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katuschka · 3 months ago

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Touch Starved Pups – One

Jake Kiszka x f!Reader x Josh Kiszka 4.011 words

Welcome to Part One of the story about what happens to two well-behaved, bored and horny romantics when a new feisty, worldly and hot social media manager enters the building...

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): expressive language, promiscuous behaviour, unprotected sex (or still rather just allusions to it , just setting the scene...), oral sex, handjob, kissing, twinfight, fistfight, angst, mockery, consensual teasing game that's borderline exploitative, slightly toxic behaviour...so, to sum it up, this is pure rock&roll filth, folks.

Also, if you like the story and want to get notifications for future updates, you can join the Taglist or see the Masterlist

Hooked? Read Part Two.

I know who I am when I'm alone

I'm something else when I see you

You don't understand, you should never know

How easy you are to need

Don't let me in with no intention to keep me

Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me

Honey, don't feed me, I will come back

Walking down the photo pit after all the other photographers cleared off is my favorite part of the day. Or night, to be more precise. That’s when I shine: strutting along, ready to capture all those best moments that make all you bitches go feral during AND after the show. This is my queendom. I make content for you lot. And I’m damn good at it.

How do I know that? The numbers just skyrocketed after I joined the team. Ka ching! All those poor things that came before me had no idea how to do their job. Tried to do some lifeless artsy shit that might be good for booklets and collectors’ crap that only collects dust, but not followers. They listened to what the band and their management wanted, but that’s not how it’s done. Nuh uh. I listen to you, my dudes. Your screeches, howls and cries. Some say that you’re crazy, but I know better. I’m here to observe what drives you crazy, and then I shall stir it up even more. When it comes to online content, the only thing that matters is what YOU want.

Make no mistake, I create art too. The crucial difference is that it’s not shit. Socials need candid eye candy and I’m here to provide it.

I gotta admit, they make my job quite easy. All four of them do, but the twins are human masterpieces. Born pretty, they gradually learned that they could monetize it just as much as their respective talents. I didn’t need to come up with a strategy; it’s always been there for the taking. The fact that my predecessors have been mostly ignoring this is a mind-boggling mystery to me. Those guys know for sure that they ruin your panties. I just needed to know how.

So I rolled up my sleeves and went down to the barricade to do my research. Marketing’s no rocket science. Veni, vidi, vici. I just looked at them through your eyes and your own photos, and let me tell you – you bitches aren’t crazy, you are right! Yeah, I saw it too. And I get it. Some people in the team wanna keep pretending that it’s all about the music – which is surprisingly good, by the way – but that’s not what makes you sleep in the dirt and sit on a curb for days, and then again…and again. Those sons of bitches basically fuck on stage, looking very tasty while doing so. Especially Frodo and Patchybeard. Whether it’s a guitar, a mic stand or just plain air – they just shag it! Y’all look like you can feel it, and they’re very well aware. It strokes their egos, so they just keep adding fuel to the fire. The first time I saw that, I just stood there with my mouth wide open and just laughed, and laughed, and laughed. It was a fucking orgy! And then, when it was time to walk into their bright conference room and pretend to do some serious business for a change, I put on my super serious and super professional face, and I told them what needed to be done.

Let’s just take your usual fangirl stuff and make it official. Sorry, not sorry. You crave it, so what. I keep the Facebook page artsy and businesslike for those gramps and music snobs that would go batshit crazy if they saw any more pictures with sweaty “jummies”, sparkling dicks and marshmallow balls; but anywhere else, it’s a party.

Some of you keep wondering why they behave like such frenzied horndogs all the time. My lovelies, the explanation is pretty simple. It’s because they are! You wanna know if they are like that in real life? Yes, the answer is yes! It’s good for the show, sure thing, and they’re both true born professionals creating a breathtaking spectacle. “It’s all for you, bla bla bla!” But the truth is that they’re naturals, not really much different offstage. Lusty, filthy, bad.

Just kidding. They’re sweethearts. Lust-driven, whiny pups that want to be played with. When the show is over, they both follow me backstage like the good boys that they are, wagging their tails at me enthusiastically.

Ooops, what did I just say? Lemme put my fingers to my mouth and giggle like a coy lady that I’m not. Some of you already suspect it anyway, and it was collectively decided that you should hate me with passion. I guess now I’m famous, too. D’oh!

So, yeah… When I said that it was there for the taking, I forgot to mention that I also wanted to take it. Life on tour is lonely and stressful. I’m not immune to that either. Sex helps. That’s why the rockstars of yore kept fucking everything that dared to come close while they were all high as a kite. Because why not…well, apart from the fact that unlike good sex, drugs actually ruin lives. No, I’m not a fan.

Times have changed and today’s musicians – and I’m not talking about all those wannabes with backing tracks – really need to work hard to earn their bread.They’re self-aware and sober (Take that with a pinch of salt…they’re sober while actually working.). Often homesick. Sure, some of them are still jerks or junkies. Or both. Not a fan of these either. I worked with some and it was a nightmare.

But, when I joined the Greta Van Fleet team, I found a bunch of down-to-earth and touch starved homeboys, well aware of their power but hesitant to act upon it. That’s the difference between having a huge dick and being one. They’re – and now let me let out a sob or two for the dramatic effect – gentlemen!

You know what a sweetheart with a huge dick is? That’s your dream come true. Believe me. That’s just something you want. I certainly did.

Not from the start, though. No. They treat the crew like friends and family, and as much as that was certainly a pleasant change, I wavered initially. They were all so kind and gentlemanly that I just decided to keep my friendly distance, thinking they really were such mama’s boys that they appeared to be…The impression didn’t last long. Soon I heard them making jokes and lewd comments when they thought no one was listening. Some of those comments were about my bouncy ass, too.

Men, am I right?

Alas, sweethearts’ dicks are still just dicks, and neglect will gradually take its toll. I could see right through their nervous ticks.

Jake was the first one that fell into my snares. I didn’t really pursue it; I’m not a monster. Like I said, we were lonely and stressed, and so it just happened one fine day. He craved human contact, and I was there. Life is complicated, but certain things are still pretty simple. Thank god, or whatever supernatural entity you believe in.

It was a lovely evening in his 2-storey hotel apartment. He often got those, because the others had this habit of gathering together in his room to discuss business – since it was his band – and to get shitfaced in the process.

We were both sitting cross legged on his bed, both already pleasantly booze-soaked and shrouded in semi-darkness, the only source of light being the dimmed lamps in the main room. I had been giving him a lecture on the importance of a good online presence that evening. Or at least I was trying to do that… When the others got a bit too rowdy, we retreated to his bedroom to have some privacy.

When it comes to online shit, Jake’s the most difficult one. He doesn’t like it. Plain and simple. He had created this cute mask of a smooth and aloof poet slash ancient adventurer, behind which he hides, but you bitches don’t like that. You like watching him talking to his SG in front of thousands like she’s his obedient whore. See, there’s a certain discrepancy in that. I kinda understood where it was coming from, him being in his element onstage and all that shit, but I also needed him to understand my point.

And it was tough. He’s complicated. He likes to pretend to be a tough, mysterious guy, but deep down he’s just a shy and wide-eyed fawn that bounces when you say “boo”. Not always, mind. I learned that the hard way once when I was leaving his room with scarlet imprints of his fingers on my thighs. However, drunk Jake is a meek and needy cutiepie. I could definitely use it to my advantage. So I poured us more drinks.

“I dunno, s’not really me,” he countered after I tried to explain one more time.

I showed him another one of the most recent videos. “Are you telling me this is not you?”

I grew really fond of his quiet “hahaha” every time he felt discomfited and flattered at the same time. Just like now. Stroking his chin with his finger, he shifted nervously and continued: “Well, yeah…uuum…you like this?”

That was the moment when I knew I had him firmly in my grasp. Yeah, Jakey, I reeeeally like it. Let me just show you how much.

I seized my chance. We laughed and joked and flirted and all that shit. Talking about his desirable body parts that y’all take snapshots of soon turned to physical manifestations and before we knew it, his fly was open, his fat cock hard and out and firmly in my hand. I brushed my thumb gently over his pink and already leaking head before I wrapped my fingers around his shaft once again and started pumping him slowly. He just sat there and watched me with his lips parted, both mesmerized and taken aback by how quickly things escalated. I returned his stare, looking him firmly in the eye while I quickened my pace, and his breathy exhales turned to full-fledged, loud moans. I tried to shush him by forcing my other thumb in his mouth… and that only made it worse. There were still other people in the adjacent room and the door was open, but he just wouldn’t shut up! I had to grab his chin and stick my tongue in his mouth to keep him quiet.

That sobered him up a bit. He didn’t want me to stop, he just wanted to regain control. Our tongues wrestled for a few seconds before he grabbed my cheeks and returned the kiss in such a manner that made my pussy spasm. I liked that, and we continued like that until he came all over my fingers a few minutes later. Thankfully, someone put some music on in the other room and it muffled his moans a bit, because my mouth could no longer contain them. He howled in it. It was hot.

You know, I’ve had the misfortune to cross paths with assholes who’d just throw me out after that, both satisfied and ashamed that my skills made them finish so quickly and unceremoniously, without fanfare and praises. Not Jake. He had to reciprocate AND prove himself at the same time. He’s vain, but in a good, gentlemanly way.

After everyone else left, he just fucked my brains out. It surprised me how much he wanted to kiss, and not just my lips (either kind). His tongue was running marathons all over my body, and if I remember it correctly, I think I came five times that night. Not my record, but still a very impressive first-time.

After that, he just kept crawling back to me, stopping me in empty hallways just to whisper obscene poems about my hungry pussy in my ear. Talking about how he’d feed me.

He’s a sly one: the kind of a man that would run his fingertips gently down your spine in a room full of other people, while talking casually about fucking you raw, only for you to hear. I mean, that’s exactly what he did once or twice. I’m sure our “conversations” always looked completely innocent from a distance, with only Josh sometimes watching us with his lips pursed. Sometimes his eyes even narrowed a bit. That feisty chipmunk knew from the very start, and I thought I could spot jealousy in that piercing stare of his. I enjoyed that, just as much as Jake enjoyed making me wet in public, and calling it “retribution”. Honestly, I didn’t mind. Punish me as much as you want, baby, and keep using all those fancy words while doing so. Yeah.

I’m a born provocateur, so I often just asked for more. Every time I saw him start licking his lips absentmindedly, I struck. In the end, it was always him who had to calm down, to keep it cool…to hide his hard dick.

We both loved it. It was our little fight for dominance. We teased each other and then there would be a reward.

It was a bit different with Josh. He’s a lover, not a fighter. He doesn’t need to fight for dominance and so he often rejects that role voluntarily.

At first I thought he wouldn’t be interested at all, even though his grabby hands landed on my bare skin more often than some would deem comfortable. But he’s like that with everyone! Including Bob, the chalice filler. It often doesn’t mean a thing.

I knew it meant something when he almost grabbed my ass once. I tried to experiment with the same strategy I once used on Jake: using his own weapons against him, making him cross the friendly line.

It happened during a soundcheck while I was showing him a preview of my next scheduled post. His weapon was right there, on full display, and I further accentuated it by a subtle, punny caption. It made him giggle and I winked at him.

“So, you okay with this? I mean, it’s all over the internet anyway…”

“Dear sparrow, if I weren’t okay with this, you wouldn’t be able to take such a lovely picture of it.” His hand first landed on the small of my back familiarly, just like it always did, and as we talked about other pictures in the carousel, I felt his fingers move even lower until the tip of his pinkie slid under the hem of my pants. I cleared my throat ostentatiously and he drew his hand away quickly as if I had burned him.

“You know, I should report you for harassment for this,” I said matter-of-factly, still looking at the screen, trying to look both cool and unphased, but the twitch in the corner of my mouth gave me away. A true master of reading such subtleties, he slapped his fingers with his other hand and grinned at me. “Naughty me. Can’t blame me. You just smell so nice, sparrow. What is that?”

“Hypnotic Poison.”

“Right…” He licked his teeth in a vain attempt not to grin even more. To be hundred percent sure, he still asked me if I wasn’t mad. Sure I wasn’t. I had been waiting for this.

We parted after that, minding our respective businesses, but all those fleeting glances he cast my way during the rest of the afternoon didn’t escape my attention. Later, just before the show, he cornered me in the bathroom, startling me. I almost poked my eye out with a mascara when I noticed him standing right behind me. “Jesus Fucking Christ on a stick, Josh!”

“Yeah, I’m all that.” It was obvious he wasn’t there to take a leak as he kept watching me watch him in the reflection and his eyes grew darker. I slowly turned around and ran my finger down the hem of his low neckline, even more slowly. Tentatively, almost. Never breaking eye contact and with his lips slightly parted, he let me go lower until I reached the zipper head and tugged at it playfully.

“Black velvet really suits you, you know?” I teased.

“Yeah, I know.”

Cheeky brat. You wanna play, baby? Let me show you how it’s done. I slipped the tips of my fingers under the hem of his cleavage until I found his left nipple and started running circles over it with my middle finger. His breath hitched and his eyes widened before he seemingly regained his composure and flashed me a sly smile.

“So…ummm…you and Jake are…exclusive?”

“Wow, you’re pretty straightforward,” I laughed. “No, we’re not. Just having some fun. Why?”

Why, indeed. He made it pretty clear why, and I let my tongue give him the answer he desired. After the show that very night, he knocked on my door with a shy smile plastered on his face after I opened it. I welcomed him in.

Josh never fought me. He always presented himself on a silver platter and let me do whatever I pleased. Then he repaid me when the payment was due. My initial impression of him being a pillow princess wasn’t completely off, but my god! The man can fuck! Never try to piss him off. Or you know what? DO try to piss him off, because it turns him to a jackhammer.

I once called him a sissy and the wrath that poured down on me afterwards made me see stars.

So that’s how it went. They both knew what was happening behind closed doors with the other one, and both were ok with that, as long as it didn’t interfere with their own plans. And that was just a matter of time.

To tell you the truth, I did wonder what it would be like to have them both, so when the opportunity presented itself, I would be a fool not to encourage it.

Every once in a while, there are shows where shit just happens and everything that can go wrong, does do wrong. It was one of those nights. Even back at the venue, right after the show, I saw how both their faces were twisted with tension, and maybe the best way to avoid even more trouble would have been to avoid them altogether. They weren’t the only people who had a rough night. I was exhausted, too. If I were a bit more responsible, I would have settled for a nice hot bath and a filthy book, but sadly, I’m a people pleaser. Also, nothing can calm me down better than the smell of male skin.

It was long past midnight when I heard a knock on my door.

“It’s me, Bebe. Please, let me in.”

That’s right. He gave me that nickname shortly after we started fucking, even though I teased him that he would never beat those allegation that way.

If you guessed that I indeed did open the door, you’re right. He didn’t even wait for the invitation to enter this time. The stress was doing us no good. I could smell even more troubleon the horizon, but I ignored it.

“Jake, you can’t just storm inside like this. What if I had company?” It was no use to argue with him. No longer sober to begin with, he was already making himself at home and pouring himself another drink.

“Please, Bebe, stop teasing. I need you! I promise you won’t regret it.”

“Well, tough luck! Josh asked first.”

“Oh no, no no no! It’s my turn, baby! You can’t do this to me. Tonight was hell. Call him and tell him that you’re mine.” I shot him a sharp look, so he added quickly: “... for the night. ” Well, that only made it worse.

Funny how quickly they got accustomed to the fact that I was just within reach. I would have been offended if I weren’t aware of how insolently I played with them too. Still, I should have said no, but I’m just human.

However, the whole situation was already a bit more complicated than that. “I can’t. He’s already here.”

Jake cast me a confused look before he smiled sympathetically at my feeble attempt to get rid of him. “Where? Hiding in the closet?”

“No, he’s in the shower.”

He just stood there for a short while, contemplating something, before he grabbed my cheeks with both hands and whispered sultrily: “Please, love, just a blowjob then. Your mouth can do wonders, baby. I beg you.” Noticing that I wavered, he bent closer to whisper in my ear: “You can ride my face anytime you want. You know that.”

Again, I should have said no, but the said mouth already started watering when I noticed the rapidly growing bulge. Mentally, he was already hitting my tonsils. I was on my knees in seconds. I knew Josh usually took his time, so maybe it was manageable. And if not…well, surely there was a way to benefit from the hypothetical pickle, should it happen.

And it happened. I was deepthroating him with both his hands holding my head and his head tilted back, when we heard the door open.

“Jesus fuck, Jake!”

The moment of surprise made me gag. Jake withdrew quickly and started tugging himself back in his pants, which wasn’t easy, given his current state. Josh, however, just stood there completely and unabashedly naked. “Get out!” he bellowed, completely forgetting that it was in fact MY room they were both in.

“No,” Jake spat back.

They started barking at each other like berserk chihuahuas. I swear, I was seconds from throwing them BOTH out, dicks out and all. They could keep shouting at each other in the hall or even in the main lobby for all I cared, but the wicked creature in me wanted to see how this would escalate. And it escalated majestically.

I hadn’t bothered to unpack my suitcase earlier that day. It just lay open on the floor with my purple vibrator placed haphazardly on top of my lingerie. Jake spotted it, bent down to retrieve it and before I could argue, he thrust it against Josh’s bare chest while his other hand patted his cheek: “Here, this should do. Now bugger off!”

I think I stopped breathing for a second. They teased each other quite often, but this seemed downright mean, even to their standards. I think Jake realized it too, but it was too late. We both watched the flames that appeared behind Josh’s dilated pupils and before either of us could react, Josh started after him and pushed him against the wall. And so the party started. In a matter of mere seconds, Jake fist almost collided with Josh’s jaw. Thankfully, Frodo is quite nimble, so he ducked the blow and striked back, his knuckles colliding with Jake’s forearm. Watching them wrestle like that, fuming, limbs intertwined, I was almost sorry I had no popcorn at hand. It was a comical sight: Josh still completely naked, Jake barely tucked back in his jeans.

Have you ever seen puppies fighting over a toy? That’s them. They were both so needy and neither one ready to give up. It was time to seize the opportunity, so I… started laughíng. Loudly and mockingly. They both let go of each other and turned their heads to the source of that offensive sound: me.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning back on my arms and with my legs crossed, contemplating my next move. Realizing I had no panties under my punto tube dress, I decided to Basic Instinct them. Sure, nothing new, but men are simple creatures. A naked pussy is like the Moon they howl at. It’s always new. Moreover, the fact that they never saw me like this before together was surely a great bonding experience of its own. I watched their faces for more clues and grinned viciously when I saw exactly what I hoped for. See, they’re different in many ways including this. Jake licks his lips, while Josh clenches his jaw. I tutted at them, watching how they both raised their eyebrows in a silent question.

“Guys! You both know very well that I got more than one hole.”

Hooked? Read Part Two.

@its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @thewritingbeforesunrise @wetkleenex-gvf @lyndz2names @emojakekiszka @hollyco @lizzys-sunflower @fleetingjake @cheersdannyx2 @gvfstuddedmajesty @gvfmarge @dayumclarizzel @musicislove3389 @lipstickitty

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raibebe · 1 year ago

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Genre: fluff Words: 1.367 Prompt: Samoyed hybrid Jeno x fem. reader

Warnings: brief mention of injury

A/N: I had this 80% done in my drafts for SO FREAKING LONG. So here finally is a new Jenpup and his baby pups fic. 🥺 I love them a lot.

Hybridverse masterlist

Jeno had been holed up in his gaming room for a couple of hours now, working on cutting down the mess that the last stream with Donghyuck and Chenle had been so he could make it fit into a video for Youtube. Which was a task in itself. Between their audio overlapping, Chenle’s laugh clipping his mic, and them getting absolutely sidetracked and not getting anything done, he was questioning his abilities as an editor to make this video worth watching. And honestly, he should just suggest starting the stream earlier next time because at one point way past midnight, they had just started to bark, jodel and meow at each other for two minutes straight.

Taking a sip from his trustworthy redbull, he stretched out his back, which made a bunch of satisfying popping noises. He really wasn’t getting any younger. Groaning, the Samoyed hybrid got up from his chair to stretch his legs and tail. With another sigh, he looked at the time: He had already been holed up in his room for way too long. Saving his progress on the video, he decided to give his ears and eyes a break from editing.

Coming out of his room, he was already greeted with the sweet giggles of his baby girl, the sound music to his ears. With a big smile plastered on his face, Jeno carefully made his way to the living room where the sound came from. And there, on the living room sofa, you were playing with Aerum, tickling her belly until she was screeching with laughter. “Enough, Mommy,” she yelped, the sound high and puppy-like, and you finally yielded, instead pressing a kiss to her tummy. Still smiling brightly, Jeno caught your eyes, bringing a finger to his lips. Nodding discreetly, you turned your attention back to Aerum to gently sort out the mess that had become of her hair during your little playfight. Like she was a teething puppy, Aerum only snapped at your fingers, catching them between her teeth before she started laughing loudly when you let out an over-exaggerated sound of pain.

With a loud gasp, Jeno picked up Aerum to throw her up into the air, securely catching the screeching toddler to bury his face in her tummy, inhaling her clean puppy scent. “Daddy!” She screeched, the sound loud in Jeno’s sensitive ears, but he was used to it after having two children with little to no volume control. “You’re not supposed to bite, little one,” he playfully scolded her, acting like he was taking a big bite from her belly. “No, Daddy!” She giggled, wiggling in his grip. “Be nice to your Mommy,” Jeno chuckled, throwing his daughter into the air again before securing her on his hip. “Understood?” He added, gently flicking her fluffy ear. “Always nice,” Aerum argued and stuck out her tongue. “Sticking out your tongue at your Daddy isn’t nice, young lady.”

Ignoring her dad’s comment, Aerum only stuck her tongue out further. “Oh, you’re going to regret this, young lady,” Jeno playfully threatened her, “I’ll give you five seconds to put that away. One- Two- Three~ Four~ Five! That’s it!” With a loud scream from his daughter, Jeno secured her against his chest before dropping down on the sofa, roughly scenting her until her loud laugh turned into sweet giggles, and she gently copied Jeno’s movements, rubbing their noses together. “Missed you, Daddy,” Aerum whispered, throwing her chubby arms around Jeno’s neck. “I’m sorry, princess,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around her too. “Daddy sometimes gets lost in his work,” you explained, sorting out Jeno’s hair before you started scratching his ears. “That’s boring,” Aerum pouted. “That’s what adults do, princess,” Jeno smiled lopsidedly, “We sometimes have to do boring stuff.” “Don’t wanna be an adult.” “You don’t have to be for a long time, princess,” you giggled, kissing the side of her head. “Come here,” Jeno smiled, “Cuddle time.” Mirroring his smile, you squeezed yourself next to your boyfriend onto the narrow sofa, letting Aerum nuzzle into your neck like she was scenting you.

“You know what?” Jeno asked after a while. “Hmm?” “It’s awfully quiet.” Staying silent, you listened for noises in your apartment, and Jeno was right. It was awfully quiet for a home with two young children. “This isn’t good,” you concluded, getting up from the sofa. “What’s wrong, Daddy?” Aerum asked shyly, her big eyes wide. “Nothing, princess,” Jeno reassured her, his hand finding its way into her hair to scratch at her ears, a safe method for any of the puppies in the household to melt.

“Haneul?” You called out but to no avail. Your son stayed quiet. Honestly, you should give him credit since that was one of the hardest things for him to do. “He’s in my room,” Jeno answered in place of his son, his ears twitching as he picked up sounds way too quiet for you to hear. Groaning, you rolled your eyes. “He knows he’s not supposed to be in there without either of us. I’ll go get him.”

“Is he in trouble?” Aerum whispered, pulling Jeno’s attention away from eavesdropping. “No, princess,” Jeno sighed, hugging her against his chest, “But-” He interrupted himself to kiss her forehead, “You know you’re not allowed in Daddy’s room without Mom or me.” “I know,” the little pup pouted, “Because there’s boring adult stuff.” “That’s right, princess,” he chuckled, pinching her chubby cheeks in an onslaught of cute aggression.

“Jeno?” You called out. “Huh?” He called back, sitting up with Aerum on his lap. “Get your fucking son.” Before Jeno could even react to you cursing in front of your children, he heard Haneul barreling towards the living room. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck,” Haneul repeated the curse word, jumping on the sofa before he went off to run around the kitchen island, which luckily featured rounded corners and Haneul had been wearing grippy socks since an incident he had when he was three that included a trip to the hospital and a concussion. “What happened?” “Remember that redbull on your desk?” You groaned, tiredly rubbing your face, simply stepping out of the doorframe to let your son run down the hallway. “No.” “Yes.” You responded with a tight-lipped smile. “Fuck.” “Ehehehehehhe, fuuuck,” Haneul all but howled, jumping onto the sofa again to grab his sister, who only giggled and started jumping up and down with him. “You’re dealing with this,” you concluded.

“Pups,” Jeno tried to get their attention, “You’re going to hurt yourselves.” But it was to no avail. His pups weren’t listening and because Haneul had yet to understand that he was much bigger and stronger than his sister, he roughly tackled her onto the cushions. But before Jeno’s heart could stop, Aerum’s loud laughter cut through the living room and she was fighting back dirty; gripping onto her brother’s heavily wagging tail to get him to stop roughing her up.

“Pups,” Jeno tried again, gripping Haneul at the back of his shirt to pull him off of his sister. Instead of going limp like he always did when he was younger, Haneul wound himself out of Jeno’s grip and slapped his little hand onto his bicep. “Tag, you’re it!” Before Jeno could process anything, Haneul was up on his feet, dragging Aerum up and out through the screen door and into the garden.

When Jeno sat there frozen and with his eyes wide, you could just giggle: “You wanted another one.” “I did,” he sighed. “Daaaaaaad!” Haneul called from the outside, “You can’t catch us!” “Go play with them. I’ll get started on dinner,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. “They’re going to sleep well tonight,” he promised, softly kissing you again.

“Stop being gross!” Aerum interrupted this time, her face and hands pressed against the big and formerly clean windows. “Go run, little Lady,” Jeno growled playfully and in turn, Aerum let out an excited little yip as she ran further into the big garden. With a smile on his lips and his tail wagging with barely concealed excitement, Jeno pulled on his shoes, delighted to hear his pups squeal when he closed the screen door behind himself.

#jeno #lee jeno #nct #nct dream #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios

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artaxlivs · 1 year ago

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Eddie boosted Dustin up the rope, as fast as they could fucking move. The bats were screeching and clawing through the vents in the bedrooms and bathrooms.

For a split second he thought about staying and distracting the bats away from the gate but he heard Steve’s voice reminding him. “Don’t be a hero.” So Eddie shimmied up the rope after he boosted Dustin up, fell onto his own embarrassingly spotty mattress and grabbed Dustin to scramble out the door of the trailer. He slammed the flimsy door behind them, hustling Dustin across the road to Max’s empty trailer.

There were no bat screeches. His trailer didn’t rock as it filled with clawing, screaming bats. Nothing happened at all.

Still, he dragged Dustin into Max’s trailer and pulled out the walkie.

“Guys, it’s Eddie. The bats came into the UpsideDown trailer. Dustin and I ran. We’re at Max’s trailer. Is everyone okay?” If his hand was any indication, Eddie’s voice was probably shaking. He couldn’t hear it over the pounding of his heart though.

“You have to say Over, Eddie or they won’t know you’re done talking. Why does no–” Dustin started to bitch but was cut short by a terrifyingly familiar voice.

Jason Carver.

“Munson. You devil worshiping freak. Is that you? I’m coming for you.” Jason growled from the mic speaker, followed by static.

Eddie froze in terror.

Suddenly Steve’s voice came from the walkie. With his bitchiest voice, he said, “You have to say Over when you’re done talking, Carver.” There was a brief click and then his voice came back, sounding deadly serious this time, “And if you go anywhere near Eddie, I’ll beat your fucking face in. Over.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #jason carver sucks #what if #don't be a hero

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astridthevalkyrie · 2 years ago

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this is pretty short and mostly just me posting so i can delete it without being sad that i wrote a couple paragraphs for nothing. but um yeah i am working on a jumin oneshot which will mostly be from his pov, plus i really hate writing women fighting over a man unless i can put an ironic twist on it—next thing you know i'm going to write sarah but with some actual nuance. until then, enjoy <3

The first time you see Sarah Choi after your marriage is at a birthday party, held in a grand hall. You see her at the same time she sees you, and your eyes widen before you try to get lost in the crowd.

“Boss?” a voice comes through your headset. “Did you already give the okay to serve lunch?”

“Yes. Ms. Yun wanted it served right after the speeches—”

“You!” Sarah screeches furiously. With a quick apology, you mute your mic and face the woman. She’s seething, although for what reason you can’t possibly imagine. Yes, she’s getting sued, but you didn’t tell Jumin to sue her (not that you disagreed). He most likely would have done the same thing with the information Seven gave him, with you in his life or not.

“Ms. Choi,” you plead quietly. I’m working, do not get me in trouble or so help me. “This is someone’s party, perhaps we should step outside.”

“Why should I? Is it suddenly a problem when you’re the one being publicly humiliated for being a gold digger?” She pokes you in the shoulder none too gently. People begin to look in your direction. “Everything was fine before you sunk your claws in!”

“Sunk my claws—gold digger?” you ask in disbelief. Talk about pot calling the kettle black. “Ms. Choi, your legal issues are not my concern.” Then, allowing yourself to be just a little spiteful, “Maybe if you and your sister had left well enough alone, you wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

The little bit of shame you’re supposed to feel after being so catty is nonexistent. It feels good after what this woman put Jumin through. Maybe to her, she didn’t do anything, but to you, who saw him suffocate at just the idea that he would be forced into a marriage with her and watched his eyes dull every time he was in the same room as her, she hurt him. Before, you didn’t necessarily have the right to get so protective, but now you’re his wife, so you can say whatever you please.

Jumin is your world. No one gets to hurt him, and if they do, they have you to answer to.

“Is everything alright?” Ms. Yun, the person whose birthday party is being held here, rushes up, clearly frantic about anything going wrong.

“I want her out,” Sarah hisses, pointing at you. You almost roll your eyes, but keep yourself in check.

“What? But this is our event coordinator.” Ms. Yun looks surprised at even the idea of kicking you out. “She organized this whole thing, I need her here to continue making sure things run smoothly.”

“I’m your guest! And I want her gone, now!”

“Absolutely not,” Ms. Yun responds, a frown on her face. “I’m sorry," she says to you, "I won’t keep you.”

“Please don’t worry about it. By the way, I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier.” You smile at her, but it’s really directed beyond her shoulder, straight at Sarah. “He couldn’t make it, but my husband wanted to thank you for the invitation.”

There’s a screech, and you see one of Sarah’s hands push Ms. Yun to the side, while the hand holding a flute of champagne rises to tip on your head.

Before she gets the chance, you grab her wrist, splashing the drink on her own face instead.

///

“Tell me what happened again.” Jumin has the most boyish grin you’ve ever seen on him as he looms over you in bed. “Just one more time. Sarah sees you, and then…”

“I already told you twice!” You laugh, wrapping your arms around him.

“Once more,” he requests, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “it’s my new favorite story.”

#jumin x reader #jumin x mc #jumin han #mystic messenger #mysme x reader

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shousetsubangbang · 3 months ago

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from Issue 110: Neon Lights

Halfway through a cheerful and upbeat monologue about the benefits of extended warranties, a vile, violent cough seized Klaire. Despite her attempts to stop her body from reacting, she hacked and wheezed into the microphone strapped to her face. The awful noise bounced around the small room, a shrill banshee cry of feedback that screeched in her ears until Blake abruptly cut the feed. Reeling from the disruption, Klaire steadied herself and tried to avoid meeting his gaze. She swore she could taste his irritation alongside the bitterness of her own phlegm. Or, maybe, that was just the echinacea oil that she kept telling herself would fix her. The dark, green, vegetal ooze hadn’t done enough yet, and on top of that it tasted terrible, especially the second time around.

“Fuckin’ hell, Klaire,” her manager grunted into his own mic from behind the smudgy, cracked glass that separated them. Blake’s voice filled her recording booth in the moments after her own sound left it. She dropped her chestnut brown eyes to her feet and felt her face flush hot. For a moment, they stood in mutual silence. Klaire was grateful for her hanging curtains of dark hair, the way they shielded her from view. Eventually, she sucked in a breath and lifted her face again, unfolding herself like one would press a worn-out origami crane back into shape with the pads of their fingers. She was still a little bit crumpled, but she was elegant and lovely all the same. A small sadness always seemed to sit within the folded core of Klaire, like something fragile tucked away for safekeeping.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “Start it again.”

#s2b2 #neon lights #lgbtq #queer #queer romance

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brokeitwiththepowerofmathamatics · 2 years ago

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One Half Plus One Half

When Sam asked Tucker a question, he decided against his best judgment to answer it.

Ao3 Link

"Tucker!" Sam screeched in his ear, filled with rage. "What the hell were you thinking? Rushing in like that? You were completely alone!" She grunted as she smashed her hand against the desk, and he could hear her mutter a curse that would definitely get his mouth washed out with soap if his mother heard him say it.

Tucker waited for a few seconds before responding, "Sam… it's just a game."

"We're gonna lose because of you! If you had waited ten seconds, I could have spawned in and helped!"

Tucker took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. "You know what, let's be done playing for now. I think you're too angry to play right now."

"I'm not angry!" Sam shouted. At that moment, Tucker could hear something crash against the ground on the other side of the headset. It sounded like a mug. Tucker was willing to bet it was a mug.

Did he have a basis for that? No. But it sounded mug-like, and that's what he was gonna go with.

"Shit, fuck, damn it…" Sam cursed in quick succession.

"Sure you're not mad?" Tucker asked, leaning back in his chair as the results screen began to show. He had to fight the urge to scoff as the other team spammed 'gg ez' over and over.

"No! I'm not…" Sam began, her voice just as vehement as her curses, but she couldn't finish the sentence. There was a moment of silence before she exhaled into the mic and then said, "Not at you, at least."

Tucker nodded. He knew that. He knew that playing a competitive game with Sam was a bad idea right now, but she needed the outlet.

He reported one of the spammers after they started cursing out someone on his team and clicked away. The main menu came up, but he didn't close out. Not yet, at least. Maybe he could calm Sam down, and they could get back to playing.

"Danny should be playing with us. We need someone not completely brain dead on our team…"

Tucker hesitated and focused on her profile icon as he wondered if she included him in that list of people. Tucker tabbed over and increased Sam's volume now that she was no longer shouting. He decided that knowledge was sometimes a curse. "Yeah, having three good players is definitely better than two," he said neutrally.

There was a shuffling on the other side of the mic, the sound of fabric rustling along with a creaking of wood. He could easily picture her curling up in her massive chair. "Why would it have to be her?"

Tucker didn't answer. There was no safe path out of this conversation. He was tempted to queue them up instead of responding, but that probably wouldn't help things.

"Tucker… you're one of my best friends… you know that, right?" Sam began, hesitant.

He did not like where this was going.

"Yeah, I know, Sam, you're one of mine too," he responded. He chewed on his lip and waited to see where she was going with this.

"You're also Danny's… Can… can you tell me why he picked her… over me?"

Yeah, he didn't like where this went at all.

"Sam… listen, you are one of my best friends, but I'm not gonna go against the bro code."

"Tucker! Please! I just… I just need to know. If there's a chance… for us…" Tucker groaned and ran his hand down his face. Sam took that as a sign he was weakening, so she continued on. "I just want to know. Everyone calls us lovebirds… called us lovebirds, and even Lancer was trying to cheer me up today. I just… did I screw this up? Should I have asked him out? I thought… I just… it…"

"Sam," Tucker interrupted. He shouldn’t have, but he didn’t like seeing her floundering like this. She went dead quiet on her side. Damn it, he didn't want to do this. He didn't want to explain this. He… "Sam, look, I shouldn't say this. I really don't want to…" He sighed and exited the game. There wasn't gonna be any playing after this.

He shouldn't be doing this. Danny told him this in confidence, and Sam didn't deserve to be told over a fucking voice call of all things.

But there was no way he was man enough to say this in person.

"I'm sorry," he said simply as he warred inside himself.

"For what?"

"For telling you this…" Tucker leaned forward and exhaled slowly as he rested his head in his hands, elbows on either side of his keyboard. The lights on it glittered in neon colors as they waited for more inputs. "Danny… doesn't feel that way about you…" He hesitated again. He could leave it at that. But Sam wouldn't get the answer to the question she wanted, so he added one more word. "Anymore."

Sam sucked in a breath. "Anymore? He used to?"

Tucker nodded, though she couldn't see it. "Yeah, freshman year? He would have loved it. He thought about asking you out a couple of times, but he thought you weren't into him."

"Are you joking? What? Why?"

"That, I couldn't tell you. Everyone could see it…"

There was silence. The only sound Tucker could hear right now was the whine of his tinnitus ringing. (Too many shots fired from the ecto guns without hearing protection. It was definitely not the byproduct of listening to too much nightcore at the loudest volumes, nope.)

And then Sam asked the dooming question. "What happened?"

Tucker took a deep breath before sighing again. "The accident…" Tucker continued over Sam's attempt to respond. "He told me dying in the portal was the most painful thing that ever happened to him. Like… his sense of how much pain he's in is irrevocably messed up now. Like… one-time Skulker shot a missile at him while he was human. The missile sent shrapnel everywhere and got Danny, right? Well, he didn't realize it ‘till like… a few days later, after everything had all healed up. Danny went into the kitchen, grabbed a knife and cut it out of his leg."

"What the fuck?"

"Yeah! Imagine how I felt walking in there and seeing that! It was awful! Still better than going to a hospital, though."

There was a moment of silence. Tucker looked back over at her profile icon. The ectoplasm green skull stared back at him, and part of him hoped that Sam was getting pulled away so he didn’t have to continue this conversation.

More for Sam’s sake than his.

His hopes were dashed when her icon lit up again. “What does that have to do with me? I…” She paused again, and when she started up again, she was half shouting, desperate. “Wait, is this about the accident? That’s what it was! An accident!" Sam defended herself. "I didn't know what would happen!”

Tucker felt his jaw clench as she pleaded with the wrong person.

"I know, Sam, I know. And so does Danny… but … that was the first time…"

"First time?" Sam repeated, her confusion coming through clearly. He could match her voice to how her eyebrows raised when she was confused. "What do you mean the first time?"

Tucker shook his head. This was stupid. He really shouldn’t be doing this. This wouldn't help anyone. "This is a bad idea… I… Sorry, let's just leave it at that."

"No, Tucker!" Sam shouted. He almost reached up and tore off his headphones due to how loud she was. Instead, his hands rested on them as she begged desperately, "Please, tell me! What happened? Why does… does he blame me?"

"No!" Tucker nixed that immediately. "He doesn't! Or… at least he tries not to! He's happy! Really! He loves the ghost powers, he loves being a hero! He's… he's glad that it's happened, but… he still remembers how much it hurt…"

"Then why?"

Tucker heaved out a breath and looked down at the floor near his desk. He really should clean this room, there were old empty bags of beef jerky everywhere, but a questioning sound from Sam through the headset made him refocus as much as he didn’t want to. "Sam… you remember Paulina's birthday? When you had that fight with Danny? You made a wish, and Desiree granted it. You two never met, and Danny never got his ghost powers…"

"Y-yeah," Sam stuttered, hesitant. She probably had forgotten it, but now that he was bringing it up it was ringing a bell. "I had to dress up all girly in order for you two to even listen to me."

"Yeeeeah…" Tucker drew out, trying to think of how he should navigate this.

Sam seemed to realize where this was going. Even if she had forgotten just why she had made the wish, there was no way she didn’t remember what had followed. How she convinced him to get back into the portal before turning it on. "He… he blames me for that? I… I didn't know what to do! I didn't have ghost powers! I couldn't fight Desiree! And… I knew he'd get them! I don't know if I would! I thought about it! You know… when you guys turned me away the first time! I thought about going in and turning the portal on myself…"

Tucker sucked in a breath despite himself. That would have killed her. It did kill Danny, but he came back. They didn't know if the same thing would happen to him or Sam.

She could have died and stayed dead.

"Is that what I should have done?" she whispered.

"No!” Tucker shouted. He straightened up and started waving his hands back and forth. “No, no, no. Definitely not!” He froze in place before slumping back into his seat. “It's just…"

There wasn't much left anymore. Just one thing.

"Sam…" he paused, he shouldn’t say this, but everything else was laid out already. "Sam… you wished that you and I would remember everything… and Danny too."

Sam gasped. "So he…"

"He remembers dying… twice ."

"I-I didn't…" Sam uttered. This didn’t sound like her.

She sounded broken.

"I know, Sam… I know…"

#dp fic #danny phantom #fanfic #one sided Danny/Sam #tucker foley #sam manson

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softsnzstuff · 2 years ago

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Prompt idea of streamer Steve trying to talk through his long buildups and then completely destroying his mic when the sneeze does come teehee

Hey friend! I know you’re having a hard time rn at home so I hope this can help in any way possible! 🤍KB

*****

Eddie turned on the water at the kitchen sink. The dishes had slowly built up over the past few days. Both he and Steve were busy with planning some content for the new year. Small traces of steam lingered in the air just above the dirty plates.

The long haired man popped in his headphones and turned on Steve’s stream. He’d been in the streaming room for a while now, working on various different things before he finally went live just a few minutes ago. Eddie figured the last he could do was be a supportive partner and listen while he cleaned.

Grabbing the sponge, he let Steve’s voice fill the room via his headphones.

“-not much! We’re in that weird in between period where it’s after Christmas, but not quite new year. So we’ve mostly been planning for next year…speaking of which, what kind of content do you guys want to see? Drop ideas in the comments.”

“Why am I doing an audio stream? Good question. Eddie got me this new mic for Christmas and I wanted to hhh test it hehh out…h’AESSSHiew! ISHHuhew!”

The sneezes ripped through Steve’s throat as they escaped, right into the microphone. Eddie jumped, dropping a plate he was holding back into the sink.

“JESUS H CHRIST, STEVE!” He screeched. “WARN A GUY!”

He could hear his own voice echo in his headphones since Steve was just in the next room.

“SNF sorry guys. Yeah haha, that was Eddie. Guess he’s listening to the stream too.” Steve continued.

“Anyways, yeah, Eddie got me this mic and who knows. Maybe we’ll start a podcast or something! I’m only joking! Unless you ghihhh you guys want s- HEH something. ii’TCHHew! EKSHiew!”

Eddie ripped the headphones out of his ears this time, turning off the sink and padding towards the streaming room.

“Steve you’re done. The microphone works and my ears are bleeding.” He half joked.

“Umbb a ‘bless you’ would be n’dice?!” Steve quipped back, laughing.

“Bless you. Now turn that damn thing off.”

#streamer AU #s/tranger t/hings #e/ddie m/unson #s/teve h/arrington #steddiesnz #snzblr #ask box #kb writes

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meglinpancake · 2 years ago

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Just Some Haunted Moonstone Headcanons That’s Been Sitting in my Phone for Months

SFW

General

- Haddie has instinctive “fight” responses that can knock someone out if they’re not careful. She must have a warning beforehand and consent before she engages in any physical touch.

- Mikaela once tried to surprise hug Haddie from behind and it ended up with a right hook to her gut-

- Haddie’s love language are words of affirmation, and she flusters easily by soft touches and soft words that are from genuine love and affection

- Mikaela’s love language is all over the place- most of the time it’s actions- she’s also very easy to fluster

- Haddie has the braincell, Mikaela almost never has it

- Haddie is a really good cook- Mikaela cannot be trusted in the kitchen, but if she has a recipe/help she can cook

- Mikaela makes drinks for Haddie, they both have a preference for tea

- Snuggles are a MUST. After Haddie warmed up to Mikaela’s touch, they both are starving for each other’s touch and will almost always be making some sort of contact with each other.

- They’re both socially awkward as fuck, they’re both autistic

- Communicators, Haddie is super blunt and notice changes in Mikaela easily. Mikaela has a harder time interpreting Haddie and due to her anxiety, will often ask.

- It’s canon that Mikaela is dyslexic so Haddie is often there to help read and correct her, and write notes

- Both Haddie and Mikaela’s VAs are singers so they also sing and they will duet together in secret since they’re self conscious about their singing (fun fact Mikaela’s va is a metal singer too so I’m just gonna say she has dat metal screech too)

- Mikaela has a disturbing good Toad (from Mario) impression and uses it in all the cursed ways

Within the realm

- Haddie wasn’t very fond of Mikaela at first, she’s not amused with the idea/fact of magic and witches- all of her experience with magic is from sources of evil afterall

- Unfortunately- Mikaela took an immediate interest in Haddie- someone who actually fights monsters and ghosts?? Now that’s a person she wants to talk to- she could potentially come up with hit horror stories for open mic nights back home!

- Haddie warmed up slowly to Mikaela after noticing that her boons were of great help to the team- even noticing how she would tell stories around the campfire to help cheer other survivors up (although it did bother her for a while with how cliche and wrong the monsters tended to be-)

- When Mikaela came to Haddie asking for advice on how to make her stories better, Haddie hesitantly gave some- expecting it to scare or even disgust Mikaela away- but to her surprise, it didn’t. In fact, Mikaela latched on to her more.

- Mikaela was the first to demonstrate protectiveness, Haddie never asked nor done anything special for her but Mikaela often went out of her way to ensure Haddie was alright- and of course this didn’t go unnoticed-

- Haddie started to return the favour by doing whatever she could to protect Mikaela as well

- What started as a mutual want to protect each other as fellow survivors then became genuine worry and care

- It became a custom for the two to group up as soon as possible when a trial began- even carefully picking perks to compliment each other

- They often fall asleep leaning against each other by the campfire with a few open books scattered about

Outside the realm

- Mikaela and Haddie throw the best Halloween parties hands down

- Mikaela still works at the Moonstone but has now been invited as a storyteller in other places and earns more money freelancing

- Haddie continues traveling and podcasting

- They keep their relationship lowkey, since they’re growing in popularity, and out of fear of people finding out and harassing each other

- Due to the nature of their work, they often are apart from each other

- They call each other a lot, and if phone calls are not an option- then good ole fashion mail works too

- Always bring back souvenirs for each other

- If they can go together they will always go together

- They appear as guests in each other’s work pretty frequently

- Mikaela has every podcast from Haddie saved and she’ll listen to them as a comfort

- Mikaela likes shopping but has horrible money management so Haddie has to stop her

- Neither of them has a fashion sense

- They prefer at-home dates but sometimes dressing up all fancy and going somewhere is a great treat, it’ll usually be the beach if that’s the case

- Neither one of them knows what a sleep schedule is

NSFW

General

- They’re both switches but Haddie leans top and Mikaela leans bottom

- Mikaela gets horny easily, she’s also a brat- loves to really push at Haddie’s buttons in a good way

- Haddie is on the asexual spectrum, specifically demiaroace

- Body worship and cuddle fucks, they both become mush with body worship

- Mikaela really likes to touch Haddie’s face during intimate moments, this results in less oral but it’s a great exchange for the intimacy

- Praise kinks, the both of them, hardcore praise kinks

- Mikaela is the more vocal one, but gets self conscious and embarrassed about her own voice and will need Haddie to reconfirm that her moans are a turn on

- Haddie starts off quiet but can get louder than Mikaela in certain circumstances

- On the few occasions Mikaela does top, she adores giving scar and stretch mark worship

- Marking is common, but usually never anywhere noticeable

- They’re monogamous and fiercely loyal towards each other, it’s a normal theme in bed for them to throw around declarations of “mine” and “yours”

- It’s also due to each of their personal struggles with dysphoria and accepting themselves and the fact they deserve to be loved, so the time in bed is usually a time to strip all that worry away and be vulnerable so they can really experience each other without anxiety overtaking their psyche

- Therefore they are not ones for quickies, but they will tease each other throughout the day

#dbd #dead by daylight #dbd survivor #dbd haddie #haddie kaur #dbd mikaela #mikaela reid #haddie x mikaela #haunted moonstone

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ahshitikeepreadingfanfics · 3 months ago

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Can’t stop thinking about designing a bird framed hetermorph from MHA, Hero name: harpy or something like that

Having some flying capabilities like a bird (can fly slightly higher then pigeon just because she has larger lungs) BUT

Harpy has mic’s kind of voice quirk however it is based more on pitch rather than volume. Think rather than a blast of sound, think more of a deafening screech that shatters windows and makes at least 2 people pass out who aren’t even in the vicinity.

Hands on the end of her wings but the rest of her is bird. Face human like a Harpy from the Greek mythos. And it isn’t like dull coloured feathers. They are red and orange with feathers poking up from her neck of blue yellow and green like some tropical birds. Hair is a dark deep red. Short bob as who the hell wants the upkeep of long hair while also preening 90% of your body with feathers.

She has parrot feet.

She paints her claws sparkly colours

Most likely can communicate with birds on some level. Has never tried.

Has some form of adhd. Most likely. Could also be that she’s part mag pie with how she dashed after shiny things.

Her bones are more fragile but that like birds her bones are hollow. She’s lighter and faster in the air. But is unable to take on blunt force and head on attacks.

Does she chirp? Yes of course she does.

Does she have nesting behaviours? Sometimes. It’s mostly contained to finger crocheting. Whatever stops her from ripping apart couches to make the perfect rest spot.

Her hero costume would have to give her the ability to move and have her feathers be able to breathe in order to have good aerodynamics. Any ideas folks?

Please note: this is just a random hero idea I had. I will probably fledge this out into an actual oc once I’m done this stretch of work!

I need to plan more into this.

But I have no caught up on MHA and now I can’t STOP THINKING ABOUT IT.

#my hero academia #mha oc #bnha #bnha oc #ocs #original character

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delicrieux · 4 years ago

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too.

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby.

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air.

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully.

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr.

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby?

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too.

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen.

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration.

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls. The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly, “get my pretty name out of your mouth.”

There’s a pause full of tense silence.

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.”

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you’ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis.

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing.

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan.

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach.

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno.

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi.

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

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 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband imagine #myso #make you say oh #sykkuno x reader #if ya squint #imagine #imagines #reader #reader insert

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dismal-alien-darling · 4 years ago

Text

Like Glass

Alcina Dimitrescu x female reader

Bela Dimitrescu, Cassandra Dimitrescu, Daniela Dimitrescu, Karl Heisenburg

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu almost looses you and becomes even more protective than ever before.

Warnings/tags:abduction, being held captive/against your will, being held for ransom, being starved, severe bodily harm, mentions of torture, trauma, night terrors, angst, hurt/comfort, protective Heisenburg, protective Dimitrescu daughters, upset Alcina, protective Alcina, vulnerable Alcina

y/n= your name

y/L/n=your lycan’s name

Alcina Dimitrescu had always been protective of you. Even when you were simply her “pet,” her “toy,” her “human play-thing.” Her protection had doubled when she had confessed her feelings for you and had taken you as her lover. It had then tripled when she asked for your hand in marriage, you now being her wife AND step-mother to her girls.

You and Alcina had been careful in hiding your relationship because as pure as your love was it was dangerous. You could very well have been used a ransom bargaining chip to hand over Castle Dimitrescu to an enemy family. So Lady Dimitrescu kept you close and safe...that was until one winter night. You had ventured out into the grounds that night to watch the snow fall and as you enjoyed the peace of the snowfall you had been taken by an enemy house. The word has slipped, unbeknownst how, but it had slipped just the same. You had screamed and fought as best as you could but the ones that took you were by far stronger than you. By the time Alcina had heard the screams and had gone racing out of the castle, her daughters leading the charge, there was no sign of you except for the signs of a struggle in the snow.

As expected, two days after you had been captured a note was left at the castle doors demanding Castle Dimitrescu be handed over in exchange for you safe return. The letter stated they had three days to comply or else the next thing that would be showing up the doors would be your dismembered body.

During the next two days Alcina, the girls, Heisenburg (who had grown fond of you) and your lycan (a wedding present from Heisenburg) were tearing the countryside apart looking for you. The troop barely stopped to rest and when they would Alcina could be heard muttering; “Alcina you fool, you should have turned her when you had the chance...you idiot...she could have fought them off if she was turned...you should have been watching her...Alcina you idiot...” she went on and on. Your captors had been very thorough in covering their scent and their headquarters was extremely well hidden.

It was close to sunset on the third day and Alcina had collapsed on her fours sobbing into the grass, “I’VE KILLED HER! LUBIREA MEA I’M SO SORRY!” I’VE FAILED YOU MY POOR DRAGA MEA!” The girls surrounded their mother holding onto her crying on her shoulder, even Heisenburg knelt down and placed a comforting hand on his sister’s back. Their moment of despair was interrupted by y/L/n howling and barking down a lone well about 50 feet away. The group rushed over peering down into the well which had no water at the bottom.

“Call the pack y/L/n! She’s down there and we are going to destroy every single one them! They fucked with the wrong family!” Heisenburg commanded y/L/n who immediately turned tail.The girls and Heisenburg quickly descended down the well leaving Alcina, who couldn’t fit down the narrow entrance.

“There’s a tunnel mother! We’re coming y/n!” Daniela screamed as she, Cassandra, Bela and Heisenburg surged forward.

“Be careful my doves!” Alcina called down after them. Lady Dimitrescu stood over the well for five minutes...fifteen minutes...it felt like an eternity for her. She strained her ears for the slightest sound of anything she could hear. In the distance she heard the lycan pack fast approaching. Y/L/n arrived at the well and sat waiting with the rest of the pack behind them. Some more time passed when finally Alcina heard frantic running.

“Hurry Cassandra! Dammit don’t drop her! I should have carried her!” Daniela screeched.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry...you guys stop arguing! She’s lost so much blood we need to hurry!” Bela screamed her voice choked with tears. Alcina’s heart dropped to her feet as she saw the girls and Heisenburg at the bottom of the well you draped over Cassandra’s shoulder. The girls and Heisenburg made quick work of ascending the well passing you into Alcina’s arms. Lady Dimitrescu let out a combination of what sounded like a scream, a sob and a wail.

“MY DOVE! CEL MIC WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU?!” Alcina wailed at the sight of her lover. You were absolutely battered within an inch of your life and covered in blood. There were deep chain marks around your wrists and your protruding ribs indicated you had been starved by your captors.

“Come lycans! Tonight we will taste blood as we ruin a family line forever!” Heisenburg dropped down into the well again as the lycans followed suit one by one leaving the girls with their mother and you.

Alcina was broken from her despair by the girls tugging at her dress.

“Come mother! We must get her back home!” All three of them yelled in unison. And with that the Dimitrescus made a mad dash back to their castle while you lay limp in your lover’s arms.

*********************

It had been several weeks since you were abducted and you were back to your normal self....well as normal as you could be now that you had suffered severe trauma. You woke up every night screaming and thrashing. In your night terrors you were captured over and over. You were beaten and starved over and over. Alcina would always hold you in her arms comforting you as you sobbed eventually falling back asleep. You had gotten the run down of what had happened a few days after your return; Heisenburg, y/L/n and the pack had absolutely decimated the underground home of the rival family. They had weened out the few directly responsible for taking and beating you. They still resided in the basement being tortured every day by the girls and Alcina. It was safe to say they wouldn’t be bothering any you ever again.

Ever since your abduction Alcina had been insanely protective of you and it was starting to become ridiculous. She didn’t let you outside unless supervised by the girls or herself. You hadn’t been alone for more than five minutes and Alcina had a death grip on you every night. She wouldn’t even let you walk down the stairs for fear you would “trip and break your neck.” Although Alcina had lamented not turning you when you were gone she still hadn’t done it because she was so preoccupied with keeping you “safe” and of course the normal commotions with Mother Miranda. You knew she was acting like this because you were taken but it was annoying you and not helping you in your recovery. One night you snapped.

“Alcina, drag mea, I know you want to keep me safe but you can’t treat me like I’m made of glass for the rest of my life!” you sighed pushing the log you were going to put onto the fire until Alcina had grabbed your waist pulling you back from the fire asking if you had burned yourself when you hadn’t even been close to the flames.

“I won’t apologize for keeping you safe cel mic it’s my JOB,” she stated gesturing for you to come back and sit on her lap where you had been. She furrowed her brows when you didn’t move.

“Look Alcina my love, I know that incident was a close call but I’m fine now and nothing has happened since,” you finished snapping your head around to look at your wife. Her whole body tensed.

“Nothing yet...it is my job to protect you y/n.You’re my wife and the step-mother to my daughters and you will NEVER be away from me or hurt like that ever again!” Alcina was now yelling her eyes filling with tears. She let out a sigh resting her elbows on her knees placing her head in her hands. You couldn’t see but you knew she was crying. You strode forward quickly kneeling down so you could look up at her. You took her hands in yours leaning up to place a kiss on her chin.

“Alcina I-“

“I will never get that image of you out of my head!” Alcina sobbed taking your face in her hands. “You looked dead! I thought you were dead! We almost didn’t make it in time! And even when we did I couldn’t come get you myself! You wake up every night screaming and in tears because I failed to protect you! I should have turned you before we were wed and even now I STILL haven’t gone through with it! I’m a monster who almost lost the one person I have ever loved!” She finished her sobs racking through the room pulling you up into her lap. You went without protest wrapping your arms around her neck as she sobbed into yours. You two had never really addressed what had happened. The only time you did was when you first woke after being passed out for almost an entire day after you were returned safely to the castle. Lady Dimitrescu had not left your side the entire time you were recovering.

“Then let’s do it draga mea...” you whispered, “I think it is time. I’m ready to spend eternity with you and the girls.” As you said this Alcina lifted her head looking into your eyes and a smile stretched across her face.

“Ok my sweet dove, we shall then,” sniffled Alcina as you wiped her eyes with your sleeve. “There is a full moon tomorrow? Does that seem right?” You let out an amused laugh and she did too.

“Yes lubirea mea, that sounds simply perfect,” you agreed pressing your lips to hers. You were ready to become like her and the girls. You were ready to shatter your human form and embrace your new body.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x female reader #lady dimitrescu x fem reader #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #heisenberg #fanfiction #resident evil 8 #alcina dimitrescu x reader

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dreamsfreckles · 4 years ago

Text

[6:57p.m.] Whatever Idiot

Dream x reader

Fluff

Wholesome bf content 😌 - enjoy!

You furrowed your brows in thought.

As much as you loved watching him game with his friends, you got bored sometimes. It’s not like he left you out or ignored you, but today you were craving a little extra love from your 6’3 boyfriend. “Dream,”as his buddies called him, was playing minecraft yet again, just messing around in the SMP. You came to his house an hour or two ago and talked for a bit before he hopped online with the boys. You didn’t mind, of course. Sometimes you’d play with him, while other times you’d just watch; either way it was equally as entertaining. However, today felt super long, even kind of rough. All you wanted to do once the day ended was to fall into your wonderful boyfriend’s arms... But that was kind of hard to do when he was sitting in front of his desk, clicking away on his keyboard and mouse.

You debated your options.

You could bother him to attract his attention, or you could patiently wait for him like the good girlfriend you are...

After much reluctance, you simply decided to just lay on his bed and scroll through tiktok for the time being.

As you aimlessly pass by hundreds of videos... One of them catches your attention.

There’s a video of a girl setting up her phone on a surface to point at a boy who looks to be gaming on a computer.

That looks familiar to your situation...

She then proceeds to walk over to him, sit down facing him in his lap, and then hug him closely whilst he continues playing on the device.

Your heart flutters watching the video.

That was so cute... What would Clay do if you did that to him..?

Glancing up to him from your spot on his bed, you analyze his set up. Is there room for you to fit in his lap? Is there anything that you could potentially knock over? You sit up more to get a better look. He has space in between himself and the desk that looks to be enough space to crawl into... He also looks calm, so you shouldn’t be interupting anything special...

Deciding that this was your chance, you softly stood from your spot on the bed and padded over to the side of him.

“No, Sapnap, you can’t build that here, it’s-“ Clay spoke into his mic, probably ordering Sapnap around.

With a flushed face, you move to stand more in front of him, causing him to look from his monitor, up to you.

“Babe-“

You wordlessly swing your right leg over his thighs and gently sit yourself down in his lap, facing him, and then wrapping your arms around him. Clay froze, his face heating up as he processed what you just did. You relax into his embrace and nuzzle into the side of his neck.

Finally content with your guys’s proximity, you sigh out the four words you have yet to say to him that night.

“I love you, Clay.”

With his game already paused and mic muted, Clay wraps his arms around you and rests his head on yours. He was smiling, his heart filled with warmth. He didnt realize how much he missed being this close to you.

“I love you too.”

After hugging in silence for a few minutes, Clay’s curiosity got the best of him. “Baby?”

“Hmm?” You breathe out.

“Whatcha doin’?” He asks softly.

“Huggin’ you.”

Clay chuckles, closing his eyes once again, and rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“You are being very cute right now.” He confesses, with a light smirk.

Your lips lift into a smile. “I know.”

Clay lets out a soft wheeze, running his fingers through your hair. “Was I ignoring you too much for your liking? You feeling clingy?” He asked jokingly.

You squeeze him a little tighter. “Lil’ bit.”

Clay chcukles, yet again, and crushes you harder into the hug, causing you to let out a strained squeak. “ClAy! tOo mUcH!” You mangage to yell out, successfully making Clay bubble into a fit of wheezes and giggles. Finally feeling merciful, he lets go of you and allows you to sit up and look down at him. Clay gazes at you with stars in his eyes. Every time he looks at you, a wave of excitment hits him. Being with you was always fun; even if you both were sitting in silence, scrolling through Instagram, or watching youtube together.

Clay’s mind started to wander to how you both got into this situation in the first place. You must’ve gotten a little bored while he was playing. You were usually quite content when he played. Maybe you weren’t. Were you always bored when he played? Were you getting sick of his gaming habits? Worry flashed over Clay for a moment. No... You would say something if you got bored... right? Clay didn’t think it was that deep. If there was a real problem, you probably wouldn’t be in his lap...

Right..?

“Clay?” You broke him from his trance. “Oh.” He blinked. “yeah?” You giggled at his dopey face. “You looked a little concerned for a second.” You admitted, bringing your hand up to his face to pinch his cheekbone. Suddenly, a thought washes over you. “Wait.” You panic. “Is there something on my face?” Clay almost laughed. Almost. He felt a wave mischief wash over him. “Yes, actually.” He smirks. “There’s a very tiny spider on your forehead.” Your eyes widen for a moment and it looks like you’re about to spaz out; but before you do, you realize the look on his face is most definitely cap. You immediately glare at him and smack his shoulder. “I hate you.” You scoffed, getting up from his lap. Clay giggles and tries to tug you back. “Wait, I was kidding!” He draws out, whining at your departure from his lap. You hop back into your original spot and scoff. “Yeah, whatever, go back to blowing George or something.” Clay’s jaw drops at your words. “WhaT DID YOU JUST SAY?” He starts to get up from the chair. You look up from your phone, knowing what’s about to happen. “Nope. Nope. Go back to your desk, I’m not starting this with you again.” You deny, shaking your head and directing him to sit back down. Clay stares at you in disbelief. “Wh-“ he looks back to his computer and then back to you. “What do you mean ‘starting this again’-“ he mocks in your voice. You burst out laughing, denying him from coming any closer. “I meAN-“ you say exhasporatedly. “We both know what the fuck you’re about to do and I CAN’T-“ before you could finish your sentence, you were already being thrown over his shoulder. “CLAY!” You screech. “I’M SERIOUS CLAY, I CAN’T-“ Clay shakes his head, already done with you. “Nope you got on my nerves, this is your punishment.” Clay walks out of his room, through the kitchen, and out the patio door, heading straight for his pool. “CLAY I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU-“ and with one final curse from you, Clay flings himself, with you over his shoulder, into his backyard pool.

Clay is already laughing as you rise to the surface of the water, a glare on your face. Clay is wheezing with laughter. You almost felt concerned that he wasn’t breathing. Almost. As his wheezing turns to laughing and laughing turns to giggling, he finally was to the point where he could function. You raise your eyebrows. “Done?” You ask. Clay lets out one last chcukle, walking towards your body half submerged in the water. “Not quite.” He states suggestively, walking up to you until you’re an inch apart in the middle of the pool.

Now, there’s no way you’re letting him back you up against the pool wall like some PUSSY. So you stood your ground in your sopping wet sweatshirt. If anything, YOU were the one who was going to be backing HIM up against some wall.

Clay stares at you expectingly, water driping from his wet hair. You stare right back at him, no sign of emotion. He looks back and fourth between both of your eyes, trying to make you break. However, your stare is much stronger and is quickly causing Clay to panic. You stare harder. ‘Break, break’ you chant in your head. Clays eyes squint. You follow suit.

Clay blinks.

“FUCK”

“HAHAHA IDIOT I WIN!” You rejoice.

Clay sighs, running his hands over his face. “Whatever.” He deadpans. “Lets just get out of here.” He mopes, walking to the stairs of the pool.

You giggle. “Someone’s a sore loser...” you poke, causing Clay to look back at you with a fierce look in his eyes. You laugh and swim up to him, latching yourself onto his wet t-shirt-clad back. “Stop giving me that look, you puppy. I know who you truly are.” You smile up at him innocently. Clay rolls his eyes and smiles.

“Whatever, idiot.”

Lol, hope you liked it! This was my first try writing with the dream team and I plan to write more! Let me know if you have any feedback! Also, I can take requests if anyone is interested :3 thx!

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biinaberry · 2 years ago

Text

Demon Core

Statement number: #9460121, ‘Demon Core’. Statement of Researcher Tango T. Tek on a new research assistant. Obtained from an in person interview on March 09, 1946. Date of recording: April 17, 2019.

[Tango] "…There are two types of scientist. Those who work with a team, and those who work alone. I’m a part of the lucky, or unlucky, few who were given the opportunity to work on my own."

[Magmits is not a part of or associated with Hermit Archives] [Google Docs] [AO3] Editor: aroaceacacia

A series of fizzles echo through the microphone like an old television. The Curator is clearly heard, despite a slight muffling of the audio, as if the mic were hidden somewhere.

“Are there any possible leads that can be taken? Like prior recordings or cameras in the storage unit? It would be silly to assume it was me. Unless I somehow gained the ability to suddenly sleepwalk.” The Curator chuckles under her breath.

A crackling, staticky voice joins amongst the twangs of the microphone. “We already know you couldn’t have done it. The company did a thorough background check before hiring. [static] -anagement knows you couldn’t have done it. However, your seamstress portfolio was mighty impressive. Hopefully my copilot is checking camera footage as we speak and sending investigators to look over the cases.” Someone sips at a liquid, swallowing loudly, before a small clack signals they’ve set something down onto a counter. “The logs will probably be null and void since recordings are checked a day or two after they’re submitted.” So what can we do?” A metal chair screeches across the floor.

“There is no we in this statement.” The voice softens as it gets closer. “You’re a Curator, you weren’t hired to play detective. Go back to verifying info and recording. You shouldn’t work a job you didn’t sign up for . Besides, this isn’t the first time someone stole from us.” The boss chuckles, a twiddling thing, as if they had lightning in their veins. ”However none of them ever expect how thorough we can get. They never get too far. While I, [static] -ment will work on this, you can go back to work.”

The Curator sighs, then hums idly. There’s a sound like a soft footstep and inhale of breath, and then the chair squeaks again. Clothing rustles as she stands and straightens. “Cleo.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for notifying us. Including the time at the end of the recording was also very practical. It’ll help with the timeline of things. You did good.” The air is stale, settling in its silence. It remains eerily unperturbed until a door thuds shut with a decisive click . ----------

Papers of various weights are shuffled across a desk space. The Curator takes a few sips of something, before putting it down on the desk with a clack - sounds ceramic.

“Following a few of my requests, management was able to give a list on what statements were already recorded.”

A paper is picked up. “One Pearl E. Moon took up the job of recording statements. Upon asking why she left in early 2012, the Boss said she just... ‘lost interest, gained a sense of paranoia’. Which isn’t a new thing, some people take their job way too seriously, but it started to affect her performance. Stuttering and constant retakes during recordings, and all that. It started to be too much for the company, so they let her go. Sad to see, because she was one of the better on-foot researchers that the company had prior to her job shift. Certainly had a way to get the information she needed out of others. Management didn’t see a need to immediately replace her, since all statements have been transcribed to new material and security does routine checks on the storage units.”

“Which, I won’t lie, makes me question what makes the Curator job special, unless it is really just the merging of two jobs into one. …Maybe I should’ve asked them that when I had the chance, earlier.”

There’s a large, heavy thump, and some kind of crate or box slides across the desk and closer to the microphone. “Boss also preselected a new file for me, with artifacts attached. They felt bad about yesterday’s incident, so they decided to do some of the work for me.” A folder slaps onto the table, as if dropped. Fingers sift through papers, sliding them around and fanning them out, until one is picked up. The paper is shaken out straight and snapped into position.

“‘All papers and artifacts in this crate pertain to case file #9460121 ‘Demon Core’. The only exception being an older Geiger counter left in storage unit ISO- SP3. Notes have been sectioned off into different folders, color-coded, and labeled. Physicists who specialize in radioactive critical states have been hired to read through the statement giver’s notes and to give a condensed final copy for the statement reader’...I’m curious to see just how many notes were included for them needing to condense it. ‘All notes have been photocopied and scanned into the company’s databases, however the statement giver requested a way for them to still keep ownership over their research findings, as well as a way to remain anonymous. A deal has been settled that their name would be kept on all documents in our database, but would not be released publicly by us in conjunction with either the statement or their research, nor in association with our organization at all. All details, regarding both the statement giver’s personal information and the case itself, are classified and for the eyes of the Curator only. Any other employees of work site Maple do not have clearance to read this file beyond its name. They did give consent to the use of their name during an in-person interview with the site Maple Curator. As such, a copy of the original March 13, 1946 recording has been provided, as well as a transcript for only the Curator’s use.’ Why ask to be anonymous in the first place then?”

There’s a beat, before something hard is driven into the crate. Wood seems to splinter and protest, and the Curator exhales with effort, before it splits apart. Something small and metallic pings several places, and the Curator shrieks in surprise - “bloody nail,” she grumbles. Another beat. Fabric rustles, and flesh scrapes across the wood. “There’s one,” the Curator mumbles, and drops a massive file onto the desk. The thump echoes through the room. Another scrape. “There’s two.” Another thump. And again: and with each continuous thumping sound, the disbelief and pure astonishment in the Curator’s mutters of ‘oh god’ increasingly grows. “What the hell kinda experiments were they conducting to have five massive folders on just research notes .” She takes another sip from her mug and exhales deeply. “Okay... Thank you management, holy shit.”

----------

“Cleo Zombie, Curator of work site Maple, record number: #9460121, case file ‘Demon Core’. Statement of Researcher Tango T. Tek on a new research assistant. Obtained from an in person interview on March 09, 1946. Date of recording: April 17, 2019.”

The soft whir of a winding tape accompanies the sips from the Curator’s cup. The tape stops winding, and the Curator presses a button with a click. The tape begins.

[Tango]

You sure this whole.. record-ificator you have there will be enough legal proof? I spent months on this work, murder wouldn’t be the only thing on the table if I lose ownership of this.

[Curator]

You submitted an audio log with your notes. It’s enough. If you believe a bunch of paper and restoration workers will find a use for plutonium research, I’ll see if Lily can print out a physical contract.

[Tango]

Fine... actually please do, that would make it easier. I don’t want this getting out.

[Curator]

It won’t. You came here with an encounter or story with a-?”

[CLICK. NOTES ARE TAKEN.]

[Tango]

-- Research assistant, a new one.

[Curator]

“ It’s always the new ones … Okay! Statement of one…?”

[CURATOR SHOVES THE MICROPHONE IN FACE. IMPACT AND GRUNT. FUZZ.]

[Tango]

Tango T. Tek.

[Curator]

On a new research assistant! The day is March 09, 1946, coming to you live from work cite Maple. You may begin your tale, o fortunate victim.

[Tango]

…There are two types of scientist. Those who work with a team, and those who work alone. I’m a part of the lucky, or unlucky , few who were given the opportunity to work on my own. Flying solo the entire time like a newborn bird. Could have been because my whole job could vaporize anything and everything into a new breed of mutant, but that’s neither here nor there.

I work with plutonium, nasty stuff if someone doesn’t know what to look for. The line between safety and certain death is a… delicate one, to say the least, and sadly, we’d already seen the worse of those two outcomes. My company didn’t want another outbreak again, even though it was on the contract. But it’s a little easier to be safe, when you’re working alone. Fewer people to consider, right?

Then the boss came down all ‘we got some news for you’ and I was terrified that all of my funds were just ripped for me. Oh it was worse . They surpris-ificated me with a lab assistant! Which you know should be a good thing, but I had this whole system. And trying to teach that to someone who isn’t yourself is more pain than it’s worth. So I’m dreading it, my brain’s dreading it, I could hear the screams coming from my lab as she’ll probably get rearranged.

[pauses] Uh- oh wow I made it sound like the new guy was horrible- he wasn’t. We. We got into a rhythm...eventually.

It wasn’t until a week later that I was actually able to meet him for the first time. I could only describe him as average, in an American sense. He wore a typical white lab coat, a brown cardigan, and blue jeans. That cardigan…! He always had the top two buttons undone, and he never wore an undershirt, did you know that? It seemed a little unprofessional to me!... but I was wearing an unzipped vest myself, so the same could be said for me. His hair was like clouds, light and fluffy. Bright yellow, like the fields of wheat on my old drive to work. Tightly curled in the front but more wavy in the back. Unreal, in how perfect it was. Didn’t realize that fact until we were walking to my lab.

He introduced himself; where he got his degree (Britain), prior lab experience (also Britain), jobs, the usual. “Call me Zed,” he said with a smile and an actual twinkle in his eye. His eyes… I swear, every time I looked at them they changed color. When I first entered the room his eyes were a dark blue, that weird shade where you can have a whole debate on if it could be classified as blue or purple? Yet, when I shook his gloved hand (purple with yellow palms, so bright they hurt to look at), his eyes were a light brown. His face was covered in freckles, like stars and constellations. They were against a tan canvas; overall he looked like he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. He also had two hair clips on the left side of his face to keep his bangs out, both black. The boss led him down to my lab and that's when I got a good look at the rest of him, and it really struck me that he was off for a British person. He was about 6’5, or maybe 6’4. That’s an estimate using my boss as a reference - he’s six foot. It also didn’t help that the new guy was either nearly or fully a head taller than me. There was no way I was self conscious of my own height, nope, no way, not at all. I’m a very proud and regal 5’7, okay!

… Anyways. When we made it down to my lab, lucky old 27, I showed him the basic layout. The left side of the room was for the active experiments, the right side was used for completed experiments, and storage for all the research. The left wall was covered in counters, and dials, charts, and levers, versus the right, which had multiple filing cabinets, all meticulously labeled. Stuff like “Experiments 1-15”. I know I know. Very descriptive, I’m a naming master. But the most important part of the room was the Geiger counter in the top left corner of the room. It sat right next to the viewing window used to keep track of the experiment chamber.

Once I’d shown Zed around the place, it was time to get to work...Have I described the exact nature of the experiment yet? We’re researching Biology, its effect on the body, all that typical jazz. Place the subject in the testing room, push the plutonium until a desired amount, stop the experiment, repeat with the next batch. I’ll admit it, my tests aren’t the most.. ethical. Outsiders call it torture, but that pales in the pursuit of science. Just..don’t tell the board and we’re a-okay. We.. have an understanding. To help Zed get settled in, we did a trial run. I tested the equipment as normal, put the subject in the chamber, started the experiment, and documented it. Been doing it for four months now, so nothing new. I gave Zed the task of documenting the results at the bottom left side of the room, by the dials and charts. I would look over the test subjects and the Geiger counter at the top left side of the room, easy enough. Every 20 seconds I would mark down the number on the counter and when it reached over my marked capacity or ten minutes had passed, I would shut it off.

Tell me how, after just two minutes, the counter was click click clicking like it was the end of the world! I checked all the readings and it seemed that if the experiment were to continue, it would generate an effective radiation dose of around 1500 rem - over three times what should have been expected! I was scrambling to shut down everything! I looked like a headless chicken from how quickly I was running to turn it off. I whipped my head toward Zed to see if he saw it as well, and he was as still as a statue! Almost like he was made of stone, before the widest smile I’d ever seen on a person spread-ificated on his face and he burst into laughter, just gasping like he were a man drowning. “Is that supposed to happen?” he asked. [mocking] “Supposed to happen?” Of course not! I’d only ever have the counter that high if I were trying to see how fast I could kill a person!

I quickly informed the boss so we could evacuate the lab building. I didn’t want any more heads put on my platter. We had some specialists in hazmat suits check the building. A group of ten. No matter how hard they looked or how long they checked, they found nothing wrong. No radiation leaks, no plutonium monsters, no nothing. So now I look like the bad guy, because I interrupted everyone’s work for nothing! I tried telling them the plutonium was acting up, the numbers were way too high, but they laughed it off. Told me to keep a better eye on it, rude . When we were finally able to enter the lab again a week later, I was checking every piece of machinery meticulously. Every nook and cranny, every bit and bolt. But nada, zip, nothing! I couldn’t find a single reason for why the values were multiplied! Sad to say that subjects 1 through 20 from batch C had to be removed from further testing. While they won’t be of any use for Alvarado, they became an experiment of their own. We placed them in a separate control room, to monitor how they were affected by the much higher dose of radiation they received. Of course, radiation poisoning was to be expected, but what else might happen? It felt like new ground. Still, the accident had left me a bit shaken, and I took a few days of sick leave.

Two days passed before I brought myself to resume the experiment. I checked the equipment as usual and no defects could be found. I placed the next batch of subjects into the test chamber and started again. All was going the same for the first two minutes, but at 2:47 minutes, the counter went bonkers again! Hundreds of milliroentgen! Shut everything down, checked the charts, double checked with Zed, started it over. Nearly the same result, but this time we had to worry about even more milliroentgen, and it started alerting us at 3:15 , instead! And again, we repeated it, with new results - and again and again and again. This repeated for two weeks . The length of time for the counter to go off and the amount of milliroentgen kept changing.

Normally in an experiment, you’d expect the results to be a little different each time, because it’s the job of the scientist to read between the lines and find the pattern. But here’s the thing. There was no pattern! I was losing my mind! I had no team to bounce theories off of, and there was no way Zed knew what was happening, because he had no clue how the experiments should be running. It didn’t feel real. I thought, “maybe it’s the equipment?” I got the boss to almost fully replace everything in the lab. Wiring, lights, counters, hell even new Geiger counters! The only thing he wouldn’t replace was the happy fun time rock - ah, the plutonium. Still a little bitter over that.

By that point I’d been at it for two months, hundreds of subjects wasted and many deceased from the radiation. I was just about to give up. Sure, I got notes on higher levels of radiation, but none of it made sense ! My research should have time and radiation as our constant - all of the specimens would be exposed to a specified level for the same lengths of time - but now neither were independent! All batches were exposed to levels far exceeding their assigned so we had to shut it down! None of what I was getting could be used for my prior work at all! All of my research was on varying levels of exposure and its effect on the body. Each batch of specimens had a level of radiation assigned, and then each batch was further divided into subgroups based on how many times they would experience that radiation. All of my prior batches had to stop the day Zed joined, because I couldn’t risk tampering with those results.

Realizing none of this could be used, that I had spent months spinning in place with nothing but inconclusive, nonsensical results to show for it, was my breaking point. When I entered the lab, I planned on creating a new thesis or research statement, because my current one was going to be on permanent vacation. Yet, when I got into the lab, a small note was at my desk. Apparently Zed called the boss, said he would be out for the day. Car troubles. It would just be me again. I can do that.

…When I tell you everything ran perfectly. It. Ran. Perfectly. No random spikes, no sudden time differences, everything was exactly how I wanted it. How it had been before . I won’t lie, I almost cried. Sadly batches A1 through Z1 had to be rejected, stuck to only the ‘analysis’ part of the experiment, but it’s better than nothing at all!

[DESPERATE, WHEEZY LAUGHTER. IT TRAILS OFF INTO BREATHING.]

I was so happy to start again that I didn’t even question why until I got home… When your entire job is based around logic, you don’t think about a person being responsible. It’s.. unimaginable in a sense, especially in this context. But there I was, sitting on my couch drinking coffee contemplating if Zed was the reason! You understand, I am nothing if not a scientist. I needed more data. So I held my belief for the next day.

As I entered the lab, Zed was standing there, filing papers away. He turned and smiled, that awful smile with his stupid shiny teeth, and then he apologized for missing work the day prior. His eyes were gold this time. I said it’s alright, accidents happen, and besides, I was able to advance the experiments. God.. he was so happy when I said that, and it made me feel ill. Something about him hurt to look at. The sight of his neon-bright gloves alone gave me a headache. He ran to the filing cabinet and picked up his glasses, clipboard and two pens.

“So we’re starting a new batch? Says here we’re moving to batch A3 through Z3.” This was my opportunity to test my hypothesis from the night before. I confirmed, and told Zed I’m going to watch over the experiment this time around; an inversion of our usual roles, though I didn’t tell him that. I asked him to check the test subjects, to make sure each batch contained precisely 40 subjects. He saluted, like a soldier, and said “Ay ay, Captain!” before leaving the room.

As predicted, without Zed, the experiment ran smoothly. Ten minutes passed before I heard Zed call out my name, asking if he could come in. I agreed. When he entered the room, I looked at the counter: it clicked 5 marks higher. I took a deep breath and gathered my courage before turning to smile at Zed. I told him to stand next to me. My heart followed the beat of his footsteps. Five, ten, twenty, fourty - the counter kept clicking higher and I could feel the sweat gather on the back of my neck - eighty, one-twenty, my heart hammering against my chest. A bird trapped, fluttering and fighting in its cage before I could feel his shadow fall over me. Four hundred and sixty milliroentgens per hour. I couldn’t stop staring at the counter. Zed’s hand came to rest on my shoulder. It was warm. Four-seventy, his other hand reached past me, four-eighty, his face inched forward (bright purple eyes), four-ninety, his hand touched the counter.

The glass shattered. The counter’s needle flew by my head, hitting the wall and clattering to the ground. My ears rang. My vision blurred, focused on the broken machine, its screaming death rattling my brain like a smacked metal tin. I couldn’t think. I turned to look at him. Zed smiled, his eyes a kaleidoscope of colors, green to purple to yellow to blood red. He tilted his head to me, teeth as sharp as blades and freckles that glow like stars. He looked like he was made of radium. His hand retreated back to my shoulder and I felt it, somehow, at the base of my spine. Ringing. I can’t feel my hands. Ringing. I can’t feel my feet, only my eyes and my ears. Ringing. “Oh~ What a pity. Thought this one would work .” His voice melted. I was helpless to listen. “There’s no time for that now. There’s experiments to be done.” Somehow, he didn’t sound unkind. Fingers grasped the back of my neck, pulling me away from the machine.

…I don’t know how I got home that day. I don’t remember. The moment he took his hand off my back, I blacked out and woke up on my couch drinking coffee. I never felt so out of control , I -

[SILENCE. SOFT BREATHING.]

Well, now I know how it feels to be the rat in the maze… What do I do now? I still work with him, we still do our experiments. You know, I had to get glasses? My eyes haven’t worked quite right ever since… Sorry, I don’t know how to finish this with a nice bow.

[Curator]

You don’t need to. ----------

A rattled click concludes the end of the tape. The Curator huffs, and takes a large drink of whatever she has in her glass.

“Let’s all agree that that statement was insane. Surely, it’s just the ramblings of a mad scientist who’s not gotten the results he wanted. But, there is this crate -” she smacks the crate on her desk “- and the apparent broken Geiger counter in storage, so there has to be some truth to his claim. … Ah, right! The statement summary. ”

“‘Mr. Tango T. Tek was living in his New Mexico home with his housemate, Nathan “Impulse” Stewart-Voss, an electrician for the same company. Mr. Stewart-Voss reported Mr. Tek went missing on March 19st when he didn’t return home from work for two days. Sadly after the initial investigation from March 21st to 25, Mr. Stewart-Voss also went missing on the 27th. Neither of them were found again. After police checked their home, multiple notebooks were found scattered across the floor, all containing different formulas, messages, and diagrams. Only a small handful of the notebooks were deciphered, but those that were had variations of ‘Yes?’, ’Where?’, ‘He’s Here’, ‘Where is He?’, ‘Tango’, ‘A deal’s a deal’ and various forms of legible smiley faces. From the images, a vague shape of a map was found. The trail ended at a dug up hole in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Investigators excavated a 20 ft by 20 ft by 10 ft deep square; however, nothing was recovered. Eventually, all pursuits to find the two dwindled down, as no new information could be found.”

“Attempts have been made to find Mr. Zed, but the search has been null as well. The Curator did provide the research team a possible location in New Mexico based upon an off handed comment Mr. Tek said prior to the recorded interview. Seeing as no other leads were found the team got to work and started to ask around the specified area. Even with a description of the man, a possible name, and a photograph; every manager has denied the existence of such a man and investigators have been told to leave. The conclusion was that Zed was a false name. No new information has been found out regarding the case in general.”

“Mr. Tek’s research deals with the overarching hypothesis of ‘does varying levels of radiation effect biology?’” A sheet of paper rustles, as if the Curator were putting the statement summary aside. “ However , this paper so far fails to mention specifically what biology he is testing with. Rabbits, rats, humans, who the hell knows. If I had to make a guess, based upon his talk with Zed about checking batches, I’m going to assume rats or rabbits. Surely, if 40 humans per batch went missing, somebody would notice.”

The flapping of paper is heard as the Curator mutters a curse, pushing her chair back to pick something up from the floor.

“‘Within this folder is a selection of photographic artifacts related to Mr. Tek’s statement. All photographs have a handwritten comment on the back, written in black ink. Refer to the given chart for each photograph by number and description.’”

“‘Photos 3/8: Abnormal Spots.’ After the encounter with Mr. Zed, Mr. Tek informed the Curator that he started to experience an almost.. tingling feeling on his shoulders. As if ‘there was electricity in my veins’ to copy his words. When getting ready to go to bed, he noticed a faint glowing on the mirror to his right. Upon turning he noticed that his shoulders and sides were glowing underneath his shirt. After freaking out, he used a camera to start taking photos of himself. When the Curator asked why he instantly went to taking photos, he replied ‘We’re scientists, we document everything.’” He also believed the spots came from standing right next to Mr. Zed. Showing regret in the fact he didn’t think of the consequences for said action.”

“The spots continued to spread down his spine and onto his hands. He informed the Curator that they would shift between shades of white, yellow, and orange in no particular order or duration. The most pressing one is on the back of his spine and left hip, where they appear to have the shape of a massive handprint. Alongside the photos of the spots, he included one from a year prior. Stating it as proof that the spots were a recent development. The spots are absent in the last photo.”

“‘Photos 11/17: Lab Reference. Photos taken by Mr. Tek on February 12, 1946.’ The company’s manager wouldn’t allow outsiders access into the building unless they’re a part of the company. As a work around Mr. Tek took photos of the lab as a reference point as he told the story and a way to preserve the lab in case items got rearranged. The photos included all four walls of the lab, a large table on the right side of the room, and the broken Geiger counter. Along the left wall are multiple counters and dials as he described, the viewing window for the experiments and the Geiger counter. The front wall contains a giant whiteboard covered in notes with printed charts, and filing cabinets hug the right wall. Mr Tek did chuckle over feeling the Geiger counter photos were a bit pointless after he and Mr. Stewart-Voss simply took the counter once management planned to replace it.

“‘Photos 1/2: Subjects. Two photos containing both Mr. Zed and Mr. Tek’. The first is a candid shot of Mr. Zed and Mr. Tek in a hallway. Mr. Zed’s hand is around the small of the other’s back. Mr. Tek’s head is turned to the left, enough where you can see his nose, eyes and a little bit of his smile. Both are holding food in their left hands, I think hotdogs but I can’t be sure.”

“The second phot- oh .. Holy shit- I um- the second photo is a formal view of the two infront the viewing window. Mr. Tek is on the right while Mr. Zed is on the left. Nothing of note is to be said about Mr. Tek, but Mr. Zed on the other hand… well. He makes a convincing Witch of the West. They’re both smiling, but with how squished Mr. Zed’s cheeks are, you shouldn’t be able to see his whole eye. Yet- god, is there no shading in his eyes? They’re entirely white, except for his black irises. There’s no gradient either, it’s fully black. His hand also appears to melt around Mr. Tek’s hip. It’s hard to tell but his fingers clearly shift into the same grayish white of the other’s lab coat as if he fused with it. Right behind Mr. Tek’s head appears to be almost.. another Zed.”

“His face is slightly blurry and transparent, however a smile and one eye are clearly visible. It almost looks like that one ghost photo done by..” The Curator snaps her fingers while tapping the desk. “God who wa-Corbert! That was the person! Yeah the ghost photos done by Corbert. He has that blurry texture around him while still being almost.. too clean in spots. The head is tilted to the left with a wide smile on his face, stretched like putty. His hair seems to fade away near the edges until it blends perfectly with the glass. I would pin this as being simply long exposure if it weren’t for the fact that it mentions it was a snapshot photo done to commemorate a week of working together. The figure is also holding something behind Mr. Tek’s back. It’s large and rectangular in shape, maybe undeveloped film, yet you can see the shadow of the box against the glass. It might be a book, because I see a spine with some form of letters on it. Wish I could make it out more clearly, but I’m missing a magnifying glass... ”

“With that, Curtains Close, End Statement.”

----------

The picture warbles as it’s placed on the table. The Curator sighs before the sounds of the chair lightly scratching against the floor.

“That photo spooked me more than it has any right to…” The light sound of skin slapping skin is picked up before the Curator groans.

“It’s just a photo, a blink and you miss it moment, but I can’t miss this. There’s too much evidence proving that that was real. A genuine experience and.. I don’t know what that means moving forward.” Ceramic slides against the desk as the microphone hears light sips from it before silence airs throughout the room. Broken only by the chair screeching back from sudden movement.

“I’m just gonna.. walk that off, I need to check storage anyway. What unit was it anyways?... SP3. Got it.” The lock clicks as the door opens. Hinges whining as it slowly closes behind the Curator.

“With how many storage units there are, it’s easy to get lost, I feel. All the different labels, how many turns you take, might even call it a maze. So the boss-” She chuckles. “-gave me a horribly doodled map pointing to its holding box. They mentioned that every month the counter gets a cleaning and touches on its finish to help preserve both the original look of the counter as well as make sure the rust doesn’t spread.”

The storage unit keys jingles as it’s picked up. Slowly being carded down the key loop as the Curator mutters under her breath. “Come on.. Come on. One of you- god. I’m going to kill management bef- ” The lock clicks and the door’s hinges whine as it’s opened. “ Gotcha .” The Curator steps through the door before belining it to the back of the unit. Footsteps clicking on the floor as if she was marching to a beat. The footsteps abruptly stop before quickly resuming once again. A shutter door is flung open, the metal rattles unused to such force.

“Oh well. The counter is certainly still here! Would probably lose it if this.. surprisingly large Geiger counter also went missing under my watch. It’s maybe… 4 or 5 feet long? And a width of about 1 foot. The exterior paint is dark green however with how heavily chipped it is, I think less than a half of the counter is still painted. There are massive fissures in the metal radiating from the cracked dial, as well as a few holes. Despite Mr. Tek’s best efforts he could not find the needle that broke off, even after scavenging the whole lab…”

“Management also failed to mention the handprints on the barrel of the counter? Unless those were a part of the original design… either way I’ll let the Boss know. Besides the forgotten fingerprints, nothing else is out of shape. I’ll head back to the office an-” A sharp fizzle cuts out the audio, it pulses for a minute before it slowly starts to dissipate. The Curator’s voice slowly comes back into frame midway through an apparent ramble.

“-I don’t know how I feel about this whole supernatural deal. I mean- It’s a massive breakthrough for sure, but I was expecting more unicorns and fairies. You know, the fun and safe kind that helps you in times of need, not a man who can break Geiger counters. I’m still not over that! What else is out there? Does he know about us? He sure as hell didn’t like Mr. Tek giving out information. Or was that caused by something completely different, like.. paranoia or a sudden spark of mania?”

The Curator sighs, rasping her fingers against a wooden object. “I’d like to ask the Boss a few more questions.”

#magmits #hermitcraft #zombiecleo #tangotek #tango tek #zedaph #tma au #magmits au

14 notes · View notes

necros-writing-stuff · 3 years ago

Note

You opened this can of worms. Now lay in it.

But I’m all seriousness if you have time can you do the wedding ask but with Kylar, Whitney, and great Hawk (I just think I’d be funny to try and explain a wedding to a harpy)

Aight here we go, part two electric boogaloo

NSFW below

Great Hawk

So, so confused. Does not get it, these strange landstrider ways of signing things.

Of getting permission from people to love.

Perfectly happy stealing you ring after ring until they find a perfect one though. If you want pretty jewellery, the harpy is more than happy to provide.

Its gonna be impossible to get the harpy into a dress or tux. Impossible to get them into town and find a venue or do anything normal.

And getting an official out in the moors? You better be paying good money.

But say you do do all that, manage to escort some poor priest or whatever to the tower, Great Hawk may get a little territorial.

Once you calm them down, they’ll allow the person inside. If it will make you happy, they suppose.

“Don’t worry about a witness,” the officiate says, obviously uncomfortable and wanting away from the situation.

If you dress up, Great Hawk will smother you in compliments, their mate looks amazing! So excellently preened!

The officiate goes through the words as quickly as they can, jumping when, instead of saying vows, the harpy screeches a song that declares their love for you.

You sign the presented papers, helping the harpy put their mark down, too. and the officiate runs off so they don’t have to risk their sanity any longer.

Buying a radio so the two of you can have a dance, sing along. Maybe even buying a small cake and feeding it to them, delighting in how they react to the sweet taste.

Great Hawk could fly you anywhere you wanted for a honeymoon. But what about the nest? Maybe you should wait till winter, then you two can find a nice spot somewhere warm.

Excited to mate that night, stripping your clothes and laying you down so they can breed you full of chicks. Tries to keep your clothes pristine for you.

Very thorough in their treatment of you, caresses your body and praising your everything.

You’re not entirely sure Great Hawk gets what happened. You’re still happy though, and so are they, knowing that you’re bound by their ways and yours.

Kylar

Oh this fucker planned.

Years and years in advance.

I’m talking slide shows, binders, cut-out collages of outfits and themes.

Proposes to you. The ring is goddamn expensive, and its perfect because of course it is.

The proposal was more of a formality, a definite put the plan into motion moment, you’ve always been bound to marry.

Lets you check the plans over, any changes you need to make are okay. Its your big day, too.

So happy to tour venues, to try catering, to find outfits. Everyone can see how excited Kylar is, how proud they are that they get to marry you.

Tells. Fucking. Everyone.

Old lady on the bus? Told. Local butcher? An earful. Don’t bring them to any poetry events, they’ll claim the mic to tell the whole room.

Really wants a Halloween themed wedding. Wants the two of you dressed like Gomez and Morticia, or Victor and Emily, or Jack and Sally.

If you let them do that, they’ll cry from joy and start practicing make-up every day so its perfect.

Don’t worry about price, they’ve got that covered.

The day comes and Kylar can’t wait to see you. Does not obey the traditional don’t see each other thing, will drag you off to touch you.

Most of the people from school are banned. Especially Whitney. May allow Robin, if you’ve assured them that you’re just friends.

Kylar’s family is there, they’re an interesting bunch. Rich, some a bit condescending. If this is your first time meeting his parents (unlikely) then I agree with the headcanon that one of them is probably just like Kylar - and gushes over you. Their little baby is getting a spouse all of their own.

Done in a church, even if its been dressed up in spiders webs and other stuff like that (if you let Kylar theme it).

Every guest is in costume, too.

If the PC is given away, then again you could use Bailey. They’ll smile and wave, knowing they can socialise and use it to their advantage. But I would find it funny if Doren does it, briefly telling you they were worried about Kylar in school, but you look so happy now! That's wonderful!

Kylar cries. Almost sobbing. Their mother/father stand beside them with tissues.

Records the wedding.

Personal vows. Its a poem, of course. Its not like the racy ones in English. Its heartfelt, beautiful, been drafted over and over again till it looked wrong and then right again,

One of you is getting dipped in the kiss. Be careful not to drop each other.

Honeymoon in Japan!

Going to the official stores of games you like, cat cafes, Kylar spending so long in the arcade.

Of course marathon sex. They’re not letting you go. You’ll be finding it hard to walk, room service being the only thing keeping you going.

Already said ‘I love you’ a thousand times during sex, now says it a million.

Time to start planning for babies, they’ll point out. They also have slideshows for that.

Whitney

You know how people get really drunk and do it impulsively? Yeah.

It would be on a trip out to some foreign country, you’re their slut so of course you get to come with. Doesn’t admit to having saved up for so long to take you away somewhere, just the two of you.

Parties hard throughout the vacation, taking advantage of the hot climate to dress in as little as possible, and wants to fuck you anywhere they can.

Until you wake up one night to find a signed marriage certificate with your names on it and a whole lot of missing memories.

Finds a camera, flicks though it to find out the two of you got married the night before. You’re dressed up in the worst outfits they’ve ever seen, but you’re smiling so wide, the kiss looks so full of love.

Oh look you took photos of the consummation, too.

Divorces are expensive, you know. Besides, not like you’re leaving them anytime soon. Its convenient to stay married.

Years down the line you could convince Whitney to do a proper ceremony. A recital, just so you can have one you remember.

They give in, and let you plan. But dear God are they nervous.

Terrified to tell their family. Doesn’t really want them there, scared they’ll say something to you. But if you insist.

Jokes about inviting Leighton for a brief second before deciding against. Bastard would show up and ruin everything, knowing them.

Almost runs off. Even if you’re already married, if its just a little ceremony with close people, Whitney feels vulnerable. Their friends will be there, will they think they’re weak?

But they suck it up and go to the recital.

Tries not to cry when they see you. Fails. Quickly wipes their face before anyone can see. Everyone already saw.

Whispers their vows to you. So quiet everyone leans in, but you hear them perfectly. They mean it when they say they love you, and you can only tell further when you go to place the ring on their finger to find a black band a writing around where the ring goes.

Its your name. Tattooed in a band, around their finger.

Okay now you’re both crying.

The after party is one hell of a show. Even if the venue, the food, the DJ aren't expensive, Whitney and their friends make it so that it isn't dull.

The best man’s speech is embarrassing for both of you, whether its your best friend (Robin, probably) or Whitney’s recounting something like you two stabbing at each other with protractors in Maths.

At one point you hear Whitney’s friends congratulate them. Telling them its okay they cried, they’re all happy for them.

The honeymoon? The place you got married in the first place. And you’re going to recreate the photos from the night, too.

Whipped cream and strawberries. Whitney covers you in it, licks it off and is eager to try other food-related kinks with you.

Whitney is very happy they didn’t run.

#degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity whitney #degrees of lewdity kylar #degrees of lewdity great hawk #spill your guts #anonymous

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