host’s containment unit. With no fear of the siren’s song, Google was on top of you again, his fist raised and falling again and again and again, a demented smile on his face as though he had been eagerly expecting this moment to throw off any kind of restraint and lash out with no one to stop him.
Well, almost no one. You feebly reached up to try and block the next blow, your other hand desperately reaching into your pocket for the other item Yancy had procured for you courtesy of an inmate who had enough working knowledge of magic to be sent upstairs to work with some of the researchers every other day, but Google’s fist was stopped short by a couple of tentacles wrapping themselves around his arm. The Host had managed to pull himself out of the pool and cleared enough of the ground between it and the door to put himself in reach of the two of you while Google was distracted.
Google’s expression changed as he strained to free himself, only to find that the Host’s tentacles did not give up their grip easily as they surrounded him and began to tighten with a creak and groan of metal. At first his fury became confusion and a brief moment of panic before he smirked and the Host hissed, instinctively letting go as a shock of electricity flowed out from Google’s chest.
But you were ready this time, and the second the Host backed off you pressed a disc into the ‘G’ on his chest and repeated the word the witch had taught you. The Institute probably had a lot of reasons to design something that could temporarily disrupt any magic or spells within a limited area, but you only had one goal in mind as the pulse of energy worked its way through Google’s body. Magitek, magic and technology blended together, but when that magic went offline…
Google sputtered once before his body went still. You could still feel the hum of his interior motors, but whatever spark inspired them to move had been restrained for a few hours, at least. His eyes stared straight at you, but when you leaned back they did not follow and there was no struggle from Google as the Host’s tentacles dragged him toward the water and let his body drop and sink to the bottom of the pool.
“I don’t…don’t think that will hurt him,” you said, fairly sure that Google was waterproof enough to handle being in the water. And it wasn’t like he needed to breathe, either.
“It makes the Host feel better. Plus, it will take that much longer for Google to provide any more interference.”
“This one at least,” you muttered. There was another one in this building alone, and you didn’t want to try and pull that trick off again. You glanced at the Host, who was still shaking from what had just happened, and said, “Hang on, let me get you a towel and some clothes.”
Then again, you weren’t much better as you went into the observation room and peeled off your uniform to reveal the guard’s uniform underneath with more than a few winces and sharp breaths every time you discovered a new injury that Google had dealt in his attack. That one, according to Yancy, had actually been the easiest thing to get. The inmates couldn’t do much with one, when their wards would give them away in a second, and all of the uniforms were stored in the same room with minimal security.
You gave the Host the towel and your inmate uniform, along with some privacy as he changed back into his human form. When the door to the observation room opened again, you stopped leaning against the wall and offered an arm for the Host to lean on as he staggered forward.
“Are you okay?” you asked, even though you could clearly see that he looked paler than before and his new bandages were already starting to show signs of staining.
“Walking is…hard,” he muttered, clinging to you as you led him to a box he could sit down on. The only chair in the room was still occupied by the guard, who you had pushed so that he was at least slumped onto a clear space on the desk instead of leaning with his head at an angle that hurt to even look at. “What now?”
“We need to wait a couple more minutes,” you said, looking at the clock on the wall. “Then we should have enough time to get to the elevators while whoever’s watching the monitor is distracted.
“Will,” you corrected yourself. You had to believe Yancy would follow through. He’d gotten you this far, after all. You pressed a stone into the Host’s hand, and he turned it over in his fingers as you explained, “That can be used to disrupt the wards they put on you. You’ll need to use it so you can get out of here, but hold onto it for now. If someone notices a prisoner without wards, they’ll just put them back on and these things are one use only.”
“What about Y/N?” the Host asked as he slipped the stone into one of his pockets.
“Already used mine,” you said. Thanks to Google, you didn’t even have to worry about how to get the blood to spread over the stone. “I’m dressed like a guard, and if anyone asks, I’ve been ordered to take you upstairs for study by Professor Beauregard.”
You were willing to bet no one would second guess whatever the professor got up to in her lab, and with the stunned security guard’s card getting around wouldn’t be a problem. Well, except for the Host’s trembling legs, which seemed to cause him pain with each and every step as you led him out of the room and down the long, long hallway. He leaned hard on you, and while was trying not to show it, you could tell from his grip on your arm that this was not an easy stroll.
You tried not to look at the security camera at the end of the hall above the elevator and took a deep breath as you pressed the card to the sensor and waited for the doors to open. Yancy would figure something out, you were sure of it, and in fact just before you and the Host stepped out of the room the guard who was supposed to have been watching the cameras found himself very distracted by the naga who had accidentally entered the wrong room.
“Sorry, this place gets me all turned around,” Illinois said, pressing some napkins to the stain on the front of the guard’s shirt and wincing in sympathy at the spilled hot coffee. “You’d think I’d have a better sense of direction, huh? Still, can’t complain too much if it gave me a chance to meet someone as handsome and/or beautiful as you.”
While Illinois continued his flirting and “accidentally” knocking things over with his tail, you and the Host took the elevator up. At one point, it stopped and several researchers in white lab coats got on, forcing you and the Host to shuffle into the corner and barely breathe as the elevator continued moving upward. Except none of the researchers even seemed to notice or care about the two of you, as they were too busy arguing about whether a griffin could be placed in the same category as a manticore or sphinx because all three have the body of a lion. While you thought Bim might have found the conversation interesting (or a reason to eat one or more of the researchers), you just silently begged the box to move faster until it finally reached the first lower level and the researchers shuffled aside to let you and the Host out.
You breathed a sigh of relief when the doors closed behind you, only to tense again when you heard a voice call your name.
“’Ey, no need to look so jumpy,” Yancy said as he approached, pushing a wheelchair from the infirmary down the hall. “Youse gots to act the part if youse is going to be walking around in that getup.”
“You stole a wheelchair?” you asked as Yancy pulled it to a stop and removed the bundle of clothes from the seat.
“More like borrowed,” Yancy answered, helping you to lower the Host into the chair. “Figured youse might need somethin’ like this, if this guy really does spend all his time in the water. It’ll help the two of youse get out of this place anyways, although you might want to ditch it after that. Bet anything this place has a way of trackin’ what belongs to them.”
“The Host is grateful,” he said, his voice no longer strained with the effort of standing and walking, “But what happens now?”
“We finish the plan and get the two of youse out of here,” Yancy answered, and the Host frowned. Being left out of the loop was not a pleasant or familiar experience for him, but Yancy didn’t seem to care much as he put his weight on the arms of the wheelchair and leaned toward the Host until their faces were inches apart. “And then, youse is gonna help my buddy Y/N here, right? No tricks, no runnin’ away, none of that, got it?”
“The Host never intended to do any of that. He is well aware of what he owes Y/N, although he does wonder what the prisoner hopes to get out of all of this.”
Yancy shrugged, but you said, “You could come with us. We could swing by the curse breakers’ room again, take another stone to break your wards—”
“Nah nah nah, that ain’t for me,” Yancy said, cutting you off. He straightened up and studied you for a moment before he said, “If youse really wanna pay back what you owe me, then in the spring when the snake and the twig leave here, youse could keep an eye out for ‘em. Keep ‘em out of trouble when I’m not around.”
“What about you?” you asked, and when Yancy showed some reluctance you continued, “You don’t have to break out. You’re due to go back to Happy Trails by then, right? Couldn’t you try to make parole or something?”
“…I mean, yeah, I guess that’s a thing I could do.” Yancy rubbed the back of his neck, looking away as he considered the possibility. “Worth a thought, I guess. But none of that will matter if we don’t get youse out of trouble first. Here, I took a stop by the lockup where they keep everyone’s stuff they come in with and found these.”
He handed the Host two bundles of clothes, what you two had been wearing when you were both brought in, and the siren laid them in his lap for now.
“I tried to find that collar, but it wasn’t with the rest of your stuff,” Yancy admitted, but you just shook your head.
“No, Mark probably still has it. Thanks for checking, though.”
The collar might have been helpful, if it were just you. It was supposed to keep people from following you, plus being able to pass yourself off as a dog once you were on the outside would make it extremely unlikely anyone would recognize you, but the Host would probably be the easier one of you to identify with his distinctive appearance, and you didn’t think the no tracing thing would extend to someone who just happened to be with you.
And if you did lose control tonight, better that anyone you ran into knew what they were dealing with, added a thought you could have done without.
You used the card to call the elevator again, which thankfully was empty when it returned, and pressed the button for the ground floor before you passed the card to Yancy through the closing doors. He had just enough time to give you a thumbs-up before he disappeared from sight and the elevator began moving upwards.
When they opened again, you pushed the Host’s wheelchair out into the same hallway you dragged Illinois through yesterday. You still remembered the way to the lobby and the front doors, but before you reached either, you stopped at a small meeting room that, according to a schedule one of the other inmates had memorized for reasons you didn’t feel the need to ask about, was always empty at this time of day.
“Someone will notice if we just try to walk out of here,” you explained to the Host once the door was closed and locked behind you. “And if the guards at the front start asking questions, I don’t think we’ll have enough answers to keep out of trouble. But Yancy said he could set up enough of a distraction that no one will have time to bother with us.”
It would take a few minutes though, so you kept an ear to the door and listened for anything out of the ordinary while the Host took the opportunity to change out of the borrowed uniform and back into his normal clothes. You heard him give a soft sigh as he pulled his oversized jacket in close around him, taking in the smell of the sea that seemed to cling to it even after being stored for weeks. When you looked at him again, he was already dusting the remains of the stone from his hands, the wards disappearing from around his wrists.
Considering how much trouble he had managed to give the staff here, you didn’t think that the wards had really been designed for someone with more than the average number of limbs, or maybe the Host never gave them the time to activate them. Or, when you considered how you were sent in with zero warning the first time, maybe they just wanted the chance to observe him in action more.
The Host picked up the remaining bundle of clothes and asked, “Will Y/N be changing back as well?”
“No, not until we’re out of here. As long as I look like a guard, people won’t wonder what we’re doing here.”
The Host nodded and sat back down in the wheelchair, bundling the uniform with its revealing red badges on the sleeves in with your own clothes so that it was hidden from sight. Taking it was a risk, but leaving it here to be found would just make it that more obvious that a prisoner had escaped.
“When this Yancy mentioned a distraction, did he—”
The Host’s question was stopped short by what sounded like a stampede passing by, the muffled thump of hooves on the floor and bray of voices distant but growing into a roar outside the door before whatever was going on outside of the room passed on its way down the hall.
You glanced at the Host before cautiously opening the door, just in time to see the backs of a herd of satyrs running down the hall, one of them leaping into the air as though too excited to contain himself.
“What?” you asked aloud, unable to think of anything else to say.
“I, uh, might’ve told the satyrs that the—the employee cafeteria has, well, some days they cook with alcohol in the, uh, the…kitchen and—and I heard there was a big shipment of cooking supplies in today, along with new supplies to keep the plants in the Sun Room h-happy.”
You turned in surprise to see Eric Derekson standing there, easy to miss with the way he practically clung to the wall as if afraid of possibly getting in someone’s way.
“Was—was that okay?” Eric asked, biting his lower lip as he waited for your response.
“Uh…” You could hear the mayhem already as the satyrs broke into the cafeteria. It was past the lunch rush, but apparently there were enough people still hanging around to cause a panic as they found their meals interrupted by a crowd of loud and overexcited satyrs who weren’t about to let anything stand in between them and finally breaking the Institute’s no alcohol policy. There were employees standing in the hall or leaning out of doors to stare as guards ran by, but absolutely no one was paying any attention to you.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better distraction,” you said, in all honesty. “But you should probably get back downstairs before you get in trouble.”
Then again, you doubted anyone could talk to Eric for more than five minutes and believe he would ever do something to cause trouble. It’s probably the reason why the satyrs didn’t hesitate to believe what he told them without any worries about an ulterior motive. Assuming they weren’t just really desperate to get that drink in and willing to take the risk.
“Y-yeah, I don’t like being away from my tree,” he admitted. “I’m just waiting for—Oh!”
He waved as Yancy jogged up, Illinois slithering alongside him.
It was a brief reunion, your goodbyes cut short as Illinois reminded you there was only so much time here. Still, you took the opportunity to hug and thank each of them in turn before you grabbed the handles of the Host’s wheelchair and steered him out into the hall, only to stop short when you found yourself facing one person who wasn’t interested in whatever was going on in the cafeteria.
“Uh…” Your mind threw up a blank as Staci stared at you, now in the guard’s uniform, and the man in the wheelchair. Why had she used that name? How could she have possibly figured that out since you talked to her just a few hours ago? Too late, you realized your hesitation was just confirming whatever suspicions she was forming, and you weakly asked, “What lion?”
Her expression changed from shock and confusion to annoyance incredibly fast and she started to close the distance between you before pausing and glancing behind you at the three inmates still standing there. “Listen, I’ve talked to Jackie, I know what’s going on with Chase—”
You stared in disbelief and eagerly started to ask about both of them when the Host cut you off by clearing his throat.
Yancy elbowed you and said, “Look, can’t youse two do this reunion some other time? We kinda need you to get moving, remember?”
“You can’t just walk out of here,” Staci hissed, trying to keep her voice low enough that the pair of guards running by didn’t notice anything was wrong. “As soon as they realize you’re gone, every hunter in this building will be looking for the two of you!”
“Please,” you said quietly, well aware that all it would take is one shout from her to send this whole plan crumbling to the ground. “I can’t explain right now, but I need you to trust me on this. I know you have no reason in the world to believe me, but—”
You stopped midsentence, surprised. Staci had closed her eyes when she said those two words, and she exhaled slowly before she opened them again. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I thought you were a real guard and tried to ask you what was going on.”
You stared at her for a second before you said. “Lower level 4. Sixth door on the left, Cell 11. The investigator, Emma, that’s where Mark locked her up.”
The cell meant for you, no doubt. You had heard her voice when you passed by the room with Google, had briefly considered letting her out before realizing that she would not agree with this plan. That she would insist on trying something else, on trying to deal with Mark head on again, on wasting time you didn’t have.
You glanced at Yancy and the others as you added, “If you guys really wanted to do something to hurt Mark…”
Yancy grinned and flashed the stolen card. “Yeah, I sees where you’re going with this.”
“He did what?” Staci asked, running a hand through her hair as though just now connecting some kind of dots. “Son of a…”
“So I take it from that you might want in on this little endeavor?” Illinois asked with a charming smile as he slithered closer.
“She’s married,” you said, causing Illinois to pause and consider for a moment before taking his outstretched arm and wrapping it around Yancy’s shoulders instead. “Just, uh, give us a head start before you let her out?”
You left Staci with them and more than enough questions and pushed the Host’s wheelchair toward the lobby. There was a front desk here, but whoever was supposed to be behind it was gone, either to check out what was going on or to go and get backup against whatever threat was clearly assailing the Institute.
Despite the number of people around and the general chaos, or because of it, no one stopped you or the Host from going straight out the door and crossing the parking lot toward the street. There was a guard at a small booth, but he was more concerned about the people coming in and seemed to accept your explanation of helping a volunteer with the curse breakers get to the nearest bus stop without question.
And, just like that, the two of you were free.
You ditched the wheelchair a block away from the Institute, and pulled on your hoodie to hide the guard uniform. It would have to do for now, because you couldn’t exactly stop and change but the uniform was too recognizable to be walking around in. Not that you and the Host were exactly invisible in your street clothes, when his bandaged eyes and the way he had to lean on you attracted stares from everyone passing by.
“The Host…apologizes,” he muttered at a crosswalk as you waited for the signal to change. “He can usually get around faster with his staff, but he lost that back at the park.”
The coffee shop was on the way, and the Host was clearly having trouble walking without it. You didn’t mind letting him lean on you, but if something happened and he needed to get by on his own you would feel better if he had his staff with him. Any stop would be a risk, but moving this slowly wasn’t much better either.
Besides, it would just be a second, run in and get the staff, and get back out again. At least, that’s what you thought when you left the Host standing in a small alleyway just a couple of buildings down and looked around before stepping into the shop.
You recognized the barista behind the counter as the same one Chase talked to that day, which you thought would make it easier as you stepped up to the counter and said, “There’s a man outside who calls himself the Host, and he says there’s a staff in here that belongs to him. Do you—”
“The Host?” Carla interrupted, and you realized that maybe you should have actually hoped for someone who wouldn’t care at all. She dropped the towel she’d been using to dry her hands on the counter and asked, “He’s here? Where?”
You hesitated, but Carla had already called one of the other workers behind the counter to watch the shop and grabbed the driftwood staff still leaning against the back wall where she’d put it weeks ago. Knowing she wouldn’t just give it you now, you silently cursed yourself as you led her out of the shop and toward the alleyway.
“Uh, Host? This is—”
“Carla,” the Host finished, only to lurch back in surprise when the woman put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.
“You’re okay! They told me you were taken to the Institute!” She pulled back and looked him up and down before frowning. “You’ve lost a lot of weight. What happened?”
“Carla was informed correctly, the Host was taken by the Institute,” the Host answered. “He would still be there now, if not for Y/N.”
You couldn’t hide your expression at the Host’s words before Carla looked at you. You swallowed and said, “He means…I, we…”
“You broke out,” she said, and it was your turn to flinch backward as she moved closer and pulled back the collar of your hoodie to reveal the guard uniform underneath. “You two actually broke out of the Institute?”
You didn’t know her well enough to make out the tone in her voice or the look she gave you as she looked you up and down, her gaze lingering on the bruises and healed but still visible cut on your face from the fight with Google.
“The Institute would never have let Y/N or the Host leave,” the Host said. You stared at him, wishing you could ask why he was telling her all of this.
“And what are you going to do now?” Carla asked.
You waited, but when the Host did not respond you reluctantly said, “I have some friends who can help us. We just have to get to them and somewhere safe for the night.”
You paused. You hadn’t put much thought into what would come after that, not when you were too concerned about just making it through the night. There was no way either of you could stay in the city, not once the hunters were actively looking for you. Not when Mark would just try and find you again.
The Host sighed and said, “Captain Magnum and his crew should be returning to the harbor any day now. If the Host asks, he is sure the captain would be willing to take the Host with him out to sea until the Institute has forgotten about him. He has put forward the invitation enough times, as Y/N knows.”
You remembered, just like you remembered how the captain had joked about taking ‘Lion’ with him. You supposed that was the Host’s way of reminding you that the offer might still be there if you needed it too.
“Hm.” Carla’s lips thinned into a single line as she pressed them together, studying the two of you before she said, “You two stay here. I’ll be right back.”
She handed the driftwood staff to the Host, who took it gratefully, and walked back toward her shop. The second she disappeared inside the door, you started to move but the Host reached out and grabbed your sleeve.
“Carla said to wait.”
“Are you sure you can trust her?” you asked, lowering your voice as if she might somehow be able to hear you. “Why did you tell her all that? She could be calling the police or the hunters or whatever right now!”
The Host shook his head, but offered no explanation. Instead, the two of you stood there, for what could have only been a minute or two but felt so much longer to you. You stared at every person who passed by, looking for any sign that you had been followed or were being watched now—while it was possible that normally no one would notice you were missing until the stunned guard was discovered or when you failed to show up for curfew, whichever came first, you couldn’t be that lucky. Mark would surely realize soon that Google wasn’t responding, that you hadn’t showed up for that ‘appointment’ he had scheduled.
If the two of you weren’t hidden before that happened…
When Carla returned, she came bearing a couple bottles of water and a bag full of food that you could smell even before she handed it to you.
“Sorry that it isn’t your favorite tea,” she said as she pressed one of the bottles into the Host’s hand. “But that just means you’ll have to come back so I can make you some next time. Until then, you two need to stay safe. Keep your heads down, stay off the main streets if you can and keep to crowds when you can’t.”
“Th-thank you,” you stammered, but Carla wouldn’t hear anything about paying her back as she saw the two of you off.
You and the Host walked together in silence for a while after that. You wondered again how he knew Carla—clearly, he had to be more than just a regular at her shop, right? There was no way she would be that concerned for a homeless man and some stranger she’d just met, who had as good as admitted they were hunted monsters. Right?
“Left here,” is what you said instead. You would have plenty of time to ask the Host about that later, but this was the street for Henrik’s clinic. “My friend is a doctor, he has an office here and I know where the spare key is. Once we’re inside, we can call—”
The Host continued a step or two forward before he realized that you had stopped walking. He turned and reached out, finding your chest then your arm as he asked, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”
“The door,” you said, staring at the open door across the street. “Someone broke in, they…”
“Calm down, breathe,” the Host said, his quiet voice doing more than it should have to slow your racing thoughts. “What does Y/N see?”
“The door’s open, the lights are on, but…” You paused, looking around. There were cars driving by, and people walking on both sides of the street, but no one gave the clinic a second glance. There was no broken glass or alarm going off to tell a casual passerby that anything was wrong, but more than that, you noticed the stillness from inside the building. “I need to get closer.”
Taking Carla’s advice, you and the Host waited until enough people held up by the last crosswalk signal passed by, blending in with the regular stream of people until the two of you peeled off and hopefully stepped inside of the building unnoticed. You were tempted to shut the door behind you, but if someone was watching the place they would be more likely to notice that; plus, the door handle appeared to be broken, so you didn’t know if it would even stay shut.
One step inside, and you could smell that it had been a few hours since the last person had been in here. There were so many different, unfamiliar scents of people you did not know, along with the achingly familiar scent of the doctor so engrained into this place. Your eyes fell on the waiting room chairs, that had been tossed around the room without purpose, the broken picture frames lying facedown on the ground, and the papers scattered all around the front desk.
Heart in your throat, you left the Host standing there just out of sight of anyone on the street and ran into the back hallway. Henrik’s office was a sea of papers, his filing cabinet lying open on the ground, an entire shelf of books empty as if someone had just taken them off one by one and tossed them over their shoulder. The drawers of his desk were open, his computer warm where someone had turned it on and left it to sit.
You checked the patient rooms and found that a knife had been taken to the padding of each of the exam tables, the contents of cabinets poured out all over the floor. The surgery’s floor was bright with scalpels and other instruments lying on the tiles and something had been used to break the equipment there, while the supply closet was just an unholy mess of broken shelves and spilled liquids that mixed in a haze that burned when you breathed in.
You didn’t notice that the Host had followed you, leaning on his staff and keeping his distance as you went from room to room while the growling got louder and louder.
“The phone,” you said, darting past him and going back to the doctor’s office. You found the receiver after digging through the papers around his desk, and was met with a dial tone. You fumbled with the numbers in your haste but finally managed to dial the number for the house before pressing the phone to your ear, your heartbeat so loud you could barely hear the ring.
“Hi, this is Chase. I’m not home right now, so just leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
There was a beep, and you silently hung up the phone. Someone should have been there. No matter what was going on, someone should have been there to answer, either Marvin stuck and waiting for his magic to return or Jameson or Henrik waiting out the sunlight, someone should have seen the call was coming from the clinic and answered.
“Y/N,” the Host said again, trying to sound calming but even his voice couldn’t do anything against the rising panic and fear and anger. The room was starting to spin, and you felt as though the floor could tilt out from underneath you at any moment.
“This isn’t right, someone should be there. They can’t have found the house, Marvin’s spells—” But you had seen how easily Mark had broken the spell on you. If he or Dark really tried, could they have…?
“No,” you said, dialing the number again, and again, and getting the same recorded message each time. “No, no, no, damn it! We have to go there, we have to—No, but if they haven’t found the house and we go there, we’d just be leading Mark to them. But if he’s done something, hurt Jackie or Henrik or—or—”
You couldn’t finish the thought, a snarl of frustration ripping through your throat. He’d already taken Chase, had made threats against the others, but you’d been sure that Marvin’s magic would protect them. They had to be okay, they had to be. For a moment, you wished that instead of leaving the Institute, you had gone to Mark’s office and taken the chance to face him again, only without the wards to hold you back like last time.
“Is there another number Y/N can try?” the Host asked, trying to distract you from your train of thought when it was becoming clear that you weren’t responding to his attempts to calm you down. “Someone else who can help?”
There was only one number coming to mind, but you had only seen it twice, when you dialed it on Chase’s phone, and then when you had pressed it in desperation at the park. The numbers swirled and twisted when you tried to recall them until a wordless whisper from the Host caused them to be so obvious and clear in your mind.
You dialed the phone and glanced at the Host, who tried not to look too pleased with himself while the phone rang.
“Why, good evening! Wilford Warfstache, at your service.”
“The one and only,” Wilford answered, his voice unmistakable for anyone else.
“Why do you have Abe’s phone? Where is he?” Was he okay?
“Oh, the silly man went and left it here at the front desk,” Wilford said. “And they say my memory’s bad. Say, this sounds a lot like someone. How have you been? Why haven’t you come back yet, you know it’s rude not to visit.”
“Sorry Wilford, but—front desk? You don’t mean he’s at the studio, do you?”
“Well, technically not any more, he just walked out.”
Walked out. You closed your eyes, torn between wanting to know what he thought he’d been doing there and relief that apparently nothing had happened, but you had to focus. Easier said than done, when you couldn’t even remember the last time that you had slept. “Look, this is important. I need to talk to Abe right now, no one else is answering the phone—”
“Oh, that’s probably because they all left the city.”
“…What?” you asked, sure you had misheard him.
“Yeah, there’s all kinds of texts here from some number, and the hunter hasn’t responded to a single one of them. Rude. But apparently someone found someone, and now they’re all driving out of the city to go and pick him up. Blah blah, afraid something might happen tonight, blah blah. All a bit boring, no wonder Abe never answered.”
Found someone. If that was one of the others, then maybe they had found Chase? You remembered Staci saying she had talked to Jackie, and realized they must have all left to get him back. Which would be great, except now you had no clue what to do.
“Did they say when they would be back?” you asked, leaning against the wall because you thought your legs might give out underneath you.
“Hm…Says it could take a few hours just to get there, assuming they’re even going to the right place.” Wilford paused and said, “Well, that’s just ridiculous. If you’re going to go that far, you might as well call it the right place and be done with it.”
“Now what are we supposed to do?” you muttered to yourself, glancing at the Host. “We can’t stay here, and the house might not be safe either.”
You trusted Marvin’s wards, at least in theory, but even if the two of you could get to the house without being followed, you couldn’t trust the wolf. If the Host wasn’t able to keep you under control, you would be letting a werewolf loose in the middle of a residential area full of homes and families.
“On the run, eh?” Wilford asked. You hadn’t meant for him to hear that, but it didn’t stop him from saying, “The trick is to go somewhere no one would look for you. I’ve had to lay low a few times here and there, and I’ve found it’s best to pick somewhere familiar but different enough to not make it boring or predictable. Like the zoo!”
“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” you answered. Both the zoo and the idea of being able to find someplace like that. There weren’t many places in the city that you were familiar with, not anymore. The house and the clinic were out, both either already known or too close to too many other people to risk. There was the park, but that’s where they caught the Host in the first place and anyone could walk up on you no matter how well the two of you hid yourselves.
Despite being secluded and the very last place anyone would ever expect, you immediately threw out the idea of going back to Markiplier Manor. Besides, it was too far to walk there with any hope of getting there before dark, and trying to get a ride was out of the question.
So what did that leave?
“I’ve also been known to fake my death once or three times, although that was mainly to avoid a very persistent ex,” Wilford remarked aloud to fill the silence, while one possibility slowly suggested itself to you. “But there’s a lot to be said about the fun of creating a new identity afterwards, I tell you me.“
“Wilford, that dance hall you used to do shows at, is it still closed?” you asked, trying to sound casual.
“Yeah, it’s a real shame. The owner gets caught on a little tax fraud and suddenly the place is shut down until everything gets sorted out.”
“Shame,” you repeated. “Forget I mentioned it, then.”
“Way ahead of you. I don’t even remember what we were talking about!”
You weren’t entirely sure if he was being serious or not, but then you weren’t sure if Dark or anyone else would think to ask him about this conversation or take him seriously if he suggested you might be hiding in his old dancing grounds.
But if you wanted to get there before dark, you and the Host needed to get moving now. Not to mention every second you stayed here was another chance for Mark to catch up to you. You wanted, desperately, to talk to Abe, but maybe it was better this way. If he knew where you might go, Abe might—no, he would try to follow you.
“Do you know if Abe is still carrying those silver bullets on him?” you asked.
“Only thing he has in his gun,” Wilford answered without hesitation.
“Good.” Then if it came to that…You tried to shake the thought, and instead said, “Thanks, Wilford.”
“For what?” he asked, voice full of innocence before he hung up on you.
((End of Part 40. Thanks for reading! Abe probably should have made the effort to listen to Wilford when he returned his phone, huh?
Also, between the cat and getting tossed into a pool, half of the Googles are having a not so great day. Meanwhile, the green Google at the hospital got to completely rearrange everyone’s schedules for fun, and the yellow Google spent a very productive afternoon weighing rats for the professor. Blue and red clearly drew the short straws in the owner/boss departments.
Link to Part 41: The Scarecrow.
Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard ))
This one is another insta request for a bi and aro flag Yancy!
Hope yall enjoy, happy Pride :D
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~ Chapter 3 ~
Cringy encounters - 1.2K Words
Where we ended: “Ah fuck.” You whispered. Back on all fours and acting like Velma Dinkley, you scrambled to find the key, your ears pricking up any slightness of noise through the empty corridors.
Finally touching its cold material, you stood up.
You literally took two steps before a numbing pain hit your nose.
“What the Fu-”
“Heh, watch it d'ere”
You rubbed your nose, checking to see if there was anything coming out of it. Whatever hit you must have been rock solid because you haven't felt that type of hit since...
"Youse ok d'ere?" The shadow asked, more sincere this time, unlike the lighter chuckle previously.
"I-I'm fine fanks" You nazily replied, trying to find some dignity in the situation that you had found yourself in. You had the key, all you needed to do was to get past them and back to your cell before you kept making a complete fool out of yourself. "Is someone there?"
"Heh I should thinks so, we'se did a whole musical number for ya when youse and that other guy entered." They whispered back.
The Boston and an attempted of a New Jersey accent, tickled at the back of your memory. Slowly standing to your feet, you come just short of the silhouette and you hesitantly reached out in front of you, just to make sure you weren't hallucinating. Your palm was greeted with a warm, strong and soft forearm. Ok, you weren't hallucinating.
Crap, you weren't. You actually walked into some one. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry." You hushedly rambled. You had never talked to anyone properly at Happy Trails so this was your lousy first impression on anyone. At this point, you were just praying that they wouldn't remember this by tomorrow morning. Well, It had probably got to be at least the early hours of it anyway, so you gritted your teeth and hoped for the best.
"Hey, it's ok. Youse 'as given me a harder time before, and youse didn't apologise den, so don't worry about it."
You paused for a minute. Prison fever had really caught up to you because everything clicked in that moment. Oh God, it was him.
You started to panic, your trustworthy plan was starting to fall apart. Avoiding confrontation was completely out of the window now as you started to feel stuffy in your uniform. Your breath was rapidly becoming quicker as you clutched Bogg's key tighter in your loosening grip.
"I-I gotta go." You squeaked to the floor, trying your very best to remain composure whilst your brain was now adding up the many possibilities that could come up at this moment.
Yet impulse pushed you to bring your hunched shoulders back up again and scurrily squeeze through the shadow. Of all the people, let alone any people, you could have bumped into tonight, why did it have to the person that you specifically put the plan in place to avoid.
With the Keys in hand, you turned the corner.
"Oh hey, watch out for the-"
There was no corner there.
"Fanks." You clutched your nose and felt your way along, your other hand touching every bump and hard texture of the painted wall, feeling for the getaway out of this conversation.
Eventually, you found your corner: the dimly illuminated "C-BLOCK" and paced out of his sight.
Just like any confrontation from Mark, the decision making was always placed in your hands. But tonight was the first proper decision you had ever done without him. And what a wonderfully brilliant one it was; to squeak a goodbye and bolt down a dark corridor completely by yourself before slamming your head against a solid wall. Awesome job Y/N.
You reached your cell and creaked open its barred door. Kicking off your shoes, your feet felt the nice relief of the cold flooring. Your breathing became much steadier as you turned on the Pentinary's bedside lamp, its warm, yet still dim, light reducing your chances of bumping into anything else tonight as you breathed a heavy sigh. Today wasn't so bad, besides that fact you made an utter idiot of yourself, no big deal.
You couldn't do anything about it now, it happened and you just kept praying that he would forget it never occurred. Feeling the fresh linen on your skin, you folded your prison gear into a nice pile. Taking your cleaning cap off- hold on.
Your hand yanked the dirty hat off and you just stared at it. You swore you took it off before walking out of the Cafeteria. Oh God this was beyond embarrassing. You started to feel like a character in one of those really sappy self-insert books, where the main character was overly clumsy in front of the love interest. You cringed at the thought.
You tossed the stupid thing into the make-shift bin in the corner of the room and practically threw yourself at your bed. Its noisy mattress expressing its disgust every time you moved.
That's it. If you were going to be loud, you were going to make yourself comfortable doing so. And so the thin cushion continued to rattle whilst you snuggled deeper into bed and propping up the even thinner pillows.
Finally, you were comfortable. You laid on your back and stared up at the other empty mattress. You took your time turning over and fidgeting with the lamps light switch, huffing in annoyance as you could quite grasp it. You wondered if it was actually worth turning it off. Dawn was peeping over the window but you wanted to sleep-it was worth it. Sleep came before anything. You scootched over to the edge of the bed and triumphantly switched the lamp off.
Not long after, your mind started to wander, recalling today's events. Thinking about it, your nose was going to ache tomorrow. You contemplated whether to ask Boggs for some medical assistance for it when you give the key back. But what's everyone going to think about you walking into breakfast with a swollen nose? Stop overthinking this, don't worry about that, that's tomorrow you's problem. Right now, you wanted to go to sleep. You worked hard for this deserved rest so don't rob yourself of it. Was that a bird chirping? Yes it was, and it sounded wonderful but right now, you needed to sleep.
After many minutes of distraction and self debation, you managed to fall asleep, not because of the bird but because of your consistent brain conversations. Sometimes overworking yourself does do wonders. Yes, it is not the most practical, and healthy, way of falling asleep but it does exhaust you, ultimately making you collapse on your bed.
Yancy saw you leave, sheltering your, likely, throbbing nose. Yeesh, dat's gonna look horrible tomorrow. A faint scent of lemon trailed after you, much like a little gown of fragrance.
Once you were out of sight, he turned back the opposite way. Immediately, his eyes turned back around. He tiptoed forward a little, something on the ground had caught his eye. It looked like some kind of key. He bent down to get a close examination of it, squinting to see the object's features. Now what dey doin's with dat key? Probably cleanin's ya know, wiv de hat still on and dat.
Yancy let out a small chuckle at the sight of your dishevelled hair and like a Magpie on a silver spoon, he picked it up. It was a little damp though, so he quickly wiped off the excess on his trouser before strutting back down the dim prisoner corridor. All the while, he was thinking about what excuse to tell the gang why he was back in his cell so late.
Things are starting to go somewhere! I have some pretty cool plans for this story so if you want to be tagged in the next chapter, please do comment, I will gladly tag you!
If this is your first reading of my work, then thank you! Hope you enjoyed reading it. There are a couple previous chapters in this story so if you are interested in reading them, then they are all linked in my Masterlist (see my pinned) as well as another story which I think you'll love!
Again, please do reblog this if you enjoyed it, I really do appreciate it and buckle up!
Buy me a coffee?
Read on AO3!
A/N: Happy Visitation! This is hopefully leading to a multi chapter for next Visitation. Enjoy!
It was really nice to see youse again. Thank you for visiting.
I hope the food at the cafeteria wasn’t too bad for your stomach. Sometimes the chef makes the food too dull, and Tiny ends up in the bathroom for the next few hours.
The gift youse brought was really good. I put it next to the other photos in my bunk. The warden lets me keep the photos as long as I don’t fill up the table. Please keep sending photos.
Hey, I was thinking maybe next Visitation we can go out somewhere. I can keep up a good rap with the warden, and maybe he’ll let me out on a short trip.
Where would youse wanna go? The park? A movie?
Youse can plan. I’ll do the work.
I’ll be seein’ youse.
I actually had this idea at... About 4 in the morning but I wasn’t going to write it that early.
Greasers give nicknames to one another. They’re usually based on a personality/physical trait or something the person was involved in. For instance, I headcanon that ‘Yancy’ is his greaser name. It was originally ‘Yankee’ due to his birth accent that sounded a little different from the locals, but it was softened when he adopted the accent we know today to differentiate himself from his family.
So why do I say this? Easy. Imagine Yancy nicknaming the Heist!Viewer.
You’ve got a million different options based on your character, but I have two catch-all ideas to get you started:
If the Viewer stays in prison, Yancy takes the time to hear the full story of how you ended up there. Finding out that you and Mark were caught because neither of you could fly a helicopter was the funniest thing he had heard all week, and swiftly called you Pilot.
If the Viewer escapes and keeps the promise of visiting, Yancy realising using your own name would be too much of a risk. In honour of you successfully returning without being noticed, he calls you Slink. As far as the officers are aware, your escape was entirely your own doing, and Yancy isn’t a snitch!
Change of Plans - A Yancy x Neutral! Reader
I will update it as frequently as possible so thank you for your patience (It will be linked below this chapter so keep your peepers peeled!)I'm always wanting to improve so don't be afraid to leave any comments, suggestions and constructive critique!
❤ REBLOGS WOULD BE APPRECIATED ❤
Haven't read the previous chapter? See my Masterlist!
~ Chapter 2 ~
Lemons - 1.03K Words
The Kitchen's clock hit 21:45pm as you finished your last dish. Curfew was ages ago, but hopefully, they didn't mind you still being in here.
Dipping the plate into the sink and slotting it onto the silver draining board, your back straightened up, gladly feeling the blood rush back into your shoulders. Dizzily, your head adjusted its coordinates and our eyes came back into focus. Who would have thought that staring at a soapy sink would cause eye strain? Blinking like you had stared into the sun, you recapped everything you did today. Which was not a lot.
But today wasn't so bad, the plan was still intact and Boggs had done his part, so nothing new that you should have been aware of. Again.
Finally aware of what you're doing, you tiredly looked around the room whilst scanning the room of things you potentially could have missed or anything that needed an extra sweep or scrub. The marble tiled floor was mostly clean, just a couple of minor tough red wine stains, and the wooden cupboards appeared as though they were freshly set up. Leaning over the drying serving counter, you saw the matching hatch window was dusted, your reflection was seen cleaning staring back at you.
Satisfied with the result, you plucked the keys from the coat peg and locked the kitchen door with a solid *click*. The Kitchen entered and bled through to the Main Cafeteria, so it wasn't so bad mopping by yourself. However, you saw your dried footprints through the floor and with a frustrated sigh, you marched over to the damage.
You passed several tables and chairs, their four legs placed upside down like uprighted woodlice, the scent of lemon and bleach hung strongly in the air...
"Come on Y/N, we're going to be late!" A strong voice echos through the Office kitchen.
"Yeah hold on, let me just finish up" You reply, chugging the last of your luke warm coffee.
It was turning midday and you have your hands full of paperwork and considering the fact that there was only the two of you on-site, only increased the amount of it.
You dump the mug into the packed dishwasher and briskly hopscotch through the trashed staff room. Your stomach is still digesting your rushed lunch and you just know that it was going to bite back at you when you finish tonight.
Passing through the long and narrow corridors of phones and printers, you stop and say hello to the cleaner, Margret. Margret wasn't the kind of one to talk but once you got her started, she wouldn't stop talking about her job. You had never met someone so enthusiastic about what Mop or Broom to use, and on what floor type. Even her walking stick was a Broom handle.
Now that was dedication.
"Running late again are we Mx L/N?" The woman croaks. "Old habits die hard I see"
"Yeah I know I know," you say. Your briefcase which was suffocating underneath your hands is overflowing with odd ends of paper and files. "Couldn't you tell?"
"Come here sweetie, let me fix it for you," says the woman. You walk to her and hand her the briefcase. "I'm talking about yourself, not the briefcase. I don't care about what's inside that brain dump of yours."
Hurriedly placing the briefcase on the floor, the two of you set to work. Margret's frail fingers smooth out your collar and you attempt to tame that mess on top of your head. Her hands may have been fragile, but she had you shining from head to toe. Wiggling your toes, you could see your face stare back up at you. This woman is awesome.
"Now, stop looking at your feet and pick them up!" The cleaner urges.
Remembering that you were running almost 20 minutes late, you stride on. "Thanks Margret."
Snapped back to reality watch your profanity (sorry I had to) a ragged cloth was smeared onto the floor as you muttered stupid nothings to yourself. Cleaning alone was like being left-handed: whenever you went to clean something, you always mucked it up, or stepped your grubby foot into the recently wet floor. It was annoying yes, and it did add 15 minutes on to your schedule, but it was all worth it for the extra "prison points".
Tiredly, you staggered back to your feet, your trousers slightly damp from where you were kneeling, and you made your way back to the cleaning closet. The strong smell of lemons and bleach was going to linger in your nostrils for quite some time after this. You didn't know how but your flimsy apron was still intact and your hair was still stuffed into the stupid cap that they made you wear. Why did you do this to yourself? None of the others wear it when they do cleaning duty so why should you? Well, they can get away with it, you muttered especially the short one, but nOoOoOoO, you wore it like an idiot.
Forcefully chucking the cleaning products back in the tired shelf, you fumbled with the keys in annoyance from your stupidity and self embarrassment and grabbing the dirty apron, you shoved it into the disposable bin and turned the cafeteria lights off.
Great, now you couldn't see.
Why did you do this to yourself? Again!?
Grabbing at nothing for a while, you eventually found the tiny door lock. Thrusting good word thrust the rusty key into the door, you silently opened it. A wonderful relief of fresh air rescued your lungs and they welcomed it heavily.
Making sure you didn't lose its place, you cautiously turned around to lock the Cafertieria door behind you. Finally.
You tucked the Cafertieria key into your prisoner pocket and it clinked to the floor.
"Ah fuck." You whispered. Back on all fours and acting like Velma Dinkley, you scrambled to find the key, your ears pricking up any slightness of noise through the empty corridors.
Finally touching its cold material, you stood up.
You literally took two steps before a numbing pain hit your nose.
"What the Fu-"
"Heh, watch it d'ere"
I'm so sorry I haven't been posting/updating, I haven't been very well and still trying to figure my next steps educationally.
However! I do have some ideas on where the yancy x reader is going! The notes are all down and I've started writing the second chapter!
Again, I am so sorry about my tardiness and I hope you're all having a wonderful timezone.
I made MORE ego doodles!!
Here’s doodles of Eric Derekson❤️🧡 (idk if I spelt his name wrong or not)
And here’s the one and only, YANCY🤍🖤
istg, Yancy and Eric are becoming my comfort characters like aaaaaaaa I love them so much😭💝💝💝
As always, Reblogs are heavily appreciated!!
Another commission for @selfshippinglover !! Thank you so much for all your support!! ❤
Yancy has a little bear named Chester. Y/N gave it to him during one of their visits and it’s one of his most treasured possessions. (Inspired by a comic from @endangered-cryptid)