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droogiesanddiscourse · 4 years ago

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“Hi, Neighbor!”

Pairing: Jon Rubin x reader [Hi, Mom!]

Word Count: 5.1K

Summary: Jon has been spying on you from across the apartment complex for quite some time. After you possibly catch him in the act, he decides now is better than ever to finally introduce himself.

A/N: No warnings! This is super cute and goofy, I hope you enjoy it. This is safe for everyone! Jon is a bit of a creeper in the beginning but who knows what happens next! This is literally just a goofy sitcom episode.

You were perfect.

Peering out through the curtains of his dingy apartment, Jon Rubin watched you through the tiny viewfinder of his videocamera. His large hand came up to the rim of the lens, tilting it just slightly to make sure the aperture and exposure levels were just right. While the camera had an automatic feature built in, he liked being in control like this - forcing the picture to bend to his will and vision.

He’s been watching you, peering at you into your exposed window for about two-weeks now; capturing every detail of what you believed to be your personal space. No, Jon has never uttered a single word to you, nor has he met you physically, but he feels like he knows you on an intimate level.

Behind his camera, he saw all your little quirks and characteristics, one’s that you yourself might not even notice without the gaze of a curious onlooker. Things like how you never hung up your coat after coming home, rather opting to throw it against an armchair haphazardly. Or how you never were afraid to let your bare feet rest on the coffee table after a long day.

He could also tell a bit about yourself just from how it was decorated. Your apartment was furnished modestly, a few painting or photographs hung on the wall. Some of them a little crooked; you didn’t seem to be any perfectionist to Jon. Either you were an artist, or at least an art appreciator. Or maybe you just needed something to liven up those drab, cracked apartment walls.

A pile of books laid your coffee table, sometimes he’d zoom in just enough to read the titles along the spines. He commits them to memory, saving that tidbit of information later as a possible conversation starter when you finally met in person.

You had a rather lovely cactus that you adored in the corner of your living room; a giant, lumbering beast of a plant with prickly thorns. Jon found it quite amusing - such a delicate woman like you putting so much love, time, and care into an odd plant like that.

Yet, the most exciting thing to Jon was the way he’s never seen another partner with you. There were no gentleman callers arriving at your doorstep at midnight, no scandalous sleepovers with the girl next door. It was just always you. You weren’t the only one Jon spied on, in fact, most individuals within your apartment complex were subjected to his gaze. But you stood out from your rather nymphomaniac neighbors, and Jon couldn’t help but focus his vision on you - both in an artistic and romantic sense.

And as it neared the 5pm hour, Jon was once again at his perch waiting for your imminent arrival. Setting up the camera on his tripod, he peered through the viewfinder. Your curtains were wide open, like they always were. He could see the doorknob jiggle, and his entire body tensed up in anticipation to see you once again.

You entered the room, exhausted after another long day - at least that was the expression Jon got from your tired facial features. Whether you were a student, or working a full time job, he gathered you were quite the busy woman. Like he’s observed many times before, you shuffle out of your coat and throw it carelessly on your chair.

“Oh, we got a nice little floral number on today, don’t we?” Jon muttered under his breath, still watching you through the viewfinder. The seasons were starting to change; that odd in-between stage of winter to spring where the days were comfortable but the nights were still cold. And today, Jon found you in a floral romper, one that carefully hugged your body but also left much to the imagination.

Jon had a plate of pancakes next to him, practically swimming in syrup. He always had a sweet tooth. Pulling away from the viewfinder for a moment, he brings the plate up closer to his face. Still watching your every move carefully, he shoveled them into his mouth, syrup dribbling down his chin and spilling onto his shirt. The residue left behind a distracting brown stain now on his favorite flannel, but he was too engrossed in the show before him to even care.

You fluttered about the apartment engaging in your nightly routine. There was nothing sensual about your behaviors, but Jon could not help himself to be intoxicated in every little action you engaged in; as if it were a performance piece and he was the only member of the audience with a ticket.

He smiled as you began to water your cactus, something you only do every Friday night. Jon has read about cacti before, at least he thinks he has, and vaguely remembers they don’t need to be often watered. “She’s so responsible...” he mutters under his breath.

After your chores were done, you flopped down on the couch, comfortably settling yourself in even just for a few moments. Jon smiled at this, letting his imagination wander....

He was currently right next to you, holding your body close to his chest, pressing his face into you [h/c] [h/l] hair, inhaling your unique scent. He wondered: What did your skin feel like when he gently caressed it with nothing but his fingertips? Were you ticklish? If so, Jon would make sure to locate all the spots that made your voice ring out in laugher. Did you have any freckles, moles, tattoos? Anything? Jon wanted to know what made you...you.

His hand came up to cup his cheek, his eyes starting to unfocus as his daydreams take over, everything in front of him becoming just hazy shapes that just slightly suggested their actual forms.

Laying on the couch, your head lulls to the side against your shoulder, as you look right out the window. It could have been his imagination, but Jon swore you were looking right at him; making purposeful eye contact.His heart leaps into his throat, thumping a mile a minute. He felt slightly woozy, as his heartbeat began to incessively beat within his ear. Now he was the one who felt exposed.

Jon frantically pushed the camera out of view, attempting a coy expression as he brought his hand up to his face, drumming his fingers against his cheek. The whole camera rig almost went crashing down into a very noisy (and expensive) disaster. He whistled a tune, acting as if he was just gazing longingly out the apartment window.

“God, I must look so ridiculous,” Jon thought to himself. What felt like a natural reaction probably brought more attention to himself than if he didn’t do anything at all. “That’s it, no more playing games.” He had to meet you, once and for all. He just needed to devise the perfect plan to get your attention.

***

Jon stood in front of the mirror, yellow notepad in his hand - an incoherent mess of words and thoughts. “Jon, how many times we gotta go through this buddy, stop messing this up! You got one chance with a girl like that, you gotta get your story straight.” He points accusingly at his reflection, as if it was a separate entity from his body. “Now we’re gonna go through this one more time, and you better get it.”

“You’re gonna go in there, and you’re gonna bring flowers. Everyone loves flowers, she’ll love it too - wait. She might not like flowers, she likes uh, wait doesn’t she like Cactuses? What if, I brought her a mini cactus to go along with the big one she seems to like so much? No wait that’s too obvious she’ll think something is up, coming in there knowin’ so much about her already. Settle on flowers.”

The words coming out of his mouth didn’t make much sense, a frantic flurry representing his current stream of consciousness. But to him, they made perfect sense.

“And you’re gonna knock on the door. You’re gonna say “Hi, neighbor!” like any other polite person would. Then you’re gonna say something like, how you just moved in a floor above her, and that you’re trying to meet as many new neighbors as you can. Y’know, to get acquainted to the area. Real casual, real smooth like. And she’ll invite you in for coffee or something similar and boom! You’re in.”

He smiles to himself, a large, triumphant grin showing his pride in his ingenious idea. “It's that simple Jon, that’s all you gotta do big boy.” He genuinely could not think of any way this plan could fail, and knowing his silver tongue, he can usually charm his way out of any situation.

“And she’s gonna fall in love with you. I know, sounds crazy right? But she’s gonna fall head over heels for you Jon.” He admired himself in the mirror one last time, giving a quick glance over before he headed out the door.

Jon’s usual casual style of flannels and baggy jeans were traded in for a slick suit and tie - something he only is known to bring out for special occasions. And what more of a special occasion could there be than finally meeting what he believed was the love of his life?

His messy brown hair was slicked back, something he’s seen in the popular fashion magazines that crowd the racks of the local newsstand where he purchases his daily paper. To cap off his look, he wore his circular glasses that made him look quite distinguished. No one has ever said that to him, but Jon felt distinguished.

He gives a little high-five to himself in the mirror, and with the state of things in his apartment, he’s surprised this tiny tap didn’t send the whole thing crashing down. “You got this. Go get her.”

He checked his coat pocket, which had a single folded up piece of paper with your apartment number on it. Reading it once more, he committed the three simple digits to his memory. All he needed to do was find...

***

“Apartment 306! Here it is!” Jon thought to himself, coming to a sudden halt at your doorstep. The confidence he showed in the mirror earlier was starting to wane now. His nerves were getting the best of him, as his plan was coming into actual fruition. His hands were starting to tremble, as he cradled the bouquet of flowers in his arms.

He reaches his hand towards the door, and he hesitates for a moment. If he does this, there is absolutely no turning back. He shakes this fear, and wraps his knuckles against the door in quick succession.

Almost immediately, he hears shuffling from inside of the apartment, getting louder with each footstep as you approached the door. The sound was followed by the familiar “click” of the door being unlocked from the inside.

You open the door just a crack, blocking the door just enough to prevent Jon from entering the apartment. While he could only see about half of your face, there was no undeniable doubt that it was you behind the door. Your eyes dart nervously, taking in the stranger before you. “Hello?”

Jon’s heart skips a beat, hearing your voice for the first time. It’s exactly how he thought you would have sounded, and the voice he heard every night in his dreams. You were even more gorgeous in person.

“Hi!” He smiles, extending the bouquet of flowers out to you. You take them cautiously, but take them nonetheless. Jon is, obviously, ecstatic about this.

“Hi...” you say, drawing out the one word syllable on your tongue, hesitation apparent in your voice.

He puts his hands in his pockets, and shuffles his feet again. He attempts to stick to the script he wrote for himself.

“I just, uh, y’know I just moved into the complex and I’ve been tryin’ to make myself some new friends. You see, I’m rather new to this area, just came back from the Vietnam War and all. Trying to settle in. I saw you in the laundry room the other day and you seemed like a real, real nice person. So I felt, I’d come find you and say hello.”

Finally understanding why this strange man is at your door, everything clicks together. “Oh! Well, why didn't you say so!” Your demeanor relaxes significantly. “You didn’t have to bring me these”, you gesture to the flowers you were holding in your hand now. “You’re so sweet. That’s kind of you. Hi there,” you smile back warmly, “I didn’t know we had any new tenants moving in this week.” You swing open the door the rest of the way. “My name is [Y/N], by the way. [Y/N] [L/N].”

“[Y/N],” Jon thought to himself, letting the new word bounce around in his head. “That must be the most beautiful name in the world for the most beautiful woman.”

“And you are?”

“Jon! Jon Rubin.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Jon.”

You both stand for a moment, either of you not sure where you go next in this conversation after your rather brief introductions.

“Well I guess, I’ll need to find a vase for these beautiful flowers, would you like to come in and have a cup of coffee with me or, something, Jon?”

He nods. “I would like that very much.”

You open the door for him, and usher him inside with a silent nod of your head. Jon steps into your apartment, taking in the oh so familiar surroundings, acting oblivious as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

You step off into the adjacent kitchen, grabbing a vase from the cupboard and filling it up with water, placing the bouquet of flowers within. You leave them on the counter, thinking they provide a lively change of pace to your rather dull kitchen. “So, what do you do, Jon?” your voice echos out into the living room as he begins to wander around a bit, inspecting your apartment curiously.

“Uhh, I’m a bit of a photographer, actually!” he calls back in response, looking at the pictures hanging on the wall with a closer inspection. “Kinda a hobby right now, but I’m working on an assignment for a company.”

“Oh that’s fun! That’s lovely,” you call back. “Must be awfully exciting.”

He notices a familiar sight out of the corner of his eye, your cactus. It sure was a lot bigger in real life, the viewfinder didn’t accommodate its massive scale in his tiny rectangular frame. He reached out, touching one of the spiny thorns in curiosity. He pricks his finger, as his body reacts to the sharp sting. He jumps back, letting out a tiny “ouch!” A small, red dot appears on his finger, as he brings it to his mouth to suck the blood off. Cactus spines hurt, he noted to himself. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

You come back out of the kitchen, carrying two cups of coffee on a silver tray with cream and sugar. “I didn’t know how you take your coffee, so I figured I’d let you fix it yourself.” You set the tray down, as you took a seat on the couch. Jon still hovered around your cactus.

“I see you’re fascinated with my cactus, huh?” Your eyes light up, excited that your new acquaintance took a liking to your pride and joy. “That’s a Peruvian Apple Cactus, but I call her Apple.” You laugh a bit. “I know, real original right?”

“Oh yes, it’s a very impressive houseplant, I must admit. You have quite the green thumb.” He moves back to the couch, taking a seat next to you. Jon probably shouldn’t drink any coffee right now, as he practically vibrating in his skin from just being this close to you. “I wouldn’t even begin to know how to start takin’ care of that thing.”

“Interesting story about Apple! She’s the same age as me! She was a gift from my family on my first birthday. I know some families plant a tree to “grow” with their child but. My family wanted to do something different. Something strong, something resilient, something that was both soft and sharp. So they said...how about a cactus!” You give off a goofy smile, realizing how ridiculous this must all seem to Jon. “So, she goes where I go!”

“No, no that’s. Very beautiful actually,” Jon muses. He could listen to you speak all day about whatever you wanted, but your energy, your enthusiasm was just contagious.

He snaps his fingers, as if he just had a brilliant idea - this is a good joke, you were gonna love it. “I guess, you finally brought Apple home, to New York City. Apple is here, in The Big Apple!”

You both enjoy a laugh at that. You began to fix your cup of coffee, pouring a generous helping of cream into the mix.

“Okay that was, that was a lot about me. Let’s talk about you now! So, a photographer! That must be an exciting job, an artist! Wow...well what kind of, thinks do you take photos of?” You look down into your cup, watching as the white cream merges within the murky liquid.

Taking in his silence, you shift a bit on the couch. “Is that a dumb question to ask? I’m sorry if it is.”

He takes the creamer from you, pouring a bit into his coffee next. “Nah, it isn’t a dumb question, there’s all kindsa stuff to take pictures of. But I focus mostly street photography, y’know like, capturing everyday life. That sort of thing. It’s very hip right now, all the famous photographers are doing it. You got, Diane Arbus out here, people like that. It’s groundbreaking stuff, it’s where everything is happening.”

As he was talking, Jon also grabbed the sugar from the silver tray. You watched in awe as Jon poured a ridiculous amount of sugar in his coffee. The cup contained more sugar than coffee at this point. And yet he still kept going. How much did he need?

“That’s very interesting, you’ll have to show me some of your work sometime....I mean only if...if you’re okay with that!”

Jon blushes a bit, understanding that whether you intended it or not, your implications behind that sentence meant you wanted to see him at least one more time.

“I’d love you, I mean, love to!” Jon quickly mutters out, meeting your eyes once again. “I’d love to, sometimes.”

You didn’t miss his little slip-up back there, as you gaze down. A slight blush started to adorn your cheeks. You couldn’t stop the smile on your face. He returned your energy, taking a sip of his coffee.

***

The conversation has been going on for hours now, Jon and you talking about whatever popped into your mind. As the clock ticked towards 9pm, the talking has died down for a brief moment.

And now, you just stare at each other, taking in this shared silence. For some reason, it felt comfortable. Like the two of you could just spend time in the same room, not having to constantly engage with each other, and still feel as close as ever.

You’re the first one to speak.

“You know, you’re very sweet Jon. I’m glad you decided to stop by today.”

Jon takes this as his cue to move closer, as you both inch your way towards each other.

“Well, I’m just trying to be a good neighbor is all.” He smiles, brushing a piece of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. You look at him, he looks at you, and you both start moving your face closer to each other.

“You’re not like most men I’ve met, you’re different. I like that,” you say, leaning in further. “You’re an interesting man, Jon Rubin.”

Jon closes his eyes, pursing his lips towards you, practically centimeters away from each other now.

“This is it!” he thinks to himself, “You did it, you crazy son of a bitch, you actually did it!-”

“Wait a minute.”

Jon’s eyes snap wide open again as your finger suddenly is unceremoniously shoved against his lip.

“What happened? It was all going so well?”

You pause briefly, giving the man in front of you a once over again. Your brows furrowed in concentration, something seemed off. It was not anything he said, or did, but it was something when face was merely inches away from yours. It made you remember.

There was something familiar about him, and it wasn’t like the way he claimed he saw you in the laundry room.

In fact, you don’t think there was even any vacancies at the complex you currently resided at.

All of the wires crossed together in your mind, finally forming perfect clarity of the situation. How stupid were you! To not notice it earlier, to allow this random stranger to come into your apartment. Nonetheless, let...let...him in!

“You’ve been spying on me Jon, haven’t you?”

You get a little bit more sure of yourself, confidence in spotting your vouyer now. You start scooting away to the other end of the couch, attempting to put as much distance between you and him.

“Yeah, yeah that was you, wasn’t it? I think I know who you are now. I caught you staring at me the other day from the apartment across the street. Huh? With the camera? That's you, there’s no mistake!” You point an accusatory finger at him, your voice starting to get more upset with each passing moment.

Jon gulps. “I don’t...I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jon stumbles over his words, nervously readjusting his tie. “What kind of man would engage in that lewd behavior! I’ll have you know, [Y/N] I would never degrade a woman like that! Never! And that’s the honest truth!”

He’s sweating now, a slick sheen of perspiration on his forehead. He’s been caught red handed - almost as red as the blush decorating his face.

“You live across in that apartment, right?” Your finger points directly to his, the curtains open, the tripod for his camera still set up from the night before.

Jon is silent for a moment, and runs a hand down his jaw, rubbing it in contemplation. He suddenly points to the apartment, mimicking the same stance you were currently in. He attempted to put on an act of confusion. “You mean, that apartment?”

“Yes,” you reiterate your point once again, a little more sternly this time. “That apartment.”

“That one right there?”

“Yes!”

“That apartment?”

“Yes, Jon!!”

“The...apartment right there? That apartment?”

“JON!” with each passing moment, you get increasingly frustrated at whatever stalling game Jon is trying to play.

“Ohhhh, THAT apartment!” Jon finally stops the act, having enough time to devise the perfect excuse. “Yeah, no I see where the confusion comes from Miss [Y/N]. You see, you’re not gonna believe this one...” he lets out an awkward chuckle, attempting to lighten the tension in the room. “You see, I have a twin brother. And uhhh he, he’s a bit of one of those crazy photographer types.”

“Ohhh...I see now, Jon,” you coo out in a high pitched vocalization, as if he were a toddler. Did he really think you were that dumb? “This twin brother sounds like quite the character,” you retort in a monotone fashion.

Jon grins, nodding triumphantly - oblivious to your very purposeful use sarcasm in your voice. He genuinely thought he was pulling the wool over your eyes.

You cross your arms in front of your chest. “What’s his name?”

“Who’s name?”

“......Your brother’s name?”

“Oh oh, yeah yeah! My brother’s name! Yeah uh.” It’s almost like every conceivable name in the English language just left his head. Jon side eyes one of the books on your coffee table. Jon squints a bit, trying to make out a name, any name.

“H-”

“Hmm?”

“Harold.”

“Harold Rubin?”

“Yeah, Harold Rubin.” He smiles, readjusting his glasses a bit.

“Sure took you a long time to remember his name, Jon...the name of your own broth-”

“He's a disappointment to the family! We uhh we don't talk about him much he’s no real brother to me.” He quips back at you. He stumbles over his words a bit, but nevertheless, he persists with his story.

“Harold Rubin, my twin brother who lives in that apartment. That one, right there!” He once again points to the location in question. “He’s literally the spitting image of me, no wonder you got us confused! Everyone makes the same mistake, don’t be embarrassed.”

You just blink at him in disbelief. You open your mouth to say something, but close it again. After a few moments, you just state what’s exactly on your mind.

“Jon, do you really expect me to believe that.”

“....Yeah,” he finally saw that you weren’t buying any of this, and he was ready to raise the white flag in surrender.

“I’m not stupid Jon, I know it’s you,” your eyes start to glisten, pools of tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. You felt so humiliated, so vulnerable, so embarrassed.

“Yeah, I know you’re not, [Y/N]. I thought, maybe it was worth a shot,” he lets out a laugh, but it’s pitiful and dejected. “I don’t have a brother, I don’t live in this apartment complex, and I didn’t see you in the laundry room. But everything else, everything else I said today was true. I am a photographer - one with rather unconventional methods. But a photographer nonetheless. And you’ve been my muse lately. And I really...really like you.”

You wipe your nose with the sleeve of your romper, not attempting to even make eye contact with Jon.

“I bet you think I’m pretty disgusting now, don’t you.”

Jon waits for you to tell him yes; to scream at him, cuss at him, throw him out of your apartment in a fit of rage. He’d understand. Yet you don’t say anything. Jon thinks that maybe, that reaction hurt even more.

“God I wish. I wish I could just start this whole introduction over again. You’re a really great gal, [Y/N], I never meant to act like this, I’m not usually this kind of person, at least I don’t think I am,” Jon presses his hand to his face, covering his eyes. He couldn’t even bare to look at you right now either; maybe he really was this kind of person. “You got me so flustered, I just had to meet you to tell you how beautiful you are in person. I couldn’t not, I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least try.”

He lets a moment of silence pass, waiting to see if you say anything to him.

“The...the photos. I never sold them or nothing. Never showed them to anyone, or anything like that. Never saw anything lewd, or dirty or anything like that. I wouldn’t do that to you. Yeah I mean...I’ve done it before but, this time was different. Believe me, don’t believe me, that’s up to you. but, but I can destroy them if you want. Burn them even. The negatives too.”

He makes an odd sniffling noise, and even though Jon has been somewhat of a decent actor his entire life, these weren’t crocodile tears to make you feel sympathy for him. He’s skirted by his entire life, being able to sweet talk his way out of any sticky situation. But now, having to face real consequences, he crumbles. At this point, he knows it’s time to just see himself out.

“Goodnight, [Y/N]. It really was a pleasure to meet you. Maybe we’ll run into each other at another point in time, maybe another life.”

There is a beat of silence between the two of you as he turns to leave your apartment, there wasn’t a whole lot to say. This man violated every conceivable boundary - you should be disgusted by him! You were, and you hated him for that.

Yet, you hated more the pull you felt towards Jon, regardless of what he did. Whether it was strictly platonic, or a little more romantic, there was an interest there. Suddenly, your eyes get bright, as you look up with a reassuring glance. Maybe you were taking a risk, maybe this was a horrible chance you were willing to take, maybe it would end miserably.

But maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't.

“Jon?”

His hand is already on the doorknob, but he turns around to face you.

“Well....why don’t you?”

“What?” He turns around fully, his body facing you again.

“Like you said, why don’t you introduce yourself to me again?”

“I uh...what does that mean?”

“Why don’t we just, pretend this altercation didn’t happen, and we just move on and...and continue how things were before.” You blush a bit, ushering him out the door quickly. “Just, let’s start from square one. Knock on the door again, I promise I’ll answer. It will all make sense.”

You close the door behind him, and Jon let’s out a deep breath he subconsciously was holding. He knew he didn’t deserve a second chance, but yet your kindness, your generosity gave it to him. He stood up straight, readjusted his jacket, and carried himself with pride. Like he did earlier that day, he wrapped his knuckles against your apartment door, a complete rewind of events.

They say the first impression is the best impression. Jon wanted to make sure he didn’t mess it up the second time.

You open the door once again, smiling. “Hello stranger, how may I help you?”

He adjusts the glasses on his face, his cheeks still a rosy warm glow. “Hi, I’m Jon Rubin, I live in the apartment complex across the street, and I’ve finally come to introduce myself.” He smiles, holding out his hand to you. “And it’s very nice to meet you.”

You take his hand, giving him a gentle smile and a firm handshake. “It’s very nice to meet you Jon, I’m [Y/N] [L/N].”

There was a small electric spark that shot between the two of you when your eyes locked. There was nothing considered normal about how you met, or how you began to form the relationship that would blossom soon after; but when was anything in Jon’s life conventional? There were two truths in the world right now - you liked him, and he liked you.

“So, Jon, would you like to join me inside for some coffee?”

“I’d love to.”

#jon rubin x reader #Robert De Niro x reader #Robert De Niro imagine #jon rubin imagine #hi mom imagine #1970s imagine #1970s movie imagines #robert de niro x you #MWAH WE ARE CELEBRATING THE RELEASE OF MY LARGEST FIC EVER

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remmushound · 3 years ago

Text

Beyond the Bay Chapter 19, Traximus

Summary: The Turtles meet a dinosaur

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @ilo-artistry @unhealthyobsessions101

Content warnings: swears

Bubble, bubble, bubble went the water as it swelled and displaced. Weapons were drawn, and the katana in Leonardo’s hand felt as foreign as if someone had just given him a book in Chinese and instructed him to read it. The handle was smaller than his odachi, and the blade was shorter, and it was thinner, and its weight was lighter, almost nothing. Still, a weapon was a weapon, even if he naturally navigated toward the back of the crowded group to put a wall of muscle between him and whatever was emerging from the cesspool.

There came two curved horns as long as Leonardo’s arm and as thick as Leo’s at the base, curved forward and angled close together. The gap between then formed an almost triangle shape. First came the horns, and then came an apricot head that rivaled the size of a small car, revealing a third smaller horn on the tip of a muzzle just before heavy, meaty flesh parted to a hard, bony beak. The head shook from size to side, a loud whoosh resulting as the broad frill caught the air. Further still the triceraton revealed himself.

His shoulders were as wide as the frill on his head, and he had a torso that could be mistaken for a brick wall. He was clothed in a red and orange regalia that could have once been a beautiful suit but was now stained with waste and ruin, heavy from the submergence. His nostrils flared to blow away the water that still cascaded along his muscular form, his breaths coming in heavy and labored grunts. Donnie couldn’t help but take notice of many wires hanging loosely around the triceratons shoulders, several of them severed or otherwise damaged; what use could they have once served? The options were limitless!

The triceraton didn't charge, but the clan held their ground. Eyes of an impossibly bright emerald sought something among the group; what that something was was anyone’s guess, but it must have been important. Apparently it was Donnie that held what the alien sought, because when his eyes found the box turtle they stopped searching. His head bowed and the turtles once more braced themselves for a charge. The triceraton lifted his arms up to his horns, arching his fingers downward so they formed an inverted triangle; joined with the angling of his horns, a diamond shape was revealed.

“Awaiting… orders… general Mozar.” He sounded as if he had swallowed a cheese grater.

Raph’s confusion disturbed the unyielding stance. “Who?”

All eyes gleaned over at Donnie. The box turtle paled at all the attention suddenly on him, his throat drying and a visible drop of sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Dudes this is so weird…” Mikey breathed.

“Woah!” Despite the many shouts of discouragement and several attempts to stop Michelangelo, the box turtle made his way to the front of the group to oggle the still giant. “How can we understand you?! Is there some super cool alien translation device?!”

“Actually Michael, I think he’s just speaking english.” Donatello commented absently.

“Oh.” Michelangelo deflated, “That’s less fun.”

The giant seemed to tolerate Michelangelo’s presence surprisingly well; that is to say, he didn't immediately try to beat the young turtle into a puddle.

“Should we be concerned that he’s not, you know… pummeling us right now?” Raphael asked, his hands still fixed firmly on his tonfa.

“Don’t let your guard down.” Leo whispered to the group, “He still might.”

“I don’t think he will.” Leonardo said, and his eyes were locked on the dinosaur as if seeing something no one else could.

“Excuse me?” With a hand perched on his hip, Leo addressed Leonardo’s words with scrutiny.

“Donnie.” Leonardo said to the box turtle, “Raise your hand…”

Donnie, though confused, raised his hand. The triceraton lowered his strange salute and raised his hand; Donnie leaned curiously to the side, and the dinosaur leaned to the side. Donnie leaned to the other side, and the dinosaur followed, like a baby mimicking its mother.

“Ooookay, things just got a whole lot weirder.” Mikey whistled.

“Guys, you remember that one really red triceraton?” Donnie asked quickly without removing his eyes from the ten foot giant before him. “The one with the lopsided horns?”

“Yeah, the leader.” Leo said just as quick as Donnie, just as urgent.

Donnie didn't answer verbally, but made a point of motioning to the goggles perched on his head, the lopsided lenses glistening.

“Aaaaand sidebar!” Despite being the smallest of all eight gathered, Leonardo was able to wrap his arms around the other mutants and whisk them to the side while Traximus returned to his unsteady salute. “Okay bros; how we feeling ‘bout this?”

“That dino dude’s acting weird…” Mikey said, and made a point of enunciating the last word,

“Yeah, like Mikey weird.” Raph whistled.

“Hey.” Mikey narrowed his eyes.

“And his gears all busted up.” Donnie reported, “He doesn’t have his mask on anymore for one.”

“And why is he playing some twisted version of Simon Says with Donnie?” Raph’s words came with a sharp scoff.

“Maybe he’s friendly?” Michelangelo offered up.

“Unlikely.” Donatello disagreed.

“Well the robot was nice.” Michelangelo pointed out.

“That is a fair point.” Leonardo nodded and agreed.

“And what’s that meant to be, some kinda salute?” Raph lifted his head from the group to look back at the giant. “An’ why does he think Don’s this ‘Mozar’ or whatever?”

Donatello cleared his throat to call everyone’s attention. “I would like to offer a theory if I may?”

“Yeah, shoot.” Raphael said.

“You mentioned something about a mask.” Donatello said, holding one hand over his mouth and nose to resemble a mask, “Like, a cloth mask or an oxygen mask?”

“Uh, oxygen.” Donnie nodded his confirmation.

“Right.” Donatello nodded, and pointed over at the dinosaur. “I see no oxygen tank. If he had one to begin with, it’s gone now, and yet he’s still up and walking.”

“I… don’t remember any oxygen tank.” Leo shook his head.

“That’s because it probably wasn’t an oxygen mask. Not if all five of your dinosaurs were wearing ‘em in a place where there was quite clearly oxygen. That, my dear friends, is a pattern, not a coincidence. If they all had it, chances are it’s some sort of filter, like they’re meant to be breathing something that’s not our air. And if someone from our planet breathes in something that isn’t oxygen…”

“It kills them?” Leo wasn’t following.

“Yes, and no. How about you?” Donatello pointed at Donnie.

“It can cause… delirium, confusion… hallucinations…” Donnie was following perfectly.

“Who’s to say the effects aren’t the same for someone like him?”

“You’re saying he’s deprived of some type of breathing apparatus?” Donnie’s eyes lit up like the skies on the Fourth of July, “It makes sense!”

“And it would explain the confusion.” Leonardo said.

Leo, wanting desperately to get on to a more important subject, urged, “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

“Yes.” Donatello answered confidently, “But he also thinks dear Donald here is his beloved General Mozar, and we should keep it that way.”

“General…” The dinosaur called,. “Awaiting orders…”

“Uh. At ease?” Donnie offered.

The dinosaur stared at him for the longest time, trying to decipher why his bold and brash commander had spoken so strangely before lowering his arms to his side. Donnie cleared his throat and stepped forward away from the group, trying to make himself as big as possible which wasn’t much of a task for the tree-like turtle.

“Remind me of your name and rank again, soldier.” Donnie’s voice slowly gained more confidence and tone, and the dinosaur seemed to be excited by it.

“Major Traximus of the Ygthian fleet, serving our great and powerful Prime Leader.”

“That’s right.” It felt almost fun being in a position of power, and it quickly went to Donnie’s head. “My command for you, Major Traximus, is to help me escort these… diplomats back to their home.”

“Yes Commander Mozar…” Traximus bowed the immensity of his head. “As you command…”

Though one could expect a beast of such immense proportion to lumber at an awkward gait, it was quite the opposite as Traximus walked with such speed and determination. The turtles parted to allow him plenty of space to pass by them. He was a man— or alien— on a mission that would stop for nothing. Glances were exchanged, followed by ‘what else are we gonna do?’ shrugs and curious excitement as the turtles were quick to keep up with the charging titan.

“How’d he get through anyway?” Raph asked; he was the one now holding Splinter, cradling the rat to his chest and still working absently to dry his fur.

“He was the one chasing us back in our world.” Leo said, “Maybe he got through the rift, ended up in the sewers. Lord knows the time rift had ask of us scattered to the winds.”

“Awesome…” Mikey breathed, followed up with, “I told you he was out here!”

“Yeah…” Both Leo and Raph faltered their steps, “You did…”

They made good time getting back to the lair where Yoshi and April were sat together at the living room coffee table assembling a puzzle; it was one activity that Yoshi didn't need help with, since the pieces were so big and obvious, and the old rat took great pride in each success. April, like her turtle brothers, had grown and matured greatly. She had forgone her usual buns in favor of tight braids clinging to her scalp and cascading to just above her shoulders, and she wore a modest yellow jumpsuit and rubber rain boots, perfect for traversing the wet ick of the sewer. One thing was familiar about her, however, and it was that same green coat she had been wearing since her younger adolescent. April looked up when she heard their approach, the smile turning to her mouth hanging open and her eyes bulging.

“Holy Jurassic Park…”

Leonardo took Splinter from Raph’s arm and immediately whisked him away, leaving Raph with his empty arms still out in a cradle, pouting and desperately pawing at the air that had once been his dad. Donnie parted from the group and tried follow Leonardo to the infirmary, but the red eared slider stopped him.

“I got him; you and the guys take care of our little… guest over there.” And Leonardo motioned to Traximus, who was still and awaiting orders.

“Oh. Right.” Donnie watched Leonardo leave like a distressed puppy watching his owner go to work without him. Seeking some guidance, Donnie turned to his brother. “Leo?”

“Maybe we… get him something to eat?” Leo offered.

“What do dinosaurs eat anyway?” Raph huffed; now without anything to hold, he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Nothing that still exists.” Donnie muttered bitterly, and his eyes passed over the orange dinosaur trying to make better sense of the alien presence.

“Well, he is an alien dinosaur.” Michelangelo pointed, “Maybe he eats something different.”

“If it’s alien, it still won’t be on our planet, Michael.” Donatello added.

“Oh.” Michelangelo’s expression deflated.

“But we can still try.” Leo said, arms motioning widely as he called attention to himself, “We need to make his comfortable before we can get anything out of him.”

“Are we sure he even knows anything?” Donatello asked, and he was looking absently at his nails, “Doesn’t look like there’s much happening upstairs.”

It was true that Traximus’ eyes did look remarkably empty, but Donnie wasn’t convinced he was completely gone. The dinosaur could talk, and could obey orders, even if he couldn’t recognize them as not being from his own species. And they had been there for two days now! He didn't know a damn thing about alien triceratops digestion, or how long they could go without food, but he did know a thing or two about empathy. Did this triceraton need food? Maybe. Water? Maybe. Donnie would make sure the creature didn't go without either.

“Major Traximus?”

The triceraton snorted and shook his head as he brought his focus to attention at the call of his commander.

“Would you care to… indulge in… sustenance?” Donnie tried to choose his words carefully, but it was difficult, if not impossible, with knowing next to nothing about who he was meant to be portraying.

Traximus tilted his head to one side, and then the other. “Commander Mozar…?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Donnie gulped, raising his head a little higher and keeping his expression still and serious. With eyes as beady and small as Traximus’, he wasn’t sure the alien could even see him. “You must be hungry soldiers. Follow me to the… dining room and select something to eat.”

Without another word, Donnie turned on his heels and guided the way to the kitchen. Traximus, confusion evident on all of his features, trailed behind with the gaggle of curious turtles following him. They got to the kitchen and he surpassed Donnie, intent on obeying the command and maybe just plain starving as he pulled the fridge door open— more like ripped it off its hinges— and began to dig around inside. The turtles watched in curious awe.

Now that they weren’t in immediate danger of being trampled and crushed by this titan of a creature, it was like they couldn’t stop watching him. Something not human, not yokai, not mutant— something new! You didn't have to be Donnie to see the beauty in this new creature, nor to feel a desperate urge to know more and more about them! Raphael was practically exploding with excitement. He had always wanted to be so close to a dinosaur but now it was happening? He could hardly breathe! The kitchen was barely big enough for them all, but they managed to crowd around in such a way that they all could get a good view of what was happening.

Traximus picked up the gallon of milk first, shaking it a bit and then promptly discarding it. In fact, he discarded all the liquid, tossing drinks behind him and letting them shatter and spill over the floor. Not even Michelangelo cared about the mess made of his precious ingredients— not when it was this beautifully intricate creature doing it! Once all the liquid contents were out of his way, Traximus began a long pattern of selecting food, taking a bite, deciding he didn't like it, and tossing it carelessly. This process continued on until the fridge was almost barren and Michelangelo was finally regretting not intervening sooner. One of the final things left in the fridge, chili peppers, were the next thing Traximus grabbed.

“Wait— maybe you shouldn’t—” Raphael tried a little too late, as Traximus was already shoving a handful into his mouth, stems and seeds and all.

Everyone cringed, even Raph— who had taken on a hot pepper challenge many times again Leo and always somehow lost (he lost because Leo had switched out all of his own peppers for sweet peppers, but Leo would never admit that). They waited for the burn, for the scream, for the desperate scramble to find coolness. Instead, Traximus chomped happily and his mouth began to drool in response to the burning stimuli, his lips curling up as his tongue poked out to lap up all the drool that tried to escape. He dumped the rest of the basket into his mouth and dove back into the fridge in pursuit of more burning delights.

“We have a winner.” Raph said with a satisfied smirk.

Michelangelo’s eyes were firmly fixed on the mess at their feet. “And we have no dinner…”

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kyloswarstars · 4 years ago

Text

Come on! • Part 1 – „A Stranger“

Peaky Blinders • Mini-Series

Vendetta had brought your family back to Small Heath for a while. As a Blinder you received orders from Tommy like everyone else did as well. Your current one: Keep eyes on Bonnie Gold. When you first heard those words you wouldn’t have dared to imagine this order would take a complete turn on you.

Pairing • Bonnie Gold x Shelby!Reader

Words • 2.1k

A/N • This Mini-Series is following the events of Peaky Blinders S4 (means: SPOLERS). Lemme know if you like ittttt 🌚

Come on! • masterlist

/////

There was one rule you had set for yourself: Never. Fucking. Care. You did what you pleased. With anything, anyone, at anytime. Life was too short – perfect example: your brother John – to stick to someone else’s ideals or follow the law. Or, worst of all, society’s expectations.

Being a Shelby was innate. Being a Blinder was a choice. One your brothers may have disliked because you were together with Finn, the youngest Shelby, but… you didn’t care. The first time you stole a Peaky cap and caused havoc was thrilling. Who said only the boys could have fun? Yes, society. And what did you do about that? Exactly, you didn’t fucking care.

You should probably care a little more sometimes as it would be good for your own health, but after John passed recently, that thought was thrown in the cut before put into reality.

Being back in Small Heath, due to the vendetta, didn’t automatically mean everything was back to normal. A lot of things were different. Your temper, boiling under your skin and making you want to destroy something, was the same as ever. It was fuelled by dismay over the grief that was still lurking. Every other day it dragged you into this black cloud. The strange thing was that it felt so soft, so easy to fall into it. And once you let yourself fall and started to grieve, it seized you tighter, not wanting to let you breathe again. Once you cried, you wouldn’t be able to stop. So, whenever you felt that grief creeping up on you, you harshly removed yourself out of this black cloud before you couldn’t stop missing John anymore.

One of the disadvantages of running away from your feelings: Your temper, this always hungry beast inside of your chest, asked for an outlet. Throughout the day this outlet came in the shape of boxing. Even as a kid you had imitated Arthur throwing punches whenever something was troubling you. The physical exhaustion numbed your thoughts. But in the nights, boxing wasn’t so easy. Punching air didn’t do shit.

Standing in your old room at Watery Lane, already having pulled every piece of clothing out of the wardrobe and the pillow cut open, feathers flowing around the room, you took a look in the mirror. The way you viewed yourself was normal to you – you knew it wasn’t how most of the others viewed themselves, though. You just didn’t care at all for your appearance. The time people spent with worrying over their appearances was just wasted lifetime to you. What did it matter how you looked in the end? Everyone dies no matter what you look like.

Dead. John is dead. Tiny black clouds were reaching out for you, trying to make you sit on them and carry you into their nightmare land. Not with me.

Not being able to throw your fists into a punching bag, you closed them around the scissors you found in a drawer. In the rush of letting out air, getting free of that intense feeling of being trapped, you didn’t care at all when you took the scissors and started to chop your hair of – strand for strand.

All of the cut hair gathered at your bare feet, tickling between your toes. With every trim your breathing returned to a steadier rhythm. The mess on your head, when the scissors couldn’t cut anymore hair, didn’t allow you to fully settle yet. Opening the door and glancing into the hallway, none of your siblings seemed to be awake – every door was closed but one. You rushed to the only door being open: John’s old room. And indeed you found an old bar of shaving soap and brush in his bedside cabinet.

Picking up your knife, which had been laying on the floor with your shoes, you soaked the shaving brush in some water, swirled it over the soap and applied the rising foam on the remnants of your hair. It was the first time ever you felt a blade being pushed over your head and it was great. You could almost hear every single hair being relentlessly shaved off. The thoughts wouldn’t leave your brain faster, without hair in the way, but you were finally able to fall asleep now, once you were done shaving your head.

/////

Sun was just starting to rise outside, meaning you didn’t sleep that long, but at least a little bit. Throwing on some pants and a shirt, you grabbed your bag and cap after brushing your teeth.

The betting shop was still quiet but that would change soon. You planned on being out of the house by then.

Arthur was sitting in the kitchen, having some breakfast and sipping on his tea. When he saw you coming in, he choked on a sip. Crashing the cup down to the table, he coughed it out, looking at you in shock. „Y/N, what the fuck happened to your hair?“

„It’s gone,“ you shrugged.

„Yeah, I can see that.“

„So… then you know what happened,“ you teased and grabbed a slice of bread, making your way to the door.

„Nah, you’re ain’t going nowhere.“ Arthur got up and pointed over to the betting shop. „Tommy has an order for you.“ A small chuckle escaped him. „And I’m gonna go with you to see his reaction on your baby head. Can’t miss out on that.“

If you cared you would’ve hit him for saying you looked like a baby with the bald head but you really, really didn’t care. It was the awaiting order which you cared about. You just wanted to leave for King Maine’s, not being bothered with a job to do first.

When you entered the office, Tommy didn’t look up. Only when you reached his desk did he spend a second on diverting his eyes from papers to Arthur and you. For a moment, Tom’s eyes were fixated on your head, you knew because they were looking to high up for the goal being your eyes, but he didn’t care. Just like you.

„New order, Y/N. Keep an eye on Bonnie Gold when you’re at the boxing hall. Need to know how he’s keeping up.“

Bonnie Gold? The guy who had shot a man at John’s funeral, rode by with his father on a horse and later killed another Italian, one of Changretta’s men? „I’m not a fucking babysitter, Tom.“

„You’re not. You’re my messenger. So go do your work.“

„Even worse,“ you muttered under your breath, but that was how Blinder business worked. You did as you were told.

Leaving Watery Lane before anyone else could stop you, your excitement was slightly impaired. King Maine’s was your hiding spot where you went to when everything got too much. You punched your thoughts out, your grief and also your fucking heart because some days even feeling it beat in your chest seemed to be too much to take. All you could hope for was to have some peace before he would show up at King Maine’s.

That wasn’t the case, though. Bonnie Gold was already there. Of course he would be.

Your immediate reluctance to ‚keep an eye on someone‘ faded as you entered the hall and stood there, watching him for a minute. It wasn’t even eight and Bonnie was already sweat-soaked, fully invented into mauling a punch bag. That was some dedication right there.

Leaning on a pillar and still observing him, some of the other boxers greeted you silently. For a long time you were visiting King Maine’s now and never has there been any strange glances or lewd whistles. Perks of being a Shelby probably.

His fists slowed down. Bonnie placed some final punches then let go of the sandbag, went over to a bench, and grabbed a bottle. While he was drinking he looked around and eventually spotted you.

You didn’t hide you were watching him. Actually, you stared right back in his eyes from afar. Until Maine shouted from the other end of the boxing hall to not distract the Gold boy. Cautiously regaining your balance, you grabbed your bag and went to change in this super tiny lumber room. It was your own personal changing room, provided by King Maine with some reluctance. But as a Shelby one of your brothers, if not yourself, always made sure you were treated the right way.

Starting your boxing session, your thoughts that had kept you awake all night until you chopped of the hair, were slowly starting to fade. You hit them right into the punch bag where you wished they would stay forever. From time to time you felt two eyes on your back. And whenever you turned around you stared back at those two eyes, Bonnie Gold’s eyes.

The first boxers who had come to King Maine’s studio in the morning were replaced by a few other locals by now. It were always the same guys here. Fellas, pretty loyal to the Shelby’s, and most of them trying to become a Blinder one day. But except for a handful they were just pricks, all mouth and no trousers. If you gave them a cap to cut someone’s eyes they would probably shit themselves.

By noon you had tired your lungs out, your clothes were soaked in sweat, and you granted yourself a minute on a bench before you would go back to Watery Lane for lunch.

Bonnie Gold was still there. He walked over to you when you started to unwrap the bandages on your hands.

„I know you’re supposed to watch me.“ His voice didn’t sound like you had expected it. It was calm and almost a little teasing.

Only looking up for a second, you turned your attention back to the bandages. Untangling them was a profession you still hadn’t managed after all those years. „A strange way to start a conversation with a stranger.“

„You’re not a stranger.“ He sat down next to you.

I didn’t invite you to sit with me, you thought. „I never talked to you before so I would call you a stranger.“

„Okay, then let me restart.“ He turned towards you and reached out his hand for you to shake it. „I’m Bonnie Gold.“

„I know.“ You didn’t shake his hand as a matter of principle. Strangers, even though he wasn’t really a stranger, didn’t get body contact from you. Maybe during a training fight in the ring but not because society expected you to shake someone’s hand even though you rather liked to keep your personal space.

„See! You know who I am. And I know who you are.“ He didn’t mind you not shaking his hand; he only grinned at himself.

„Doesn’t change the fact you’re still a stranger.“ You rolled up the bandages, which you were finally able to wrap off your hands, and shot him a smirk.

„A stranger you’re supposed to watch.“ Bonnie winked at you. „But Tommy gave me orders too.“

The question as to why he even knew you were supposed to keep your eyes on him popped up but you really didn’t care for that. „Well, there are two things you need to know, Bonnie Gold. First thing: Tommy gives out orders to everyone, including me. I may have gotten an order but the second thing is: I don’t do things, not even following Tommy’s orders, if I don’t enjoy doing them.“

„Is that so?“ His smirk still didn’t leave his lips. He seemed to quite enjoy this conversation.

„Indeed,“ you confirmed your previous statement, kinda playing along with this vibe.

Bonnie leaned over a little and lowered his voice so only you were able to hear him. „Didn’t your brother also tell you to stay away from dangerous men?“

Leaning in as well, mimicking him: „You think you’re a dangerous man? To me?“ This thought made you actually laugh out loud for a second.

„I killed men,“ he stated in all seriousness.

„So did I,“ you returned, enjoying the blindsided expression on his face. „I guess that equals it out.“

Bonnie Gold slowly found his grin again, stood with his hands up in surrender. „One point for you.“ He walked off but decided to come back once more. „If you’re willing to we should get in the ring together for a training. I think this could be interesting.“

Contemplating it, you stood as well, slowly backing up. „Tomorrow at seven. I promise I’ll go easy on you.“ Hearing him laugh at your words when you turned and left for the small lumber room, you had to grin again. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad having to keep your eyes on him. He was kinda… cute.

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imagines4undertale · 5 years ago

Note

Ah, I’m sorry! 🥺 I was meaning the 5 love languages. There’s a quiz online, if that’d help. It has its own website, in fact. And, I suppose I’ll ask for the Horrortale bros plus a random Black. I’m super sorry for the lack of specifics first time around. 🤧 Hope I didn’t cause any trouble!

You’re fine! I’m just happy to be able to answer it. I hope that I did an okay job at it and that you enjoy. I won’t lie, this one took me a while because HT!Paps and Black are the most difficult for me to write, but I did my best! I’ll have some more Asks finished as soon as I can!

--------------------

HT!Sans(Axe)-

Axe’s love language will likely be words of affirmation. In the Underground, there isn’t enough time for people to set aside quality time for each other and there are very few quality things to be given. Even when he makes his way to the surface, Axe doesn’t see the point in many of these things. He likes hugs and affection decently well, but when he has moments of mental lapse he can quickly become violent if touched. Axe will respond to small gifts, but only really if they are food, like a snack bar or small bag of chips. The best way to love this skell is just through telling him how much you love him. Tell him how cute he is to you, how happy he makes you, how good he is at protecting and providing for you and his brother, just anything that you like about him. At first, he is just kind of weirded out as no one has ever really given him this type of praise, but overtime he’ll begin to melt whenever you say these kinds of things. He likes being acknowledged for his hard work and has a hard time seeing the good in himself. To have his small, pure, sweet little SO telling him he is someone worth loving is everything to him. Sometimes, if he’s had a rough day, he’ll just come to you asking for you to tell him he’s not a beast and that he’s a good person.

You were at home, sitting at the table, looking through a recipe book for recipes for the next week. The house was calm and the only noise that could be heard was Papy watching a cooking show on the TV in the living room. It took you a moment to realize what it was, but you began to feel a rumbling in the floor beneath your feet. Axe was in the building and he was pissed. A moment later you felt the door to your apartment slam against the door stopper you installed (Axe put the door handle through the wall) and then slammed back shut. The thudding footsteps made their way to the kitchen and when you looked up Axe was looming over you shaking as he huffed labored breaths. He looks down at you with his single eye light, seeming to hesitate for a moment.

“Hey sweetie, are yo-” You don’t get to finish as you are lifted sharply from your chair and carried out of the kitchen. It’s hard to see where he is going as your face is held in the fluff of his hood, but it felt like he was carrying you down the hallway to the bedroom. When he finally released you, he tossed you down onto your bed. You bounce for a second before you are pinned from the waste down by wrapping his arms around his hips. He hesitates for a moment before shakily exhaling into your stomach.

“t-tell me… tell me you love me. tell me i’m not a beast. please, i need to hear you say it.” He huffs into your shirt as his sharp finger bones dig into your shirt. You feel a slight dampness on your stomach. Resting your hand on his head, you begin to stroke his head avoiding the sharp edges of his skull. Petting his head, you whisper sweet words of your love and any good traits you can think of to your skeletal love. Eventually, his shoulders stop shaking and his breaths even out into the soft breaths of sleep. You let him rest like that until it’s time for dinner, gently rubbing his head as you think of how you can cheer Axe up when he wakes.

HT!Papyrus(Crooks)-

Crooks is going to react best to small acts of affection. He has almost the opposite mindset to his brother. Nice things are so hard to come by in the underground, and even above ground, having someone thinking of him and putting the thought into giving him a gift means so much to him. Find him a little piece of sea glass in the shape of a heart? He’ll keep it in his bed stand and will refer to it as “HiS LuCKy RocK”. Anything you get for him is going to be either “His LUcky” or “His FaVorIte” just because it came from his favorite human. He loves getting food gifts the most though. Candy bars, small sweets, cookies, chips, anything and everything edible will make him happy. You can surprise him with a chocolate bar when you walk in the door and he will spend the next half hour kissing your face and holding you close to him if you let him. If it’s food that you make just for him though, he might just melt through the floor with love sick happiness.

Crooks was going to be out all day, going to see a dentist about finally getting braces for his teeth. They wouldn’t be going on today, but the consultation was still going to take hours. Crooks had been nervous about it all week. He was more stable than he was even just months ago and was making great progress in his therapy, but he still had problem days. The lanky skeleton always worried about harming people or simply snapping at others and didn’t want to have an episode at the dentist's office. You or Sans would have gone with him, but you both had work in the morning and Crooks insisted that he “WaS No BAby BonEs” and would make due. When you did get off work though, a bit after noon, you were struck with an idea. You would make a special treat for Crooks to celebrate his progress and to reward him for going to the office on his own.

When Crooks finally walked through the door to your home after the long day of cramped offices and too many people he just wanted to scream into a pillow. He still liked being around people like he did before the hunger permeated the underground, but after a while the fight or flight instinct from living around so many unstable beings began to rear its ugly head. Crooks just needed some time with HIS human and things would be better. You weren’t on the couch or sitting at the table tapping away at your laptop.

“GUmDrop? WheRE ArE you?” Crooks’ cracking voice called through the house.

“In here sweetie! Come here!” You call back from the kitchen with a smile in your voice. Crooks sets down the pamphlets the dentist gave him on his braces and lumbers into the kitchen. A sweet scent hits him as he enters and he looks over to the wide section of counter next to the stove. Stacked high on a cake stand was a layered crepe cake. The cake was about 8 inches high with whipped cream peeking out from each layer and topped with a chocolate ganache and strawberries. Next to it was you, hands lightly covered in whipped cream and face decorated with a wide grin as you say, “Surprise sunshine! I made you a little treat to celebrate your road to recovery!” Crooks just stands there for a moment as a small line of drool slides down his jaw. He wipes it off as he makes his way across the kitchen to you and the cake. Looking between the two, he picks you up so your eyes are level with one another before kissing your forehead and snuggling you to his chest.

“YoU arE the SwEEtEST HuMAN EVER!” His voice vibrates through you. “And thE Best DATe matE A MonsTer COUld ASK foR.... BuT I HOPe You KNOw thAt I aM GoinG To EAt thIs whoLE ThinG MySelF.”

“That’s why I already ate a crepe before you got here.” You say with a knowing laugh.

“LIkE i SAId, ThE BEsT!” Crooks giggles as he puts you down to find a fork and devour your creation.

SF!Sans(Black)-

Black’s love language is likely going to be acts of service. Black has a more militaristic view on relationships, often treating Mutt more like a subordinate than a brother. He still cares for him, but he just shows it in odd ways. Because of this, Black likes acts of affection that show you are loyal to him or that show you care for him. Do things that he asks of you when he asks it, or proactively do things you know he likes done. Remember things that he likes and dislikes and show that you listen to him. If you show up to events that are important to him with flowers to congratulate him, you might just get to see his rare “heart melting with love” face. He often gets ignored for his shorter stature, so to have you listen to him, treat him like an equal, and go out of your way for him is going to make him happy and value you in return. Eventually, this will evolve into Black thinking of you, and privately calling you, his queen or princess (or king, prince, if you prefer) to his king. He’ll treat you that way too, like you are his precious equal in love and in life, spoiling you whenever he can. Your respectful and loving actions are all he needs to know that you truly care for him and that you are the one for him.

Black has been in his office for most of the day working away. He has homework to do for his police academy training and will not be getting anything less than an A+. The other trainees already haze him for his stature and appearance and he won’t be caught dead with his grades lower than those rude buffoons. Black would be lying if he said that his spine wasn’t aching from sitting there for so long though. A call from the front room catches his attention. You seem to be home from your day of errands. Now seemed like a good time for a break. Walking into the main room, Black calls back to you welcoming you home with a kiss to the cheek.

“Oh, hello my bony prince. It has been such a long day, but a productive one!” You say with an excited bounce as you lay some bags you were carrying on the ground. “Guess what I did today.” Black gives a inquisitive hum as he looks over your shoulder at you fumbling through the bags on the floor. “Well you know how you said that you weren’t able to find the ingredients for that recipe you found online? Well, I had to go to four different stores, but I finally found it. Along with that, since I was already going all over town anyways, I picked up your uniform from the dry cleaning so you don’t have to tomorrow morning. To top it off, I found an outfit that perfectly matches the suit that you have for that Napstabot party next week. I remembered you saying something once about how ‘all good power couples should match’, right?” You straighten up with Black’s dry cleaning bag in hand. When you look over to him he just has a look of surprise on his face before it melts into a warm smile. He walks to you, taking the bag and tossing it to the couch’s arm before cupping your face and kissing you softly. When you break the kiss he is still smiling and then picks you up below the bottom and lifts you into a short spin.

“WHAT WOULD THE TERRIBLE SANS DO WITHOUT HIS BEAUTIFUL QUEEN BY HIS SIDE?” He asks with a soft chuckle.

“Probably be just as amazing as you always are, but I do try to help your magnificence where I can.” You say with a sly smile as you rest your arms on his shoulders and your forehead on his.

“MEHEHE~, THAT MAY BE TRUE, BUT IT IS STILL PREFERRED YOU HERE, WITHIN KISSING RANGE.” Black laughs as he carries you to lay on the couch, homework forgotten for now.

(Feedback is always welcome, and I’m open for asks!)

#undertale imagines #ht!papyrus #ht!sans #sf!sans #I'm back!#and ready to answer more asks #Undertale #sans #papyrus #ask #answer

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lost-eternity · 4 years ago

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Match Up Requests: CLOSED Please read the pinned rules before requesting

Match up for: @ happythoughtfulstarfish

Okie dokie. I match you with...

Peter Parker/Spider man!

First of all, girl, you're very pretty :). Just thought that I would say that. Right. On to the match up.

Like, from appearances alone. You two would compliment each other so well. 🥰

With heels on, you'd most likely be taller than Peter Parker.

Like. How dare you! He would do his best to one up you.

You occasionally catch him standing on his toes to try and match your height. And you look over at him like "???"

Cue mumbled excuses and awkward laughing

Then one day your heels go missing. And as you're looking around, you notice Peter is standing surprisingly tall. Upon further investigation you notice that he put on your heels.

Would this guy actually steal your own heels just to one up you? He'll, yeah he would. It's all in fun and games though and he isn't too serious about it.

But personality wise? Even better.

You are both serious nerds

It's not technically official but I head-canon that Peter Parker is a theatre nerd as well. I could just be Tom Holland seeping through but he gives off those theatre kid vibes.

You know how I mean.

He'd be wholly supportive of your hobbies. He would love to go and spontaneously buy random tickets to musicals on Broadway, even if you two don't get the best of seats.

Just be prepared to watch a lot of cult classics with him.

Like. A lot.

Especially Star Wars. You two will watch those movies so many times. And every single time he will be dramatically (poorly) mouthing the lines along with the film because let's be real- he has all of the movie scripts memorized.

He would also love to learn how to play an instrument from you. He'd be really bad at it. Honestly, he would be playing horrendously with this puppy-like jubilation that makes up entirely for his horrible pitch. It's adorable, really.

Your morals also align perfectly and that works out very well because the both of you are incredibly stubborn and steadfast in your resolve. You both strive to see the best in people, even if it puts you in jeopardy. Critics would call it gullibility. But you would be able to keep each other in check.

Sometimes.

You would be a massive headache for those in SHIELD or anyone assigned to manage you.

I can imagine Peter roping you into one of his elaborate schemes after getting hyped on caffeine and the two of you raising hell together. With the best of intentions, of course.

Like, "no. You cannot kidnap an ice cream truck and drive it to the orphanage for the kids. That is called theft and that's illegal."

"I don't care if it will make the children happy!"

You both have an incredible drive to help others. Peter's just manifests in a way that is a lot more... potentially lethal. Whereas you are content enough to simply volunteer your time.

Just. Don't ask to go with him on one of his super hero missions.

Trust me.

Peter has already lost people in his life. The poor boy would never forgive himself if he lost you as a result of his ineptitude on a mission.

Don't put him through that

Because he is awkward as well, you two would do very well to motivate each other and encourage one another to step outside of your comfort zones.

Meet to new, make new friends

Honestly, you’d be perfect together

You probably met Peter's sophomore year of College.

It's a funny story actually.

You volunteered with a charity service who was hosting a musical, "The Adams Family" The ticket revenue collected during the performances would be put to relief and conservation efforts in foreign countries.

Everything was extremely low budget. All of the cast members were volunteers and very few actually had much theatrical experience.

But you did not mind too much. You were cast to play the role of Morticia. So no complaints there!

The venue you were performing in was actually lent to you for free. It was on a college campus, and the auditorium was actually decently sized.

The previous performances went off rather smoothly. The turn-outs had been decent as well, thankfully.

It was closing night. Your final performance for the night. The audience was slowly filling into the room, that was when it happened.

One of the crewmembers on hair and makeup, completely new to the theatre environment actually asked out loud: "Wait, why can't we say 'Macbeth' again?"

Silence

Dead Silence

So quiet that the muted chatter of the audience could be heard from behind the heavy oaken doors of the female changing room.

The shit storm that followed would have been absolutely hysterical if everyone were not so panicked.

Those in the cast who actually had experience in theatre arts were whisper-shouting at the offending crewmember.

The others looked on, an expression of complete confusion plastered onto their brow

It's not like you could have sent her out to run around the entire college campus. You were on in 5.

Collectively, you all decided to let it go.

It was just a legend after all.

"We'll be fine."

At least, that is what everyone told themselves.

The night, surprisingly, went off without a hitch. There were a few technical difficulties with the lighting (the spotlight "affectionately" named Big Bertha refused to fully open its iris) and a few missed cues, but otherwise, the performance did not terribly fail as many feared.

You and the rest of the cast were now hurriedly darting back from the bathrooms after intermission. It was a frenzied sprint around the back of the building to avoid the audience catching a glimpse of you.

That was when you heard something that caused you to peel off the rest of the group.

It was this peculiar scuttling sound, followed by a darting figure.

You initially thought it was an audience member who had lost their way and turned down the winding path.

The narrow road itself was completely innocuous and actually just led to a dorm site. However, under the dark of the new moon, illuminated by few stray streetlamps, it felt kinda ominous.

Having to remind yourself that you weren't actually in a horror movie, you continued down the path towards the figure, asking him if he were all right.

Then he stepped into the flood of light from a lamp, his movements kinda janky and angled.

This "person" was not a person at all. Rather it was a humanoid beast covered completely in rippling grey fur. Like 'Cousin It' jumped right out of the play and appeared on the street. But this wasn't your cousin. You knew the little girl who played him and she was much... much shorter. This thing cleared 213 centimetres!

You wisely decided to run.

And it gave chase, scuttling after you like some malformed beast.

So here you were, still in complete costume, being chased down the street but a Cousin It lookalike and screaming your lungs out.

You didn't get really far because Morticia's sprawling mermaid dress did little to help you move your legs.

Cousin It caught up to you, a clawed appendage swiping against your ankles.

With a loud rip the dress tore and you fell. Pain flared through your elbows made contact with the grated pavement.

Rolling onto your back, you gazed up at the creature. Its purple fur glowing dimly under the backlighting of the street lamp.

For the first time you noticed its eyes, multiple gleaming plates meshed together to form one bulging eyeball, like a fly or moth. Its mangy hair, overgrown and matted, reeked with a permeating stench you can only describe as rotting eggs.

So maybe you were in a horror movie. And the horror movie was 'Mothman'... or maybe the curse of Macbeth was here and this creature was coming from retribution.

Regardless of the reason, you did not have too long to think about it as the creature took a lumbering step towards you. Then another... and a third... then it paused.

It pulled against something, like a dog heaving against its leash. But it couldn't move another step

"Stay where you are, Mothra." A trilling voice called.

Blinking, you noticed a figure perching on the top of the lamp post, hanging upside down from a glistening web. Another web was attached around the creature's waist, preventing it from advancing.

The blue and red was unmistakable.

This was spider man!

But why is he here?

Cousin it gave a roar of complaint and swiped for the spider. He nimbly dodged out of the way, laughing the entire time.

It was not long before he had Cousin It wrapped up in a thick cocoon of webbing, and was absently dialing something on his phone.

You heard him mumble something about how much of a nuisance "A-Chiltarians" were.

A-Chiltarians?

What was that supposed to be?

Spiderman seemed to notice you for the first time, and apologetically offered to escort you back to the play.

Which was practically ruined as intermission was over and no one seemed to be able to locate you

The audience was beginning to get antsy

To make up for lost time, Spider man grabbed you round your waist

Before you knew it, the two of you were flying

Swinging from tree to lamp as you glided across the ground back towards the theatre.

He dropped you off, literally dropped you, onto the stage, just in time for your next scene.

You could hardly act through the confusion of WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED TO ME

The rest of the night, you were understandably preoccupied

After the performance, the cast stood along the hallway, allowing the audience to meet and greet with them and pass out gifts.

A young man garnered your attention in particular

With hazel eyes and mousy hair, he introduced himself as "Peter" and handed you a bouquet of flowers

And you find yourself looking at him like "Do I know you?"

He seemed rather apologetic for whatever reason and praised your performance

Getting suspicious, especially after the events of that night, you had a feeling that he knew something he was not letting on to.

So you asked for his number.

And to your complete shock, he actually gave it

So. Over the course of one night, you were saved by the legendary spider man and got the number of a cute boy.

Maybe the curse of Macbeth is not so bad after all

#marvel #tom holland #matchups #peterparker #ship #match up #ships #ship request #matchup #matchup request #requests #shipping #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spider man x reader #marvel matchup #marvel ship #marvel match up

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realm-sweet-realm · 5 years ago

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Infinity, Chapter 2: Eternal

An AU where the 13 studio characters are immortal. In this chapter, Henry finds a way out of the timeloop, and Sammy Lawrence and Thomas Connor must enter the sketch dimmension to rescue the ink creatures!

---

After what felt to Henry like at least 24 hours, he dragged himself into the chamber to fight the ink demon, and realized just how stupid his plan was. Sure, sit there and wait, make sure Joey won’t be awake when I complete the loop. Well, now I have to fight the ink demon and I can barely keep my eyes open. This would be painful.

Henry played the tape in the throne room, as he had a million times before. The ink demon appeared before Henry and did its slow transformation. While he busied himself with that, Henry put in the end tape. “Wow, why did I never do that befo-”

-Henry was smacked through the wall and landed on his stomach, leaving him in the halls to begin the same runaround as always. Even having done this hundreds of times before, Henry was wracked with adrenaline as he obeyed his muscle memory to stick close to the walls, hide in nooks the demon couldn’t get to. He made no wrong turns in activating the switches. Next was getting the ink demon to run into the ink tubes, which posed no problem either. However, as Henry ran back to the throne room, Bendy grabbed onto Henry’s leg, lifted him towards his mouth, and sniffed at him at a bear. Henry knew he couldn’t die, but my God would this be unpleasant. Bendy decided that Henry was edible, crunched him up a little, and swallowed him.

The ink demon had no organs. He was just one inky mass inside. The ink demon settled down for a nap. Henry's lungs felt crushed, and the ink was entering the gashes left by the demon's teeth, but it wasn't getting worse. After a few minutes, Henry realized that if he didn’t do something, this would be his eternal state. And so, he pushed his arms through the thick ink and situated them where the ink demon’s arms were, so that he was almost wearing the beast like a puppet. With an immense amount of effort, Henry was able to get the beast to rise and turn back around the throne room. The beast growled and Henry felt vibrations all around him. It was fighting him, trying to move its ink in the opposite direction. Henry persisted. One lumbering arm-step, then another. The beast continued to whine and yowl. With no other way of knowing how close he was, Henry took that as a good sign. In the end, that flash of light came.

Now in Joey Drew’s apartment, Henry fell to his knees. The giant, ink-filled tooth-marks all over his body throbbed. But he’d done it. Right? Sure to be absolutely silent, Henry looked in the kitchen, and then checked Joey’s drawing desk to find that Joey had fallen asleep overtop of it. He found a phone and tapped in 911.

“Hello, this is 911, what is your emergency?”

“Hello. This is hard to explain, but my name is Henry Stein, and I am being held hostage at the residence of Joey Drew. Please send help. Please investigate the ink machine- the strange machine in his garage. He’ll try and make it look like everything’s normal, but- Please. Believe me.”

“We’ll be right over.”

Henry hung up and slumped to the floor, crying. Out of physical pain, relief, or worry that his gambit wouldn’t pay off he wasn’t sure. The portal to the sketch dimension was right near him, and he knew that his injuries were repaired at the beginning of each loop. But if he went in there, the dispatchers would have a harder time finding him. Henry mulled over where he should wait.

“What have you done?!” Joey roared, snapping Henry out of his thoughts. “Henry, go visit the old studio. There’s something I need to show you.” Joey had said it a million times before, but never so harshly. Like every time before, Henry got up, quite painstakingly this time, and entered the studio. The second the door closed, his injuries were gone as though they were never there.

Should I do another loop in case no help is on the way, or should wait here by the entrance so I'll be easier to find? Either way, it was future Henry’s problem. He found a desk to collapse on and quickly fell asleep.

---

It was four in the morning on August 12th, 1967 when Sammy received the last phone call he’d ever expected to.

“Hello?”

“Hello. This is the New York City police department. Is this Sammy Lawrence?”

Sammy’s eyes shot open in surprise. “Yes.”

“You need to come to New York City as soon as possible. This is not optional- we have heard from multiple people that you have information on the ink machine and the activities of Joey Drew. You aren’t in trouble yet, but if you refuse to comply, we will be forced to get national services involved. This is a matter life or death. Understood?” The policeman’s voice was friendly enough, but Sammy wasn’t foolish enough to think that his compliance would be all it took to keep him out of trouble. But what could he do?

“I’ll book a flight immediately,” Sammy said.

When he showed up at the police department, a number of other people out of uniform were there- Susie Campbell, Allison Pendle, Jack Fain, Norman Polk, and a few he didn’t recognize. One- Bertrum Piedmont- Sammy only recognized as one of the people that he and Joey had tried to murder back in the day. They all looked as young as ever.

“So, let me get this straight,” a tall, broad policeman said in a commanding voice, facing the group, and thus away from Sammy. “You each have the same story. You were knocked out somehow by Joey Drew, some of you when a man named Sammy Lawrence was around as well, and then you woke up outside the studio with large cuts on your throats. You all gave that description over the phone, without having had any opportunity to communicate on the matter. And you, Ms. Campbell, have the same story, but with a twist: you agreed to it. Is that all correct?” There was general agreement. The policeman turned to Sammy, looking almost apologetic.

“Mr. Lawrence, you see the situation we have here. And it will have to be dealt with in time. But for right now, you and Mr. Connor have been called by the S. W. A. T. to advise them on how to extract the, uh, people from super-dimensional thing in Mr. Drew’s kitchen. Best of luck. You’ll need it.”

An hour later, Sammy and Thomas were in the studio. Sammy had proposed this. He felt that this was the only way to keep the authorities from finding out about his murders. They’d been allowed to take some of the S. W. A. T. team’s equipment in with them, at least. Sammy had been given some instruction on how to wield the handgun that now hung at his belt, though he was hoping to rely solely on his knife. Thomas, on the other hand, looked much more comfortable with the massive gun he was holding.

“That gun is accurate, right?” Sammy asked, “if I run into a combat situation with my knife, you won’t hit me accidentally?”

“Combat?” Thomas snapped, “You said that the ink creatures would never hurt their creators. I thought there wasn’t going to be any combat!”

Sammy took in a deep breath. “That was a lie.”

Thomas was utterly shocked. “Then what the hell are we doing in here when we could’ve sent armed professionals?!”

“I didn’t want them to know about what I’ve done. Two days ago, that was all in the past, Thomas. I’d almost forgotten about it. I don’t want to have to live my life thinking about how I helped cause this. I just want to fix it so it’s over.”

“You want to forget you were a part of this, huh? Well join the club. The thing is, knowing about yourself can help keep you in line. Y’know, Allison used to talk about how her parents would have never approved of us because I’m not Presbyterian. Y’know what I did the second GENT sent me to my next client? Became a Presbyterian. Rules are good, Sammy. Rules can keep you in line. And forgiveness is also good, if you deserve it. You religious?”

“A little,” Sammy answered as they finally reached the staircase down. After hack-and-slashing their way through a horde of searchers, Sammy attempted to lead the way to Wally’s sanctuary. The studio’s layout had other ideas for them- Sammy could have sworn that the place was rearranged like a jigsaw puzzle with the pieces switched around. At last, they arrived. Sammy knocked on the door, and moments later it cracked open. Sammy had time to vaguely make out a peeking green eye before Henry threw the door open.

“People!” Henry exclaimed. “Oh my God, finally. Are you here to rescue me? Wait- Sammy…?”

Sammy nodded. “That’s right. We’re here to rescue you.”

Henry tackled Sammy with a hug. “Thank you!”

“We’re here for any ink creatures it would be safe to extract as well. Do you know where any of them are?”

“Well, I definitely know where one is.” Henry turned back into the safehouse and called Boris’ name. Boris came over like a dog who'd been asked to come. Henry gave him a little pat on the head, which he leaned into, smiling. That was how Henry knew that Boris was dominant- when Buddy was dominant, he reacted more adversely to being pet like a dog. "This is Boris. Sammy, you know how these things are made, don't you?"

"We both do," Thomas answered, ashamed. "Who's his soul?"

"A boy named Daniel Lewek. He doesn't remember it very often, but he wrote out his story while he was dominant. We should bring that out, too," Henry headed back in to grab the book. Meanwhile, Boris offered his hand to Sammy and Thomas.

"You in there, Daniel?" Thomas asked. Boris looked confused. "No? That's okay. We'll find a way to get you out again. You'll see."

Once the group was back together, they headed for the exit. Henry came into the apartment through the closet door, saw it filled with military personnel, and fell down onto his hands and knees. "I'm gonna live. I'm gonna go home, and see my family again, and everything. Oh." Henry suddenly realized that he was forgetting one creature: Boris. "And Boris can come with me. Henry pet Boris again, and he liked it. "You're gonna love the real world."

"Henry," Thomas interjected, "I'm not sure that's a good idea. You said you have a family, didn't you? Well, you already disappeared for almost four years, so I really don't think you should shock them more by bringing home something that doesn't even belong in this world. I have no family and even knew Buddy a little. I'll take him."

"After we get the other ink creatures, right?" Sammy said.

"Of course," Thomas replied, and they set to talking.

Henry was silent for a moment, reflective. “I can take Boris after Linda dies. I'm not going to die. Neither are you, Sammy. Or Joey. We're immortal. How do we figure out who else there is? Who are immortal, I mean."

Sammy and Thomas stared at him. "Well, the others at the police station are a good start at least," Sammy said. "That must have been why they didn't die when Joey and I were trying to sacrifice them." Sammy turned back to Thomas. "Anyhow. You can definitely have Boris, but I want to adopt one of these ink creatures, too. I feel responsible."

"Oh, no you aren't," one of the police in the room interjected, "You just upgraded your seven felony assault charges to seven attempted murders. The second you've rescued all the sentient beings from that hell dimension, you're going into a holding cell. I can hope you can assuage your guilt from in there."

Henry gave his old friend a pained look. "Sorry about this, Sammy."

Sammy sighed. "Well, all will pass, right? Since we're eternal. At least, let me answer questions on how the machine works. Maybe we can make separate bodies for the human halves and the cartoon halves."

“I’m out of the loop and don’t know what you’re talking about,” the policeman said, “and anyhow, it’s not for me to decide. But that might be doable. We’ll have to see.”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #my fanfiction #Henry Stein #Thomas Connor #sammy lawrence #Unkillable Eternal and Infinite

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thecreatvre · 5 years ago

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we’re posting our apps so enjoy this hot mess !!

STATS

Chosen skeleton: The Creature

Full Name: Tango

Age: Unknown

Gender: Agender

Pronouns: He/Him

Faceclaim: the black beast alien from Attack The Block (first choice), Tom Hardy as Venom (second choice)

(NOTE: Okay, so, kind of unconventional first FC choice, I know! But here’s my reasoning: I don’t know what FC Gecko will end up with, but it’s safe to say their appearance will be reasonably humanoid, with recognizable facial expression, clearly spoken, etc. And it’s interesting to me that Gecko and the Creature, both sweet personalities, have such wildly different assigned team personas. So it makes sense to me that the Creature would be the opposite of Gecko in looks; unrecognizable emotion, very un-humanoid, just really foreign and alien to look at. So much so that, no matter how nice the Creature is, the public perceives him as a horrible ragebeast, and that differing perception will be super fun to play with in terms of social commentary. The black beast doesn’t have the sort of emotional range typical for an FC, but, that’s what will make him interesting me for to play and others to interact with: his outward expression will be a language all of its own, that the team will have learned to identify!)

HEADCANONS

Tango is distinctly unhappy with his promotional catchphrase. Other members of the team get, “Anybody can be a hero!” or “Not all heroes wear capes!”. He gets: “RARGH.” This is due to the fact that the trial of his first catchphrase went poorly, due to the shape of his mouth leading to unclear language. “Be good to each other!” was widely heard by the public as “Baguette each other!” and the youths of the day started to use baguette as slang for fuck. One Million Moms were furious.

Tango’s former costume looked absolutely ridiculous on him, but despite some grumbling whenever he had to be stuffed into it, he wore it with real pride. He still keeps it in his room; it symbolizes everything he wanted out of life. Connection, being a part of something, having a family, and doing good.

He has only one possession from his time before the team – a set of military style dogtags. They are battered and dented, and look kinda chewed on, but Tango keeps them polished and as pristine as he can. Since he doesn’t remember if he has a real name, the dogtags are where he got his name from: TS-062 is stamped on the front. TS turned into Tango Sierra via the NATO alphabet, turned into just Tango.

Refers to all animals as dogs, and takes great pleasure pointing out every animal he sees. The winged things around the city? Dogs. The little creatures in the sewers? Dogs. Tango once attempted to petition Price for an official team pet dog, and didn’t understand why Price turned him down on account of not being able to house a great white shark in the building. It’s unknown exactly why he thinks all animals are dogs, but no amount of persuading changes his mind.

Tango thinks the Exemplar initiative is extremely important for the world, and he especially thinks the inclusion of mutants and aliens is important. He knows he’ll never be accepted into human society, and his inclusion in the team is the closest he’ll ever get, but he finds it reassuring to be included in the cartoons and the figurines and the merchandise. Humans might fear him, but he thinks they’re adorable (with their weird eyes and their fragile limbs and spindly fingers), and he’s happy to use his strength to help protect the world that has provided him with things like pizza, the internet, and music.

He has a whole playlist the team devised to help get him in the mood for Big Scary Ragebeast time. It includes Ukrainian hard house, German industrial, American thrash metal, Swedish pop-punk, etc.

Technically speaking, Tango is blind. In that, he doesn’t have eyes. Not in the typical sense, at least. Through scattered photo-receptive cells on his skin, he has a rudimentary form of sight, somewhat blurry and lacking in color. His great sense of smell and hearing tend to make up for it, but he doesn’t seem to realize that his eyesight is bad. Never ask him to get you the red mug on the counter, because he’ll come back with the blue one that Tallahassee spat in. Yikes.

THEME SONG

Radio – Rammstein

Specifically, these lyrics in particular:

We weren’t allowed to belong Couldn’t see, talk, or hear anything But every night for one or two hours, I disappeared from this world Every night a little bit happy, My ear so close to the world receiver

Radio, my radio I let myself get sucked into the airwaves My ears become eyes Radio, my radio So I hear what I can‘t see Secretly satisfying my wanderlust

Every night I secretly climbed onto the back of the music laid my ears down on the wings singing quietly into my hands Every night and again, I just fly away with the music Floating this way through brightly-lit rooms No borders, no fences

It’s a song about the singer’s experience as a young boy in East Germany before the Berlin Wall fell, when western music and media was banned. A common practice was listening to pirate radio at night, for a couple of hours, listening to foreign music in the secret of their own bedrooms, as quietly as they could so they wouldn’t be heard.

For Tango, being cut off from the world for the past fifteen years, media will have played an enormous part of how he tried to stay connected. Obviously he wouldn’t have been forbidden to do so, but he would have kept it private anyway, dreaming of a time where he wouldn’t be locked up, if such a time would ever be possible.

PARA SAMPLE

1983:

“PLEASE. NO MORE… HE-MAN.”

You wouldn’t think a creature like Tango could sound so pitiful; but he groaned nonetheless in a voice that sounded like gargling broken batteries, fangs ill-suited for human language.

He didn’t know why some of the team insisted on watching He-Man so regularly, so early in the morning, but it had become a wake-up call for him. Sleep, interrupted by a blaring theme song, which he could hear even from his bedroom. It meant that, every morning, he lumbered into the common area, a greeting yawn turning into a sad plea. Every morning, they ignored him.

“HE-MAN… BAD,” Tango insisted, desperate. On screen, the much-celebrated hero swung his loincloth to-and-fro. Half of the team looked entranced; the other half were trying to ignore the commotion by making themselves breakfast. Bacon and eggs and pancakes and cereal, pleasant enough smells, especially the bacon. Just a regular morning.

Like every regular morning, he shambled into the kitchen, and plonked himself down in the middle, a heap of black fur that somehow managed (without eyes!) to give the sad puppy dog stare at Tallahassee. The routine continued: Tallahassee patted him on the head, and slipped him some bacon.

“THANK,” Tango rumbled happily, and set about chasing after the others and their respective breakfasts.

#--about

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saintkevorkian · 3 months ago

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one of those people who think that things spoil by use and consign them to dust and damp by way of preserving them

'The Lumber Room' from Beasts and Super-Beasts, Saki, 1914

#hh munro #legi #beasts and super-beasts: the lumber room

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pangtasias-atelier · 5 years ago

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I,,, forgot about Skrimir, how did I forget hot lion boy? Let's add him to the Immobile bakery au gang with Ranulf, Yarne, Keaton, and Kaden, a new addition to Corrins soft boys squad!

Skrimir has to be top 5 from RD for me. Rambunctious hot men are perf. Add some pudge to calm them down? Amazing. This also ended up really long holy crap. Not much weight gain, and no one’s immobile, for now YET cause I would love to write about that soon, I’m trying to focus on sizes and movement which I gave up near the end lol.

________________

Corrin lies in bed, right arm as a pillow as the morning’s rays begin their invasion of his home. The sun isn’t what wakes him up however; it’s the commotion coming from his kitchen that does.

The two of them hungry, they surprisingly woke up early to stuff themselves. Exhausted from the busy day at the bakery yesterday, Corrin somehow didn’t wake up from their slow and loud attempts to get up.

Getting closer to the edge of immobility, Kaden and Keaton practically needed help with everything. In nothing but ill fitting boxers, they sit across from each other at their huge table. To even sit close enough to reach their food, their stomachs press into the edge.

Both far hairier than the average human, they were massive. At their size, the difference was hardly noticeable but Keaton has a larger gut, the packed container resting on the table. Kaden was more gifted in the rear, his ass falling off his chair.

“That donut was mine.” Kaden shouts.

“Corrin said I could have it.” Keaton lies as he greedily licks the sugary powder off his sausage sized fingers.

“You’re a liar, Corrin knows sugar is my favorite.” Kaden complains as he attempts to stand up. Stomach complaining, Kaden remains seated.

“You ate my cupcake yesterday.” Keaton reminds Kaden. Keaton continues stuffing himself while Kaden rubs his own stomach.

“Cause you ate my pudding the day before that…” Kaden retaliates, his voice strained as his stomach requires relief.

“Yeah, and you…” The two continue back and forth about who ate what, the both of them throwing in lies here and there which neither of them catch, their intake far too large for them to remember.

Their bickering goes on, their voices reaching Corrin’s sensitive ears. Stretching, Corrin sighs as his bones crack. In nothing but boxers as well, the nights far too extremely warm to wear pajamas having two mammoths as bed partners, Corrin groggily makes his way to the kitchen. The walls as his guide, Corrin hears Kaden and Keaton quiet down as he reaches them.

“Morning.” Corrin greets as he gives a long hug to each before kissing them. Removing himself from their tempting warmth, Corrin quickly readies himself for work.

Now showered and dressed, Corrin gives Kaden and Keaton a goodbye kiss. “I won’t be back till after closing. There’s more stuff from the bakery in the pantry by the fridge. Love you.” Corrin says as he leaves with a smile and love you that Keaton and Kaden return.

Inserting his key into his bakery, Corrin thanks the heavens for Ranulf and Yarne already being there.

Done with fixing the chairs in their place, Ranulf grins as he saunters over to Corrin, tummy swaying and his tail swishing behind him. “Guess who’s five minutes late.” Ranulf says as he gives Corrin a peck on the cheek.

Corrin laughs as he returns the gesture on the lips. “Sorry. Woke up a bit late.”

“I had to wait an extra five minutes just for this.” Ranulf teases as he produces an egg tart from behind his back. Bringing it to his lips, Ranulf moans as he shoves the pastry down his mouth. Sighing, Ranulf pats his extended belly. Ranulf was clearly the smallest of the four, but he was still massive to normal standards. Walking and moving was a struggle.

Corrin blushes as Ranulf’s straightforwardness. He was always the one teasing him.

“I told big bunny back there to do the same, but he couldn’t wait to eat.” Counting down from three on his fingers, Ranulf silently snickers as Yarne replies.

“Some of us have shame.” Yarne huffs as he walks out from the backroom. Turning sideways, Corrin doesn’t miss the way Yarne’s gut grazes the side of the door. Flour all over the edges of his apron, it serves to accentuate how wide Yarne is. The ‘big bunny’ as Ranulf nicknamed him, practically needed a break or two to rest his feet. Yarne’s padded, girthy stomach was becoming a chore to be contained by his uniform. Corrin was happy to give Yarne the breaks he needed, same with Ranulf, both having chairs to sit down.

Yarne lumbers over to Corrin, his belly wobbling as he does so. “Good morning.” Yarne says as he blushes.

“Morning.” Corrin smiles as he gives Yarne a kiss. Patting his stomach, Corrin begins quickly checking over everything as Ranulf and Yarne assume their stations.

Everything in tip-top shape on time, Corrin flips the sign to open.

Saturday morning is always a different beast Corrin’s found. Today was no different as multitudes of people make their way into and out of the store, all looking for delicious treats for the weekend laziness and the appetite that came with it.

Plump regulars mixed with skinny new customers, Ranulf and Corrin help and assist them as fast as they can. The sun in its rightful place, the crowd seems ceaseless even as morning reaches its conclusion.

The Saturday morning rush melds into its sibling, lunch rush. Seeing that Ranulf is desperately trying to withhold his breath, face flushed and body relying more on the counter, Corrin lets him take his break in the backroom. Feet yelling at him, Ranulf gladly takes the chance for a sit as he goes back.

All alone, Corrin keeps a smile as he handles the customers. Lunch slowly terminating it’s socially accepted time, less people come in than leave. With a smaller crowd, Yarne struggles through the door as he helps Corrin up front.

Corrin blushes as he sees his customer’s shocked faces upon seeing Yarne. None of them say anything or take a second thought on their purchase which is a good thing.

With Corrin’s guidance at times, the both of them get through the last batch of customers with a strained smile.

No one inside, Yarne grabs the chair by the register and plops down, his stomach bunching up on his thighs as they and his ass overtake the chair. Yarne huffs and wheezes as he catches his breath.

“You did good.” Corrin praises as he brings a slice of carrot cake to Yarne’s lips.

Yarne blushes but happily accepts the treat, his stomach growling at him. Eating on the job was becoming a more frequent activity for him and Ranulf, but rarely in the front where someone could see them.

“I should check on the brownies.” Yarne suggests as he gives a couple breaths before scraping himself off the chair. A pull from Corrin finishes the job as he helps Yarne to his feet. Once again struggling against the doorway, Yarne manages to fit through.

Ranulf peeks his head through the door as he gives an apologetic smile. “Don’t tell him I work here.” Halfway closing the door Ranulf opens it to speak again. “You’ll thank me for closing this.” Door fully closed and Corrin fully confused, it takes a minute for the bell to chime as the front door opens.

“Hi, welcome to-”

“Where’s Ranulf?” The stranger inquirers immediately. Practically stomping to the register, Corrin pales as he sees the behemoth of a man before him.

Standing at minimum a head taller than him, and broad shoulders attached to muscular arms that seemingly and most likely can rip him in half. The stranger’s suit is filled out by his rippling body, the obviously tailored outfit meant to show off his physique down from his head to his toes. His long hair is pulled back into a ponytail to free up his tanned face, his chin accompanied with a slight beard.

“I’m sorry?” Corrin bravely feigns idiocy.

“Ranulf.” The stranger repeats as he glares at the closed door leading to Ranulf’s current location. “I can smell him.” As if to make his point, the stranger sniffs the air and pauses as he sniffs Corrin. “And on you.”

“I’m sorry, but no one by the name of Ranulf works here. There is a taguel who works here, Mr….” Corrin drawls off as he realizes he doesn’t now the man’s name.

“Just Skrimir is fine.” Skrimir glances at his watch and frustratedly sighs. Taking a card out of his shirt pocket, Skrimir places it down and slides it to Corrin. “When Ranulf walks back out the room, let him know that his job is waiting for him.”

Glancing at the card, Corrin grows paler at the company name. Gallian Enterprises.

“I’m sorry but no one by that name works here.” Corrin replies as he slides the card back to Skrimir.

Huffing, Skrimir snatches the card back. “Fine.” Breathing through his nose, Skrimir counts inside to ten. “Then give me a maple bar.” Skrimir breathes out as he hands his card to Corrin.

His brain slowly working, Corrin jolts as he realizes the order. “Right away.” Making sure to grab the freshest and nicest looking one, glad that Ranulf brought some earlier, Corrin gently hands it to Skrimir and tells him his total before swiping his card. “Thank you for your business.” Corrin beams as he hopes Skrimir will peacefully leave.

“Hmpph.” Is all Skrimir dignifies him with as he leaves.

Corrin remains still as he watches Skrimir leave. Door at least not shoved open, Corrin blushes and averts his gaze when he sees Skrimir angrily tear into his donut.

Yarne comes out a couple minutes after the commotion, trays in tow as he hands them to Corrin. Sitting down after the short walk, Yarne begins speaking.

“What was that all about?”

“He kept asking for Ranulf.” Corrin complains as he organizes the display case. “And he was super rude.” He grumbles.

A couple more minutes pass by before Ranulf walks out as well. “Sorry about that.” He apologizes, hand behind his head.

“You worked for Gallian Enterprises?” Corrin asks, tray forgotten.

“Seriously!” Yarne chimes in with disbelief.

“Yeah yeah. I was secretary for Caineghis. No big deal.” Ranulf waves them off as he leans against the wall, ready to sprint off if Skrimir comes back.

Yarne shrugs it off, not recognizing the name, but Corrin shouts. “You worked for the CEO? Why’d you quit!?”

“Too much work. Besides, he’s thinking of stepping down in a few years which means I’d be working directly for his nephew Skrimir.” Ranulf replies with a smirk. “And I quite enjoy working here. I got enough cash to last me a long time.”

Yarne processes the information slowly, unable to comprehend such a loss of money.

“Working for a huge company like that gets tiring. This is more my style.” Ranulf adds.

“It is your choice. I just hope he won’t make this a constant thing.”

“He might, but I talked it over with his uncle so hopefully he’ll get Skrimir to quit.”

“Hopefully.” Corrin sighs. “Let’s get through the rest of this day then.” He smiles.

——–

It’s Monday lunch that Skrimir walks again into the store. Ranulf conveniently nowhere to be seen again, Corrin grimaces at seeing him.

Thankfully, he respectfully waits his turn in line. At the register and with no one behind him, Skrimir clears his throat.

“I apologize for my behavior Saturday. I harassed you for no good reason.” Skrimir lets out as he stares at the interesting blank white walls.

Not expecting an apology, Corrin momentarily freezes before clearing his throat. “It’s okay. No harm done, right?”

“Right.” Skrimir says as he drums his fingers in the counter.

Corrin remains quiet from the awkward conversation.

“I’ll have a donut, please.”

Corrin blinks a couple times before responding.

“A maple bar, right?”

“Yes.” Skrimir sighs. The same routine, Corrin waves Skrimir goodbye as he leaves. He catches another glimpse of Skrimir angrily tearing into the donut. He looks at anything else, afraid Skrimir would catch him staring.

—–

Tuesday morning, immediately after the bakery opens, Corrin receives a call on the store phone.

“Hi, this is Gallian Enterprises, your bakery does orders, correct?”

“Yes, with enough time given.” Corrin wipes his sweaty palms as he writes down the large order listed on his notepad. “Yes, and that’ll be all?” Corrin stares at the order. It’s a huge profit, but it’s also a huge task.

“Yes.”

“And the order is for Friday pickup at 8:30am?”

“Yes.”

“And who will be picking it up?” Corrin swears he can hear a muffled voice complaining in the background.

“Skrimir will be picking it up.” Corrin holds all his strength to not drop the phone.

“Of course, the order will be ready as asked. Thank you.” Corrin hangs up as he begins working on the logistics of such an order.

—–

Friday morning unsurprisingly reveals itself to be a stressful day. With such a huge order requested by a huge company, Corrin goes in early to make sure that everything is done on time. The sun still enjoying it’s beauty-rest unlike Corrin, the brisk air served its job of waking him up.

Getting straight to work, Corrin wastes no time as he begins mixing and baking everything. Six dozen donuts, half a simple glazed flavor with a the other half being a mixture of chocolate, maple, sugar, and others. 4 dozen cupcakes, a quarter red velvet and the rest strawberry or vanilla. 5 dozen brownies, none with nuts as they made abundantly clear.

Corrin sighs as he finishes everything and manages to pack it all up nearly on time.

His break as he waits for Skrimir doesn’t last long as Skrimir enters slightly earlier, the clock displaying 8:19am.

Skrimir smiles this time, very unlike his prior two visits. His nose twitches as he catches the fresh sweet aroma wafting from the treats.

Corrin stands up to show Skrimir the order only to get assaulted with a hug. “You did it!” Skrimir cheers.

Corrin blushes.

Skrimir lets him down, a wide grin on his face. “Everyone in the office will love them.”

Corrin smiles from the compliment as he helps load them into Skrimir’s car. “Just remember to drive slowly and safely, the-”. Corrin’s interrupted by Skrimir’s laugh.

“I drive great. You don’t have to worry for me.” Skrimir leads the way back into the bakery to pay.

Corrin happily rings in the total that Skrimir doesn’t bat an eye for. Though Skrimir does have a sour look on his face when Corrin hands him back his card.

“Is everything alright?”

Skrimir taps his foot before sighing and handing Corrin a slip of paper. “Here.” Is all he says as he rushes out the bakery.

Dumbstruck, Corrin gives a wave before looking at what Skrimir left. He has a choking fit when he sees a number scribbled on it.

At 9am, Ranulf walks in, Yarne calling in sick and unable to work.

“Hey.” Ranulf lazily greets.

Corrin shakes his head before shoving the paper in his pocket. “Morning.”

Walking up to Corrin and nabbing the piece of paper, Ranulf grins. “Well well, seems your popular with everyone, aren’t ya?”

“I, uh-”

“Go easy on Skrimir, man gets crushes way too easily.”

“I, how do you know-”

“He was gonna be my boss remember. So, you like him or not? C'mon, I got a bet riding on this.”

“Kinda?” Corrin squeaks out, face too warm for his comfort.

“Damn, guess I owe Caineghis 50$. He kept blabbing on and on about how his family has all the good genes.” Ranulf smiles as he heads to the backroom, Ranulf having gained a fair amount of knowledge of baking since his time here.

Corrin waits until the bakery closes and for Ranulf to leave to even think about looking at the paper.

Paper in one hand, phone in the other, Corrin breathes deeply. A gentle knock on the door interrupts him. Corrin blushes when he sees Skrimir by the door. Opening it for him, Corrin continues blushing as Skrimir walks in.

“I didn’t receive a call.” Skrimir impatiently brings up.

“I was busy at work today.” Corrin confesses. “But I was about to call you!” Corrin shows Skrimir’s dialed number on his phone.

Skrimir grins at the little win.

Corrin winces as he speaks his next question.

“I am in an open relationship.”

Skrimir huffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I know, Ranulf told me. And I told him I am okay with that.” Skrimir smirks at Corrin’s dumbfounded face.

“I’m going to kill Ranulf.” Corrin thinks as he breathes deeply. “Okay, umm. I’m free right now if that works with you?”

“Wonderful.” Skrimir entwines his arm with Corrin as he leads him out. Taking Skrimir’s car, he drives them slightly out of the city and stops at a national park.

“A park?” Corrin asks as he stares at the way the flowers bend and wave in the gentle breeze.

“The office said this would be best. Do-”

“This is perfect.” Corrin laughs as he steps out, it’s been awhile since I’ve been here.”

Skrimir smiles as he opens the trunk and pulls out a picnic basket.

“Another office idea?” Corrin laughs.

“I…”

“It’s okay, it means you cared.” Corrin smiles as he leads Skrimir this time. “There’s this spot I love.” Walking up the designated path, Corrin discreetly glances around before heading into the the trees. Skrimir follows him and a short 5 minute walk downhill leads them to a small creek.

A small flat grassy area is where they mark their picnic with their tablecloth.

“This, this is lovely.” Skrimir brings himself to say as he puts out gourmet sandwiches he had ordered for this occasion.

“You’re not used to this huh? It’s okay.” Corrin pats Skrimir’s arm. A smile on his face when he sees Skrimir is now the nervous one.

“Okay. I hope you like this.”

“It looks delicious.” Corrin grabs a simple ham and cheese, and nearly cries at the way the juices fly into his mouth. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Corrin compliments them. “And they are delicious. Where’d you get these?”

“It’s a deli by the office. They have some baked goods but they’re nothing compared to yours.” Skrimir blushes from his own compliment and takes a large chomp out of his sandwich.

“Thank you.” Corrin blushes, not from the compliment, but from Skrimir’s eating habits showing themselves.

“The office loved your food.” Skrimir continues as he takes another large portion of the sandwich before grabbing another one.

“Are you okay? You seem nervous.” Corrin questions as Skrimir takes a large bite.

“I’m fine.” He nearly shouts before catching himself. “I’m not used to something so… relaxed. But I like it!” Skrimir adds, punctuated with a bite.

“I like it too.” Corrin responds, a smile on his face.

Skrimir finishes his second sandwich, reaching for a third.

The date continues along in the same vein, Skrimir too nervous. But both of them pass it enjoyably in the other’s presence. By the time the food is all gone, Skrimir having eaten most of it, Corrin begins packing up.

“Now let’s go before a ranger or someone yells at us for not being in the designated areas.” Swiftly packing it up, Corrin gives a hand to the full Skrimir.

Taking the hand, Skrimir lets out a small huff as he stands up. Both of them freeze when they hear a twig break.

Or at least what they think is a twig. Nothing moves, human or animal. Corrin looks for the culprit and pauses when he sees Skrimir suddenly seems much fuller in his midsection.

Clothes entirely intact, Corrin wonders about what caused such a thing before Skrimir confesses.

“I have gained some weight this past week.” Skrimir admits as he stares at the water. “I wore… a girdle to hide it.”

Corrin lets out a small “oh” as it registers.

“We shou-” Skrimir nearly helps when Corrin places a hand on his stomach.

“I like this.” Corrin decides to admit something today as well. It’s now or never he supposes. “But only if you like this. If not, that’s okay with me.” Corrin elaborates, not wanting to influence Skrimir either way.

Skrimir clears his throat as he takes one deep breath. “I do too.” He admits with his eyes closed, face red as he waits for some cruel laughter. Instead, he receives none, only a kiss on the lips from Corrin.

“Let’s head back then.” Corrin suggests as he leads the way, arm once again entwined with Skrimir.

The walk and the subsequent ride are relatively quiet, Skrimir’s rough grip on his steering wheel the main noise.

Aided by directions from Corrin, Skrimir stops at his house.

“I had a really good time.” Corrin gives Skrimir another kiss as he exits the car. “Hopefully the next one will be soon.” Corrin waves as he watches Skrimir drive off.

When he reaches his home, Skrimir mentally cheers when he sees a notification from Corrin.

—–

“Skrimir is currently in his office.” The receptionist greets Corrin on sight, his presence an increasingly common occurrence.

“Thank you.” Corrin responds. Entering the elevator, he presses the elevator button for the 20th floor. The ride is uneventful with nobody else inside. The elevator dinging, nobody bats an eye as Corrin makes his way to Skrimir’s office. A gentle four pattern knock he uses just for this, Corrin waits the okay. Hearing Skrimir’s muffled voice, Corrin smiles as he enters. Closing the door behind him, Corrin places the box of baked goods on Skrimir’s desk.

Skrimir gives a rough growl as he goes over the paperwork. Sighing, he stands up and gives a hug and kiss to Corrin.

Corrin melts into the embrace as Skrimir’s far fatter form presses against him.

It was evident that Skrimir was a stress eater, and while he could contain himself most times, around Corrin’s baking, those qualms flew out the window. The constant binging was and is taking its toll on Skrimir’s body. Completely gone were his abs to be replaced with flab that developed into a full blown stomach that hangs past his belt. His chest and arms still retain their strength but it’s hidden beneath all the abundant extra padding to soften him up. Skrimir’s face was definitely plumper and gave him a softer more approachable appearance. His legs grew out too, the constant chafing an annoyance from Skrimir.

Skrimir grew and his office and wardrobe expanded with him. Brand new chair to support his weighty and sizable self alongside a desk custom ordered so his gut wouldn’t get in the way. Skrimir’s outfits were no longer tailored exactly for him, both of them deeming it a waste with how often Skrimir grows out of them but his suits were always tailored to fit him. And they do, all leaving none of his expansive girth hidden.

“Rough day?” Corrin asks as he places a hand on Skrimir’s stomach.

“It’s better with you here.” Skrimir plants another kiss on Corrin.

“Well, I better hurry before anyone starts getting any funny ideas of what we do in here.” Corrin reprimands Skrimir as he gives him a kiss.

“I’ll see you after work.” Skrimir says, a smile on his face.

“Got it, love you.” Corrin adds as he leaves.

#fat emblem #male weight gain #male wg #feeder emblem #my writing #corrin's bakery au #skrimir is just perfect #i love him #this is so damn long #fat!skrimir #fat!kaden #fat!keaton #fat!yarne #fat!ranulf

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aion-rsa · 5 years ago

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The Weird History of Monsters vs Marvel Superheroes

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Dracula, Frankenstein, a Werewolf by Night, a Living Mummy have all taken on or teamed up with the heroes of the Marvel Universe.

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The Marvel Universe is known for superheroes but it's also home to some of the greatest classic monsters ever to shamble onto a comic book page. Beginning in the early 1970s, some scary residents moved in.

Marvel has its own Dracula, its own Frankenstein Monster, its own Mummy, its own werewolf (two actually) and even its own Manphibian (kind of like the Creature from the Black Lagoon...but not). These creepy residents lurked in their own little dark corner of the Marvel Universe, but the takeaway here is that they were IN the Marvel Universe and at times these vampires, lycanthropes, and corpses even met the famous heroes of the MU.

So join us my intrepid monster hunters as we recount the ultimate monster mashes and revisit a few special occasions where classic monsters met classic superheroes...

Dracula

Dracula Lives #3 (1973)

by Roy Thomas and Alan Weiss

We already recounted the many times Dracula has stalked the heroes and villains of the Marvel Universe, but there was one team up we missed. Yeah, we know what you’re thinking: Conan and the other Robert E. Howard characters aren’t really part of the Marvel Universe, but listen, Spider-Man meet Kull and Red Sonja, and Spider-Man met Dracula, so this totally counts.

In Dracula Lives! #3 Roy Thomas and Alan Weiss gave us an ancient battle between Dracula and Howard’s famous demon hunter Solomon Kane. For those not familiar with Kane, imagine an Age of Imperialism Puritan Van Helsing that travels the world to spread the word of God while killing vampires and werewolves. Marvel published a bunch of Solomon Kane comics throughout the Bronze Age, and even though Kane had his following, the demon hunter never really caught on like Howard’s famous Cimmerian (probably because his adventures were always a wee bit racist).

read more: 13 Essential Dracula Performances

But in this one magnificent tale, Kane and Dracula clashed! In this Kane adventure, the chaste Kane must navigate the world of vampire seduction and then face off against the Lord of the Vampires his own damn self. Kane kind of kicks Drac’s ass (in Dracula’s own magazine no less), but readers also get a sense of Kane’s honor. You see, earlier in the issue, Dracula saves the Puritan's life. When Kane has Dracula on the ropes, the vampire reminds the honorable Kane that the demon hunter owes the vampire a boon. Kane lets Dracula go which pretty much dooms countless souls for like, the rest of eternity. So whenever Dracula needs a snack and kills some poor hapless soul, that victim can thank Kane for letting the fish off the hook when he was about to stake Dracula for good. Puritans, huh?

Anyway, this story remains a glorious Bronze Age oddity where two unlikely characters smack up against each other in glorious black-and-white.

Frankenstein’s Monster

The lumbering abomination of science known as Frankenstein’s Monster has a pretty long history in comics, one that predates the classic monster’s own comic at Marvel. Marvel’s The Monster of Frankenstein series premiered in 1973, but the bolt-necked behemoth stepped out of the late night picture shows and into the Marvel Universe a few times before it lived in its own feature.

X-Men #40 (1968)

By Roy Thomas and Don Heck

In X-Men #40, artist Don Heck and writer Roy Thomas (there’s that name again, it’s clear that Thomas is, was, and always will be the godfather of Marvel monsters) featured a clash between the X-Men and Frankenstein’s most famous creation.

Well, kinda.

The issue starts off with the X-Men enjoying a day of training in the Danger Room. Suddenly, they are summoned by Professor X who explains that he thinks he has located Frankenstein’s Monster. Professor X reveals that the monster is actually an android and furthermore, the android may have been built by a mutant. Holy Boris Karloff, that’s convoluted! The story would have been better served if Charles Xavier was all like, “I found Frankenstein, go beat him up,” and the X-Men were all like, “Yeah, sure,” and then they fight and stuff. But no, androids, mutants and aliens.

Wait aliens? Oh yah, it gets even more bonkers.

The X-Men attack the android and a big bad fight ensues. Iceman encases the monster in ice because he’s seen a movie or two and this defeats the Frankenstein android. Professor X then discovers that the monstrous android was built by aliens to act as an ambassador to Earth. The monster malfunctioned and went on a rampage thus creating the legend that inspired Mary Shelley to write her book. I like how Marvel took the elegantly simple tale of Frankenstein and made it intensely elaborate.

read more: 13 Essential Mummy Movies

Take this issue of Marvel Two-in-One. Ben Grimm’s best gal Alicia is possessed by an ancient spirit, the Thing and the Living Mummy must team up in order to free Alicia and defeat the evil Nephrus. Well, they don’t so much as team up but appear on a few pages together before the Mummy shambles off into the desert. But it counts, the Living Mummy and the Thing, fighting the good fight together, kinda, almost.

Captain America #361 (1989)

By Mark Gruenwald and Kieron Dwyer

The late, great writer Mark Gruenwald was never one to leave any obscure character unexplored, and he found a way to incorporate the Living Mummy into the bright and shiny world of Captain America. When Cap and his partner and lover Diamondback were hunting down the fabled bloodstones, they convince the Living Mummy to hand over the Bloodgem in a story completely unrelated to Infinity Gauntlet.

read more: 28 Alternative Horror Movies Worth Watching

But there was something incongruously awesome about seeing a guy dressed as the American flag team with a dude dressed up like Boris Karloff’s second most famous monster.

Quasar #46 (1993)

By Mark Gruenwald and Andy Smith

Has everyone been a member of a super team at one point or another? Get this motley crew. Doctor Druid, Shadowoman, the Blazing Skull, and the Living Mummy- otherwise known as Shock Troop! This team of also-rans and never was-es helped Quasar take on the villain known as Quagmire (giggity).

read more: The 31 Best Segments From Horror Anthology Movies

I guess this team quietly disbanded soon afterwards because what else were they supposed to do? Marvel, bring back the Shock Troop. I mean, you’re leaving at least $2.13 on the table here.

Civil War #7 (2007)

By Mark Millar and Steve McNiven

You might think that Living Mummy is small potatoes as far as Marvel monsters goes but he actually took part in the biggest Marvel event of all time. N’Kantu can be seen as part of the anti-registration forces in the climactic battle between Iron Man and Captain America in the first Civil War. Now, imagine how cool it would be if Cap had a mummy on his side (no explanation, just a mummy) in the Civil War film.

The Living Mummy was present during Civil War because like Frankenstein, N’Kantu was a member of the Howling Commandos of SHIELD. The Mummy felt like he was being forced into servitude and not wanting to live the life (or unlife) of a slave, the Living Mummy rebelled. This led to imprisonment and the eventual riot that became the inciting event of the conclusion of Civil War. In the worlds of Ulysses S. Grant, “t’aint a proper Civil War ‘til a Mummy gets involved!” Or something.

Currently, the Living Mummy is a member of the Legion of Monsters and as such has met and fought with and against Deadpool (Deadpool Team-Up #894) and the Red Hulk (Hulk Vol 2 #52) but we just wanted to focus on the Living Mummy as a solo act.

Zombie

Daredevil Annual #9 (1993)

Yup, Marvel has a zombie and his name is Zombie. Well, his name used to be Simon Garth until a voodoo curse transformed poor Garth into the Zombie.

Before zombies were really a thing in comics, Garth starred in the Bronze Age black and white magazine Tales of the Zombie. Unlike the zombies that are turned into jelly by Rick and Michonne in The Walking Dead, Garth maintained his free will. So basically, he’s a rotting, shambling, fresh hungry walking corpse, but he’s fully aware of this situation. That sucks for him.

Garth’s free will was on full display when he helped Daredevil defeat the voodoo queen and sometimes groupie of Kraven the Hunter, the evil Calypso. With all that Walking Dead money floating around, it’s a wonder that Marvel doesn’t do more with its Zombie. But hey, Garth met Daredevil once in this ultra-esoteric annual, so that’s something.

Manphibian

Uncanny Avengers Annual #1 (2014)

By Rick Remender and Paul Renaud

And we conclude with Marvel’s version of the Creature from the Black Lagoon: Manphibian! Man is that fun to say, Manphibian, Manphibian, Manphibian!

Anyway, Manphibian (Manphibian!) is actually an alien being that crash landed on Earth while pursuing the murderer of his mate across the cosmos. Both murderer and Manphibian were tapped on Earth and became monsters of myth and legend. Manphibian appeared in the Frankencastle saga (don't ask) and also joined the Howling Commandos.

read more: A Brief History of the Creature From the Black Lagoon Franchise

But for a very brief moment, Manphibian was a member of his own team of Avengers. In Uncanny Avengers Annual #1, Manphibian joined with Ghost Rider, Doctor Strange, Blade, Satana, and Man-Thing to become the Avengers of the Supernatural. This group of monstrous Avengers teams with the Uncanny Avengers against Mojo and then disbands five minutes later, which is a shame because I would spend good cash money to read about this team on a regular basis.

So there you have it, some classic monsters joining forces with the super heroes that share their world. We’re sure many more monstrous adventure are on the way to the Marvel Universe, so remember, sometimes the things that go bump in the night are just as brave and selfless as the bright and shiny super heroes that get all the press. So be kind to the shambling, snarling creatures of darkness, they deserve love too. Excelsior!

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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Feature Marc Buxton

Oct 14, 2019

Marvel

Dracula

Frankenstein

31 Days of Horror

from Books https://ift.tt/2SpjPBf

#aion-rsa #Books

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antiquechampagne · 5 years ago

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Antique Champagne -CH32-Gone Fishing

Payne suspected a herd of elephants stomping around might make less noise than whatever was parading past the closed office door. She was content ignore everything and bury her head under the cushions until she heard the voices in the hallway filter through.

“… you see it?..” “What the hell…?” “It’s gotta be huge!”

Payne pulled herself upright, her head pounding. She swore her brain was trying to crawl its way out the back of her skull. Stumbling to the door, she cracked it open. A wall of sound and light buffeted her, forcing her to take a step back to steady herself. A gaggle of people appeared to be cramming into Hancock’s room, while others ran up the stairs to the third floor.. Payne grabbed the shoulder of a Watchman as he passed by.

“What’s going on?”

The ghoul turned to her. “There’s some kind of thing, a ship, in the sky. Damnedest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

Payne’s mind tried to latch onto the new information, to categorize it in some meaningful fashion.

A ship? Like a hot air balloon? Dirigible? It was a harder task than she would have like.

“Where’s Hancock?”

“Up top, I think.” he continued on, trying to push past the throng to crane his neck on the balcony Hancock normally would use to address his adoring fans when he gave public addresses.

She trudged up to the third floor. the room was empty except for the ladder leading up into a blazing bright hole. Payne looked up with dread. She didn’t feel like climbing. Not only was she missing her helmet (she must have misplaced it sometime last night). The ladder looked like it stretched about four stories tall, growing as she stared up at it. She closed her eyes and pressing her temples with her palms. Grabbing a Boston Bugle to shade her eyes and headed up. Keeping to the shadow of the cupula, Payne shifted through the small crowd perched on the roof. Everyone was pointing and gawking. Payne found the afternoon sky nauseatingly bright, but all she managed to steal was a few choice glances at the oblong blot on the horizon.

"You're late." grunted a familiar voice next to her. Payne hadn't noticed she had lumbered up next to Fahrenheit.

Payne managed a grunt and nod. "Any idea what it is?"

Before Fahr could answer, Payne felt a hand on her head, tussling her hair.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" Hancock's smile was nearly as brilliant at the sun. "The Brotherhood of Steel knows how to make a entrance, I'll give'em that."

"Brotherhood?" That wasn't the answer Payne was expecting. "Are you sure?"

Fahr crossed her arms. "That's what they were blaring across the 'Wealth. You could have heard it yourself, if you had gotten your ass up here earlier." Great. Fahr was still pissed.

"Give it a break, Fahr." Hancock squeezed Payne's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit." Payne was pretty sure she looked like shit, too. "If it looks like Goodneighbor isn't going to be immediately invaded by these guys..."

Hancock waved her off. "Go get some rest. I'll get you if a bunch of brothers come-a-knocking."

Payne didn't waste any more time. She excused herself, found her things and returned to her own bed.

After a few days, they once again settled back into their old routines, only it was clear to Payne that Hancock was stewing over the new player in the field. He paid handsomely for intel, even sending out scouts to scope out the areas surrounding the Brotherhood's apparent base of operations; the Boston Airport. So far, it appeared they were sending out exploration parties of their own, mostly to tech heavy locales. Payne didn't have all that much experience with them. If she had happened to come across the odd band of them out west, she avoided them. What annoyed her the most was the drone of their vertibirds as they briskly buzzed past town. Luckily, it seemed like Goodneighbor was low on their list of priorities.

One afternoon, a surprise knock on her hotel door startled Payne as she dressed for the day. A watchman told her curtly that the mayor needed to talk to her.

“The Mayor also said to make sure to bring your rifle and extra… um…. juice boxes?”

Confused, Payne rushed through her afternoon routine to arrive at the Old State House a few hours before her shift officially started. On the step, she ran into Hancock and Fahr quarrelling. A backpack lay on the ground next to Hancock’s feet.

“Come on, Fahr! It’ll be fun! When was the last time you let your hair down?” Hancock was trying hard to spread his exuberant attitude to Fahr. From what Payne saw, it was not working.

“This is stupid, Hancock, and you know it.” Fahr’s face was stone-set.

Payne's presence finally registering, Hancock bounded over to her, his eyes twinkling. “See, Payne’s all ready to go! Aren't ya, Sport?”

“What exactly is going on? Where are we going? And don't call me 'Sport'.”

“Spoilsport!" That got him a look. "You’re in for a real treat! We’re going to go for a nice little walk down by the beach. Got the fixin’s for a mirelurk bake, a little booze…” Fahr huffed. “Quit being a party pooper! Payne’s never seen where I grew up. This’ll be a good chance for her to see it!”

Suddenly, Payne’s helmet suddenly felt uncomfortably warm. Hancock wanted to show her his childhood home?

“You only want to stomp around out there to get a closer look at that flying Brotherhood ship!” Fahr sniped back.

Hancock’s smile grew wider. “You wound me, Fahr,” he sassed back.

“And,” Fahr added, “You don’t need all of us to go to sneak a peek. Someone should stay…”

“The town isn’t gonna burn down if we skip out for a night. We're not going to start a freaking settlement out there. You need to relax.” And with that, Hancock grabbed his bag and headed towards the gate, ending the argument. Fahr grumbled, cursing under her breath as she passed, nodding her head to press Payne to follow. Payne just shrugged and took up the rear.

The trio picked their way through the city, careful to avoid raiders and nests of super mutants. They made pretty good time until the buildings started to thin out. There, they started to follow the crumbling highways, the lack of cover making them cautious. Hancock stopped several times to gauge his bearings, the dank sewage smelling sea breeze blew in from the waterfront.

“5 caps says he never finds the place,” scoffed Fahr during one of the pit stops. The giant metal airship loomed in the distance.

“You’re on.” Payne quipped back.

Hancock cocked his head. “I heard you! And it’s this way!” He pointed farther down the beach, his bodyguards shaking their heads, snickering behind him.

Payne found herself focusing on picking her way around the fetid seaweed and rotting animal carcasses when Fahr’s hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks. Hancock had stopped and was digging through his pack.

“Figured those nasty bastards would move in…” he mumbled as he rummaged around. “They were becoming quite the persistent pests before we moved to the city.”

“What?” asked Payne.

“See that shack over there? Around that little alcove?” Payne squinted, trying to see the structure. “Well, that’s it… but it looks like we are going to have to work up a little sweat to get there.”

Sure enough, several clutches of eggs dotted the sand between them and the shack. Hancock pulled a couple of handfuls of frag grenades from the bag, handing a bunch to each of his companions.

With a wink, he took a few of his own. “Light’em up!” Pulling a pin, he let the first one fly. It landed square in the center of the nearest nest. The eggs splattered spectacularly in flames. Payne readied her rifle, while Fahr took aim with more grenades. Like clockwork, the ground started to vibrate and lurch. In a barrage of shrapnel and bullets, the three of them ended up taking down four mirelurks. They dragged the largest one towards the ramshackle assemblage of sheet metal walls. The single room shack had seen better days. Two of the four walls had collapsed, leaving the roof barely attached.

"I know it's not much to look at, but it was home for the three of us for a long time." Hancock hung his hat on a nearby stray nail on the corrugated metal wall. He grabbed a crowbar he had brought along and smiled. Jamming it in between the joints of the mirelurks' carapace, he strained to crack the creatures shell open.

"Give me that. You're just going to destroy the shell, then we won't have anything to cook it in." Fahrenheit shooed him away. Moving the tool along the seam, she started to deftly split the shell with a satisfying series of snaps.

Payne smiled. "Guess that means we're on fire duty." They quickly found enough drift wood and old bits of lumber to have a sizeable fire going by the time Fahr had opened the beast. Payne watched as Hancock and Fahrenheit worked together to clean and carve up the useable meat. They tasked her with filling the bowl of the shell with some water, flavoring it with some of the wine and salty sea water. After that, she set it over the fire to boil. Soon, they sat down to a ample spread of boiled mirelurk, butter and more wine. Payne made sure to stay under the remainder of the roof as she ate, watching the sunset from the shadows. Hancock talked a little bit about his childhood, his favorite pranks and exploits. Conversation soon turned to the Brotherhood and it's looming implications.

"Seems like they have been picking over tech heavy targets." Fahrenheit said between bites. "They have the muscle to take on just about any nasties they find. Mutants, synths, ferals... you name it."

Payne wiped her mouth. "You think they are here because of the Institute? I mean, they have a shit ton of crazy tech."

"Maybe? Wouldn't it be nice if they just went and took care of each other?" Hancock leaned back on his elbows.

"And who do you think would pay the price in that war? Ordinary people." Payne shook her head. "They always do."

"True enough," agreed Fahr.

The night had started to cool off as dusk turned into nearly clear night. Payne moved out to enjoy the warm fire. The airship lit up the sky, a strangely out of place light show. They watched and talked as vertibirds occasionally buzzed to and fro. It seemed to take up most of the sky. The engine noise brought back prewar memories for Payne, like nostalgic music track backing their conversation. Between the presence of the Brotherhood and their clearing of the beach earlier, the area seemed to be blessedly free of hostiles. Against all odds, it was turning out to be a pleasant excursion. Even Fahr seemed to be relaxing a bit. Maybe this trip wouldn't be such a waste of their time after all.

#antiquechampagne #antique champagne #fallout #fallout 4 #fanfic #fan fic #ao3 #hancock #fahrenheit #prydwen #brotherhood of steel #cook out #mirelurk #good ol' fashion fun

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wristic · 6 years ago

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Builder and Beast

Pairing: Hulk & Reader (Not so much X but hey, beauty and the beast motif going on here.) Word Count: 1900 Warnings: Forced into a battle against a big angry green man. You, a simple garbage farmer, do not handle it well. (no blood or anything, just marvel style cinematic violence)

The lid of the mecha armor opened up in a sharp hiss, you standing within it and pulling off the interlinking helmet to a glowing applause. Your heart fluttered, a special kind of praise in seeing the Grandmaster smile at your invention. Quickly hopping down on the well placed arm, you met him a safe distance where he stood, the Grandmaster stroking his chin as he seemed to wonder. You looked on at your mecha made from the scraps of the world, standing above the crowd, patchwork yet intimidating, unpainted to show the different steels and designs. Pride was glowing in you for what you could create in the forgotten garbage coated planet of Sakaar.

“Good good…” The Grandmaster thought allowed, causing you to bow your head bashfully. “You’ll look stunning in the fight.”

All the joy you felt was hit with a brick of ice. Your horrified disbelief went unnoticed in the crowd poking at your invention. The Grandmaster still smiled away imagining the coming championship. The only one to notice was his executioner, a small quirk on her lips at your drained expression. “What?”

Barely tilting his head he finally seemed to get a hint of your confusion. Pointing to your mecha he explained, “Well I’d like to see it in action-”

“I can’t-” You hadn’t meant to interrupt, quickly bowing down a little lower at his raised brow and tried to plead with him in a more submissive level. “Gr-Grandmaster please, I’m a builder not a fighter. I can input algorithms and improve statistics, but I have no knowledge of a warriors instinct.”

“Than this makes it the perfect test!” He chimed, turning back to your suit and thankfully not taking any insult from your behavior. “If your robot is as good as you say, even someone as untalanted in using it as you could come out a winner, right?” Staring at his feet you gulped hard, praying you wouldn’t cover them in this mornings breakfast. You came to sell the mecha, not use it.

“Sir-My Lord-Grandmaster, i-if the price is too high-”

He let out a great long laugh, “Oh you, are, precious. Topaz,” He motioned to his assistant. “Get her ready for tonight games. Great~ Best of luck!” In a fantastic turn he sauntered away to another group show casing another invented or discovered set of weapons. All Topaz had to do was stand beside you, looking up and down with her stone bored face. Your armor seemed so flimsy now, knowing who you’d be set against. Hard to imagine you rooted for him with the rest of the world just last week. Even had some fun merchandise to help inspire you into creating something that could take him one day, but there was very little confidence this mecha could take on the Hulk.

Maybe the Grandmaster knew that.

They cut your hair, slapped on some red and gold to your formally grey interlocking suit. Panic had you running in circles of the unending room until you broke, curled up to the wall and in tears. A man made of stone tried his best to comfort you, saying not so comforting words about a quick death and offering what you questioned was food. “I don’t know what I did to get sent here.” You sniffled into your hands.

“None of us really do anything to deserve to be here.” He chuckled, gently smacking your weary shoulder. “Just gotta be entertainin’, that’s all. You pull that off without dying, you can come hang out with us some more, ay?”

It wasn’t a very uplifting thought.

When the doors finally opened and your name called, the shadow of your towering mecha engulfing, you shrank into yourself hoping to disappear. Krog was helpful in ushering you, in explaining what happened to ‘forfeitures’.

Shaking in your thin boots, the crowd laughed as you snuck out. How could they not. This massive robot before you and you must have looked like a frightened little child stepping out, your face too far away to see the tears. Avoiding all their mocking riot, you found your helmet on the ground waiting. Quickly nabbing and slapping it on your fingers were shaking too much to properly clasp it on, growing frustrated and giving up before rushing to your gaudy red and gold robot, it responding fast to your thoughts, using an arm to lift you inside the cockpit. Once inside, snug tight in familiar lights and smells, you gripped the handles for dear life. The whole mecha staggered to life. However, it responded to your fearful state, clenching and unclenching its giant fists, swaying and looking around at the towering stadium.

The crowd took a shift, calling and cheering, raising their Hulk paraphernalia. Within the helm you started to tremble, the mecha shifting around faster, like an animal backing into the wall and desperately searching out escape. It was dizzying, being thrashed from side to side, up and down, your breathing and eyes so unfocused you barely caught the opponent doors start to open.

When you heard his roar, the mecha stopped, hyper focused on the sound. Before the doors could open all the way him and all his green glory busted through them, the choice mace and ax denting the thick steel out of his way.

All his excitement started dwindling fast at the sight of you, his lumbering steps slowing. The camera enhancing his expression to show his confusion. Big green eyes, more Sapian than you’d ever seen in all his promotions, and… were they green? They looked to have a rim of brown this close…

The confusion took a hard shift into anger, the Hulk calling out, you didn’t even know he could talk, “Ironman?” He stalked toward you, and you stumbled back. “Come to put me to sleep?” He started to rush which only made you stiffen more, the panic putting you at a complete standstill. “No going back!”

As he leapt, bringing both weapons down in a mighty roar, your mecha auto corrected your frozen fear, raising both hands and catching his wrists, the hydraulics in the legs hissing under the strain of his weight and strength. In a gasp of instinct you swung him around, tossing the Hulk back across the ring. In the moment your plan had been to charge and inlay attack after attack, but again, as he stood, you were frozen and awkward.

The voice of the Grandmaster invaded your headset, his annoyance sounding more amused than anything. “I thought that thing had rockets, jet packs, super precision and strength. Don’t be shy, show off a little!” While many words wanted to burst from you all at once, the most you could muster watching the Hulk charge you was a long panicked whine. “Okay, okay, I hear you. Maybe this will help.”

The whole system, the one you were completely surrounded in, erupted in electrical discharge. The body suit and helm protected you but it gave such a startle your hands and feet retracted from the steering handles. By the time you could open your eyes again the Hulk was already there, a big hand covering the screen of the cockpit as he started thrashing you around into the ground.

You imagined the electric shock was meant to kick in some primal defense, instead you stayed curled up in your seat, waiting for the violent roller coaster to end.

Not just the Hulk but the crowd started getting frustrated with the lackluster tactic of your mecha going entirely limp. As he held your robot by it’s head, he brought it close and grabbed the lip of where the cockpit opened. Sparks and crunching metal caused you to scream, curled in tight while the hot air of Sakaar reached you and spotlights poured in.

A strong grip encased your chest, pulling hard, yanking the belts clean from the seat, your helmet slipping off. As he lifted you high out of the safety of your robot you kept screaming, clinging to his big hand, clawing at his wrist as you sobbed harder, “Please! Please please! I was forced into here, I didn’t want to fight I-”

You noticed he hadn’t done anything with you, only watched as you begged and cried. After a few hics you could see the way he analyzed you, that was the only word for it, searching every little inch of your face to know how genuine you were, your little heart slamming against his palm. “Please…” You whimpered, “I’m just an engineer. I just build things. I didn’t want to fight.”

His scowl slowly raised, eyes going wide in such a vulnerable way before roaming the stands. The people held little sympathy for your tears, all shouting “Crush, Crush, Crush,” in a growing hungry chorus.

You flinched as his fingers adjusted, tense as he thought. There was no rage in his expression, only frustration. As he looked into your eyes, only sympathy. In a gentle swing he brought you to his burning chest, cradling you like a kitten in his arms as he walked back to his busted entrance doors.

The stadium filled with the hologram of the Grandmaster, “Hey. Hey! You can’t do that! Where do you think you’re going? Where does he think he’s- you get back here and finish the-”

The Hulk spun back around and roared, louder than the Grandmasters orders and louder than the infuriated audience. His call echoed through the city, gifting a never recalled silence on the world.

Uncovering your ringing ears you looked around, looked up to the hologram. In an exhausted huff and a roll of his eyes, the Grandmaster motioned behind him, “Fine. Keep your little pet.” The giant steel doors tried opening wider but grinded and sparked in place. “Just don’t make a habit out of this, you hear me? You only get this one!”

The corridor grew quiet, the Hulk carrying you away and not saying much. You still trembled, tears still falling, but as he stepped into an elevator you managed to say, “Th-thank you.”

It was then he set you down, patient as it took a moment to put strength in your legs. “Thought you was someone else.” He spoke deeply, but quietly. “He could have fought Hulk. You like, a baby.”

As you wiped your nose you couldn’t stop the offended glare. “I’m just... not a fighter.” Wiping away your tears, “Someone with better knowledge of combat was suppose to wield that robot. It worked brilliantly with Valkyrie in it...”

“Well you not fight again.” He nodded. “You bad at it.”

The elevator stopped, the doors opening to a red and white decorated hall, leading into a room. After a brief need to defend yourself, you sighed. “You’re not wrong.”

Instead of following him out, Hulk gave you a nudge out the elevator. “More fighting for Hulk. You stay safe. Build stuff.” It dawned on you you may not be leaving soon. But there wasn’t much to get back too. Just sifting through a world of junk, trying not to get beaten and robbed by gangs for the things you created and sold as a living. At least under the care of the Grandmasters favored champion you’d know a meal would be coming that week. A grateful smile began creeping on you, the doors closing on him.

Just before the doors slipped shut his hand crashed through and pulled it open to point accusingly at you, “No evil robots!”

It caught you off guard, confused on where the assumption came from. But it wasn’t hard to comply with, “No evil robots. Promise. Just tiny crushable robots.”

He stepped back with a smile, nodding and appreciating you two had an understanding.

#The Hulk #the hulk imagine #bruce banner imagine #avengers imagine

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rhianna · 4 years ago

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AuthorSaki, 1870-1916 TitleBeasts and Super-Beasts ContentsThe she-wolf -- Laura -- The boar-pig -- The Brogue -- The hen -- The open window -- The treasure-ship -- The cobweb -- The lull -- The unkindest blow -- The romancers -- The Schartz-Metterklume method -- The seventh pullet -- The blind spot -- Dusk -- A touch of realism -- Cousin Teresa -- The Yarkand manner -- The Byzantine omelette -- The Feast of Nemesis -- The dreamer -- The quince tree -- The forbidden buzzards -- The stake -- Clovis on parental responsibilities -- A holiday task -- The stalled ox -- The story-teller -- A defensive diamond -- The elk -- Down pens -- The name-day -- The lumber room -- Fur -- The philanthropist and the happy cat -- On approval. LanguageEnglish LoC ClassPR: Language and Literatures: English literature SubjectHumorous stories SubjectSupernatural -- Fiction SubjectShort stories, English CategoryText EBook-No.269 Release DateMay 1, 1995 Copyright StatusPublic domain in the USA.

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zombiescantfly · 7 years ago

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Words About Games: Bloodborne (From Software, 2015)

I wanted to finally do one of these for Dark Souls 3, but realized that I'd finally have to do one for Bloodborne first. This is something I've put off for two years because I wasn't really ready to try to articulate my thoughts about it, but it's time to face these demons and cut them to ribbons in the process.

From Software's deeply, deeply flawed masterpiece of werewolf killing and beast chopping devoured weeks of my attention, and is to date the only game I felt driven enough to 100%. Which is strange, because after two and a half years, I still can't tell if I liked it or not. Let's try to sort through this mess.

I'll start by, as I did with Dark Souls 2, outlining my experience. I played through Bloodborne on three different characters, took one all the way through New Game+, and got the Platinum trophy for getting all the other trophies. I killed Ebreitas, I slogged my way through all the Chalice Dungeons, and I've gone through the game using each weapon for a respectable amount of time. But I never ended up buying the expansion, and I wasn't at all broken up when a random brownout during a loading screen deleted all my saves.

Bloodborne is a game that feels more like two halves of very good but separate games inexpertly mashed together to form a perfectly serviceable single game. It's enjoyable, don't get me wrong; I don't at all regret the time I put into it and have even entertained thoughts of starting over, it's just that I never follow through when I start to think ahead to the second half of the game.

See, Bloodborne starts off as and is sold to you the player as a Victorian-era werewolf/beastman hunting simulator. And for the first chunk of the game, it is. A very good one, too! Combat is speedy and interactive, enemies are grotesque things that were once familiar but now are not, and the environment of a crowded turn-of-the-century English city is a perfect sell.

The gist is that for currently irrelevant reasons, the city of Yarnham partakes in odd medical practices that involve consuming blood in some manner. Can't really say if it's by drinking it, injecting it, or by smearing it all over themselves. You do two of those things. The blood is great at curing diseases, but has the unfortunate side effect of slowly turning people into a whole manner of gross shit, and occasionally the city locks itself up to allow a force of Hunters to come in and clear out the worst of them. A perfectly reasonable setup.

So you go through some impeccably detailed environments, cutting down mutated townsfolk, wolfmen, weird birds, gross dogs, and big lumbering dudes who look like when Mr. Hyde wore a three-piece suit in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

This is easily my favorite part of the game. The level and environment design is among From’s best, with the twists and turns of Central Yarnham sprawling through sewers and into residential areas, over bridges and across areas you'd been in half an hour ago and didn't realize there was more to. Capped off by a stroll through what I consider the best-realized “Spooky Forest” in a videogame that leads to a shortcut back to the starting area that made me relive taking the elevator down from the Parish church back to Firelink, the first big chunk of Bloodborne is expertly presented.

And then you get to Byrgenwerth. Byrgenwerth is the game's Creepy Oxford; hyped up as a massive university where terrible experiments of alchemy and black magic are carried out. It's supposed to be the place where this all started, where the old scholars got their ideas and unleashed this blood plague upon the city while trying to pursue immortality. At this point in the game and pretty much until the end, the game tells you that there is no place more important than Byrgenwerth.

So it's a real shame when you get there and it turns out to be a single room.

Byrgenwerth marks the end of the grounded concept the game started with, as well as the end of my fascination with it. Byrgenwerth marks a massive shift in how the game is presented, how the narrative unfolds, what your purpose is, and why you've come to Yarnham.

Byrgenwerth is where you start fighting aliens.

To be fair, you can do that a tiny bit earlier in the Spooky Forest, down a hidden side path. But once you beat the boss at Byrgenwerth, you get a cutscene that basically tells you “Yes hello now it is time for weird shit” and then you get teleported to a new part of the city. And there are aliens. From this point on, the game ditches the werewolf-hunter angle entirely and makes it all about tracking down this weird baby who’s part alien god or something; Vaati can tell you more about the story if you really care.

Design-wise, it all starts to wobble a bit. Levels become smaller, bosses become less mechanically interesting, and everything starts leaning super heavily on Lovecraft. Weird aliens, possible space-gods, literal body snatchers; it’s all so jarringly different from the first half of the game, and not in a thematically interesting way. It’s just incredibly different.

Okay, so the first part of the game is, again, essentially a massive single level that spirals and crawls all over itself in a way that is extremely satisfying to go through. After Byrgenwerth, you’re shuffled through smaller and smaller levels that are barely connected until you just kind of find yourself at the end of the game. There’s a place called the Lecture Hall that’s supposedly connected to Byrgenwerth, but it’s not anywhere near there, and the two exits on either side of it lead to entirely disconnected areas in The Nightmare Frontier, a place made entirely of bleeding tombstones and poison water, and Nightmare of Mensis, an area that while technically better put together than Lost Izalith, elicits many of the same reactions.

The Lecture Hall is two floors of simple, boxy rooms. Nightmare Frontier is an uninteresting, flat expanse filled with enemies throwing instant-kill projectiles at you. Nightmare of Mensis is a big creepy castle guarded by some of the most annoying enemies in the game and populated with the others. Neither are actually horrible, but the lack of connection to anywhere else is just disappointing. Add in secret bonus areas that are supposed to have a pretty big amount of plot significance like The Orphanage (a single room) or Cainhurst (a big impressive castle that you barely actually go through) and it all just left a bad taste in my mouth the longer I thought about it.

I said at the beginning that the game felt like two halves of other games inexpertly stitched together. What I mean by that is that the story of that first game didn't seem done being told. There was still a lot of mileage I felt that could have been gotten out of the setting, and instead of giving it a satisfying conclusion that rolled naturally into the second half, it was rather unceremoniously cut short to make room for this new thing that suddenly came into existence. And the problem then with that new thing is that it didn't seem to have nearly as much care and attention put into as did the thing that had just been yanked offstage Vaudeville style, complete with comically oversized shepherd's crook.

My personal preference, then, is that the entire game would have been about this creepy blood plague people get from drinking weird fluids they found in an ancient catacomb. It could have even gone the alien angle later, maybe saving that for the last third or even the last quarter of the game rather than an entire half. There just seemed to be so little to go around in the latter half, while the first part still seemed brimming with ideas. Instead of having us get transported to a secret sealed-off part of the city, have us go down into those catacombs and find what started this whole thing; make the last bit of the game one frantic rush to just barely touch the surface of what's really going on in Yarnham.

But oh wait, they tried that.

Yes, enter the Chalice Dungeons, a system for making procedurally-generated maps and mazes to fight through! Only the finest square hallways and maddeningly repetitive rooms here, filled full of enemies that didn't make the cut for the main game! Grind for hours to gather materials to make a new map, all for a chance to find a marginally better Diablo 2-style insertable weapon gem! Chase that +1.3% increased critical damage, good Hunter!

In a word, Chalice Dungeons are shit. But they're ignorable shit, there solely for those who find joy in them and the treasure hunting they allow. Or they would be, if the true final boss of the game wasn't locked in there four-deep.

Throughout the game, you're occasionally given new chalices from boss encounters. They don't do anything on their own, and are there only to participate in this system. But you can't just put them on their little altars and hop over to the maps they control, no no no. You need crafting materials to make the maps, even the ones that aren't procedurally-generated that make up the four story-relevant ones. You get . . . most of them along the normal course of the game, either through drops from specific bosses or as out-of-the-way item pickups. Others drop from enemies, so draw your own conclusions there.

The story-relevant dungeons are at least hand-crafted, but it doesn’t do a lot to get rid of the issues. There’s no real theme beyond “blocky dungeon,” even when mildly-different tilesets add environmental decals and different decorations. You have a short hallway, a long hallway, an L-shaped hallway, three or four flavors of rooms with enemies in the same places each time, two different trap rooms, and two different big setpiece rooms. To their credit, they do (sometimes) populate the dungeons with unique enemies and bosses, but as I said above, a lot of the stuff you can only find in Chalice Dungeons feel like leftovers from scrapped main-game content.

I don’t know what the Chalice Dungeons were supposed to be. Maybe they were supposed to be a side project that got rolled into Bloodborne when the deadline started to loom, maybe they were supposed to be way more involved and part of a more complex post-game, or maybe they were just supposed to be a neat distraction for people who wanted more. But the problem with that last one is that you are forced to go through four of these things to get the true final boss, and they are anything but short. Each dungeon is pretty sizeable, certainly larger that some lategame areas in the main game, and the challenge they pose is on par with the rest (unless we’re talking about Cursed Pthumerian, holy shit that was painful). I could understand having to go through one heavily-curated dungeon as a way for From to say “hey, come check these out!” But that there are four of them that make a hefty demand on your time and resources, I just don’t know. To make it even worse, enemies in Chalice Dungeons only drop materials for crafting new dungeons. No dungeon-specific weapons or armor in the four of them to reward you, only dungeon crafting materials and those randomized weapon gems for nigh-inconsequential bonuses. There’s just no tangible bonus for doing these things past what it takes to fight the end boss.

And speaking of resources, let’s dive into that. The game does away with Dark Souls’ Estus Flask - the rechargeable, always-available but limited healing option. Instead, we’re taken back to Demon’s Souls-style consumable healing items, with a couple caveats. There’s only one type, you can only carry 20 at a time, they increase in price from vendors as the game goes on, and later-game enemies, for the most part, simply do not drop them.

I realize I’ve not actually spent much time on the game’s mechanics, so let me jump back a second to talk about the Regain system. Combat in Bloodborne was, at the time, much faster than anything in any of the Souls games. Rather than focusing on slower, more cautious and methodical combat, Bloodborne fully expects you to trade hits with the enemies. Combat is rapid; your roll is replaced by quick-stepping in any given direction, leading to dodges that cover less distance but that treat avoiding damage as secondary to repositioning. Even the largest weapons swing quickly, and most hits stagger enemies just enough that the game wants you to dance around groups of them, using a series of unrelenting attacks to manage the crowd rather than waiting behind a shield for your opening. So when you do inevitably get hit, the game doesn’t want you retreating, it wants you to jump right back in there and earn your health back. For a short but generous-enough time after taking damage, hitting the enemy will heal you for up to the amount you were at before, and it’s absolutely possible to fully negate the effects of a swipe to the gut.

So with that in mind, having 20 Blood Vials that instantly-regenerate 40% of your total HP seems reasonable, and it is for much of the game. Coincidentally, the first half of the game. Early on, you often face groups of 5 or so enemies at once, or individual ones that are slower. There, the system works great. Do a bit of damage, trade a few hits, dash back and use a single Blood Vial to give yourself a safety net, hop back in to finish everyone off. Get a couple vials back off the enemies as a prize. Later though, you’re facing down enemies mostly by themselves or with only one other, and they hit much harder while still being fast. It becomes a lot riskier to try to get the full heal off the Regain system, so maybe you want to dash out and pop a vial. As you go on through the later levels, it can be a pretty common occurrence to see your Blood Vial counter dwindling; not out of any real fault of your own for not playing well enough, but just because the game, again, expects you to trade hits, and has now changed how your damage matches up versus your enemy’s.

You can store up to 600 extra vials in your storage box at home base, and your personal stock of 20 is replenished from that total when you respawn or go to a different area, so it’s not like you have to rush back to buy 20 more every time you use them up. But you do definitely find yourself running out faster at the end of the game than you were previously. You can only Regain the effects of the most recent hit you take, and nothing past it. So if an enemy has, say, an uninterruptable frenzy attack that does multiple hits you can’t escape from for a small amount of damage each hit, well . . . Blood Vials are the only way to regenerate health you’ve fully lost. In Dark Souls, topping yourself up before a tough enemy encounter was a reasonable thing, because you’d get that estus back at the next bonfire. In Demon’s Souls, chowing down on some Half-Moon Grass beforehand was fine, you were carrying 80 of the damn things, plus dozens of the other types. Dark Souls 2 gave you Lifegems to make up for a smaller stock of estus, and even the King’s Field games had refillable health potions mixed with findable and buyable Earth Herbs. Plus, each of those games had healing magic. Bloodborne has “fight for the health you just lost” or “heal 40% of your HP, 20 times.” Yes, as I said before, you can in fact buy more vials, but the increasing price combined with the carry limit make it difficult to rely on getting them that way.

The game treats bullets much the same way. Oh, right, you have a gun in Bloodborne. You use to parry enemies, don’t worry about it. Like Blood Vials, you can carry 20 on you at a time. But you don’t just use them to shoot stuff, you also use them as ammunition for certain special attacks, or to cast spells. So I’ll just come right out and say it, doing “a mage build” in Bloodborne is pretty much a waste of everyone’s time. You don’t get useful spells until halfway through the game, and you cannot reasonably hope to defeat enemies with magic because you simply don’t carry enough bullets to make it happen.

So, bullets. Enemies at least drop them a little more generously than they do vials, and there’s a nifty little thing From put in the game to help you out. At any time, you can press a button to sacrifice 30% of your health for 5 extra bullets. It’s a neat system, it plays nicely with Regain, and it helps you conserve resources. No complaints there.

Alright, I’ll be honest here. I’d taken a step away from this massive wall of text for a few weeks, and I think it’s best to just close the book on the whole thing. If I haven’t been able to show you that my thought on Bloodborne are super conflicted by now, it won’t happen even if I write another five pages.

Bloodborne is a great game. Combat is fast and responsive, the graphics are superb, the aesthetic is wonderfully realized, the level design starts off so strong, and the difficulty feels natural. But Bloodborne is also a mess. Some systems feel half-baked, the superb graphics combined with too much post-processing leads to slowdown fairly easily, the level design turns to garbage in the lategame, Chalice Dungeons were a mistake, and the game clearly has no idea what it wants to do with itself. For the third time, it feels like two different, unfinished ideas were mushed together to make a technically finished product, but it just ends up feeling like you’re awkwardly stepping from one to the other.

What I’ve felt about Bloodborne from the first time I finished it is that From had a lot of ideas, but spent far, far too long fleshing them out before actually considering how they would function as a game. They allegedly started working on it while Dark Souls 1’s Artorias of the Abyss expansion was being made, which gives them around three years to have put the entire thing together. Quite long for a modern game, but considering that so much changed from the Project Beast trailer that came out 7 months prior to Bloodborne’s release, I just don’t know.

So much stuff feels like it was cobbled together at the last minute. It feels genuinely unfinished on a conceptual level. The actual mechanical gameplay doesn’t suffer for it, but something definitely feels missing from every other part of the game. Maybe we’ll see it again some day, like March of 2016, or April if you don’t live in Japan. And then two weeks later on PC for no reason.

#bloodborne #fromsoft #from software #sony #souls #words about games #videogame #videogame review

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