New prompt. This one is kinda dark in some places and random, and there are no pairings in this. I wanted it to be open this time, since I don't flat out say who's who.
Prompt is:
You are a landlord who decides to install surveillance camera in every corner of the apartment complex.
I don't mention who the landlord/landlady is, but I think it becomes obvious as the list of tenants goes on.
Some 'iCarly' and 'Sam & Cat' characters mixed in as well, since I don't think the 'VicTORious' characters are enough, and I wanted this to have some length to it.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'VicTORious' or any characters or other shows mentioned in here.
No POV
Late at night, after the majority of the tenants of the large apartment complex are either asleep or at a late night job, a lone woman sits on a barely comfortable office chair, a somewhat new laptop in front of her on the old Oak desk, various video links, all live, on the desktop.
Clicking on the first, each labeled by room number, the screen pops up, showing a short girl, a little over five foot, with natural brunette hair. Sitting on the bed, the brunette coils up, body shaking as she cries. Her boyfriend, a drunk, beat her again when she questioned why he always went out so late at night. In his drunken haze, and mindset that no woman should ever question him (the landlady has dealt with him before, threatening to evict him if he tries to touch her), or refuse him any offer (he sexually assaults her multiple times a day simply because he thinks he can.) that he feels he deserves.
Clicking the second, a young man with a short hairstyle lies in bed, eyes looking at the ceiling. Night after night, after returning home from working at the nearby electronics store, he opens up his laptop and has a private session with a camgirl in a red cat mask. After each session, he logs out, closes his laptop, and takes a shower before climbing into bed, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts.
The third shows a blonde girl, removing the stylized cat mask after a cam session, feeling disgusted at what she does to pay the bills, but ignoring that in favor of the money she gets each time someone visits her site, the monthly membership bills, the decent amount per live show, and the larger amount for a private show. After a shower, the blonde falls into bed, not caring that she's nude, and coils up, silent tears as she regrets her decisions.
The fourth shows a kid, barely sixteen, with curly hair. Though he puts on a good face, in private, it drops to a somber look. He makes a living selling random items he finds or creates himself, even offering celebrity hair he steals from their barbers around town, and acting as a manager for a washed up MMA fighter. Dropping out of school at fourteen, his parents not even noticing he dropped out and moved away, the young man heads for the bathroom. Ten minutes later, he comes out, still wet from his shower, and stands in the middle of his apartment, shaking his head in regret.
The fifth room, the last one on the floor, the rooms going in a criss-cross (rooms one, three, and five on one side, rooms two and four on the other, with a supply closet acting as the sixth room on each floor), is a mid forties man, slight muscle with a beer belly, passed out on the old, stained recliner, an old MMA fight on the screen in front of him, multiple beer cans on the ground beside him. This man, the oldest of the tenants, was a decent fighter when he was in his twenties. But as time went on, his fighting skills diminished as his fame got to him, his money and time training going to alcohol and hookers, plus the occasional hospital bill for another STD he contacted. Every night, he watches his best matches, getting drunk with the occasional mumble of 'I was cheated' when he sees himself getting beat.
The sixth room, the first of the second floor, houses an early twenties African-American male, asleep in front of an old keyboard that barely works. His hair, once styled in dreads but now an oily ponytail, lies with his face on the keyboard, the batteries long dead. When he was in high school, a popular school for growing artists called Hollywood Arts a few blocks away, he was an aspiring singer/songwriter/musician, with a lot of talent. But after a song senior year flopped, he slowly lost his confidence, and though he graduated with a C average, lost his drive to create music the way he used to. Now, he barely writes commercial jingles, only one in ten ever get used, and even then, they get a rewrite, rewarding him only a fraction of what it should.
Across the hall lives a tall man with shoulder length, nappy hair. When he was a teen, he was the school's heartthrob. Every girl wanted him, every guy wanted to be him, and even a few female teachers were willing to risk losing their jobs to be with him. After graduation, he went on to a few small roles in moves, but as his fame diminished, and a poor review for a role he was in, the once confident man started slipping downhill, barely paying the bills as a male stripper a few miles away, his good looks the only thing keeping him working. His hair, once shoulder length and, as many females used to compliment, fluffy and amazing, is now nappy, barely washed, and seemingly falling out. After a quick shower, not bothering to dry off his body or hair, the man sits on a lone chair in front of a cracked body length mirror, and reaches for the revolver in front of the chair, once again contemplating if suicide is the answer or not.
Beside the musician, a young man, barely out of high school, paces around his room. On his bed lies the reason he still has a job, but also the reason he's pacing. On the bed lies a ventriloquist dummy, a mini version of the man pacing, without the glasses and dressed in jeans and a comfy shirt instead of the skinny jeans and tight shirt of the pacing man. The man, who seems agitated and unable to stop moving, is a stand-up comedian known for his puppet insulting him and most of the males in the room, and hitting on all the woman he sees that he finds beautiful. His reason for pacing is never known to the woman watching, but she knows it involves the puppet, based on how the pacing man constantly glares at the puppet as he paces, shaking his head and mumbling something she never makes out. This is his nightly ritual before tossing the puppet onto a chair and going to bed.
Across from him, in the fourth room of the second floor, rests what seems to be the most normal of the residents. From what anyone sees, the average height brunette woman with tanned skin seems happy and balanced. What only she and the woman watching, without anyone's knowledge, know is that she is far from it. Her boyfriends, the few she's had since living here for four years after graduating high school, only want to sleep with her, and end up leaving angry when she declines. Her family rarely stops over, and when they do, the three of them, mother, father , sister, never say anything nice. The other three always seem angry at her, and from what the watcher has overheard, hate her because she refuses to join the family business. Usually, the fights go on for hours, the tanned tenant eventually kicking them out, then going to her bedroom , pulling off her long sleeve shirt, and adding to the growing collection of scars going across her wrist, and reaching from her wrists up to her shoulders, some even on her side and chest. The scars, always hidden by her long sleeve shirts with a close neck line, never seem to heal properly, always being reopened when her boyfriends would stomp out, or her parents visit.
The final tenant of the building, a pale woman with a large chest, always dressed in a black skirt and cleavage revealing top, sleeps soundly on her bed, face contorted in slight pain. Though her situation is better than the others, she never feels satisfied with her life. Her parents talk to her, though not too much, and seem okay with her being a lesbian and having an infatuation with a fellow tenant. She has a good job she doesn't hate, and no one seems to show her any ill feelings. What few know is that her parents only talk to her for the image of a loving family, they're okay with her liking women when they're being watched, but in private they insult her with anger and disgust in their tone, and she only likes the job because it pays well. In reality, she despises the job because she's forced to work at the law firm her parents own, their attempt to keep an eye on her and to keep the loving family image strong. In private, she scowls and curses them, threatening to tell the news that her father sleeps with every female intern, even the ones under eighteen, her mother sleeps with anything male out of high school, regardless of looks or income, and that the 'loving family' image is as fake as her father's newest interns double D implants, which her father paid for so he could have the perfect Bimbo around work.
The Watcher's POV
I sit and flick through each room of the first building. Of the five buildings apart of this complex, these ten are my favorite tenants, their lives interesting, over the boring lives of the other tenants where nothing seems to happen.
As I flick through, I chuckle at how Tenant number two is Tenant's number three's most loyal subscriber, Tenant one could easily get a restraining order against her asshole boyfriend but won't because she loves him, regardless of him sleeping with Tenant nine's sister when she visits, Tenants four and five know each other, but don't know the other lives in the complex, Tenant seven could easily be a porn star if he wasn't so upset with his life, and Tenants nine and ten like each other, but only Tenant ten knows it, and Tenant nine appreciates how Tenant ten always threatens to kill her family for her because of how loud they are and what they say about the tanned woman.
I know, that with how things are going, Tenants five, six, and seven are bound to commit suicide before the month is over, Tenants two and three might possibly get together, if they ever realize who the other is, Tenant eight is a possible murderer, Tenant one is likely to die by her douchebag boyfriend, and Tenants nine and ten could get together, if they bother to make an effort.
You may be wondering who I am, why I set up cameras in multiple apartments, in multiple rooms in each apartment, or why I don't do anything about what I witness?
Who I am doesn't matter, I set up the cameras because watching over an apartment complex is boring as hell, and I don't do anything about what I see because it's not my business. It's best if I just leave it alone.
Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a new tenant who just moved into the third building, and she has a new guy over every night, and I intend to record their sex session and add it to my collection.
Any guesses on who's who? I made it kind of obvious as it went on, huh? Though I didn't really go into detail for some of the people, I hope that the landlady and Tenant one are a bit harder to figure out.
If you want to leave a guess on who's who, go for it. I probably won't offer to write a fic or anything, because I think it's too easy to figure it out, but I am planning an M rated version of my one-shot collection 'Jori Collection'. It'll be the part two I mention so long ago after I finished it.
As a heads up about it, each one-shot will have smut, and I'll accept any ideas for a one-shot and pairing, but no one else getting with Tori or Jade, unless it's CaTorAde. Jori is the only one who's participants I won't change. I will write Cabbie, Trandre, Candre, Brina, Jori, or any other pairing involving Jori, CaTorAde, or any combination of the other characters. I will also accept ideas for 'iCarly' or 'Sam & Cat', though crossover pairings aren't guaranteed.
If you have any ideas, send them in a private message or review, though I can't promise I'll write them, or when I'll start posting or update it after I start it.
Thank you for reading, hoped you liked it, please review, and sorry for the somewhat long explanation about my upcoming collection of one-shots.
Blessed Be.