#sorry for the lil spam oops

[silverstarfics]

hi, howdy, hello, have another chapter of trauma- I mean, uh, a very normal, definitely not dark chapter of YP. Totally. 

[saulathan]

it's funny that you chose to ignore the ask where I point out that you were literally SPAMMING people's inboxes for your "funny haha" joke. your art is really good, it's a shame you're hiding.

i was gonna answer that earlier but fergot, oops haha... i genuienly dont mean to harrass or spam anyone, i triedta ask people once but i accidently ended up, probably askin em multiple times!! I dont mean no harm at alll n its just a harmless joke where i ask people to draw dirk strider doin somethin!! Ive asked people n they agree its not harrasmennt!! If yer offended by my joke, im sorry! But i seriously dont mean any harm n if you dont like the lil joke, you could ifnore it? Not tryna be passive aggresive, i just dont wanna cause discourse around "saulathan" er somethin haha!! I think its genuienly really sweet n cool to see all the cool art about dirk strider eatin a ice cream sandwich/cookie!! I love seein all the different art styles n renditions of him! It started as a small joke with me friend but its realllyyyy awesome to see yall draw amazin stuff with a silly prompt!! But seriously, if ya dont like my ask, please ignore it! Dont let yerself stress over a guy on the internet!! Its not offensive er anythin, im sorry if i offended anyone! Im workin on my own lil art fer the dirk epidemic!! I think its a lighthearted lil joke that happened that ended up sweet!! ^_^ sincerelllyyy, saulathan!!!!!!! edit: i always thank people n im truly grateful that people even take their time outta their day to draw this prompt, i seriously mean no harm, all good!!!

[falling-star-cygnus]

If you're still looking for billy angst ideas I got something what if he got heavily injured got close to powering off and muttered something like "I don't wanna die." Or something like that

Or he actually did die/power off but by some miracle powered on again and then insert everyone's reactions

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE -> the way i shot up out of my bed and ran to my computer to write this is genuinely insane considering my athleticism abilities [which is to say none]

i don't get a lot of asks, so when i do it always makes me kick my lil feetsies

TRIGGER WARNINGS: robot dismemberment, murder [implied], brief suicide idealization [doesn't finish the thought], kidnapping [i don't write it but he's clearly not there willingly], dehumanization [referring to Billy as an 'it' in a derogatory sense]

"Nicole."

She chokes on nothing but air and nearly drops her phone in the process. What the hell, why did Anby feel the need to do this her. Appearing from the shadows like some sort of cheesy apparition was only funny when other people got spooked! She'd been texting the Proxy!

Anby, at least, waits for her older sister to settle down again before continuing:

"Where's Billy?"

Why would I know!? Nicole narrows her eyes at the smaller girl, pursing her lips in thinly veiled indignance. It wasn't her job to track her teammate's whereabouts off of missions. Or even on missions. They were capable people.

"Huh? I don't know. Why?"

Something about Anby's appearance throws her off.

Her white bangs are looser, tickling her chin and shoulder and out of that itty bitty braid that kept it out of her face. Come to think of it, Nicole hadn't seen her with that braid since yesterday morning...

Weird.

"I wanted him to redo my hair," she answers, placid as ever as she rolls the little green cap between her fingers, "Nekomata hasn't seen him either."

"Oh- Well, I can redo it for you, Anb-" "No thanks, I know how to do it."

Nicole can feel a vein twitching somewhere in her forehead. She loved her sister, she loved her sister, she loved her sister, she loved-

"Then why ask."

There's a sort of tentative silence that follows as the smaller girl fidgets, almost suffocating and sticky and wrong- Anby was uneasy about something... and that never boded well.

"...he's been sad lately. Like a dog that can't go outside when it rains."

Odd comparison, but I suppose it's fitting.

Nicole hadn't noticed anything particularly different about the android. He had been a little less energetic, maybe, more content to just... sit quietly in the company of the other Hares..

Oh god, he'd totally been acting like a sad dog.

"I thought doing my hair again might cheer him up," Anby continues, like she hadn't just made the older Demara feel slightly guilty for not noticing sooner. They all lived together.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Nicole decides to ask, despite the cloying sense of dread settling in her stomach like cement. "Did he go somewhere recently?"

A voice throws in her two cents in her other ear, "I saw him heading out yesterday, around 12!"

"Ack- Nekomata!"

Why was everyone trying to give her a heart attack today!?

"Oops.. Sorry, Nicole! But Billy promised he'd bring me back mackerel! And then he never came back."

"Billy wouldn't break a promise."

The sword wielder says it matter-of-factly, in the same tone she would use to insist that a boss theme was about to play. Or like how someone would say the sky is blue.

She wasn't wrong, though, Billy didn't break promises. Not the ones he makes to them.

An awful feeling of impending doom washes over the three.

Nicole clears her throat. Time to be the boss:

"Let's think about this, did he mention where he was going at all? Or when he'd be back?"

They all check their messages. Nothing.

Call history. Blank.

…emails? All spam.

Of course.

Don't panic, Nicole reminds herself, He could just be... hanging with Wise! Or that wolf guy.. uh.. Von something?

Anby was getting antsier with each failed clue, her fingers twitching and curling into intermittent fists by her sides. Nekomata was trying to act unaffected, but her ears were tilted back just slightly too far.

"Urgh... OK!" the two smallest members of the Hares jolt at the sudden exclamation, but the boss is too busy dialing Billy's cell number to care, "if he won't come to us, we'll go to him!"

The number rings, and rings, and rings- the android always answered on the fifth- and rings, and rings, and-

Click.

"Well, well~ You sure called faster than I expected. Has it even been 24 hours yet?"

That... was not Billy.

-><-. . .-><-

He didn't know how this happened.

Or- scratch that, he did, but... why? He thought-

"I thought we were friends," the android shouts to the retreating figure, his arms captured by two giant mechanical palms "Really? I mean- seriously? Oh, that's hilarious. And sad." Billy can feel his energy draining, but he doesn't go quick enough to miss the final parting words. "You're the least missed Hare, man, and the cat's only been there a week."

Was that.. true?

No. Nekomata had- Nicole cared- Anby would miss..

him.

Would they? He was still trying to formally befriend the Thiren girl, Anby could do her own hair now, and the Boss- would she even notice?

If he wasn't so sure coming online would cause a spike of pain to ram through his throat, he'd shake the thought away. Nicole would notice! At mission time... probably. Or when she needed him.

How long would that be, though?

Unfortunately, Billy's not allowed to spiral any further when an insistent tap-tap-tap scratches at his face plate. He fizzles into painful consciousness with a groan-

With a groan.

With-

...why wasn't he making any noise?

Any attempts made to speak- to vocalize this awful sparking in his throat- end in silence. Billy 's eyes widen, and from his peripheral he can catch the odd glimpse of wiring sticking out under his chin.

...No- no, no, no- no no.

Raucous laughter breaches his sensors, and suddenly his face is pulled up to see the same man that had betrayed him- grinning and amused.

"What's the matter, android," he jeers, releasing his face to drop something on the ground, "Cat got your tongue?"

That 'something' bounces once before landing in a sizzling, unassuming lump right before Billy's glitching eyes.

...his voice box.

-><- . . . -><-

Anby snatches the phone out of Nicole's hand.

"Where's Billy," she demands, shocking the other two Hares silent

She can't bring herself to care at the moment, the way rage is boiling under her skin. Her voice has never been particularly emotive, neither has her face, this she knew intrinsically. A fact of her life that she didn't care to fix.

But Billy was her friend.

Billy understood her. He did her hair whenever she asked, tried to protect her when she didn't need it- not because he didn't think Anby was capable but because he wanted to. Billy explained things she didn't want to, gave her an in to conversations-

"You really care about this thing?" "Billy's not a thing. Where is he." Anby would not ask a third time.

The voice on the other end snickers, amused for some unfathomable reason. And it's like Nicole can sense her impending neurosis, because she pries her phone out of the smaller girl's hand.

"We won't ask again," she emphasizes, fully in Boss mode now, "Why do you have Billy's phone?"

"Calm your tits, ladies."

Nekomata hastily pries the phone out Nicole's hand before it can be crushed.

"What I mean is- relax! Look.. if it'll make you feel better, I'll return it to you. Er- it's parts anyway. Hah!"

It. He was calling Billy... an it.

Something dark poisons the room.

"Just kidding! Anyway- Keep better track of your things, Hares! Finders keepers, you know?"

Click.

...

"Anby. Nekomata."

The girls stand at attention, awaiting the instructions sure to follow their stormy faced Boss.

"We're going to Random Play."

-><- . . . -><-

...everything hurt.

His throat, what was left of his right arm, what was left of his left leg, his torso where red wire hung out like streamers.. The traitor- because it brought some sort of vindicative relief to call his tormentor that- hadn't been joking about selling him for parts. At all.

Pieces of prior 'conversations' looped themselves over and over again like a broken record- a snake eating it's own tail- and at this point Billy couldn't tell if it was his own busted thoughts or if the man had taken his mind too.

"Wow~ an android with a pain threshold.. that's rare. You can feel all of this then?" Billy, of course, couldn't answer with any more than a twitch as pliers hacked away at his wiring. "Bet we'll get a pretty penny off you then."

"I don't really get the point of androids, you know? This tech could be so much better utilized for prosthetics."

"Called your buddies earlier." That had sparked the most reaction out of him so far, that got him to raise his head with worried eyes. "Oh-ho! What'd you get excited for? They're not looking for you."

His voice box still sat on the ground in front of him, mocking as it hissed out sparks from time to time. At least that could still make a sound.

Were the Hares... really not coming for him? Would there be anything left to find if they did?

Billy could hardly open his eyes as it was, even if the Hares could find him in this Hollow- would they even want him around if he couldn't do anything?

Maybe... it would be better if he just-

The metal doors screech open again.

-><- . . . -><-

The tacky feeling of blood, whether caked under her nails or smeared over her cheek, would normally bother her.

This she wears as a badge of honor.

They had been lucky, all things considered, to have connections to the former Phaethon siblings. It still took too long, in Anby's opinion, but Belle and Wise had found the seller that had listed- for a lack of better phrasing- Billy's parts.

"'Ethically sourced' my fine ass!" Nicole had shouted at the monitor, barely restraining herself from grabbing it and shaking.

Anby flicks her blade to the side, watching disinterestedly as blood splatters against the scorched pavement.

"Alright, you guys," Belle- in Eous' body- piped up, "Billy should be behind this door."

What's left of him, goes painfully unsaid.

None of them want to open the door, not when it could confirm a truth they've blatantly ignored the possibility of. Billy could be nothing but wires and lost data behind these doors.

Schrödinger's Android.

Anby takes the plunge and shoulders the creaky metal open.

At first, she's worried that they had the wrong warehouse. The inside is dark- quiet- and she can't immediately see anything with the rubble blocking the way further inside.

That was fine, Nekomata was the only Hare that could marginally compete with her in speed anyway. Sooner than she could really blink- or think about it- the smaller Demara finds herself atop the rubble pile.

There he is.

Billy is in the center of the warehouse, powered off and forced to his remaining knee by robot palms clamped around what's left of his limbs. The wires in his torso hang out like entrails, frayed and stripped at the ends and wrong.

Anby trips over herself to get to him, uncharacteristically uncoordinated as she finally- finally reunites with the android.

"Billy," she breathes out, watery and insistent as she presses her bloodied hands to his cold face, "Billy, wake up. We're here."

Please wake up, please don't let this be for nothing-

Familiar, warm, yellow eyes finally flicker open. It's a struggle, both to watch and to experience probably, as the Hares' big brother reluctantly comes back online.

Reluctantly. Billy shouldn't be reluctant.

There's no talking, no glitchy recall of her name, not even a whisper of pain- or any sound- as his eyes widen disbelievingly at her. Billy shouldn't be quiet.

This was wrong.

Something sparks in the corner of Anby's eye, and the realization that comes with it makes her wish she had done more than dull her blade. Billy's voice box, crudely ripped out and left in plain sight...

"Anby, did you find him?"

The android's warm yellow eyes somehow widen even further at the sound of Nicole's voice and Nekomata's footsteps. When the two come into view, the faceplate under the smaller Demara's hands trembles.

Anby recounts what she learned, making sure to keep her hands on Billy at all times as the reunited Hares' get their metal teammate free. Obviously, he can't walk- he can barely support himself- and they should really wait to celebrate until they're out of the Hollow, but...

"Billlly," Nicole all but sobs as she pulls the android into a hug he can't reciprocate, "you idiot. We were worried sick about you! You're never leaving the base without telling one of us ever again!"

Nekomata joins in from behind, wrapping her thin arms with exceeding amounts of care around Billy's torn neck. She doesn't say anything, but the way the Thiren girl buries her face into his synthetic hair says enough.

Anby hadn't re-braided her fringe since noting his disappearance and the loose hair sticks uncomfortably to the blood on her cheek as she bullies her way under his remaining arm. Belle stands off just slightly to the side, touched by the family reunion but unwilling to interfere with the tender moment.

The Cunning Hares' had missed their resident big brother deeply; now that he was back, they weren't ever letting him go again.

AND THERE SHE IS!! FINITO, EL FIN, FINIE! sorry if the ending was kinda rushed, but i hope you enjoyed! lmk what you thought and, of course, if there's anything else you want to see me write or elaborate on!

[hime-bee]

skjvsvnkv so sorry bee for spamming your inbox with my horni lil brainrots but i love ulpipi so much ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) gonna be all over that soggy pathetic man once he hits global,, but omg, love the influx of ulpipi fanart depicting what his body actually looks like underneath his bloodborne attire, bc specter the unchained's second module mentions that he's heavily scarred from experimentation. but i've also seen a couple where he's got some form of seaborn mutation going on and that's actually a cool concept too the monsterfucker in me goes feral despite the risk lmaooo

ALSO, CONSIDER THE FOLLOWING,, teasing ulpipi and purposefully trying to rile him up and get a reaction out of him, which doesn't really work because he's hardly giving any indication he's being affected. that is, until you whine daddy along with a few filthy provocations, and you can see his larger frame faintly jolt and his breath hitch. hehe, bingo~ totally not my slight daddy kink rearing its head from the pits of hell

OOP, I FORGOT TO RESPOND TO THIS ONE-

Honestly, me too omg- I really hope he gets a skin in game that shows off all his scars and muscles 🤤✌

MY DADDY KINK IS REARING ITS HEAD TOO BECAUSE IT'S HARD FOR ME NOT TO CALL HIM DADDY- I'd like to imagine he would try to act like he's unaffected/isn't into being called daddy, but it's obvious he is when he starts pushing you against the nearest wall to fuck the whiny brattiness right outta you 💞💗💗

[thekrows-nest]

(anon)

Lmao Mary is meant to be in her late 20s abouts. We'll just say she has major baby face and not that I am a failure of an artist. /lh dnmfzzvbf

Nooo don’t self deprecate! I’m not good at guessing ages. Also adult babyface is a thing, she just has this wide eyed naive look that reads much younger. (Girl, what’s your skin routine)

Hmmm, that is the question isn't it? Why DID she move? What regrets does she have? I'm sure you'll develop some Krowspiracy theories in no time anon.

I’ve been holding off because there isn’t a lot on Mary yet, plus I’ve been spamming you with asks lately (asjsk). But if you were interested I could cook something up in my Krackpot. I’ve got a few ingredients.

ANON LOL.

Oops, didn’t realise Luke was more a father figure to Krow. That changes things a lot. Kicking myself for not assigning him the father of the spouse role at the wedding

eeeee okay anon I will (try) not to self deprecate! Honestly, that's always been a problem for me too. A lot of people tend to look much younger to me than they actually are ha ha.

To answer part of the naive look, and leading into the next part, I'll give some more deets on Mary. And it'll help fuel your lil Krowspiracy theories lol. - She does have some naivety; she grew up in a pretty restricted environment. - Which leads to one of the reasons why she has stepped out of her comfort zone to live out away from her family and be with her girlfriend; to gain some experiences for herself. - Speaking of her girlfriend, her name is Camila, and she's first generation Mexican-American (her parents had immigrated from Mexico). Mary has been learning a lot about Mexican culture from her girlfriend, and also other things. - Mary is Christian, and one of the things she has been grappling with is her faith. She's been unlearning a number of things that she considers hateful and not very Christ like that came from her previous environment. - Even so, there is someone from her past she longs to see again. If anything, to just say she is deeply, deeply sorry for failing them.

And lol yes, Krow sees Luke in a fatherly light. No worries anon. I'm not against the crackship of Luke x Krow lmao. Luke has done things for Krow he never expected anyone to really do, especially someone who had been a stranger. Luke is known to be someone that is very compassionate, warm and friendly. There's a reason hardly anyone has quit the job, despite how gruesome it is, with Luke in charge of the small team, as well as why people often put in 110%; it's for Luke.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

oops i think ive been tagging the person that made my dividers instead of just giving yall their tag 😭

sorry if i spammed you im just tryna credit you and im a lil dumb lmao

[jovenshires]

Hey legend sorry I haven't spammed your asks but I am so back. Epic new edit as always your smoshxguts is everything, I haven't read Sunflowers or rwylm because I've been Over Whelmed but I literally cannot wait I've just been hyping them up so much in my head. And as far as the Garrett discussion goes he literally isn't evil because when he does anything bad he does that shrug that just screams 'oops I'm just a little guy' and if the cast can't forgive him immediately that's a them problem. Could this all have been sent on separate asks? Surely. Anyway -dot hell anon

literally no worries my ask box has an open-door policy which means you can but are not obligated to drop by any time xoxo

thank you so much!! making guts edits has been so much fun - i've got one in the drafts and one i've been screen recording for so expect many more to come. aw i hope you're doing okay!! literally don't worry sunflower and rwylm are not going anywhere so take your time <333

see you get it. like yes maybe he poisons them all with malic acid and then laughs like a cartoon villain but literally when has he ever done anything wrong though! he's just a lil guy! he's silly!

KLDNKNFKWLN its okay i love to talk so i dont mind xxx

[javisbutt]

aaaaah i have so many wips of this train mf doing stupid shit but im sooooo lazy dude lol

[chngbok]

di- did I say you could steal my heart? Jisung give it back.

[spiriituma]

||..i’m laughing my ass off;; watching onward for about the thousandth time, and when barley and laurel are wrestling, laurel says “Barley, you stink! When was the last time you showered?” and ??? that’s a very Mom Thing to do

[nooskadraws]

my warlock proposed to his gunslinger boyfriend and he said yes!!! 

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[meanscarletdeceiver]

Hey! Sorry I know you're really busy, so you don't have to respond it's fine. I hope your day's going alright! :3

I was just wondering if you had any fanfics that feature Charlie and Sidney? Or could recommend any?

I believe I've read one from you before? I have no idea what it was called though, oops. But I remember it being really good! I think it featured bo-co?

Man, was I that shirty to that one anon? Sorry. You guys aren't bothering me. It was one specific person spamming my box. I love my asks!

I can't think of anyone but me who has written extensively about Charlie and Sidney. (Except... coincidentally... ToonGuy. He started coming up with a whole lil' background thing for them in 'Abridged', interspersed throughout S4-S5-TATMR. It is very different from my interpretation, ofc.) Unfortunately I'm not aware of anything else I could recommend.

Most likely you're thinking of my WIP Ex-Condor Through the Time Machine.

I have also posted a couple vignettes involving one or both of them on this blog. Here's one, two, three. There are also some things in that directory that include a young Sand as fireman, as he is due to appear in QLIR.

Speaking of 'things I am writing at the speed of molasses in winter'... I am willing to give up another little crew #2 vignette.

It's meant to be most of a chapter for a fic very similar to Ex-Condor (a 'not-quite-so-normal-day-in-the-life' multichapter thing, but from Edward's PoV and on the eve of nationalisation). Howeeeeeverrrrrr, given that my plan was to start posting and finishing it after finishing Ex-Condor... well, this otherwise isn't going to see the light of day any time soon so, if you're interested:

(Note: It uses material from the end of the Charlie Sand post, specifically about how Sid didn't know Charlie was married for like their first year or two working together. Also be warned it includes some Edward-angst. If that's a problem. Which I know damn well for most of you it isn't.)

November 1947

“Here.” There was a crinkly sound, as Sand produced some sort of folded paper from his breast pocket. “For Stationmaster. And see how our orders have changed. Write it all down and have him double-check—I don’t want any confusion.” 

“I won’t, then. That’s your job. I’ll get the engine watered.” 

“Uh, Sid…” The driver’s voice was deceptively mild. “I’ll give the orders, thanks, on my own footplate. Hop.” 

“Yeh great coward! You can’t face Dream Girl, can you?” 

“Who?” 

“Pitiful.” The fireman would be pulling a face. He had some of the very funniest. “The fair Anita!” 

“Anita?—Oh, she’s the one who handles tickets. That right?”

“Don’t play coy! Nothing ventured, nothing gained. C’mon, driver—” A bit of a tussle ensued, as Heaver began to fuss over straightening Sand’s collar, and brushing off some coal dust. “A year of this is enough! Run a hand through yer hair, set yer cap, and go over at a proper strut. She won’t wait forever!” 

“Nor will I, for that matter! Get on with you.” 

“I warn you,” said Heaver. Both men were starting to laugh, but he was the one further gone. He usually was. “If you send me, I may just snag her up, myself!” 

“If you think I won’t shove you out this cab backwards, yeh whelp, you’d better have another think—”

After a moment’s more tussling, the fireman indeed scrambled, rather unsure of foot, off the running board. “You’d try the patience of a saint, Charles,” he griped… before then setting off at an unhurried but lively skip. 

Nothing ever really shook Sid Heaver’s easy temper. 

“Pot, kettle,” muttered the driver. 

Edward was amused. “When are you going to tell him?” 

Sand laughed. “Didn’t I leave that to you? I’m still waiting!” 

“No, I can’t. I’ve told you. It’s too ridiculous.” 

“How could this comedy of errors get any more ridiculous? But I hope so. I want to see the look on his face, when he learns.” 

“Then you’d better tell him!” 

“You’re far too nice to that idiot.” 

Sand was good-natured about it, and only chuckled when Edward retorted: “Oh, you like him too, really! Anyway, it’s not that. It will be fun—but it oughtn’t be me. I don’t know, just seems a bit improper.” 

The driver laughed harder than ever. “What! What’s improper? I’ve made an honest woman of her now, before God and everyone!” 

“Oh, but all that sort of thing. Engines aren’t really supposed to comment on that—humans’ personal lives.” 

“Ah yes, we wouldn’t want engines to mention the scandal of holy wedlock!” Sand pounded the outer cab with his fist as he dismounted. “You can’t really think so. Leave that Victorian rubbish in the last century, where it belongs!” 

“Well, then.” Edward reddened, but conceded the point. It was a rule that didn’t really make much sense anymore to him, either. If it ever had. “In that case, I suppose I’m free to ask. Don’t people normally wear rings when they are married? I suppose the whole point is to avoid this sort of misunderstanding.” 

“I think the point is mostly that women like shiny things, and jewellers like to make money. But Anita wants to work, until we have children, and they won’t keep her on if they know she’s married.” 

“Wait. Whyever not?” 

“Honestly, there’s no good answer to that. Women have to deal with all sorts of extra rubbish. Like this world isn’t hard enough!” The driver descended into muttered cursing, as he wrestled with the water pipe. 

But soon it was connected, and Edward hissed comfortably as he drank, while he reflected vaguely of how little he knew, about women’s lives. They had been brought in to do all sorts of different railway work during both wars, and they hadn’t seemed all that different than the men—only inexperienced. It was rather strange, the way humans did these things… 

Sand re-oiled all axles, disconnected the water hose, and then came round, leaning on the engine’s front buffers, and looking up at him significantly, much more serious than before. 

“Will you answer me something honestly, Edward?” 

The engine was a little surprised, especially upon realizing that Sand had sent the fireman in on purpose, so that they could talk. 

But the answer came readily. Mr. Sand may have only been his driver a year now, but they had known each other for ages. “Of course, sir. What’s the matter?” 

“That’s what I want to know. You get awfully nervous, even now, when you think Hacker’s about.” 

“Oh.” Edward hissed steam again, this time in embarrassment. “I know you think it’s silly.” 

“No,” said Sand, calmly and steadily. “I don’t, that. But it is unlike you. Makes me wonder just how badly he treated you.” 

Edward wanted very much to not have to look at him. But Charlie, even as a teenager, had always been pretty canny, and it was probably no coincidence, that he had now positioned himself right where Edward should have normally looked to avoid anyone’s eye. And it was too rude, to look over a driver’s head while speaking to him. 

At least, it had been considered rude was Edward had been young. 

And, if that was another rule that had changed, he hadn’t noticed. 

“I asked you to be honest,” Sand reminded him. “I wouldn’t do that, and then turn around and raise a big fuss. Not without your say-so. But I do believe I ought to know.” 

“You never seemed to like him very much,” Edward began, slowly. This was a good deal more improper than talking about the crews’ matrimonial states. 

“Imagine that.” 

“Oh, you think he’s worse than he was. To be sure, I like you much better, but…” Edward sighed. Mr. Sand was right: he didn’t like to think about these things—and generally he succeeded in avoiding it. “I don’t think he treated me badly. I reckon he’s a pretty normal, ordinary sort of driver, and I’ve gotten rather used to being a bit coddled here, you know.” 

“Coddled!” Sand spluttered in amazement. “Is that what he said?”

“I'm not sure that he ever used that exact word. But he certainly thought I required far too much fuss in order to do my work, and, well—well, I don’t think he’s altogether wrong.”

Sand kept a handle on his self-control, and stopped himself from a rant, only with visible effort. “And why do you think so?” 

It was difficult to force himself to say, and, rude or not, he couldn’t look at Sand while he did so. “He often complained to the others that Mr. MacNeil had spoiled me. And it’s not only him that thought so, was it? Everyone used to say that. He and I were great friends, and had worked together for so long. I reckon it would have been hard for me to adjust to anyone else. I can’t blame Hacker for that…”

“Good Lord. I can!” 

“Well, you’re a little like Mr. MacNeil was. You’re pretty partial to me.” 

“If I remind you of MacNeil, I’ll take that as a compliment. He was one of the finest railwaymen I ever knew. He had twice my brains—and about fifty times Hacker’s. If he spent a good deal of extra time with you, it was for no other reason than he enjoyed it. He was married to the job, and would have been much lonelier without you—but he did not spoil you. I was there, Edward. I remember. You never needed much correcting, but he wasn’t one to hesitate, when you did. He had high standards.” Sand snorted. “Whereas Hacker has none. He’s simply lazy. Thinks he’d have an easy life of it, on a ‘proper’ railway, with new engines. I’d like to have met him on the the mainland! Those southern engines would have chewed him up and spat him out. And then, if there was anything left of him to sack, the S.R. would have done it, long ago!—But I’m not convincing you, am I.” 

“No, driver, I suppose not.” But Edward smiled faintly. He liked what Sand had said about MacNeil… who had died only a few years ago. MacNeil, who had chosen him as his own engine, when no one else had wanted him. “You’re very kind, and I’m grateful. But… well, it doesn’t bother me often—there’s no use in thinking of it—but whenever I see Mr. Hacker I am reminded of what he used to say, and I still think he was dead on about some of it. Even when I was quite new… I wasn’t much use in my early years, you know.” He saw Sand gazing, listening hard. Sand hadn’t known this. Hardly anyone did, these days. “I was a poor steamer. Too sensitive. My first railway gave me plenty of chances, but it was no good. I always thought it was Sodor that made the difference. The Fat Controller was in charge of the workshop during the first war, and he made a good many changes to me. But after all that trouble taken over me, I gave more poor performances not long after—once again, after I lost my regular crew, who had been so encouraging, and better to me than I deserved. I just don’t seem to have much to give, when I’m unrostered. Then I met Mr. MacNeil, and did all right for ages, and I am again, now that you’re with me. No surprise there—you’re both terribly clever about your business. I reckon Hacker’s right. I do seem to need rather a lot of fuss. It’s not really his place to question any more than it is mine—Controller can do as he sees fit—but it is embarrassing, when I see him, and remember that I’m still not really any more useful than I ever was, back on the mainland. And never will be, now I’m so old and worn. I’ve only been very lucky, in having more than my fair share of excellent drivers. Are—are you all right?” 

This last question was tacked on with real anxiety, for Sand had removed his cap, and was holding his head in his hands. 

“I’ll be fine,” said Sand, after a moment. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “It’s just that it’s a surprising lot of effort, stopping yourself from going off and committing murder…” 

“Oh, Mr. Sand…” 

“Shh. Let me get rid of his headache, would you?” 

Leaning on his elbows, Sand rubbed his temples hard for a few minutes. It was only when they heard Heaver whistling as he returned that he pushed himself back up, and glanced up at the engine. 

“I went on too long,” observed Edward, apologetic. 

“You told me what I wanted to know. And I’m sure it wasn’t easy.” 

“Do you still have that headache?” 

“No.” Sand smiled faintly. “We’re both more than ready to get to work, I’m sure. But I do wish you’d get it through your smokebox, my boy… if you are attracting loyal and clever crewmen again and again, it’s likely there’s something more than luck at play.” 

Heaver overheard the last bit, and proved a helpful translator. “That’s right! Some of us know a good thing when we see it.” 

“Like you?” retorted Sand. He had only begun to forgive Heaver’s work with Hacker. 

“And some of us simple sort of blokes need it pointed out to us,” Heaver admitted easily. “Say, Charlie. Turns out that ticket girl is a bit of an ice queen. I’m sure if you checked, you’d see I have frostbite on my arse! Still no excuse for your cowardice all these months, but…”  

Sand’s expression was indescribable. 

Edward had to laugh, seeing it, and felt spurred to finally put an end to things. “Fireman—”

But the driver held up a hand. It seemed he’d been seized by a new resolve, as well. “Oh, no. Whatever happened to engines being seen and not heard? Don’t you dare—he’s mine now.” 

Heaver blinked in confusion as driver and engine exchanged winks. 

“You’re both cracked,” he concluded, amiably. 

[saksukei]

kuroo tetsurou as a boyfriend

others; ushijima | tsukkishima | tanaka | oikawa

you know those boyfriends that make you go weak in the knees, that have THAT™ smirk plastered on his face, cologne so strong and they're stealing kisses from their significant other?? yeah, him!!!

if you think kuroo used lesser pick up lines before you started dating him,,, you're wrong

“can you hold my hand so I can tell people I've been touched by an angel?”

“I’m on top of most things. Would you like to be one of them?”

will kiss you at the most random times to see if he can stun you lol especially if he sees you in between classes,,,, homeboy runs up to you,, kisses you and then leaves without another word

he loves holding hands,,,, or putting his chin on the top of your head or shoulder,,,

if you're shorter,,,, kuroo will call you his short lil stack of pancakes,,,, use your head as an arm rest,,,, ruffle your hair at every opportunity he has,,,, hold things above your head,,,, puts things on the top shelf so you can ask him for help oh god

if you're taller,,,,, he calls you his beanpole,,,,, his favorite tree,,,,, will share your hoodies cause they're the same size as him and they also smell like you,,,, and he will still RUFFLE your hair,,,, I'm sorry these are the rules,,,,

oh gosh he USES so many pet names like ‘babe’ ‘darlin’ ‘sweetums’ ‘hot stuff’ ‘sexy’ ‘baby’

study dates omg!!! his favorite thing is tutoring you and he's such a good teacher especially in chem,,,, and he's also hot like HAVE YOU SEEN KUROO IN GLASSES MFER IM ABOUT TO THROW HANDS

he loves going to amusement parks with you and sharing cotton candy omg,,, maybe kissing in lines???? oops

lazy days are just you two laying in bed,, talking about what happened during the week,,, future plans maybe,,, and he's so warm omg,,,,

you two do have matching necklaces IT IS WHAT IT IS

and he always holds his necklace tight whenever he's scared because to be honest,,, as the captain he can't really show it you get me?? the boys know though that kuroo is nervous whenever he's holding his necklace

oh boy when you come to watch his matches,,,, ya ever seen cocky kuroo??

smirks all the way,,, he scores so many points and makes it look like nothing

he gives his best because he knows you'll give him so many kisses after

also blushes if he hears you cheering loudly cause omg??? you're so cute gosh his heart can't handle it

he doesn't even have his jacket,,,, it's at your place and he sprays his cologne on it so it even smells like him because he knows you hate returning it

he has so many ugly pictures of the both of you oh gosh,,,, he's always doing some dumb shit

spams kenma with pictures of you and kenma is like tf????

convinces you to raise a pet cat that stays over at your place some days and then his

and the cat's name is ‘neko’ short for nekoma,,,, neko loves him more than you and kuroo will remind you that EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY

fights are like not even fights??

I feel like kuroo doesn't get angry,,,, his anger is very subtle and he distances himself from the situation to diffuse it,,,

since you're his significant other, he can't obviously avoid you so,,,,, he'll talk it out in a very calm tone that keeps you from getting angry as well

literally kuroo has a very soothing voice,,, especially if you're having a bad day,, peppering your faces with kisses,,, holding you as tight as he can,,, getting you your favorite food,,,, brushing your hair,,,,

he'll feel geniunely be so upset that you're hurt or sad,,, and will do anything to make you feel better

and by anything I mean,,, cracking shitty jokes (pun intended)

“do you know diarrhea is hereditary?”

“kuroo what–?”

“it runs in your jeans” *WHEEZES for five minutes*

when he's sad,, he just needs you to hug him for hours, press kisses to his forehead and boom,,,, hot kuroo is back

he's the type of guy that will stare at you whenever you're doing something and smile and when you ask he'll be like “oh nothing”

like if you fix his hair before classes,,,,, he'll be looking at you like THAT and thinking that he's so damn lucky

and he LEANS ON THE DOORWAY WATCHING YOU DO STUFF IM–?????

also ya know the lyrics “left hand is steerin' the other is grippin' your thigh” yeah,,,, he's OBSESSED WITH DOING THAT (I've read this in a post somewhere idk if it's haikyuu post,,,, but yeah so creds to whoever that was)

AND YES YOU BOTH HAVE A PLAYLIST FOR THE CAR IT IS WHAT IT IS

also if you don't play with his hair,,,, DONT DATE HIM THEN

overall yes,,,, he is absolutely smitten,,,, he won't even look at anyone else,, you can see literal stars in his eyes when he looks at you,,,, you're the one,, he knows it and he'll be damned if he doesn't show it to you

[helliontherapscallion]

Anon who’s dog had a seizure. I wanted to be able to give a positive update, but I won’t be able to. I was woken up by a call at around 1:30am from my mom and the first thing she said was “[my dogs name] died”

I don’t know all the details, I was in a full fledge panic attack and was overcome with despair when it was either explained to me or I overheard (frankly, I don’t remember) but apparently at some point either last night or veryyyyy early this morning my mom let the dog out to use the restroom, and he collapsed again similarly to how he did two days ago. My mom rushed him to the emergency vet (a thirty minute drive) but he didn’t even make it there.

I think I was dry heaving at some point because my panic was so bad. I ended up going to the vet with my dad so I could say goodbye (he had before my mom left with the dog) and ngl, going with him did not help in the slightest. My dad has NPD and he kept making the situation about himself and I stg I was ready to throw myself out the car window in the middle of the freeway and walk the rest of the way there OOP—

I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to because of Covid, but we were allowed to all head into the vet and hold him and give proper goodbyes before they took him to be cremated (they have a partnership with some place that does all that jazz). It was rough. He’s a small dog, only 18 pounds, but just holding him felt so different. There was no resistance when I picked him up (I’m not his favorite person lol, so he’d always deadpan and shuffle away a little from me before giving in whenever i’d make grabby hands hahaha) and it was just rough.

A year and a half ago my old bird passed away in that same emergency vet, so I just felt like I was suffocating the whole time. It was basically history repeating itself and I had a ✨mental breakdown✨ while cradling the pooch. My mom almost had to drag me out 2.5 hours later because I didn’t want to leave him. I tried to be strong, he was her dog in the end and they had an unbreakable bond. I should’ve been the one comforting her, not the other way around. I totally failed lol.

Thank god I was able to go home with my mom and not my dad. I wanted to be the one to drive home so she could rest, but I didn’t have the energy to protest when I saw she was already in the drivers seat.

We’ve had him since he was a few months old. I was in first grade at the time, and despite us having a very rocky start (young me didn’t like all the attention he received bc it used to be mine) he was my lil buddy and I would have done anything for him. I was looking forward to taking my senior and graduation pictures with him soon, but it seems like that won’t be happening. I just wish I did more with him.

Sorry for rambling and being so depressing! I haven’t gotten much sleep over the past two nights so I’m really out of it.

If it’s not too much to ask for, could I have a part ii of my previous request but have it involving what I wrote above? Asdfghjkl my depressed ass needs comfort and all of my friends are in school LOL. (Thank god I was called off from school this time) Plus, I don’t wanna make my mom feel worse by adding my grief on top of her own (I hope that made sense)

Part 1

(A/N): anon, I’m so sorry to hear about your dog. From what you sent me about him, he sounded like an absolute delight to be around and a very good boy. You deserve to grieve too, even if you don’t think you should. Grieving is healthy and it’s something that shouldn’t be ignored. Everyone grieves differently, so maybe you and your mom could reminisce on the good times with him? Only if you both feel comfortable doing so of course. Please get some sleep, drink plenty of water, and eat some food if you haven’t already. My DMs are always open if you ever want to talk <3

Warnings: death of a dog and bird (mentioned), panic attacks, NPD parent mention

You were jolted awake by a loud ring from your phone laying on your nightstand. It was the ringtone you specifically set for your mom. Blinking deliriously, you answered with a raspy, “mom?”

You were only met with her choked sobs on the other end. This woke you up completely as you turned on a lamp and sat up fully in your bed, “mom what’s wrong?”

“(Dog name)...” She was unable to say your dog's name before she broke into more harsh sobbing. Worry and fear pricked your gut at the mention of your dog’s name. “What about (dog name)? What’s going on?”

“He d-died, (y/n). He isn’t suffering anymore.” You felt as if ice cold water was poured onto you as you sat staring at the wall in shock. Faintly you heard your mom telling you how it happened, but you didn’t register her words. The words that came out of your mother’s mouth were nearly incomprehensible anyways due to her distress. You didn’t know when she hung up, but the next time you looked at the phone screen your homescreen met you: a picture of you, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy at an amusement park. 

Your panic attack had escalated to you dry heaving over the toilet after puking up your dinner. You felt like you were suffocating as you remembered the techniques Techno used a few days prior. You stumbled up from a crouch and scrambled over to the sink. Your hands could barely grab the faucet and turn it on as you lost most of your sense of spatial awareness and everything you touched felt distant, like every single synapse in your body was both simultaneously working in overdrive and failing at the same time. The water was as cold as it was going to get, so you plunged your hands into the liquid and felt your body jolt at the temperature. After a while, your hands turned numb after regaining some senses back so you shakily cupped your hands under the faucet and gathered water into your hands. You splashed it at your face and felt yourself becoming more grounded as time passed.

By the time you left the bathroom, your dad gathered you into the car and started to drive you to the emergency vet. The entire time he was ranting about how you needed to pull yourself together because the dog was closer to him than to you. That definitely did not help in any way, it made you want to jump out of the car and walk the rest of the way to the vet. It would be better than having someone constantly belittling you for grieving. The ride was hell, but you persevered for (dog name). You needed to say goodbye to him.

When you left the car and walked into the building, it felt as if you were walking through the nine rings of hell with blazing infernos licking at your skin with every step. Dread and despair filled and overwhelmed you with every step. 

When a nurse escorted you to the room, she offered you her condolences and left you to say goodbye. With wide eyes, you slowly walked over to your mom and saw the motionless bundle of fur in her hands. It looked like he was sleeping, but you knew better. She looked at you with so much heartbreak and sadness as tears slipped down her cheeks that you remembered that he was her dog in the end and they’ve always had an unbreakable bond. You needed to be strong for her.

Your stony facade broke the second your mom handed you (dog name). He was cold and stiff as he laid unmoving in your arms, not even trying to wiggle out of your embrace like he always did. You were never his favorite person. He felt so… different. So wrong. 

Time passed around you as you held him and cried into his fur. This situation was very similar to your previous one that happened about a year and a half ago when your bird passed away and that was what finally sent you over the edge. Before you knew it, your mom was dragging you out of the building so he could get cremated. Your dad had long since gone home so he could get ready for work, so that left you to ride home with your mom. Not that you were complaining, it was certainly better than riding home with your dad. You just wished that you could drive so she could get some rest. 

By time you got home, it was about the same time you would leave for school. As you were driving down your neighborhood, you saw a very familiar car pass you. It was Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy’s car. They were probably going to school. You kept your head down and stared intensely at your tightly clasped hands. 

The second the car was in park in your driveway, you made a beeline for your room. For the rest of the day, you hid underneath your covers and ignored the incessant buzzing of your phone on the nightstand. You spent that time alone having a panic attack. This was your longest and most intense one yet, by the time it finally calmed down it was 10:30 at night. 

You smacked your dry lips together and feel absolutely drained. The buzzing still wouldn’t let up, so you reached out with a shaky hand and opened your phone. You had at least eighty combined missed texts from Wilbur, Tommy, and Techno. 

Tuesday, Innit?

Yo, the fuck’s goin on? 

Why the hell did you ignore us when we passed you???

Music man take me by the hand lead me to the land

Ignore that dumbass

What’s going on? You weren’t at school today

(Y/n)?

Technology Sword

You don’t have to tell us what happened if you’re not comfortable

Just tell us if you’re okay

That was only the start of the messages in the group chat. Granted it was mostly Tommy spamming your name and Wilbur and Techno trying to get him to chill out, but some of the messages managed to calm the swirling panic inside of you slightly. Your phone buzzed as you got another text. This time, it was an individual one from Technoblade.

Technology Sword

Look out your window, grab your notebook

You raised your eyebrows slightly as you read the message. Your window was right across from Technoblade’s, so when you saw Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me” music video and showed it to Techno, you both decided that this would be your primary communication before you eventually got phones. It wasted a ton of paper, but you both felt like the main characters in a story so you kept doing it. You hadn’t done this since you got your phone and he got his. 

After you grabbed your spare notebook and a sharpie, you sat up in your bed and turned on your lamp. When you opened your curtains, you saw Techno smiling at you before he grabbed his notebook and wrote ‘hello’. 

You uncapped your marker, wrote ‘hi’, and shakily raised it to him. You saw him frown at your shakiness, he wrote ‘you okay?’

You stared at your paper for a bit contemplating whether or not you should tell him the truth. It was no use in lying to him, he knew you better than you knew yourself. After a moment, you wrote ‘no’.

You watched as he frowned and his eyebrows crinkled together in an upwards slant. ‘Discord?’

‘Sure’

You closed your curtains once more and opened up your PC. You could already see that Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy were in a separate voice channel. When you joined, you were startled by Tommy’s loud screaming and Wilbur’s hysterical laughter. 

“WILBUR YOU PRICK WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT I WORKED SO HARD GETTING THAT NETHERITE!” 

They were interrupted by a knock on Tommy’s door, “Tommy for the love of god it’s almost eleven at night kiddo. You can keep playing but please just keep it down.”

“SORRY DADZA!”

“Good job dumbass,” Wilbur chuckled.

“Hey (y/n), how’re you?” Techno’s somewhat pointed voice interrupted them. “(Y/N)! Please tell Wilbur that it’s not cool to borrow my armor and ‘accidentally’ fall into a lava lake.”

“It was an accident I swear!” Wilbur’s slight chuckle told you otherwise. “Wilbur,” your croaky and wobbly voice scolded him quietly, “not cool.”

The voice channel went silent as you logged into your shared minecraft server. You immediately spawned in the main lobby at spawn that you built the last time you logged in. You got to work gathering wood for walls you were going to build around the city. You saw Techno’s character run to you and help you gather wood. 

“...You good, (y/n)?” Tommy’s voice took on an uncharacteristic level of gentleness and concern. 

“‘M fine.” 

After a while of silence, you heard keyboards start to click again. Gradually conversation started back up and everything felt lighthearted once more. Though, you only talked when you were prompted to. After gathering the correct amount of wood, you and Techno went back to your house so you could craft some slabs. However as you approached the crafting table, you passed your bed. Next to your bed was your pet dog, barking slightly and looking at you with it’s pixel eyes. 

You could feel tears well up in your eyes at the sight of the pixelated dog. With a lump forming in your throat you struggled to breathe through it, your breaths coming out shuttering. You made quick work of muting yourself on Discord and started sobbing, the white dog staring at you sitting on top of your minecraft bed. This wasn’t a panic attack, you knew that. But you still felt overcome by a massive wave of grief. 

After a bit, you saw Techno’s character pop in front of you and start hitting the air. In chat, you saw that he private messaged you ‘vc 2’

You clicked off the main voice chat and was immediately greeted by Techno’s gentle voice. “What’s goin on buddy?” He was only met with your sobs, “deep breaths.”

“I’m not having a panic attack.”

“Still, deep breaths are good. Follow me.” With that, you two worked on getting your breathing back to normal and your tears slowly stopped. The entire time he was giving you praise and gentle reassurances whenever you tried to apologize to him. By the time you stopped crying you felt almost completely drained. 

“You okay now?” You hummed in confirmation, too tired to say anything. “Thank you Tech, I-I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing for feeling emotions. They’re one hundred percent valid… Do you feel comfortable telling me what happened?”

“I…” You trailed off as you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words out loud. “You don’t have to tell me, ya know.” Technoblade gently reminded you.

“I’ll PM it to you.” With that, you PMed him on minecraft explaining that your dog died this morning. “Fuck, I’m so sorry (y/n). I’m sure he isn’t suffering anymore. Did- did they ever find out what caused the seizures?”

“No, but… he had tons of health issues that I’m glad he doesn’t have to deal with anymore.” 

“Do you wanna talk about the good times with him with Wil and Tommy? If you don’t want to we can just talk about them here.”

“Let’s rejoin the main voice channel.”

“Hey (y/n), how’re you doing?” Wilbur gently asked you. “I’m alright, do- do you guys know what happened?” They both said yes. Technoblade must’ve told them what was happening.

“(Y/n) come outside. We built something for you.” Tommy was uncharastically gentle. 

When you moved to go outside of your minecraft house and Wilbur and Tommy led you to an empty spot in the city you four were building, you stopped in your tracks. In front of you built in various types of stone was a dog statue. In front of it stood a sign that read ‘in loving memory of (dog name)’.

“We aren’t done with it, but we can finish it in a couple of hours,” Wilbur mumbled into the microphone. 

“No, it’s perfect as it is. I don’t know what to say guys…”

“You don’t have to say anything, just know that we’re here for you.” Tommy said, his minecraft character walking over to your own and hitting you. 

“Oi, don’t hit them!” Techno punched him back and that started an all out brawl between the two. It quickly ended when Techno pulled out his fully enchanted netherite sword named ‘Orphan Obliterator’. 

“Get fucked, nerd.” You could just tell Tommy was holding in screaming at his brother. “I’m not the nerd here, you’re the one that reads for fun.” Tommy retorted. You heard shuffling on Techno’s end and him walking away from his PC. You were about to ask what was happening before you heard Tommy silently scream in terror. “Oh fuck he’s coming!” You assumed that Tommy ran to lock his door. Not long after that you heard a knock, “I just wanna talk.”

“No! You-”

“I just wanna talk.”

“Let him talk, Tommy!”

“NO WILBUR.”

You heard Philza’s groggy muffled voice, “it is midnight on a Friday. I don’t care what happens or who fights who, just do it in your own rooms and do it quietly.” 

“Sorry Dad,” you heard Techno’s retreating steps before he returned to his chair. “You’re a douche, Technoblade.” 

“I just wanted to talk, Tommy.” At that, Techno started beating Tommy to death once more. Each time he would kill Tommy, he would give Tommy a small head start before he would find him again. While this was happening, Wilbur PMed you ‘wanna prank Tommy and Techno? I’m thinking we put chickens under their houses’.

You looked at his player and nodded. You and Wilbur got to work luring chickens into holes you dug around their bases and burying them so that they were close enough to hear, but deep enough for it to be mildly inconvenient finding them. After you two were done with that, you met at spawn again.

“Techno stop killing Tommy. We want to tell stories about (dog name).” You saw Techno’s character sprint to your group and Tommy’s come up from a hole in the ground. “I was just about to find him.”

“Thank you! God, I hate it when he does that.”

The rest of the night you four spent reminiscing on the funny things that (dog name) did over the years. At some points you even laughed along with them. After you told them that you wanted to take your senior pictures with him, Techno offered to edit him into your photos. You didn’t know when you passed out but when you woke up, you had a crick in your neck and your PC monitor was off. You could hear three sets of soft snoring on the other end of the call. You felt yourself drifting off to their gentle breathing and smiled slightly; with them, everything felt better. 

[weepycatlol]

oops! sorry i forgot i had this account lol i'm gonna do a lil spam posting of my recent drawings so yeah pfff also !! i'm a little more active on instagram @ weepy__cat although the quality is pretty shitty i mostly post there first ;v;

thank you to everyone for the follows, likes, rbs, everything! it's v much appreciated TwT<33