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catiuskaa · 1 year ago

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shoot on sight [straight through my heart]

TROPE! enemies2lovers crack+smut?, inspired by a post in Pinterest I can’t find~! —angy noises—p.d. nvm: here it is -not angy noises-

and it’s also a way of making me post after Hannie’s n Lix’s birthday!! \(๑>◡<๑)/

PROMPT: “Take me to laser tag, push me against a corner, pin me to the wall and make out with me, then shoot me and walk away.”

WC: 5k.

CW: language, mentions of dacryphilia, mentions of spanking, bullshit n crack in almost every dialogue, alcohol, they’re both drunk but it’s ok, then I got carried away: mentions of public sex, use of pet names “sweetheart, kitten” (IK BUT SPARE ME, IT'S MINHO OK, I HAD TO), fingering (f), oral (f), hand kink?, panty stealing "borrowing". (I really NEED to touch some grass...)

Don’t forget to have fun, my loves!

[☆ ☆ 👾 ☆ ☆]

"Minho, there’s something we need to talk about," you mentioned almost in a whisper, being careful not to be eavesdropped by accident by the rest of the crew, who were too bothered choosing who would need to call for an Uber.

It was kind of a weird statement, the one a quiet yet mean part of your brain came up with as you stared at one of the guests at Han and Felix’s birthday party.

You’d denied it if asked, just for the sake of your shared friends, but the only thing you’d like there to be between Lee Minho and yourself was a dense, thick concrete wall. As dense as the man’s mind: you enjoyed lying to yourself and pretending that he couldn’t take a hint regarding your attitude towards each other.

But no. The disgustingly oh-so-attractive man who had been staring at you from afar as the group divided themselves on how to go to where Chan had booked —pfft, no, you were sure he was fully aware of the effect he had on you, making your blood feel like raging fire in your veins as his mocking set you aflame as fast as a matchstick.

“Oh, really?” He questioned with a smug smile, yet wrinkled brows in confusion.

“It’s their party, and I don’t want to ruin the fun for ‘em. So I think we should call for a recess. A truce.”

He blinked, the smile on his face losing intensity. You dragged your hand through your face, wondering what was so difficult for him not to understand.

“I mean no fighting. Just for today, if you feel like it’s that hard to not resent me and bicker out loud,” you said in a huff, pouting unconsciously.

His act dropped altogether, and he stared at you, puzzled. “Resent you?” He repeated, as if the sole idea of you and hate in the same sentence was pure madness.

You let out a dry chuckle, feeling your chest tightening. The least he could do was accept it, but he had the nerve to play dumb? Your shoulders tensed up, and you had to force yourself to stay calm, sighing quite loudly. God, maybe the night was going to be harder than planned.

“It’s obvious you don’t like me, but still, I think we could drop it for Han and Lix.” You mentioned roughly, noticing someone approaching you two, and quickly approached him further, setting a big smile on your face. He remained baffled, eyes lost somewhere you couldn't reach.

"Hate you? I-"

Han approached you two, a huge smile on his face. You smiled back, your hand travelling to Minho’s and giving it a big squeeze, as if signing peace for the day, ending the discussion and making him stop mid-sentence.

“C’mon, guys!” Han cheered, passing an arm around your shoulders, separating you from Minho and arriving with you to the parking lot.

Coming down the cars, the group followed Chan and Seungmin, who knew the place and had been there before.

“Welcome to Blackout Lazz! How can I help you guys?”

Chan mentioned the booking he had made, and when all was settled, everyone was instructed to enter a different room with a whole new vibe, purple lights reflecting neon designs that looked like graffiti in what resembled an abandoned urban location. The girl from the entrance explained that the group would have to be separated into two teams. Han and Felix decided they’d lead separately, then chose members.

Felix’s team was Chan, Seungmin, Jeongin, and you, whereas Han’s consisted of Minho, Changbin and Hyunjin. You laughed as Hyunjin complained about the extra member of your team.

“Deal with it, Jin!” You giggled, teasing, team Felix sitting on the other side of the room, who had large benches in a sort of staircase design, allowing everyone to have a seat.

“Don’t worry, Hyunjin, they need another member because they wouldn’t be able to compete with us if it was a fair fight.”

You tensed your jaw as you burnt holes in Minho’s neck, Han chuckling and high-fiving his friend.

What a bitch.

You noticed him looking at you from above his shoulder and winking at you.

boi-?!

“Okay! I’ll explain the game quickly just in case,” the employee from the desk smiled sheepishly, and you let out a sigh, trying to keep your anger for the game, hearing what the girl was saying.

In summary, everyone had three weak points: the chest, the back and the head. Each player started with three possible resets, meaning that after being shot on each weak point, they’d have another life, much like any game. The score worked depending on how many weak points you hit and how many players you could reset or eliminate. The back counted the least, then the chest and the most was the head because of how tricky it could be to aim.

Everyone started teasing and mocking the other group as another door opened, helping the team members to tie and put correctly the gear.

“Your gun will tell you how many lives you have left, and its light will turn red if you get shot at. To recharge bullets, aim down then press the button at the side.” She explained, passing a keycard over all of the guns, and turning them on. “If anything happens with the gear, this area will remain open and I’ll be here to reset your weapons or help you,” she explained, then hesitated before adding. “Refrain from practicing difficult stunts. Running is fine, but still, be careful,” she said in a huff, still smiling knowingly, and you all giggled lowly, as if she had ruined plans already made.

She passed said keycard over a panel, making another door open. Each gun turned a different colour, Lix’s team yellow and Han’s purple. They decided to play rock, paper, scissors to see which team could go in first.

“Hey there,” Minho whispered behind you, making you jump in your place, startled because of him, his voice, and how the fuck he could be so stealthy some time.

To you, it was always him.

You frowned, but before you could say anything, he smiled slyly. “Truce or not, it won’t make a difference to how I’m going to beat you today.”

You let out a dry cackle.

“Am I going to end up crying because of you? Maybe ending up getting spanked for losing?” You mocked, watching his shit-eating grin grow bigger on his face.

“Oh, most definitely,” he said, smug. “You’ll hate it.”

The mean laugh you let out confused him a bit. “Quite the contrary, honestly” you teased. “It adds to the kink list.”

You stared at the two birthday boys with a small yet naughty smile. It would have been more of a quote, rather than you couldn't pinpoint who had said it before, but a particular sentence suddenly floated its way into your mind.

If you keep shoving an animal into a cage, one of these days, it's going to fight back.

Having kept all to yourself, you were certainly going to use this as an opportunity to get your revenge and make Minho meet his doom.

Felix had won (as usual), and you smiled at Minho, showing off your middle finger as he stared at you with wide eyes, still assuming what you had said a minute ago. It certainly had to be the effect of the purple light and the smoke machine that worked just at the entrance of the playroom, but if you didn’t know better, you would’ve said he was blushing.

Nah. You shook your head sideways, scanning the area.

Several paths and entrances covered the place, some access to higher levels hidden behind walls and other different materials that contributed to the theme planned, toxic-appearing barrels laying around in a specific order, yellow do-not-cross tapes broken in some door to add to the eerie atmosphere. Smoke from different machines covered parts of the playroom, purple and white lights being the only illumination in every hallway.

“We need people upstairs,” Chan mentioned with a mischievous smile, known to be the pro at laser tag, running as fast as he did.

Felix nodded almost aggressively, the helmet being a bit big on him, making him look rather goofy. You giggled to yourself.

“Yeah. There are three levels." He said, almost to himself. "Maybe Innie and Chan Hyung could stay in this one, then…”

“Seungmin and I can take the third floor,” you said, almost dramatically, fist-bumping him, both smiling almost sadistically. “You guys can swap and buzz around first and second. Sounds ok?”

As everyone was happy, the team separated itself, each player looking for places to hide until the other team showed up.

“Minnie,” you called, stopping him from going further into the third floor. “You can stay close to this way up, and I’ll look for another one,” you offered, and he nodded, smiling widely.

“Let’s make them eat dirt!” You both celebrated, laughing, then separated again.

Sounds coming from the lower levels, loud steps and gunshots accompanied by screams and noisy laughs made their way up, not reverberating, but still loud enough to make you smile cheekily, already excited.

You kept looking for another way down, but then you heard a gunshot, and your back buzzed, your gun quickly glowing red.

You turned around, hearing a noisy, “YOOOHH BITCHES!” and couldn’t help but laugh loudly.

“Changbin, you traitor!” You shouted, running behind him. “I’ll sell my Dwaekki plushie on Ebay!”

You stopped the chase, panting. A thought came to mind that it had been suicide to play a running and reflexes-related game with people who lived for the gym and sports, or at least most of them.

Spotting Hyunjin, you smiled meanly when you shot him in the back.

“WHAT?!” He screamed, confused. "I DON'T GET THIS GAME!""

Your face was red from all the laughing and running, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. After a bit, you had shot Hyunjin around four times, Han three, and got your revenge on Changbin by getting his last shot and eliminating him. But you hadn’t been able to find the one person you wanted to fight against the most.

Your team wasn’t too much better than the rival. Chan stood firm, only having two shots left, but if you were correct, Lixxie was at one hit, and you and Seungmin were close to that, too. Jeongin was probably playing UNO with Changbin outside.

“Where is this bitch hiding?” You panted, running around before encountering Lix, whose face was red from all the exercise, his hair messily tied up. Now, as a duo, you scanned the second floor for the tenth time.

“Have you seen Minho?” You inquired, and let out a sly smile when he nodded.

“I heard him tell Han he’s almost out, but he’s using Hyunjin as a shield, so that’s that,” you both laughed, he stayed looking around as you layed on a wall, catching your breath.

All of a sudden, he let out a gasp, his gun glowing red.

“From the back?!” He groaned loudly, whispering insults as he tried to place who had shot his final.

“Man, you’re as bad as in League,” you mocked, wheezing, as he rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Say whatever, but if I’m out, you’re alone. Good luck with that fucking camper!”

You grinned, staying behind that wall, knowing that whoever had eliminated Felix couldn’t reach you from that angle.

Minutes passed in what felt like hours. Soon enough, you and Chan were the only ones left in team Felix, and Minho was the remaining soldier fighting for team Han.

“Let’s divide again, there’s only ten minutes left,” Chan said in a huff.

You started lazily running away, but then heard gunshots from behind, Chan’s laugh almost echoing in the playroom.

“Don’t let that cheater win!” He screamed before heading to the exit.

There were seven minutes left.

It was almost anxiety-threatening, roaming around each and every nook and cranny of the place, unable to find Minho.

A static-like sound came from several speakers on the walls.

“The remaining players will play in Blackout mode! Let it be a one-shot winner!” the voice said, sounding similar to the girl from the entrance. “No campers allowed, team Han!”

The white lights suddenly turned off, leaving you alone in a purple-illuminated space. You sucked air in from your teeth, your body tensing. That was good because now you could find him, but at the same time, it wasn't. Now, there was no chance of you knowing where or when he would strike, the light not actually doing anything except colouring the playroom.

You started walking around aimlessly, passing your hand through your hair in a nervous tick from time to time. Until you got to a dead-end.

It was a big room at the end of a hallway, close enough to the exit that you were sure Minho wouldn’t think about searching inside, spacious enough to hold different walls and obstacles to hide and take cover.

In your head, he should’ve been struggling for a while before finding you, letting you shoot easily at him the moment he’d find you.

Instead, a sudden presence approached you from behind. You felt his body pressed on yours, and before you could even aim or shoot, he quickly gripped the hand you held your gun with, separating it from him as he turned you around, now facing him.

There was no place for what or any insults you could’ve thought of as he sharply and decisively trapped your lips with his.

You let out a confused sound, his touch feeling almost abrasive as you had been sweating for what felt like days but had only been half an hour, the taste of his lips so weirdly enticing that even if you hadn’t moved, it strangely made you crave for more.

He stopped and backed away when he noticed you stayed still, but in a rushed impulse, you took him from the collar of his shirt with your free hand, the other one still under his, gun in hand, and pulled him back in.

You felt him smile in the kiss, pressing you a bit more against the wall behind you as it started growing more intense, deeper by every second. Your free hand laid on his chest, allowing you to notice his heart racing in a rhythm you didn't expect —but even if you didn’t know just yet, the reason for his racing heartbeat wasn't the whole 'shoot on sight” deal. It was you.

To him, it was always you.

You broke the kiss, trying to assume what had just happened. It felt impossible, yet it still made your insides churn and turn, and it had only been a kiss.

You had always secretly wished for a concrete wall between him and you, yet funnily enough, it sat behind you, allowing him to keep you in his arms, and you, not even thinking of pushing him away.

The air seemed to crackle with anticipation. The tension in the purple-lit room was palpable, like a storm about to break. His dark eyes locked with yours in a passionate gaze and then, with a sudden surge of longing, met you halfway, closing the gap.

Your mouths met, not in a gentle or hesitant manner, but with an almost reckless abandon. It was as if a fuse had been lit, and even if you still felt like a matchstick being turned on, this had a way different meaning in your head now. You could've sworn it had changed your brain chemistry.

The sensation was intense, like being caught in the midst of a raging wildfire. Tongues that danced in a wild, untamed rhythm, tasting the heat and desire that enveloped them, fueled by the rage, the adrenaline, the sudden desire that started to creep out from its cage. It was a kiss that left you both breathless, their hearts racing, and their bodies tingling with a shared, burning intensity.

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed, lost in the flames of the moment, until you pushed him slightly to catch some air.

His grip on you lost tension as he stayed still, almost panting.

“Players! There’s only one minute left!”

You bit your lip slightly, but right before you could react, he directed his gun towards your chest, and shot you.

You stared at him in disbelief, wide eyes and mouth shyly parted.

“That has got to be cheating.” You muttered.

He smiled slyly, aproaching you again, settling his free hand on the wall behind you, trapping you back.

He gave you a small peck.

“Pfft. Sue me, kitten.”

Walking towards the exit, he winked before dissapearing behind the walls, leaving.

[☆ ☆ 👾 ☆ ☆]

“How does it feel? The loss? The pain?” Han mentioned smugly as you came back from the toilet, now wearing a simple skirt and a top as Jisung cockily pranced around, as if he had been the one that had given you your last shot when of course, it had to be Minho.

Thinking about him made you bite your lip. He was nowhere to be found, and it was eating you from your insides. In the best way possible, of course, ‘cause thanks to him, the game had ended with you in a… particular situation.

You sat, and rubbed your thighs together, but still deadpanned at Jisung.

“Shut the fuck up, you were eliminated before we even reached 15 minutes. Game lastes 30. Let that sink in, birthday moron,” you smirked.

Laughing at his fake childish sadness, you tried to forget about what had happened in the playroom. How he had settled his thigh in between yours. How he had bit your lips, then softly passed his tongue over, almost soothing. How he had pushed you against the wall, caging you between it and his broad figure. How he…

“Hey, you ok?” Felix approached, a sheepish grin on his features, yet brows arched in what you then recognised as worry. “Your face is all red. Here, have some water.”

Just after he had mentioned it, you felt your cheeks hot, and acknowledged your warm state. You wished they hadn’t turned even more red when you blinked awkwardly at the realization, hoping to drown as you drinked from what he had handed you.

“Thanks, Lix. So… what’s the plan?”

“Mmhm… Jisung wants to go get drunk, his words, not mine,” he smiled. “His argument is that winners choose, and honestly, I can’t really argue about that,” his hand brushed his hair back as he laughed softly.

Everyone gathered in a resting space crowded with sofas, in the main area of the building, after Chan and Minho had called for an Uber.

That’s when you saw him again, and you had never imagined the thoughts that would instantly crawl their way to your mind —which was something, considering the wide range that your imagination could reach sometimes.

In that moment, it was as if the relization hit you, bluntly and unexpected, having been hidden and buried under piles of childish arguments and pride.

But god, after what had happened, you couldn’t help but accept your fate.

The man looked absolutely scrumptious.

“Do you mind?” He asked, getting close to you.

His lips, full and enticing, made you lick your own. You couldn’t help but think if its intense pinkish colour had always been like that or if it had been something more recent, something like yours on him, nibbing, kissing—

“Mmhm?” You pondered, still lost in your thoughts, not understanding.

“I want to sit, idiot.” He gestured to the small yet free space next to you, grin shining on his face. You blinked, cheeks further red, and scooched over the other side, making space for him.

You body tensed up when his hand grazed your leg. It was as if he had turned off a switch you didn’t know existed, making you unable to focus on anything else, the small chat that the group was having already forgotten.

He gave you a quick glance, as if checking if you looked uncomfortable, but you didn’t dare to say anything. Instead, when you felt like he was going to move his hand away, you rushed yours over it, shyly sliding it a bit further on your thigh.

He almost choked with his own saliva, quickly grunting and clearing his throat, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, Earth calling to Minho…?”

Both of you turned to face Changbin. He had a smirk on his face that lasted no longer than a blink, but you felt that maybe there was something you were not getting.

“You guys weren’t paying attention, so you’re stuck to go on Uber,” Seungmin said as he put his jacket on. “Han, Hyunjin, Chan, Changbin and me are taking the old man’s car.”

“Seungmin, that’s treason!”

“Fuck off!” He laughed, leaving.

The car ride had a special tension between Minho and you, again, sitting next to each other, his hand drawing patterns midlessly on your upper thigh that made you bite your lip the whole journey to the bar.

Getting off the vehicle, the cold night air hugged you tightly, the warm, fuzzy feeling inside you not leaving fully.

“Girl, c’mere! We’re doing shots!” Hyunjin took you by your arm, dragging you inside and close to the bartender, who served you your drinks with in an amazing speed.

Drink after drink, the dizziness in your body grew more intense. You chugged each glass hoping to make this new feeling of longing and desperation go away, but as you both stared at each other even when in opposites sides of the bar, the sensation took over your body as he eye-fucked you across the dance floor.

Hyunjin ditched you quickly, as drunk as he was, not really on purpose, rather just too into the music that the crowd separated you from him, but you were quickly surrounded by another body.

It wasn’t who you thought —or wished, much to what a much sober, small and confused part of your brain still struggled to grasp—, his touch not feeling as warm as back in the playroom.

This new guy smiled at you when you turned around, as if saying ‘hey, girl.’ Maybe he had even said it, but you hadn’t heard it due to the loud music blasting on the place.

Or because you stumbled and crashed against another hard and lean surface, one that sneakly settled a hand on your waist, moving you further against him.

“Mine,” he stated, and you didn’t know why but in that moment the sureness in his voice made you almost tremble —or however the fuck it was called, but with the amount of booze in your head, you didn’t care.

The guy frowned, but fortunately was quickly taken by another man, who smiled uncomfortably, leaving as he mumbled what sounded like scolding to his friend.

You laughed goofily at the sight, not noticing how Minho pulled you from your wrist until you had left the crowd and as he let you use him as a way of stabilizing yourself.

He couldn’t lie to himself, he had to be drunk too, maybe not as bad as you were, but he definetely was, or he wouldn’t have been able to pull of what had happened two minutes ago.

“It’s so hot in here…” you whined childishly. He guided you to the bathrooms —or what he guessed was the bathroom— and let you find your way towards the sink, as you splashed water on your face.

The main area of the bathroom was a shelf-like sink with a big mirror. Behind you and Minho, two different doors, one for men, and one for women, and to your left, the one for physically disabled people

“What was that in the dance floor?” He wondered, staring at you through the mirror.

You turned around, laying your weight on the sink, showing off a smirky grin. “Well, he showed up. And with you leaving me as horny as I feel, I think it is bound to happen that I may have some fun tonight.”

“With him? In that skirt?” He grunted, not really showing if he thought of the idea as something funny or stupid.

“I mean, you haven’t done too much to give me other options, no?”

In large but painfully slow steps, his hands laid next to your body, by your sides, leaning in so you’d be face to face.

“Really? I haven’t?” He murmured, eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips, licking his own. He let out a chuckle when you shook your head sideways. “What if… I offer myself as an option?”

You smiled, giggling, the alcohol not letting you fully control the emotions you chose to display.

“You’d like that, huh?” He teased, his breath smelling like a mix of drinks that you suddenly craved more than anything.

You hands traveled to the neck of his shirt. “Am I that transparent?”

The moment you pulled and met him half way, you never realized how hard it would be to stop.

His hands roamed over his favourite areas of your body, which seemed to be all of them. Uncontrolled sounds creeped out as his lips traced open-mouthed kisses on your neck, moving up to lick behind your earlobe. You felt your body weaken at the sensation of his lips.

"Did you enjoy it?"

His question, as well as the alcohol running down your blood, baffled you, not letting you understand. "W-What?"

"Leaving me so fucking hard, sweetheart. You owe me one."

Bitting your lip as his actions grew intense, you stared at him.

"I never asked you... to leave."

He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck.

"I'm not leaving now..."

"B-but this is just... revenge..." biting your lip harder didn't cover the sounds you were making, but Minho loved every one of them.

"Revenge?" You feel him smile on your skin, his hand lowering towards your ass, shamelessly gripping and fondling it under your skirt. You tremble in his arms. "That's a strong word... but no, I don't want that..."

You lick your lips, trying to soften them after biting too hard, feeling a small dent mark on them, knowing your lipstick has got to be everywhere except your lips— Minho's now coloured in the same soft cherry colour, looking glossy and pink and so goddam kissable.

"Then what do you want?"

His hands trailed mindless figures, marking a path to where you both knew you needed him the most, and you visibly shook when he graced his hand over it, softly stroking your inner thighs.

Okay, that was very clear.

Your mind flashes thoughts of you hating him, and a small part of you doesn't know why you're letting him touch you like this, but as his hand goes below your skirt and above and his fingers start moving softly over your underwear, you choose to make future you worry about the outcomes.

Tonight's main course is him and his beautiful hands torturing you with pleasure.

Minho groans slightly, and you could swear it's the best sound you've ever heard. "God, you feel so wet already..." You whine as he keeps a dreadfully slow pace, moving his hand in small circles, and his words only make the pleasure pool in your lower belly.

"Minho..." You moaned because not one of you cared if he just dragged you inside the bathroom to finger you when everyone was partying and dancing right next door.

He hummed, grinning, so close to you that you felt the alcohol breath surround you, almost as if you were drinking it yourself.

"Sweetheart."

His voice was not the cockily and irritating automatic voice you were used to when bickering and teasing. Instead, it was low, full of lust, and his breathing was so close to erratic that you almost laugh in disbelief. This wasn’t what you had planned for today. No, you would've never thought of this, but right now, there was nothing you'd rather be doing.

"Want me to put my fingers inside you? To make this pretty pussy mine? Yes? Use your words, kitten," he teases. “I know you can.”

You could feel every word, every syllable, all over your skin as goosebumps spread through your body.

You nodded eagerly and managed to mutter out a quiet "yes," and as soon as he started moving, you knew you wouldn’t last shit.

You were a mess, moaning and shaking uncontrollably, not sober enough to notice when he pulled your panties down just enough so he could start a full-on make-out with your "pretty pussy"— his words, not mine.

His face was buried deep between your thighs and half-hidden under your skirt, as his only free hand sank into your ass, squeezing it as he sucked your clit into his mouth in a way that made you forget not only left or right, but also up and down.

His pace increased as he coordinated his fingers with his tongue, and it was game over. if he hadn't been holding your body, you knew your legs wouldn't have supported you through it. You whimpered and moaned, not even getting to warn him as pleasure and heat flooded your entire body.

With a pleased smile on his face, Minho leaned back, removing his fingers from inside you, not flinching once as he locked his eyes with yours and sucked his fingers into his mouth.

Mind still in bliss, you let out a whine, back to biting your lip, taking his face in your hands and crashing your lips on his, tasting you on his tongue.

“Sweetheart," he whispered almost on your lips.

He bent again, giving a small tap on your ankles.

The black-laced fabric that had been covering you before was now deep inside his pocket.

"M-Minho...!"

He chuckled, fixing your hair in soft movements.

"Let's leave before I fuck you in a bathroom stall."

"But my panties—"

He placed a finger on your lips, shushing you with a smug smirk.

"Mine. Keepin' 'em for later. Now, c'mon, before you make me even crazier."

[hard hours]

[☆ ☆ 👾 ☆ ☆]

~Kats, who feels weirdly strange about writing smut, but also feels her liked posts, Wattpad and AO3 tabs plus actual physical books stare at her in disbelief.

happee birthdae to my favorite boys!! <3

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cryptidsofwakemoor · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 10 - Paranoia

"You... are one of OUR products, Matchstick. Don't forget that."

~*~

Mystic

Tikki works on her own omelet in comfortable silence, letting her guest relax by the fire while she filled her own egg patty with her additions of choice. Once her folded egg taco was on the plate, she drizzled some kind of red liquid over top of it, and took up those metal tools he could never quite understand the purpose of. Lifting her plate, she goes to sit at the couch, and- uses the tiny knife and spoked thing to poke and cut her omelet, eating it off the utensils.

Oh. That’s what they were for. She didn’t need to get food on her hands at all.

…

“Have you been on the streets your whole life?” Tikki asks, quiet.

Spooky

He looks up from watching her cut the omelet and poke it with the pronged thing, before frowning a little and shaking his head no.

No, being on the streets was a relatively new thing for him. In a way, he had kind of lucked out that adaptability was part of his training, otherwise he may not've survived very long, but... This probably wasn't what they had in mind while training him. It was more for use in battle.

He glances down at the floor in front of him, wishing he still had the snow and stick to help him explain things. The best thing he could do for now, though, was try and sum up everything he could into one word, and force it out of his uncooperative throat.

"L.. ll- laa... b," he rasps, looking back at her.

Mystic

Tikki, who had been mid-bite of her own omelet, chokes on the piece of food. She has to pound on her chest for a second before the food is dislodged, and she can breathe again.

In just one word, that was- quite a bit of information to swallow. Just like her omelet.

"I'm- hkf- sorry," Tikki apologizes, rubbing at her throat for a moment. "You- wh- but- how-? You came from a lab? Excuse me? As in- wait-"

She frowns, staring into space. He can see it in her eyes- she was putting together a lot of puzzle pieces. She sets aside the plate, losing her appetite in this moment.

"...that- suddenly a lot of things make sense. But- why were you in a lab?"

Spooky

He looked alarmed when she choked on her food, but once she'd dealt with that enough to ask him more questions, he ducked his head slightly and slid his hand over the nape of his neck. He gave a small shrug, mainly because he didn't know how he'd got there. He couldn't really remember being anywhere else, leading him to think that maybe he was born there…? Though there were some things he could just barely recall that seemed to contradict that.

He knew what trees were, before he’d even escaped. They'd never let him outside, not once, but he could picture outside, sometimes in dreams... And there were other things, too. Faded voices and shapes, and strong emotions attached that left him feeling lost, scared, and like he'd been hollowed out whenever he thought about it too hard.

So usually, he didn't.

All he had for an answer as to why he was there was what they were developing him for.

"...w... wepn," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact and looking back at the burning fireplace.

Mystic

...There's a long pause.

Even though he wasn't facing her, he could feel her eyes boring into him. Analyzing.

Behind his back, the scales on the back of Tikki's arm start to stand on end. She clasps at her forearms with her hands, clenching her jaw as she wills the beast back into the depths, forcing the scales back down.

The thought, and all the implications it carried, made her so, so angry. But she just got back to normal from a shift- if she let it happen again so soon, it would exhaust her. She'd be so depleted of energy that she wouldn't want to move for a week, and she wasn't in a position to let that happen anymore.

"...Okay," she says, finally. A brief, forceful exhale as she quells her outrage for his sake. "I see why you ran away, now."

Tikki puts her chin in one hand, thinking. Then her eyes flick to the door. Then back to him in worry.

"...Am I gonna get in trouble with the law or something if someone finds out you're in my house? Are YOU in trouble with whoever you ran from?"

Not that she was particularly bothered by the idea of someone reprehensible showing up at the door. She'd welcome the opportunity to feed someone a knuckle sandwich and have it be sweet justice. But not at the cost of somebody else being put in danger.

Spooky

Feeling her staring, he glanced back at her, worried he'd made her angry at him. He could sense the tension, and his eyes turned downwards as he fidgeted with his hands.

Her questions didn't assuage his nerves any, either... because he had, if only for a brief time due to the distractions and curious things in this house, forgotten he was being hunted.

He was hesitant to answer, worried that confirming this fact would get him thrown out. Tikki was nice, but to get involved in anything like this seemed like too much to ask of anyone.

He didn't know what this 'law' was, but he knew the Aria Corporation was big, and they had a lot of resources. Hell, their damn logo still haunted him whenever he sneaked into town, never truly letting him forget that he wasn't safe.

...It wasn't fair not to tell her, though. To not at least try and warn her about what she was getting into if she let him stay in her home.

Looking conflicted, he finally nodded. Setting aside his disc, he reached down and tried to trace a shape on the rug with his finger, but it wasn't very clear.

Mystic

A long, sad sigh.

"...ok. I figured."

Tikki glances at the rug, leaning to see what he was drawing- but she couldn't make anything out from here. Hm. Maybe he was just doodling from the stress. She did sorta put him on the spot, all of the sudden.

"...well, I'm not going to just let you freeze to death in the snow," she says, frowning. "And whoever uses a kid test subject for scientific experiments is super fucked up, I'll tell you that."

Standing up from the couch, she moves to sit on the rug next to him, scooting a bit closer so she's near enough for expression of comfort, but just at the edge of his personal space. She looks down at the carpet as she talks, idly trying to decipher his finger-drawing on the floor.

"I don't have much to offer, Sticks. I do have a roof, and food, sometimes. I don't make a lot of money, and I'm dealing with my own demons- but I'd still like to help you, somehow. If you want it?"

Spooky

He doesn't seem able to get the tracing of his finger across, so he stops. The best that could be deciphered from it was that he seemed to be writing an 'A' for part of it. If he was trying to make a word, though, the rest of the scrawl was incomprehensible. There didn't seem to be any other letters, and even the A was kind of questionable.

He looked unsure at her offer, not because he was keen on turning his figurative nose up at it though. Moreso, he was worried. She already had stress from turning into the silver beast, and didn't have much money, and... he didn't know what 'demons' were, but that didn't sound good either.

...

But at the same time, he didn't wanna go back to taking his chances in that hole in the ground. Not after he knew what being in a warm house on a soft rug, with not one but TWO blankets was like.

His eyes searched her expression. She really did seem to want to help...

He hugged his pillow close and gave a little nod, before resting his chin on it.

Mystic

He feels more than sees her hand clasp onto his shoulder, squeezing once in reassurance before letting go.

"Okay," she says, offering him a little smile. "I'll do what I can."

Tikki leans back to the couch again, and takes her plate with the half-eaten omelet. She sets it on the carpet and slides it over to him, letting it rest by his knee.

"Here- you can have the rest of mine. I wasn't very hungry, anyway."

A lie. Shifting consumed a lot of calories she had to replenish, which she had every intention of doing so later when he was asleep or something. But right now, she lost her appetite. At least this way the food wouldn't go to waste.

Tikki stands up, stretching her shoulders and wiggling her webbed toes.

"I don't know a lot about you, and that's fine- you don't have to share what you don't want to." Tikki scratches behind her head, starting back towards the kitchen to start cleaning. "Just let me know how I can best help you, alright?"

Spooky

He looked from the offered omelet half to her, before he picked it up with his hand and stuffed it in his mouth, licking the remaining red sauce off his fingers. This had a different taste than his, but was still good!

He didn't seem as keen to get up, covered in fluffy blankets as he was. While he wasn't full, his stomach was no longer empty, and going from being outside in the snow with almost no clothes for most of the day to taking a hot bath and sitting all bundled up next to a roaring fireplace... Sleepiness was definitely setting in, and his eyelids drooped.

He nodded in response to her, rubbing at one of his eyes with the palm of his hand.

"Th... thanks," he said, straining to try and be louder since she had walked back to the kitchen. Oof, probably wasn't the best idea. Fuck, he wished he could figure out how to fix his broken voice. It'd been a long time since he'd heard what it sounds like normally, but he knew it wasn't supposed to sound like this.

Mystic

Tikki glances back in his direction at the sound of the voice crack. Ouch. That sounded very unpleasant. Did speaking cause him pain? Maybe his throat was damaged from... whatever happened to him in the 'lab'.

She tried not to think about it. He wasn't there, now.

"It's no trouble," she says, offering another smile as she removes the pan to wash it. "Nobody should have to live on the street- especially not kids."

In the background, Tikki quietly goes about making some hot apple cider. It was just a cheap packet mix, but it was easy, and fast. The water boils gently on the stove while she cleans up the containers of omelet fillings, and puts away all the washed dishes once she'd dried them with a kitchen towel.

She is left to ponder in silence for a while. He'd never seen silverware, didn't know how to feed or take care of himself. Laboratories that tested on humans- at least, he might be human, she really wasn't sure- evidently still existed, and were doing shady shit like turning children into weapons. That was the most she could ascertain from his broken speech and limited information. Whoever was responsible, they were probably out looking for this kid. And if she was caught with him in custody, if she was lucky, she'd be left alone- but he would no doubt be taken back to whatever hell he endured.

She had seen the rocky injuries all over his back. She couldn't begin to comprehend what would cause that. It looked a little better after he was able to bathe, but there was still a substantial amount of rock crust covering his spine. She was hesitant to touch it, or ask about it in case it was sensitive.

Steam hisses from the kettle, and she turns off the stove burner. Water is poured into mugs, and Tikki shakes out the cider mix into the mugs, pouring honey into both. Stirring them with spoons, she walks back out into the living room to check on him.

"I've got hot cider, for your throat," she says, rounding the couch.

Spooky

He looked like he'd gone into almost a kind of sleepy trance, watching the flames dance on the logs...

But he perked back up a little when Tikki returned with- Oh! He'd seen these before, sometimes he would see people at the lab walking or standing around with these little handled cylinders in their hands, usually in the hallways when he was being transported to another area. He never knew what was in them, but they had a nice smell...

These smelled good too, but in a different way. When Tikki handed one over to him, he took it and held it in both hands, peering down at the unfamiliar drink. Unsure how to proceed, he dipped his tongue into it to give it a taste.

Mystic

The immediate taste was sweet, with a hint of spice that wasn't quite the same as the red thing he ate earlier. What did Tikki call it? 'Pepper'? This was different. It was hot, though, and the little bit he managed to swallow off his own tongue actually soothed his aching throat a little, more than water had up until this point.

Tikki, seeing this, chuckles into her own mug that she had just lifted to her face.

"Okay, that was pretty cute," she says, snickering. "And you have a lava tongue?? Weird, and cool. But yeah- you drink it like this."

Tikki demonstrates, holding the mug in her hands up to her chin and tipping it back a little, taking a gulp of the liquid inside before tipping it back down, swallowing with a satisfied exhale.

"It has honey in it, which is a natural remedy for throat problems," she explains, sipping more of her own drink before continuing. "I've had to use it before when shifting damaged my voice for a day or two. Should help, I think. And if it gets too cold, you can always reheat it."

Spooky

He flushed with a faint glow at her comments, but did his best to mimic the demonstration, slowly tipping and attempting a sip with a noisy slurp.

...Holy shit! A way to drink without getting it all over himself! He looked down at the mug with big eyes full of wonder. This was awesome!

He was quick to drink the rest of it down, steam spilling from his mouth when he lowered the mug and exhaled afterwards. The honey coated his throat, making it feel less sore after his attempts to talk. His glowing tongue poked out again, licking his lips.

Mystic

Another chuckle from Tikki.

"I mean this in the best way- you're like a big puppy," she jokes, watching the steam puff up towards her ceiling. "A lanky, fire-breathing puppy."

Sipping her cider, she sighs, getting up from the carpet one last time.

"You look ready to pass out, so I'm going to let you rest. You can use the couch, or stay on the carpet, whatever you feel like- sleep well, Sticks."

And with that, she walks off to the rest of her house, presumably to wind down for the rest of her afternoon. It wasn't far past midday, but she'd had an exhausting morning, and she figured he did as well.

Spooky

His expression briefly turned to confusion as he tried to figure out what a puppy was, but he shrugged it off, setting down the now empty mug. He was very sleepy, and probably would've been content to just sleep next to the fireplace, though without anything to prop him up he kept slowly listing to the side until he'd jerk back upright with a start.

He let out a tired grumble and crawled like a blankety slug across the floor until he was at the couch, where he leaned back against the side of it. It was definitely softer than the dirt had been, and the blankets added extra cushioning. Hugging the pillow close, he curled up and rested his head on it, so cozy that he drifted off in no time.

...

"You really thought you could just leave... Didn't you?"

His eyes shot open at the familiar cold voice of the ponytailed man, Dr. Rainer... but he didn't see him anywhere when he looked around the living room. It was nighttime now and the fireplace had gone out, bathing the room in darkness, and any warmth seemed to have been sucked out of the house along with it.

Then, a red dot appeared in the window. Followed by another, then another, and they continued to multiply until they were peering in through every window, swarming, a buzzing sound reverberating off the walls and leaving him rattled. Drones.

With a smash of glass they set upon him, giving him barely even any time to stand before they were already on him, a writhing mass of buzzing motors and claw arms, reaching and scratching and grabbing. He managed to fight back, blasting them with fire and setting his fists crunching into metal when they got too close, but there were always more to take their place.

"No matter where you scurry off to, you can never truly abandon your purpose. You know that, don't you?"

Metal parts crunched underfoot as he continued to doggedly fight against a neverending onslaught, pouring in through the windows like wasps from a nest.

Suddenly, another piercing pain lanced through the back of his neck, near the base of his skull, his vision blurring and going white for a few moments as he was brought to his hands and knees.

When he opened his eyes again, the drones were gone, and the room was quiet... But as he remained there, trying to catch his breath, he realized something very quickly. He couldn't move.

"Stand."

To his dawning horror, he stood up. Without trying to. His body was moving without his input. His eyes wouldn't even budge when he tried to look around.

"You... are one of OUR products, Matchstick. Don't forget that. Now... Destroy."

NO!

It was too late. Fire sparked and climbed up his limbs, engulfing his body in flames that started to catch on the floor around him. He raised his arms and sent blasts of fireballs careening around him, smashing walls and furniture, anything not annihilated on impact would perish in the blaze... The walls buckled in the inferno. Chunks of ceiling fell. This house was done for, and everyone in it, including Tikki.

And as he distantly heard her screams, he felt...

nothing.

-!!!

Heart hammering in his chest, his eyes opened for real this time and he sat bolt upright with a gasp, prompting a coughing fit. Smoke spiraling out of his mouth, he tried to catch his breath and regain his bearings.

Mystic

The house is quiet. Besides his panting breaths and his heart trying to decide if it wanted to break his ribcage and escape, there was no sound beyond the distant hum of the heater in the walls. The fire- which appeared to have had an extra log placed on it at some point- had burned low until all that was left were charred husks, and a pile of glowing embers. It produced only a faint pop and hiss, along with the lightest aura of remaining warmth.

The house is dark. Just like in his nightmare- but there's no voice to taunt him in the shadows. The windows, which had been an open view out into the world, were covered by thick drawn curtains. Nothing could see inside, not even the searching cameras of the drones he knew were looking for him out in the city. No light is leaking past the borders of those curtains, either. He'd passed out somewhere around noon. Had he slept so long that it was nighttime?

The house is empty. Tikki is nowhere to be seen. A door at the far end of the corridor across the living room is shut. Perhaps she was there, or perhaps she left.

A hand flies quickly to the back of his neck-

-and he feels nothing. No robotic devices, no grasping claw-like limbs, no collar, and no needle stabbing into his skin. All that he finds is... the pre-existing injection site, that had long since healed over.

He was alone with his blankets and his pillow, a dying fire in the fireplace, and the lingering terror of the nightmare.

Spooky

Despite the realization that it had been a bad dream, and that there were no threats in sight, he still felt almost afraid to move for a while. He pulled the blankets up around him like it was a barrier, camouflage to hide him from whatever lurked through his imagination.

Still, he couldn't go back to sleep. Not without making sure everything was okay... So holding the pillow and clutching one of the blankets around him, he got up and checked the perimeter, wandering through the living room and down the hall, peeking in through the doors just to be safe.

Mystic

…So far, everything seemed to be clear.

The kitchen still smelled like the food Tikki made earlier - ‘om-lets’, or something. The burners in the stove were off, and all the dishes had been cleaned and returned to their rightful places.

The living room was the same. The book he picked up still sat haphazardly on the stack when he set it aside. The fire was still dying, the firewood stack neatly piled.

The windows were unshattered; no glass or broken drones littered the floor from his imagined combat. Peeking beyond the curtains showed a gentle fall of snow from the sky, and a dark, starless night filled with clouds.

…

Paying close attention to the house let him notice a few things. The scratches from the driveway were present here, too- they had been spackled and repaired wherever possible, but the signs of wear persisted. Wooden furniture was bent or scored in places, as if something big had clumsily scraped by it. These must be the signs of whenever Tikki transforms against her will, identical to what he found outside. This was a small abode to contain the oversized- whatever it is she turns into.

The door at the end of the hall has the most prominent damage, where the frame is buckled up and outward in a couple places, and the hinges had been repaired multiple times.

What did she say again? ’Shifting outside sucks because she can’t fit through the door,’ or something.

…There’s a faint buzzing sound coming from the door. She was probably asleep, oblivious to his nighttime panic.

Spooky

The sound was sort of like the breathing noises she made while asleep as the silver beast, but smaller... It wasn't like the buzz of drones, this was far less harsh and only happened at intervals instead of continuously. Still, just in case, he listened for a bit, before gathering up the nerve to open the door just a crack and peek inside.

Mystic

The inside of Tikki’s room was also dark, all lights in the room turned off save for a single lamp in the shape of a spiny fish plugged into a wall socket. There were more plants in hanging pots, some with flowers that wafted a sweet scent. A fan overhead spun in a slow circle. Against one wall was a tank full of water, plants, pebbles, and several small fish that flitted about once the light from his eyes was upon them. A filter hummed quietly on the tank, the only other notable sound in the room.

On the bed was Tikki, fast asleep. She was haphazardly wrapped in a thick blanket of her own, and what was visible of her arms and legs was covered in some sort of cloth outfit with more fish stitched onto it. She had a book open next to her on the bed. Thin red lines on the sides of her neck produced the buzzing sound he’d been hearing, every time she breathes. Was that how she snores?

The fish in the tank all swim at once towards the corner nearest the bed, swimming frantically at the tank glass.

Tikki grunts, her snore sputtering as she reaches up and rubs at her face with one hand. Moving to sit up, she looks first towards the tank. A pause, ear fins twitching, before she looks towards the door. The mermaid squints, her eyes reflecting the light from the doorway as she sleepily processes.

”Nghf- Sticks…? I see… your eyes glowing.”

Spooky

The glowing eyes peering from the doorway glance to the side self-consciously and duck behind the door, though after a few moments, one came peeking back into view.

Yeah, she'd seen him, there was no point hiding. The door opened more and he stood in the threshold, huddled in his blanket, his tallness diminished in appearance somewhat by his nervous, slumped posture. He squeezed his pillow underneath his arm.

"S... sorry," he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the fish tank filter. "Checking... if safe." The honey must have helped somewhat, that was the most talking he'd managed in one go since they'd met!

Mystic

There's a pause as Tikki's sleepy brain works its way through what he just said.

"Oh..." she mumbles, yawning- and revealing a mouth absolutely full of sharp teeth. "It's... ok, Sticks. It's just you, me, and the guppies... they started yellin' the moment you-" another yawn "-opened the door."

She rubs at her face again, this time with both hands.

"You gonna- be ok...? Can you go back- to sleep...?"

Spooky

Guppies? He looked at the fish in the tank, though he hadn't heard them make any noise, let alone yell. He blinked, but turned his attention back to Tikki.

He nodded, but it was clear by how he was carrying himself that he was hesitant to go back to sleep. He was still tired, but fear had put him in a state of alertness despite that. Backing up from the door, he turned to go back down the hall. Maybe if he couldn't sleep, he could at least keep watch...

Mystic

"Wait."

Tikki grunts, scooting to the edge of her bed and rolling her legs over the side. She adjusts the sleeves of her colorful cloth attire, and digs around in her blankets. She removes something lumpy and plush from the bundle of blankets, standing up to approach the door.

"Here," Tikki says, holding out the object to him. "Holding this helped me relax when I first started living on land instead of the sea."

It was a stuffed lizard of some sort, but it had tiny plush spines on its back and a little pair of plush wings. Fabric fangs poked out of a sewn mouth underneath tiny black bead eyes.

"His name is Slithers. Maybe he'll help you feel safe, too."

Spooky

His glowing eyes blinked in the dark like two half-covered spotlights as he picked up the little soft... creature? He didn't know what it was, but it didn't seem to be alive. It appeared to be made out of the same kind of soft stuff the pillow was. The fabric that made up its plush hide had some kind of a spotted pattern that glimmered in the light of his eyes, like scales. Whatever this fake creature was, its appearance was endearing, and he smiled a little despite his anxiety.

He nestled it between the pillow and his body and gave a little nod to Tikki in thanks.

As he made his way back to the couch, he thought about what Tikki had said. She used to live in the sea... But what was that, exactly? A different town? He wondered how often she had to move. She had to hide too, right? If people found him scary to look at, they would absolutely find the silver beast to be scarier...

Getting to the couch, he took another look around the room. Still all clear. He was about to settle back down where he'd been before, when he stopped, noticing how his hand sunk down on the cushion of the couch when he started to kneel down on the rug. His eyes widened, and he squished the cushion with his hand.

This thing had pillows on it!

He got back up, and almost as if he wasn't sure if he was allowed to do this or not, he cautiously sat on the couch instead, curling up in the crook of the couch's arm. It felt like he had more defenses this way, being in a corner- and it was a very soft and squishy corner. It was like he was gonna sink into it, but he didn't- not enough to be alarming, anyway. This was a good spot...

Snuggling down in the blankets all curled up and hugging his legs, with the pillow and plush sandwiched between the front of his torso and the back of his thighs, he sat there in quiet comfort until he finally began to doze off again...

Mystic

...This time, he's unbothered by nightmares, or even dreams. The comforting blackness of exhaustion envelops him, and for now, he's allowed to sleep in the peaceful silence of nothingness.

~*~

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#stickman #stickmanoc #stickman oc #mermaid oc #merperson #lab experiment oc #writing #original fiction #cosmic fiasco #cosmic fiasco cryptids #fedoraspooky #mysticdoodles

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tracklessreason · 2 months ago

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Depersonalization!Yoshioka Headcanons!

(From someone who was professionally diagnosed with Depersonalization Disorder, and also thinks Yoshi deserves better.)

So easy to possess that Dimple finds it offputting. He describes it as Yoshioka having been sitting in the backseat already when he took control. His mind is roomy and seemingly blank, but his emotions and thoughts are actually hidden so well that Dimple has trouble accessing them. Dimple can get in easy and the body feels like his own, but Yoshioka's mind sometimes won't let him leave.

Yoshioka pushed Dimple out once, and it was the most forceful ejection Dimple had ever experienced, especially from a vessel he had complete control over. It makes him realize that Yoshioka wouldn't be easy prey at all unless he was actively trying to be.

Usually very quiet when not possessed, he spaces off a lot and struggles to reign in his focus. He's actually well versed and a good conversationalist, just bad at *starting* conversations.

His silent brooding thing reminded Reigen of how Serizawa struggles to converse, so Reigen tried to take a similar approach to helping him as with Serizawa. It did not go well, turns out Yoshioka does not need socializing advice from Reigen, but the slip up was forgiven and forgotten. They enjoy debating one another, when Yoshioka bothers to be present.

Yoshioka does NOT like to be present. Dimple is possessing him basically the entire time he's at the office. If he's on his own, he typically does not speak unless spoken to, and cuts off conversations pertaining to anything personal about himself.

He describes being in his own body as similar to puppeteering. It's stressful, and takes a lot of effort to remain in a state of clarity where he is aware of his mental state and expressions. He spent a lot of his life masking heavily and forcing himself to respond favorably to social cues.

Resting bitch face! Its gotten worse since Dimple as he's gotten used to not having to mask so much now. He feels emotions fine, he's just not a super expressive person, and anything more than little smiles or light chuckles is likely him playing up his reactions for another's benfit. Please just take his word that he's happy, he honestly is.

Was working at the office for almost two months before he and Reigen actually speak, and Reigen finds out his name.

It's really easy to tell who's in control even if you can't see Dimple's cheek spots. Yoshioka is very stiff (dimple begs reigen to give this guy massages before he accidentally snaps him like a matchstick), meanwhile Dimple has a lax confidence that compliments Yoshi's height and thin frame. Reigen is, as always, suspicious of Dimples motives, but in his own words, "he wears Yoshioka well".

Yoshioka smokes. No one knows this at first, because the habit is purely his. Dimple can't stand the taste of nicotine, so he never has cigarettes when he's in charge. It's helping to reduce Yoshi's cravings.

He's likes to address things very logically, and always has a plan a, b, and c.

Very aware of other people's emotional state, his abilities to comfort and guide someone rival Reigen's. He doesn't like to do it though. It's just easier to talk to people about themselves.

Highly uncomfortable with being touched. Shut down for a bit when Reigen patted his shoulder once. Pls pls do not make him aware that he is in a physical body and is real and cannot just exist in the background like a ghost.

He likes puzzle cubes!

#ask me about this man #I could go on all day #He's like if reigens business savvy nature met mobs refusal to acknowledge his own needs #mp100 #mp100 dimple #reigen arataka #yoshioka mamoru #serizawa katsuya #mob psycho 100 #depersonalisation disorder #depersonalization!yoshioka #ekubo #security guard dimple

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randomshenaniganery · 2 months ago

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Mairon to Finrod (info dump time)

I am going to draw Oleander when im not busy but I did want to show why it took me three days to finish up everything

Me diving into the outfit design and slso Finrod's opinion on the boys its in the bottom tho skksks

ALSO ALSO if u make vespersonas i will be friends pls let us lore dump together

real name: ??? I haven't picked one akskkaskskaskas

Age: 29 (they pretend they're older as Vigil)

Height: 5'7 cm

Gender: enby

Sexuality: Asexual biromantic

Weight: 73 kg

Traits: Street smart, scrappy, observant, liar liar pants on fire

Skills: Swimming, sewing, sword fighting (shield user), puzzle solving, running,

Weaknesses: when they don't want to do something they'll be stubborn about it, can't jump very high,

Backstory timeline:

Has had Fractum Anima for at least 2 months now (same as all Vespers)

In the surface their job was being part of a group of private guards, they mainly escorted people or goods

Ran away from home due to domestic abuse at the age of 12 before joining the guard for training

Worked there for 17 yrs before they got diagnosed and went under

Met Cirrus they were like okay weird but whatever if there's a lunar ichor alternative we gotta try that, saw Cirrus punishing that dude went nope try again later, they did try again later and got the Cirrus grew bored of you route with Ark

Set the pleasure den on fire by using the lotions and oils that were left in the room. Fun fact if you dry lotion on fabric it's VERY flammable and since they don't have synthetic fibers in this game, plus considering what kind of ingredients they'd be using for lubrication, lotions and oil; it's really easy to set things on fire.

After running away and grabbing a new face, they broke into their old room and left their medallion before returning as 'Finrod'

met Oleander while avoiding the guards because they were feeling antsy

became Vigil and is balancing new work, how do I kill Cirrus thoughts and I might need to steal lunar ichor when it pops up in the market.

Habits & hobbies:

Whenever Finrod gets too overwhelmed they use pain to calm their mind, to them pain is clarity. So, sometimes when Finrod stews on bad memories they'll end up harming themselves in some way to force themselves to calm down

Really, really quiet when it comes to pain, crying or having a crisis, high pain tolerance basically which is good because of their flare ups

Sometimes Finrod doesn't really laugh even though something is funny so they learned to fake laugh as a way to show they find something funny

Whenever something is really funny to them they have the habit of covering their mouth

When they're unsure, nervous or feeling awkward they'll scratch their nose

Doesn't have a tell when they're lying cause they do it so much

Finrod has the habit of bringing everything they think they need with them at all times (matchsticks/lighter/strike-a-light/flint, knife, scissors, needle and thread, bandages, map, a magnifying glass, paper and ink) this is because of having to live on the go for their job. scouting behavior etc.

When Finrod is happy/relaxed/calm they'll start humming or singing this applies to games, when they have their plan all finished and they're confident they'll start singing to themselves

In a fight Finrod will throw themselves at people like a battering ram if needed, not that they're big but that they're good at knowing how to use their momentum and weight.

Likes massaging/caressing/tracing their friends' hands as a way to soothe themselves

Can finish dressing up and arranging all their things in under 4 minutes (habit from being a private guard on the go)

Name stuff:

Chose Mairon for their first half because I thought it would be appropriate since this is their first go at the mountain. Finrod is their second go because of how Finrod died and the betrayal stuff that happened to him.

Outfit Design:

Mairon's Clothes

Wanted it to come off as simple and formal more reminiscent of their time as a private guard. The most color you'll get from them is their belt and matching cuffs. Very neat appearance more npc looking since they want to blend in. They use the standard black mask in the game as well.

Finrod's Clothes

I gave it more color because Finrod had to ditch their old clothes due to the fire, it's a mix of things they grabbed or bought after the fire. They kept their belt and cuff because it's sentimental and also just useful to them. Although they wear more colors It's mostly dark shades so that they don't stand out in shadows. A lot of their body is bandaged and when they met Oleander half their face was bandaged under the mask too.

Opinions on the boys:

REaLLy wants Cirrus dead doesn't care if they get hurt in the process

Slowly growing an obsession over Oleander but they're very good at hiding it, their banter helps calm them down

Likes to mess with Kier otherwise neutral but i think storywise they haven't met

Francesco reminds them of a friend from the surface they bump into each other time to time

#obscura vn #obscura vesper #vespersona #i ramble a lot #do you know how long i was researching if oils and lotions that would be found in a pleasure den is flammable #I was checking everything #anyway back in ye olden days they used sperm oil as lubrication before and you use that to light lamps which is good for fire that is hard #to put out #also cotton is very flammable and so is silk and i paid attention to everything in the game when vesper took in the room i saw that and wen #yes fire #everything #mwahhahahahahha fuck all these people they would die if I was really there #cirrus #oleander my love ;-; chapter 2 i wait patiently and also rabidly #i need new content im scouring the tags everyday #my art #my oc #original character #obscura vespersona

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turnthemasunder-if · 1 year ago

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Charles Snippet

Hey...Hey! Wassup Readers so I decided ot make a snippet for my boy here and soon Chase and Angel will have their own snippets to complete the collections.

I hope you enjoy @loveandleases this snippet and as thanks for including me in your list 😊

''//(Charles' POV)//''

As the shadows enveloped you in the dimly lit alleyway, you found yourself leaning against the cool brick wall, your jacket in need of repair and your pants slightly dusty. From this hidden vantage point, you observed the hustle and bustle of the people passing by, engaged in their mortal activities. Each step they took, each interaction they had, seemed so distant, so inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

But why did you agree to meet up with Tarnish? You couldn't quite put your finger on it. There was something about them that irked you, something that made you uneasy. Perhaps it was their enigmatic nature, the way they seemed to keep you on your toes. You couldn't escape their presence, no matter how much you tried. It was as if they had a hold on you, and you couldn't break free.

"What's happening to me?" you groaned, the frustration evident in your voice. The confusion gnawed at you, leaving you restless and unsettled. Tarnish was like a puzzle you couldn't solve, a mystery you couldn't unravel. And that, my friend, was one of your pet peeves. You thrived on being one step ahead, on having all the answers. But Tarnish was an enigma, shrouded in secrets and hidden agendas.

You sighed, fixing your gaze on the darkened alleyway. In this chaotic group, it seemed that you were the only one with a penchant for planning, for seeking order amidst the chaos. It was both a blessing and a curse, this innate need to think ahead, to strategize. You found comfort in a well-laid out plan, a sense of stability amidst the uncertainty. But sometimes, it felt lonely, being the only one who saw the bigger picture.

"Charles, I knew I would find you here," a voice suddenly pierced through the stillness, disrupting your thoughts. Startled, you turned around, your eyes narrowing in annoyance. It was Tarnish, of course. Always late, always unfathomable.

"You're late!" you exclaimed, your irritation evident in your tone. But there was something more, something beneath the surface. A mix of conflicting emotions swirled within you - anger, sadness, confusion. The scent of anticipation hung in the air, as if something significant was about to unfold.

Tarnish's infuriating smile widens as they gaze at you, a glimmer of amusement in their eyes. It's a look that both enrages and sets your heart aflutter, a paradoxical mix of emotions that threatens to unravel your composure.

"C'mon now, princess!" they quip, their voice dripping with playful sarcasm, "I'm not that late. Besides, I wouldn't want to disrupt your favorite brooding time!" Their arms are crossed casually, exuding an air of nonchalance.

You feel your temper flare like a matchstick struck against rough sandpaper. The audacity of this person! You can't help but take a bold step forward, determined to assert yourself. "First, don't call me princess," you declare, emphasizing your point by raising two fingers, "And second, I'm not brooding!"

Tarnish simply clicks their tongue in response, a condescending shake of their head accompanying your claims. "Sure you're not," they retort, their voice laced with mock sincerity, "And I will most certainly continue to call you princess!"

The air in that narrow alleyway crackled with an electrifying tension, like a storm waiting to unleash its fury. Both you and Tarnish stood your ground, locked in a standoff that defied resolution. It was as if the very atmosphere had turned dense, weighed down by unspoken words and emotions left hanging in the balance. The world seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the climax of this enigmatic encounter.

Then, in a daring act that caught you off guard, Tarnish winked at you. Your heart stuttered, and you staggered back, aghast at the unexpected display of affection. "What was that?" you stammered, your voice betraying your surprise.

Tarnish's laughter rang through the alley, a playful and taunting sound that only added to the complexity of the moment. "You're so cute when you act like that, princess," they purred, a wicked glint in their eyes. Their tongue darted out, moistening their lips, a move designed to captivate and disorient.

With steely determination, you quickly schooled your expression, unwilling to let Tarnish's charm disarm you any further. "Enough of this!" you spat out, your voice laced with a potent mix of nerves and frustration. "What is your reason for requesting this meeting?" You cut straight to the chase, a desperate need to distance yourself from the tantalizing whirlwind of emotions that Tarnish seemed to stir with effortless finesse.

As Tarnish let out a heavy sigh, the cocky smile on their face stubbornly refused to fade away. Their demeanor exuded confidence and a hint of mischief as they looked at you with a glimmer in their eyes. "That's what I like about you, Charles! Bold and straight to the point!" Tarnish's voice carried a mixture of admiration and genuine appreciation, but beneath the surface, there was something more.

Their serious expression contradicted the playful banter, causing a wave of confusion and concern to wash over you. The revelation of their impending departure struck your heart with a pang of sadness, leaving you momentarily speechless. "You're leaving?" Your voice quivered with a mixture of surprise and disbelief, struggling to contain the torrent of emotions welling up inside you. Tarnish raised an eyebrow, seemingly unaffected by the impact of their words. "Exciting, I know," they deadpanned, their tone void of any sentiment.

You took a deep breath, attempting to compose yourself and suppress the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume you. Damn your rocky emotions, you silently cursed. "May I ask why?" Your voice quivered slightly, betraying the underlying hurt and confusion that plagued your heart.

Tarnish's lips curled into a subtle smile, their eyes gleaming with an enigmatic mix of sadness and determination. They leaned in closer, their voice dropping to a hushed tone, as if sharing a secret. "There comes a time in one's life when they must bid farewell to the familiar and embark on a journey of self-discovery," they whispered, their words carrying a weight that seemed to echo through the alley.

The atmosphere grew heavy with unspoken emotions, as if the very air had thickened with the weight of their impending departure. You couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, the realization of the void that would be left in their absence. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for an explanation that would make sense of it all.

Tarnish's voice, though tinged with melancholy, held a hint of excitement and anticipation. "I want to say my farewells," they said, their words hanging in the air like a somber melody. It was as if they were preparing for a new chapter in their life, one that would forever alter the course of their journey.

You gazed into their eyes, searching for answers that only they could provide. The conflicting emotions raging within you threatened to spill over, but you held them at bay, longing to understand their motivations. Tarnish moved toward you, their steps measured and deliberate. "Let's walk," they uttered somberly, the words carrying a weight that seemed to hang in the chilly air, echoing like a solemn proclamation.

As you watched their retreating form, perplexity swirled within you like a tempest. The once-confident and charming Tarnish now exuded an air of sadness and gloom that defied comprehension. It was a transformation that left you trailing behind them, determined to uncover the mystery shrouding their sudden change.

The air around you was crisp and cool, its touch gentle against your skin, but it did little to sway your focus from the enigma at hand. You matched your pace with Tarnish, walking alongside them, yearning to unearth the truth hidden beneath their solemn demeanor.

"The reason is that I need to train myself," Tarnish finally spoke, their gaze flickering toward you, as if awaiting your response. You remained silent, sensing the weight of their confession hanging heavily between you.

"Alpha has been growing stronger than me," they continued, their voice tinged with vulnerability, "and I fear I might lose control and do something horrible." With a heavy heart, they confessed, their body hunched as if carrying the burden of their words. They kicked a pebble on their path, a symbolic gesture of the turmoil within.

As the moon hung high in the night sky, its ethereal glow casting shadows upon the scene, you couldn't help but notice the frailty in Tarnish's laughter. It was a weak, hollow sound that tugged at your heartstrings. Their gaze shifted from the pebble in their hand to the moon above, as if seeking solace in its distant light.

"You must think how pathetic and pitiful I am!" Tarnish's voice broke the silence, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air. It was a vulnerable admission, laid bare for you to witness.

Deep down, you did feel a tinge of judgment rising within you, threatening to spill forth from your lips. But something inside you fought against it, urging you to be kind. "I don't," you found yourself saying, the sincerity in your voice surprising even yourself.

Tarnish looked at you, their surprise evident. A smirk curled at the corners of their lips, a mix of disbelief and amusement dancing in their eyes. "You don't?" they probed, their voice laced with both hope and skepticism.

Their damn smile, so full of mischief and secrets, infuriated you. It was as if they were playing a game, toying with your emotions. "I don't!" you repeated, this time with an edge of defiance in your tone.

Tarnish chuckled softly, seemingly amused by your reaction. Deciding to change the subject, they spoke with a hint of resignation in their voice. "I have already said my peace to the others, and that only leaves you," they said, their words carrying a sense of finality. "So, what do you want to do? One last time?" Their voice was tinged with a sense of impending loss, as if they were already on the brink of fading away.

"Just walking is fine by me," you shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to downplay the weight of the situation.

Tarnish looked at you with doubt in their eyes, their gaze filled with disbelief. "The Great Charles only wants to walk?" they teased, their voice laced with playful sarcasm.

You couldn't help but let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the moment pressing upon you. "Fine, let's play Two Truths And A Lie if that will shut you up," you said hurriedly, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.

Your companion, Tarnish, immediately perked up, their voice filled with giddiness and happiness as they exclaimed, "Alright! I go first!" Their excitement was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy for their carefree demeanor.

"I jumped from a four-story building!" Tarnish proclaimed boldly, their words hanging in the air, filled with an air of adventure and fearlessness.

A mischievous smile played on their lips as they continued, "I once seduced a Contessa!" The audacity of the statement made your eyebrows shoot up, wondering how much of it was true and how much was mere fabrication.

But it was their final claim that caught you off guard, making your heart skip a beat. "I asked Maria out for a date!" Tarnish declared, their voice laced with a mix of nerves and hope. And yet, a part of you couldn't help but sense that it was all a ruse, an attempt to throw you off balance.

You pondered for a moment, scrutinizing each statement carefully. "The lie," you declared confidently, "will be that you asked Maria out for a date."

Tarnish burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the streetwalk as they nodded in agreement. "There's something scary about that gremlin, but you're right! Your turn!" they exclaimed, their eyes shining with mirth as they urged you to share your own statements.

As you and Tarnish continued your leisurely walk, navigating the labyrinth of aimless pedestrians, it was as if the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you in your own intimate bubble.

"I've ridden a motorcycle with Chase before," you offered as your first statement.

"Angel and I had a drinking contest," you continued with a hint of nostalgia.

"I have feelings for you," you admitted, your voice softer, carrying the weight of truth and vulnerability.

As Tarnish shook their head, a wistful smile tugged at the corners of their lips. Their voice, low and intimate, carried a hint of vulnerability as they spoke. "The lie," they intoned, their eyes meeting yours, "will be 'I have feelings for you.' I know that of all the crew, you hate my guts the most." Their confession hung in the air, a raw and honest admission that pierced through the tension between you.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you, leaving you feeling defeated and regretful for your past cowardice and rudeness towards Tarnish. The weight of missed opportunities and unspoken desires burdened your heart. Summoning courage from the depths of your being, you decided to change the course of your relationship.

"Well, that was certainly… enlightening," you murmured, your voice tinged with a mixture of longing and resignation. The words slipped out, carrying with them a glimmer of hope for a different future.

"Say, Tarnish, why don't you and I go to this place?" you proposed, your tone surprisingly open and inviting.

Tarnish paused, their skeptical gaze fixed on you. "What kind of place?" they inquired, their voice laced with curiosity. "My Alone Place!" you declared, a hint of determination seeping into your words. The invitation hung in the air, pregnant with possibilities.

"My alone place," you replied coolly, your invitation laced with a hint of vulnerability.

A mischievous glint danced in Tarnish's eyes as they playfully teased, "My, oh my! Is that how you're going to ask me to sleep with you? Have my charms finally broken through your walls?" Their voice, laced with humor and a touch of seduction, stirred a mix of excitement and uncertainty within you.

"Don't be foolish!" you retorted, your voice firm and resolute, though deep down, the tantalizing prospect of intimacy with Tarnish sent shivers down your spine. The image of the two of you entwined in passion, exploring each other's bodies, flashed through your mind, igniting a blush that betrayed your hidden desires.

"You're blushing!" Tarnish observed, their tone a playful tease. The sound of their voice, a melodic blend of amusement and desire, reverberated in your ears, adding fuel to the fire of your yearning.

You distanced yourself from Tarnish, feeling the weight of their words hanging in the air. The people around you continued to walk forward, oblivious to the tension between the two of you. Their banter seemed to dissolve into the background as you focused on the path ahead. But then, a sudden change of heart swept over you.

"On second thought, forget everything I said!" you blurted out, your voice filled with uncertainty and a hint of regret. Without looking back, you left Tarnish standing there, their presence fading into the distance.

To your surprise, Taarnish quickly caught up, stepping into stride beside you. "I jest, Charles, I jest!" they conceded, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Their touch sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and apprehension. They leaned in close, their warm breath brushing against your ear. "But if you do want it to happen, say the word," they whispered, their voice laced with a dangerous promise. "I can make it happen."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you instinctively removed their arm from your shoulders, fearing the intensity of their advances might drive you to madness. "I will keep that in mind, MC," you replied, trying to regain control of the situation.

MC laughed out loud, causing heads to turn and curious gazes to be cast in your direction. "Calling me by my name now instead of a moniker? It seems you're going to miss me quite a bit," they mocked, their voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

Sighing, you realized there was no use trying to resist MC's antics. You decided to play along, knowing that the game between you two would only escalate. "Well, you know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder," you retorted, a mischievous smirk forming on your lips.

"Touche," MC approved, nodding with a mix of admiration and challenge.

As you walked together, your thoughts danced with the complexities of your relationship. "Maybe in the future, I'll confess to them," you mused inwardly, "but for now, let's keep up the charade and enjoy the game for a while."

#Charles #Truth ...Lie what's the difference?#TTA

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reynahendrix · 19 days ago

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skin so pale that it faded a w a y....

⸻ rebecca ferguson, 41, cis female, she/her ; ] … the photo on the missing poster is of REYNA HENDRIX. they are FORTY ONE YEARS OLD, and have been missing for FOUR YEARS. when the sun rises, they work as GUARD. rumors in town say they can be UNCOMMUNICATIVE and RESOURCEFUL. they chose to live in TOWN, THE CINEMA, and have an uncanny resemblance to Ursula Flynn (Bad Sisters,) Meredith Grey (Grey’s Anatomy,) and Bella Swan (Twilight.) can they survive another night ?…⸻ the smell of burnt matchsticks, a silent tongue with restless thoughts, filled notebooks with smeared lead on her fingers, . [ ⸻ Ki, 32, MST, she/her,

&GENERAL.

FULL NAME. reyna james hendrix DATE OF BIRTH. 12/11/1983 AGE. 41 ZODIAC. sagittarius GENDER. cis female PRONOUNS. she / her SEXUAL ORIENTATION. bisexual OCCUPATION BEFORE. coroner / medical examiner CURRENT OCCUPATION. guard &BACKGROUND.

PLACE OF BIRTH. tacoma, washinton NATIONALITY. american PARENTS. lucinda, and alton hendrix SIBLINGS. none &PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS. resourceful, self-sufficient, innovative, rational NEGATIVE TRAITS. isolated, stubborn, sarcastic, insomniac LIKES. matchsticks, warmth of bourbon, button up shirts, cup of coffee first thing in the morning, puzzles, comfort in silence, amber, pattering fresh rain. DISLIKES. arrogance, peanut butter, heated arguments, selfishness, piles of laundry, dry textures, crowded rooms, emotional confrontation

tw; death, pills, alcohol, car accident

How did your muse spend their first night in Arcadia, and where?

Overwhelmed by emotion, Reyna set out on a drive with no destination in mind. It wasn’t supposed to take long—just enough to let her scream into the open air, windows down, as the rushing wind carried some of the weight from her chest. She found release in those moments, but the freedom she sought eluded her.

She kept driving, her hands tight on the wheel, until the daylight faded into twilight. Visibility slipped away, and when a tree was left covering the road, her reflexes betrayed her. She swerved too late, the car careening into the tree with a sickening crunch that left it beyond repair. Time blurred. Her phone was useless, offering no salvation, and she didn’t even know where she had ended up. Was she concussed? Lost?

There were no streetlights to guide her, but the crash hadn’t broken her resolve. Reyna crawled from the wreckage and started walking, her body aching, her thoughts a haze. She walked until her legs buckled, collapsing under her, and darkness consumed her.

When she awoke, she was lying on a tattered makeshift hospital bed…handcuffed. Her last clear memory was of glowing orbs in the distance…it couldn’t had been her father …? .. and the unmistakable sensation of being pulled—gripped by something, or someone—dragging her in another direction entirely….to safety?

Why did your muse choose to live where they do?

Reyna chose to make her home in the town's old cinema, a decision born of her fiercely independent nature. Naturally quiet and introspective, she had always been drawn to solitude. Even before her life in Arcadia, Reyna kept to herself, finding comfort in isolation. Her work in the hospital morgue had suited her perfectly—its chilled stillness mirroring her own detached existence.

The communal housing in Arcadia, while necessary for survival, gnawed at her sanity. The constant presence of others, the shared spaces, the unspoken need for connection—it was suffocating. After spending her first year in Arcadia shrouded in a deep blue fog of listlessness, curiosity and frustration drove her to explore, pushing the boundaries of what safety allowed.

The cinema offered the quiet she craved. Its black screen stood still and silent, a reflection of the stillness Reyna often wished she could find within herself. It also held a faint echo of warmth—a distant memory of the rare moments she felt connected to her mother during adolescence. Those memories, fragile but comforting, felt like a faint ember of belonging.

One night, Reyna discovered a forgotten living space above the worn-down theater. It was imperfect, a misfit shelter for a misfit soul, but it felt like hers. She settled in and never returned to the communal quarters, finding solace in the shadows of the cinema and the stillness it offered.

What was your muse doing when they came across the tree?

A few days before Reyna’s emotional, aimless drive, her father had tragically passed away. Time had slowed to a crawl, each day colder and heavier than the last. Reyna had never been adept at articulating her emotions, and now, in the face of profound grief, the words seemed even more elusive.

Sleep evaded her, and though her mother had always been distant—her warmth dulled by an unsober haze—Reyna couldn’t help but yearn for her care. She held onto a fragile hope that, in a time as devastating as this, her mother might finally show some tenderness. But the coldness remained, sharp and unyielding. Her mother’s cruelty and neglect had shaped Reyna’s fear of showing emotion, leaving her unable to fully express the depths of her pain.

When her mother began to hurl irrational blame at her for her father’s death, something inside Reyna finally snapped. It was the breaking point. Without thinking, she fled to her car, her emotions an uncontrollable storm, and drove off into the night.

What followed was a blur—her family crumbling, her thoughts fractured by grief and anger, the crash, and then... the glow. She could barely recall the details: the jarring impact, the surreal orbs of light, and the strange, unyielding grip of an unseen hand. That night marked the end of everything she had known—and the beginning of something far more terrifying in the shadows of Arcadia.

Has your muse left anything behind that they are desperately trying to return to or escape? There was nothing to return to. With her father gone and her mother cold as ice, Reyna had little semblance of family left. The only connections she had were the faint bonds with a handful of coworkers, and even those were tenuous at best. Working in the hospital morgue, buried in the basement’s quiet stillness, didn’t leave much room for building lively relationships.

Intimate relationships had always been fleeting. The problem was always the same—when someone reached for tenderness and security, Reyna failed to meet them halfway. She struggled to communicate, to open up, leaving a shadow over her connections. Yet deep in her chest, she felt a warmth she could never bring herself to show—a warmth buried under fears of rejection, neglect, and loss. It was safer to keep her distance, but safety came at a price: isolation. And while she found solace in solitude, the loneliness crept in overtime.

Adapting to Arcadia was no easier. Her first year was consumed by grief, confusion, and an oppressive gloom. The second year came with fits of rage and frustration, emotions that eventually blossomed into a daring curiosity. By the third year, Reyna had stepped into the role of a guard, finding a new kind of strength within herself. Her resilience grew, though it didn’t erase the fear. She was courageous and sharp-witted, but still deeply unsettled by the mysteries of Arcadia and the lurking dangers it concealed.

Despite it all, Reyna had come to accept the strange, mind-bending life she had fallen into. It was far from the life she’d imagined, but she had learned to endure it. As sad as it might seem, acceptance had become her armor against the chaos.

&BIO.

&YOUTH.

Reyna grew up in Tacoma, Washington, wooded and lush. She was the only child of a complicated household. Her mother was an alcoholic, often distant or volatile, crushing up pills in private moments that Reyna quickly learned to pretend not to notice. As a child, Reyna was quiet and reserved, often mistaken for timidness, but inside, she harbored a deep yearning for adventure and freedom. The only tender moments shared with her mother was at a local theater. The space only rolled older films, but Reyna relished in them, and every so often she’d glance at her mother's face to see that always scowled unhappiness crack into something…almost warm for once.

Reyna's father was her anchor—a gentle and steady presence. Together, they spent hours in the garage, their hands slick with oil as they tinkered with engines and old machines. Those moments were sacred, filled with shared laughter and heartfelt conversations that stretched late into the night by the light of a crackling campfire. Reyna's bond with her father was unshakable, but it often seemed to drive a wedge between her and her mother, who Reyna believed resented their closeness.

Reyna found solace in horseback riding, spending countless afternoons at the local stables. The rhythmic gallop of her horse and the wind against her face were her escapes, moments of pure freedom in an otherwise tumultuous childhood.

&CAREER.

Reyna excelled academically, her precision and focus setting her apart as a top student. Though, friendships were few. She poured herself into her studies, immersing herself in science and anatomy, eventually finding her calling as a coroner / medical examiner. The work suited her meticulous nature, offering a sense of control.

Her career became her refuge, a space where she could thrive without needing to untangle the complexities of human relationships. Reyna’s closest connections were with her co-workers, forged over late nights and shared cases. Yet, even these relationships were tinged with a distance—Reyna struggled with expressing her emotions, her quiet thoughtfulness often mistaken for aloofness.

&INTIMACY.

Reyna’s bisexuality was something she accepted quietly, never feeling the need to make declarations. Her love life, however, was fraught with challenges. Each relationship followed a familiar pattern: a deep initial connection that faltered as her partners grew frustrated with her inability to communicate her feelings. Reyna wanted to be vulnerable, but the words often escaped her, leaving her partners to interpret her silences as indifference.

In truth, Reyna was warm and empathetic, but awkward when it came to navigating emotional waters. Her reserved nature masked a deep well of care and understanding, but she struggled to bridge the gap between her intentions and how others perceived her.

&NOW.

Reyna stands as a paradox: a woman who has achieved professional success and holds immense compassion for others, yet remains guarded in her personal life. Her quiet resilience has carried her through life's hardships, but her yearning for deeper connection still lingers. Life up until four years living in the warp of Arcadia had been a gentle wave. One glistening blue, smooth while she coasted on her way of life. Arcadia was disruptive. Bottled Reyna’s existence into a snow globe, tipped her over, and shook…and shook…and shook.

#tw: death #tw: car accident #( r. hendrix // biography. )#bio #helltownfmsintro

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