#there’s something there with the way that when they meet jester is all in for the tarot cards for the experience that they both get out
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TADC X STANLEY PARABLE AU
Narrator: A Foppish Britian, often rambling about himself and his own voice as he narrates Stanley's life, yet Stanley cannot hear him, (you can just assume all of the narrating is him)
Stanley: Employee 427, an office worker, whom loves day to day pushing buttons
The Bucket: silent, yet Emotional Metal Container of Water or whatever else
TADC cast as well.
C&A ADVENTURES: Digital Circus?
Narrator: This is a story of a man named Stanley. He worked at C & A corporation, pushing buttons and doing his work as he always did.
But today, all of his coworkers were gone, what could it mean?
Stanley: Where is everyone?
Stanley, not hearing the narrator speak and sitting at his desk, peeking through the crack of the door to see none of their coworkers at their desk
Stanley, not knowing what to do, decided to investigate himself as he recieved no assignments to do.
Walking about, he wandered the corridors, seeing next to no one, which concerned Stanley as he walked, darting his eyes to see if there was anyone there.
He came to an open area with two open doors on the right and the left. He remembered the left room led to the board meeting room and the boss's office, and the right door led to the break room and the warehousing facility on the other side of the C & A building.
Unsure of which was the better option, Stanley decides to sit between the doors.
Stanley: Where is everyone?
Stanley sat for a bit and decided to think about his favorite thing in the whole wide world:
Circuses.
He absolutely loved how the circus came to town. C&A would pay for everyone to go see the circus when they were in town. It was Stanley's favorite day of the year. He loved seeing all of the amazing acrobats and dancers, and clowns and animals, and the blistering sounds of the ringmaster. What a lovely thought it all was.
Then that thought was interrupted by a clunk sound of metal hitting a floor.
It was a bucket, hanging on a doorknob in a corner with scaffolding, likely leftover from the painters who were repainting half of the office walls.
The Bucket, clean and empty without paint, rolled over from where it fell, tapping Stanley's shoe.
He picked up the bucket, observing it:
Stanley: Why hello there. You Took quite a tumble.
Stanley got up and decided to hold the bucket by it's handle, joining him on his adventures.
Stanley: Okay Bucket, let's figure out what's going on!
Stanley and the bucket check in each h of the door ways, finding no clues nor anyone in sight.
Stanley was concerned, but not alone as the bucket stayed by his side.
Wondering what to do next, Stanley decided to walk back to his desk and hang out until his shift was over.
On the way back Stanley walked by a set of computers and heard a faintly cry:
"Help..."
Stanley was immediately alarmed, looking around for the source of the voice in this way too quiet office space.
He saw an open door leading to a more dimly lit room. Inside, he found a load of headsets on tables nearby, and one computer screen brightly contrasting the rest of the darkness. Getting closer, he could see a face on the screen. It looked like a cartoon character of some sort.
Stanley came closer seeing this face look in all directions not noticing him, yet darting it's eyes in all directions. This character looked like a Jester with its red and blue stepped hat with dangling bells, and red blue beach ball eyes.
Stanley was now only a few feet away, curious as to why a cartoon was being streamed on an office computer. Something didn't seem right.
As he got closer, the screen seems to change, as if to depict another cartoon environment, resembling a circus tent.
Stanley was confused, but also intrigued, as he saw more cartoon characters featured in this shot, including one of the characters he just saw.
This character seemed like they were about to snap, seemingly going crazy from this sudden change.
Then it cuts to yet anothe4 shot, one that shows the cartoon characters super happy.
Stanley thought this was odd, but still continued to watch.
Then it was like a cartoon started with these characters being greeted by this floating character with giant dentures for a face with two floating eyes between his teeth.
Stanley started to feel nostalgic, remembering his childhood, deciding to watch the show, (which was TADC but more in a live action documentary style). Stanley assumed an episode was playing, so he watched this colorful cast of character go on an adventure in Vegas where they all learn how to play poker, which was kinda interesting.
Then the episode cuts to black, and Stanley wonders what was that.
He looks for a DVD or vhr as the footage looked grainy and kinda old, but he didn't see one.
Stanley pondered what he had just saw and figured maybe the help he heard was part of the episode.
So Stanley decides to not question anything and leaves the place with the bucket.
After his shift and over, he decided to leave the facility and head home, calling up every number to check up on what's going on as well as report the misuse of computers in the office.
Some of the corporate hotlines told Stanley that the company had gone under, and had given everyone pink slips, and Stanley had missed the memo.
Stanley later saw in the news the C&A building roped off and locked down by feds, but the public does not know why.
Stanley was later called into questioning by the FBI, and their investigation. Apparently this "cartoon" in question was a video game of some sort that C&A had made in the 90s which was secretly a portal to another dimension, where the internet is manifest as this open world of surrealism and computer graphics and art. Apparently, it was called "The Amazing Digital Circus, and many people are trapped in this universe, viewable by the computer screen with many invisible cameras, sort of like it was a reality show of some sort.
Stanley told them all be knew, and was let go.
Stanley then went home and spent time with his new bucket friend, whom provided caring emotional support, almost as if the bucket secretly loved Stanley.
TSP x TADC (prompt by @deadblog-sbdc)
#not ship art but it can be interpreted either way#remon's art#the amazing digital circus#tadc#tadc pomni#tadc caine#pomni#caine#tadc showtime#the stanley parable#the stanley parable ultra deluxe#tsp stanley#tsp narrator#tsp#tsp x tadc#crossover
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"A Servant and His King."
Yandere!Fae-King x Fae!servant x. Fem! Reader
18+ Minors DNI
Warnings: Dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, coercion, fae related hijinks, basically monster fucking, oral (fem receiving), loss of virginity, clit play, p-in-v sex, power dynamics.
(A/N): Part two to a non-smutnfic about Puck, based off of puck from 'Midsummer Nights Dream'. Can be read with or standalone.
Part one (not required to understand)
A brief gust of wind and leaves rattles the shutters of your small cottages window, not sounding out of place when mixed with the usual sounds of the forest. However, the gust turns softer as it gently brushes against the shutters, causing them to open slowly with a creak.
A pair of feet land nimbly upon the wooden dresser across the room from your bed, a shadowy figure squatting down with a grin. The figure hops down, making its way to your bed, where you sleeping form lies blissfully unaware of the intruder.
Groaning, you are soon roused from your slumber by a light pressure on your wrist, and your eyes flutter open. You gasp, seeing the being before you and trying to pull away. "
"W-who are you! Stay awa-" a finger is pressed softly to your lips, the figures face coming into view as the lean forward. Forest green eyes and a set of familiar pearly whites greet you.
"Shh! No need to fear, only Puck is here." He coos, kissing your wrist once more, pressing the soft flesh to his lips. "Sorry to frighten you, little mortal. I would never mean to upset you, but I couldn't very waltz in through the entrance to your humble abode, especially given your mother's feelings about my kind." He lays his lithe body across yours, head on your chest as he looks at you with glee.
"Why are you here, Puck? It's late, I must rest." You say, though you don't resist the fae boys touching. "Sleep is important for humans."
He scoffs. "I know, but I have something more important than your human need for sleep. My king, Oberon, leader of the seelie court wishes to meet you." He pulls you up by your shoulders, a hand fixing your nightgown which begins to slip from your shoulder.
"T-the king?" You're just a human woman, a peasant. You've never even met a human noble, much less a faery king. "Why? Puck, I'm not, I can't! Now? I'm not dressed properly, I'm a human, I-"
Once again, a finger is placed against your lips. Invading your space as per usual, Pucks forehead is pressed against your forehead, nose to nose. "Shush, little mortal. Please, the king loves me. I am his jester-servant, his beloved Puck! We've shared many a-" he chuckles. "Amourous night together. He knows if your good enough for me, then your good enough to meet him. Don't discredit yourself, you are so much more than some mortal maid I take in the woods for a night of passion." He makes her sit up, and tries to slip her out of the bed. "He'll love you, my sweet. It's only proper I introduce my new beloved friend to my closest companion, ruler, and my king." You allow him to pull you out of your bed, and into his lanky form.
"Mmph, Puck. I can walk." You groan, trying to wriggle from his grasp. He tsks with his tongue, and shakes his head.
"No, no, no. Don't whine, don't go away. Be good. It's a long stroll all the way to the spring we're going to, just relax." He cackles. "You humans are so indecisive. Just a moment ago you were whining, 'Puck, no. It's too late, I'm a human, I need my sleep.', now you won't let me carry your frail, tired self to see the king. Make up your mind."
You roll your eyes, but suppose he has a point, and allow yourself to melt into his warm embrace, shoulders flush against his pecs.
As he slips back through the window and dances through the glen, weaving through trees and brush like a gust of cool night air, he soon arrives upon a clearing. Smooth rock reflect moonlight, as the water resting atop them comes from the babbling freshwater spring that rests at the edge of the rocks. A figure, imposing and much more muscular than Puck's is sat on one of the rocks, admiring the water.
Puck gently sets you down with nimble hands, kissing your ear lightly. This causes you to squeak and push him off.
"Stop it, Puck! I-im about to meet a king and your acting like we're lovers! Like your an enamored schoolboy!" You exclaim, and his hands only wrap around your waist from behind, playing with the cloth there.
"And here I thought we were lovers..." He feigns a sad face and a pout, before jolting forward and taking you with him by the waist. "My king!" He yells.
The imposing figure looks over, causing you to freeze, mind not really in synch with body as Puck drags you forward. The king is truly a thing of beauty, rugged and piercing as if he were carved, not from stone, but from the wood that made up the forest which he called his domain. He wears a fur pelt around his waist, covering his only upper thigh and not leaving much to the imagination. His is decidedly hairy, and though beautiful is as rugged as a human man of the woods is expected to be. He has dark curls of hair not unsimilar to Puck's, but not as long. His eyes are a deep brown.
"Ah, Puck, my fair servant friend. I was almost afraid you had planned to trick me, having not shown yet." The king muses, legs spread casually and a hand resting against his chin.
Puck gasps, hand to his chest as if hurt. "Never, my liege. Well, at least not to you." Puck coos, sitting on the rock and curling up to the man's calve. The king runs his hands through the curls of the fae man, and you are taken aback by the sensuality of their interaction.
The king looks up. "And you, little mortal, must be my Pucks new favorite thing, hmm?" He asks, head tilted. You nod nervously as the man waves you closer. You bow, and he grins. "Good, good. I assume she knows who I am then? I am King Oberon, of this enchanted woods and over all of the seelie court. Though, my servant here told me you knew little to nothing of our people when asked you about us, so I doubt you'd know what the seelie court is."
You shake your head. "No, sir. All I know-" you glance at Puck, who is practically purring at his kings touch. "All I know is what Puck has told me. That you are powerful, and to be respected."
Oberon grins at this. "That is all you need know. Come here, allow a king to gaze upon you." His hands begin to wander, cupping your face. His large fingers prod your plump lips, your cheeks, and tilts your chin downwards to look at him from where he is sat. Then, the hand is on your shoulder, playing with the straps of your upper garment, then at your chest. This sudden touch in such an intimate place causes you to jolt back. Oberon raises a brow.
"I'm sorry, sir. That is, that is just a very intimate place for humans. It's for sensual matters, when between two adults." You try to explain. Puck sighs, leaning his head on Oberons knee while the king chuckles.
"I am aware. It is intimate and sensual for fae too. That is why you were being touched there." He says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Now, you are only more confused.
"Well, intimacy of those matters between humans happens between a-a married couple, and even then, it should not be openly discussed. A woman like myself couldn't, shouldn't ever bee with a stranger like that, not even a suitor before marriage!"
"I have heard humans are... less indulgent in the passions of life than fae. All those awful, boring rules. And yet you kill your leaders and revolt because your miserable? Perhaps. Eing unable to express those urges is why." He laughs, and Puck joins in. He sense your confusion and continues. "Fae do not believing in brief enjoyment and indulgence. We live life to the fullest. Our liquor is stronger yet we drink more, our food is richer, yet we all eat like kings. And most of all, we indulge in the passions of the flesh with each other more than your little mind could take. I think if you had the opportunity, you'd see it was the best way to live." He muses.
To your suprise, he suddenly moves Puck up from his calve to his lap, holding the thin man by the waist as Puck grins wickedly. "You see, me and my servant here are close, emotionally and physically. We have enjoyed many a night of passion, without the watchful eye of my queen, of course." There is some bitterness in Oberon's tone at the mention of his queen.
"You... you indulge in passion with those, of the same gender as you, o-often?" You ask. It is not wrong, you are just so suprised and curious. You are not even supposed to think about a man pleasing a woman, let alone a man and another man. It is such a foreign idea.
"Mhmm. Being a king is hard for his majesty, and Puck... I, am happy to help him with his desires. My king cares for me, and I care for him." Puck says, before gasping and cutting off. You blush, seeing Oberons hand has slipped below Pucks leafy loincloth, hand stroking Puck manhood. He focuses only on the tip for now.
"I am suprised seeing as you are so shocked by how touchy and sensual fae are, seeing as you bedded my dear servant." Oberon says, and you immediately shake your head.
"No! I've never, me and Puck did nothing together. We drank a little, but he took me home." You exclaim, and look st Ouck for answers. He's too busy letting out soft whimpers and moans as Oberon moves his hand the full length of Pucks cock, paying attention to his bulbous tip.
"Is this true, Puck? I find it hard to believe, my servant can't keep his hands to himself. I suppose this makes you seem even more special to me, that my Puck would wish to see you again so desperately, and rave about you to me even if he had not bedded you yet. That begs the question though..." He leans in to Puck's ear. "Why did you lie to your king?"
Puck groans, brows furrowing. "M' sorry, your majesty! I knew you were so busy, and if I told you I had found a mortal capable of giving such incredible pleasure, you'd be more likely to come and see what a treasure I had found." He stammers. The king shakes his head, slowing his movements on Puck's cock.
"You know better than to lie to a king with a temper, Puck."
Puck cries out, bucking his hips and trying to chase that friction against his kings rough hands. "N-no sir! Trust me, I know if she'd just indulge, the mortal would be wonderful! She... she could be our mortal, not just mine! Please sir, I'll be good, she'll be good, don't stop." He begs.
Oberon sighs, still frowning in Pucks direction but intrigued nonetheless. "Alright, mortal girl. I yell you, if you would only let go, indulge just a bit in the pleasures of the fae, you would live a better life overall. And, should you please a king of the woods, perhaps your... what is it your mother does? Herbs? Perhaps they would see a better yield. An enchantment perhaps?" He offers.
You gulp, body hot with both arousal at the sight before you and anxiety. "I couldn't. What would the people in town think, I-I would be outcast!"
"Who would know? Even if someone were to find out, no one would believe a quiet gardeners daughter slept with a wicked spirit." The king teases, tongue poking out from between his lips slightly. He pulls you to him, and you offer no resistance. "For an untouched maiden, I assure you there is no one better to introduce you to a world of pleasure than the king, and his most loyal servant."
As he says this, the moaning Puck latches his lips onto your neck, continuing to moan as he sucks the soft flesh. You gasp.
"Oh, oh, gods." You squeak, the sensitive skin of your nape never having been touched, much less kissed in such a way.
"No gods, here, mortal. No angels or demons, only fae. Only the spirits of nature." He leans into your ear, kissing the shell. "Only your king."
Soon, a rough hand gets your skirt pooled around your knees, kneading the fat of your thigh and preparing to spread your legs and allow the fae king and his srmervant a view of the untouched treasure that lies there. You shiver as the cold air brushes across your stomach, you've never felt so exposed.
"See, highness? I told you, she's the perfect, pretty little mortal. Tease her, please? For me? I want to see her face as she experiences pleasure for the first time." Puck begs.
Oberon raises a brow and the request. "Such demands from a liar who has already been granted mercy, and is still being pleasure bu the hands of a king." He pulls his hand from Ouck's cock, causing tears to well in the edged faes eyes, having been denied his release.
"Majesty-"
"Enough. I will allow you to tease and prep the maiden, so she may except you king. Before you say anything, be grateful I don't only allow you to watch, or send you home." Puck whines, but grins a little inside. He knows the king enjoys his presence to much to remove him from this sensual scene.
Oberons large hands keep your shoulders flat against the warm stones of the spring, while Puck, still hard beneath his tented loincloth, crawls unceremoniously up between your thighs.
"What are you doing, Puck?" You whisper out softly, looking into his dazzling green eyes. He smiles warmly, pressing his cheek to one of your thighs.
"I assure you, maiden, my wicked tongue is not only good for japes and jabs." He coos. You are still confused at what he could mean, until the two thin fingers parting your folds are replaced with a hot, wet muscle. Puck licks a stripe teasingly up your center, savoring the flavour but eyes never leaving your face.
Oberon smiles down as he watches your face contort and wrinkle at the new sensation.
"Puck, y-your majesty, what is- oh, what is he doing?" You ask, trying to form a coherent sentence at the odd feeling of pressure and friction against both your clit and your entrance as Puck explores your folds.
"It's called cunnilingus, maiden. Fae have many ways to pleasure each other, but many enjoys the feel of one's mouth on their most intimate areas." He chuckles as he watches Puck tasting you curiously. "Sometimes, I find filling his mouth is the only way to quiet him." Puck giggles, and the vibrations make your legs quake.
Soon, the muscle invades your entrance, as Puck is now groaning almost as much as you. It's a gentle stretch, but both Ouck and Oberon know it will be necessary for what the king is to do later. Your aroused and needy clit is not forgotten by the fae pleasuring you, as a free hand comes to tweak it gently. The feeling is overwhelming, and soon, that knot inside you snaps, and you feel a high you've never known. It feels as though currents, waves run through your body as your maidenhood spasms around Pucks tongue.
He removes it, but continues to lap at your spent clit, tasting the juices of your climax. Oberon smiles.
"Was he good, maiden? Did you first touch by a man satisfy?" He asks. You can only weakly nod. "Ah, answer, maiden. Your being addressed by a royal."
"It was... it was very good, m-majesty." You gasp out. You look away at the sheer lewdness of the sight and Oberon crashes his lips to Pucks so that he may taste you on his servants lips.
"She was a divine nectar, my liege." Puck groans, pulling away from the kiss and now trading spots with his king. Now Puck lays by your shoulders, playing with your locks and kissing your neck and jawline while Oberon moves into place.
His chisled body places itself atop you, his sheer size dwarfing you and removing the moonlight from your body, casting a large shadow. You gulp.
"I... I've never done-" he chuckles, cutting you off.
"I'm aware, mortal. All that talk of purity led me to that conclusion. But, you won't be that innocent for long. I will be gentle, but it will hurt at first when you accept me into your sweet cunt. It's all part of the process."
You tense a little at the feeling of something hard, much more rigid than Pucks limp tongue, prodding at your entrance and folds.
"M' scared." You admit. This seems to soften the sensual yet cold king, and he sighs. Even Puck gives him a sad, wide eyes look. He leans down.
"Don't worry, mortal. I will be as gentle as any man has been with a woman. My Puck was never one to be nervous, but I have had lovers in the past who were. I will take care of you." He says.
Puck holds your hand and nuzzles his cheek to yours to provide a semblance of comfort. "It's true. The king is a fair and gentle lover when he wants to be. Don't worry, my friend." He assures.
Oberon strokes your thighs to relax soon, and soon the tip enters your weeping slit. You whine, the intrusion burns a little, especially as he adds a few inches every so often. But, he is slow, and talks you through it.
"Shh, it's alright. Your taking me so well, especially since I am endowed with more than some. Such a good mortal girl, it will feel good once you've stretched to accommodate a fae's cock." He coos.
As he begins to gently thrust, the slightly pain gives way to a burning pleasure. You whimper, his thrusts rocking your ads back against the stone of the spring. His large, curved tip is hitting the right spots, cervix getting pounded by the large man of the forest.
"O-oh, shit! Oberon, please- please, m-more! I need all, all of you in me!" You cry, and he chuckles.
"That's your womb speaking. This is your first time, you couldn't possibly accommodate all of me. But I will give you what I think, ugh, what I think you can take." He thursts become rhythmic, rolling in and out of your stretched tunnel, as Puck holds you steady and plays gently with your chest.
Oberon humps against you a few more times, moaning at Pucks encouragement. "She is so close, sire. I can tell, she's all tense and red, come on! Give it to her, let her take you. Please." It's clear Puck is still needy from not having gotten his release earlier. Still, he seems satisfied watching the king fuck his newest treasure.
"Mortal, mortal. You squeeze like a vice, such a warm, needy cunt. You needed this, to feel such pleasure, didn't you? Needed a cock to fill this cunt?" He moans. "It was fate, wasn't it, Puck? Finding this maiden, all alone. It was fate for you to be brought to us." Puck nods as his master continues.
"Your majesty, I'm gonna- its happening again." You cry, and his pace doesn't slow.
"I know, I know. I'm, fuck-" one last thrust sends the king over the edge. He groans, feeling your tunnel convulse around him as his thick white cum fills you. Puck plants quick, overwhelming kisses across your face as you climax, secretly wondering what you would look like if you bore the king's child.
Soon, Oberon pulls out, and you lay there, trembling and on the verge of sleep. Puck leans down and plants a final kiss upon your lips. He smiles.
"Sleep, little mortal. It's okay, you are safe with me and my king. I'll return you to your bed, pretty one." He strokes your hair softly, until your tired eyes close and stay closes. He sighs, and looks at the king. It's clear he could go for a fee more rounds.
"Majesty, our poor mortal needed this so badly, her body was on fire for it. We can't... we can't well let her go back to her little cottage, all alone in the dangerous wood with no one to please her. She's trusting, and she broke all the rules of interacting with fae so quickly, what if a worse one came along and-"
"Puck!" Oberon exclaims, making the imp jolt and go silent. Oberon sighs. "I am not a fool. I know how much this unique mortal has captivated the two of us. You need not convince me to take her back to my palace. As fair as Titania will be concerned, she is a plaything for you, correct? I will not have her cursing this treasure." Oberons muscular arms cradle your slumbering form.
"Majesty, I know of your endurance. Perhaps when we get back to the palace, while our maiden rests, I may please you." Puck asks, eyes wide and innocent.
Oberon scoffs. "All this acting because I didn't allow you to finish, Puck?" Oberon says, seeing through Pucks facade of goodwill and selflessness. Puck pouts.
"Isn't it tempting, though?"
"Perhaps."
#yandere#yandere oc#tw.yandere#yandere fanfiction#yandere content#tw.dark content#x reader#yandere boy#yandere fae#yandere king#oc Puck#oc Oberon#tw.dubcon#yandere smut#yandere x reader#yandere oc x reader#oc x reader
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The Court Jester Part 1
Yandere Batfam x GN Reader
Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4
"How did this happen?" the man who claimed to be my father asked.
"It started when I was young. My mother was close friends with Bruce Wayne. So when she died, he decided to take me in. Looking back on it now, I can tell it was just so he could have a piece of her even though she was gone. He, like many other men were infatuated with the idea of her and what could happen if they had her. That is how I came along. Someone couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Nobody, but my father knows that they are my father. We have tried finding him before, but there has been no luck.
I was 4 when I was brought to the manor. Bruce, overwhelmed with anguish, couldn't even look at me as I had my mother's features. Alfred showed me around. I even got to meet my new brother Richard, better known as Dick. An accurate nickname because as soon as he met me, he decided he did not want to be around me. That was fine. I was still dealing with the loss of my mother. As time went on, I felt as if I was forgotten. Bruce was busy throwing himself into "work" and he only needed Dicks help. It didn't take me long to figure out who he was. With all the bruises and tension around the house when things got bad in Gotham anyone living in that house could tell he was Batman. He had claimed he didn't want me to get hurt that's why he never asked for help but I knew it was because I looked like mom. I had her (h/c) (h/t) hair and her (e/c) eyes.
A couple of years later, a new boy came into the mix. His name was Jason Todd. He was okay. He didn't really know when to stop, though. I heard a lot of fights between him and Bruce. He talked to me sometimes when we had time. I was in school getting good grades and he was a Robin so we didn't have much time for each other. But then he died, and I had no one again. Even when he did come back, he came back changed he no longer cared for me. He was harsh. Ruined.
Then there was Tim Drake. He was really nice at the beginning, but he got busy and sleep deprived, so I stopped reaching out. I didn't want to take up his time as he had an actual job.
Then Stephanie Brown came, and I realized that there was a pattern. These people were too busy for me. I should stay out of their way and not be a burden as I have proven to be before.
It was like that until Damian came. He was unlike all the other Robins. He was mean and brutal. It was around this time that I started to reach out to the family. I had realized I had severe depression and self esteem issue from being the only one in this family that did not excel at anything. When I reached out, he was the one who but me back in my place. He was the one who told me to stay in the background where I belonged. And I might have if I was still the child that came here unwillingly at 3 years old, but I am no longer that child. I am an adult who has a degree in psychology and has a stable job. So I left.
When I first moved out, the first person I told was my online friend. I had been in contact with him since I was 5. He was like a father to me. He was very happy for me and told me, "You are finally free from that dreadful house!" and I couldn't agree more. I stayed in contact with him over the years, and our bond strengthened.
Then, one day, not even a month after I left the manor, he asked to meet up. I agreed. We met up at an abandoned wearhouse. He had told me he was a wanted man, so I did not mind. When I saw him, my face lit up as did his. We talked about a lot of things that night. One of which was if I wanted to help him in his endeavor. Chaos. And I gladly agreed as I would do anything for him as he was my father.
He soon started training me. Making sure I could deal with pain and know how to fight. The first week was agony, but then we both realized something. No matter how badly I was injured, it never had reproductions as the injuries would heal almost supernaturally. So soon, we started experimenting. Of course, I still felt pain, but anything for my dad. We found that no matter what happened to me, I couldn't die.
Then, I became strong enough to take part in one of his acts. Which leads us to now. Dies that answer your question?" I say, looking into the desperate eyes of The Batman with an elongated smile. Glee shined in my eyes as I finally had his attention.
"But SHHHH dad doesn't want to know your secret identity! Says it would ruin all the fun!" I proclaim. My teeth are fully showing as I giggle.
"What did I do wrong?" Bruce whispers to himself. As if he didn't already know. This was all his fault, and now the last piece he had of (M/N) was out of reach.
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Hello!! This is my first time writing on Tumbler and just wanted to say Hi. Please let me know if you want this to continue. If it does, updates would probably be slow as I am in college and am using this as an artistic outlet. Thank you so much for reading!!
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She Said Fuck Me Like I’m Famous (I Said Okay) | E.M
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WC: 5.9k
Cw: fem!popstar!reader, modern au, fluff, smut, dirty talk, kinda Dom Eddie, oral (m & f), p in v, reader is on bc, creampies.
Summary: when you invite your online bestie over to spend the week with you for the first time, you don’t know what to expect when her over protective friends tag along
Meeting Robin was a happy accident that life sometimes throws at you. Even though she was a stranger on the other side of the country, she was one of the most genuine friends you could have ever asked for. It all started slowly. You had both been on the same Discord server because of your mutual love for an author, and things went from there. After almost three years of friendship, you finally decided to meet in person!
You guys organized everything. She was flying to California and staying with you in your two-bedroom apartment for a little over a week. You had so much planned for the both of you, especially over the weekend, because it just so happened you were also to perform at this year’s Coachella.
It was your first big performance at a festival like this. It would do wonders for your career and hopefully bring you new fans.
Robin was your biggest supporter. She was so excited to see you perform live for the first time, not to mention the VIP passes you had promised her. It was hard to seek out genuine friendships in the line of work that you do. Everyone wants something, so you didn’t disclose your real name and what you did until you could trust her entirely. Robin was one of those people who you couldn't help but love; her bubbly personality and heart of gold were something you latched onto.
You were not taken aback upon receiving a text from Robin informing you that her two extremely protective male friends were adamant about accompanying her to ensure her safety. She had previously mentioned them, and from what she shared, they come across as genuinely great guys. Their concern for their friend's well-being is commendable, and you appreciate their commitment to looking out for her.
She also told you that the guys would rather stay in a hotel with her, but if they felt comfortable, they didn’t mind if she stayed with you for the rest of the week. You weren’t offended. It was unbelievable that you invited someone you’d never met into your home. Still, she was one of your closest confidants, even though you’ve never seen one another in person, primarily through texting and FaceTime.
-
The day was finally here, and you let Robin know that your assistant would pick the three of them up at the airport because you were in rehearsals until 2:00 p.m.
“See, Rob, this is exactly why we came with you!” Steve pointed at the text message as she read it out loud.
“What do you mean?” Robin asked with a scowl.
“She is sending a random person to pick us up? We are about to be human trafficked for all we know!”
Robin rolled her eyes and hiked up her carry-on over her shoulder.
“Men… so dramatic.” She whispered under her breath.
The three wandered down the corridor until they saw a small woman about 5'1" with a bright smile holding a sign that read ‘ Birdie + 2.’
That was cute; you used her Discord name.
“Oh, yes. Here is the woman who’s going to kidnap us,” she jesters, and the two men can’t help but roll their eyes.
“Hi! Are you Kelsey?” Robin approached the woman who she towered over.
“Yes, Hi! If you want to come with me, the car is waiting. She’s so excited you’re finally here; it’s all she’s been talking about.”
Kelsey opened the door for the three friends to get in and made her way to the driver’s seat.
-
It’s been a long wait, but your rehearsal wrapped up right on schedule. You made sure because you didn’t want to waste any time. You’ve been so antsy all day, waiting to go home and meet your best friend for the first time. You were so nervous; what if she thought you were annoying? What if the paparazzi ruined her time here? On your way home, the what-ifs circled your mind, but you tried to shake that all away when you got the text from Kelsey that they made it safely and were on their way to the hotel to drop off their things. Then she would bring them over to your apartment.
The minutes tick by as you wait for them in your apartment. You double-check the fridge to make sure you have refreshments and snacks. They must be tired and hungry from the flight.
Your manicured fingernails tap the cold marble countertop in your kitchen as you nervously scroll your phone, trying to distract yourself until the condo buzzer startles you. You run over and answer the speaker, telling them to come on up.
You anxiously count the seconds as you wait for them to approach the door. When the elevator bell dings on your floor, 17 stories up, you open the door eagerly to see Kelsey get off first.
You’re bouncing on your toes as you half-heartedly skip through the hallway, cheering as you see the freckled-faced girl enter the corridor.
“Birdie!” You clap, jump, and run to her with a smile so big your cheeks burn.
Cheers and squeals fill the small space as you take one another in your arms. If the people surrounding you had known better, your embrace would have made it look like you were lovers.
“I can’t believe you’re finally here!”
"I can't believe you're real." You step back to look at her in full. Finally, after all this time, you are united with your bestie. You tell one another everything. Robin confided in you about how she likes girls, and you said you were so scared that you're not good enough to be here. The imposter syndrome was extreme, but she put your mind at ease.
One of the men behind Robin had cleared their throat, reminding the both of you that they were also there.
“Oh my god, sorry.” Robin jumps.
“This is Steve, and this is Eddie.” Robin steps out of your way, and your gaze falls on the two handsome men standing behind her. Your heart flutters a bit, taking in both of them.
Steve and Eddie were complete opposites in their style. Steve had a preppy look, with a soft smile and gentle, kind eyes that reflected his warm personality. In contrast, Eddie's style was edgy and tough, but his eyes were surprisingly kind and strikingly beautiful, hinting at a depth beyond his tough exterior.
“Hi, I’m y/n, but you can call me Bunnie.” You stuck out your hand to introduce yourself.
“Damn, kinda disappointed you’re real; I had 50 bucks going that you were catfishing Rob this whole time,” Steve giggled as you shook his hand.
“Shut up,” Robin rolled her eyes.
“Me? A catfish? Never,” you giggled.
You moved to Eddie, and he stood there wide-eyed as he tried to speak, say hello, hi, or something, but he felt like his tongue was suddenly too big for his mouth. There was no way you were real. There's no way you were this pretty in real life. There was no way Robin was friends with a celebrity.
Unsurprisingly, Eddie had no idea who you were when Robin told him and Steve she was coming out to see you. However, Steve’s reaction made it seem like you were a big deal, so he googled you and looked at your Instagram beforehand. Never in his life did he see someone so beautiful. The attraction was instant, but now, seeing you in person, there was no denying his inevitable crush on you.
Eddie finally managed to choke out a “hi.” His cheeks heated up as his voice cracked like he was 12 again.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” you smile but quickly turn to Robin.
“Come,” you say, linking your arm with hers as you return to your condo.
“Thanks for letting us tag along with Birdie here,” Steve smiled.
After the initial excitement, you had all settled down. You were lounging on your balcony, eating and drinking to your heart's content.
“No problem, the more the merrier,” you smile.
Robin had told you about her friends back home; you also felt like you strangely knew them.
“What do you guys want to do first? Eddie, any suggestions?” You ask, singling him out.
Eddie hardly knew what to say. It was as if his brain had stopped functioning when you spoke to him. He wanted to woo and get to know you and hoped and prayed that you were as good of a person as Robin raved you to be.
“W-what?" He stuttered and looked at you wide-eyed. "Uh, I'm not sure. What do you have in mind?”
Without a beat, you rambled off the list of activities you had in mind, and Eddie listened so intently to everything; he would go anywhere as long as he was in your company.
“He, man, help me get some more drinks,” Steve said, nudging Eddie’s knee.
“No, please, you’re my guest. Allow me.” You got to stand, but Steve insists.
“Take advantage, let them dote on us.” Robin giggled.
“Dude, you’re really into her, aren’t you?” Steve smirked once the two men were back inside and out of earshot.
“How could I not be? Hello, she’s like the perfect woman,” Eddie half whispered.
Eddie took you in one more time through the sliding glass door. Not only was your style darker and edgy, but you’re witty and funny and don’t seem too vapid for a Hollywood star. He had a preconceived notion about Hollywood starlets; however, you seemed so down to earth, and you loved talking music with him; even if you are a pop star, you know your shit when it came to writing and playing guitar.
“You should ask her out this week and see what happens.”
“No, she’s not into me.”
“Maybe not yet? But how could she not be? You’re a catch. You gotta be yourself; you’re too in your head right now. Just think of her as an extension of Robin.”
“An extension of Robin?”
“They’re practically the same person; just don’t think about how hot she is.”
That’s easy for you to say.” Eddie rolls his eyes.
“How?”
“I don’t know, man. You’re King Steve, Steve 'the hair' Harrington, and you know how to flirt with girls.”
“So do you.”
“Not girls like that!” He points towards you and Robin, oblivious to the conversation, gabbing away about who knows what.
“You’re telling me that a girl who looks like that isn’t going to be attracted to a guy who looks like you? “ he raised a brow.
“I don’t know?” Eddie shrugged.
“Nah, dude, you’re being too hard on yourself. Listen to me, be yourself, and see what happens.”
“Okay,” he sighed, bringing the drinks out for you and Robin.
As the night wore on, Eddie became more confident speaking to you and less intimidated after the talk with Steve in the kitchen. When the night ended, you were all disappointed to say goodbye but excited about what tomorrow would bring.
-
The past few days have been absolutely hectic. Rehearsals for the upcoming show have consumed your mornings, followed by afternoons filled with various outings. It's a whirlwind from sound check to meeting up with your guests at their hotel or wherever they are.
Eddie’s crush was starting to take over his mind. Every night before he went to sleep, he thought about you and watched videos of you. He even went so far as to put your name on YouTube and “cute moments” afterwards.
Nothing could stop Eddie from getting you off his mind. He was so excited when you gave him your number, even if he was too nervous to text you. His excitement doubled when you followed him on Instagram, and he spastically went through all his posts to make sure nothing was embarrassing.
Today, you went to the beach. A relaxing day was much needed after your hectic schedule of rehearsals and entertaining your guests over the past few days.
You arrive to see your new friends secured a great spot by the water's edge. Robin is lying under the umbrella while the boys wrestle in the water.
“Is Eddie single?” you ask after settling down with Robin on the sand.
“The most chronically single person I’ve ever met; dude hasn’t been in a relationship since he confessed his love for a cheerleader in high school, and I wouldn’t even count that as a girlfriend.”
You stop and ponder this newfound information as you watch him from afar. As you observe him splashing around, you see him in a new light. He is lean but has some muscle. His various tattoos and how he looks in a bathing suit is giving you butterflies.
“What’s wrong with him?” You ask nervously.
“Nothing is wrong with him; he’s just… I don’t know how to explain it. The girls in our town aren’t into guys who look or act like Eddie. They’re all stuck up, snooty rich kids, you know? And Eddie has had it rough; he grew up on the poorer side of town and his parents. His uncle raised him, so everyone looked down at him.” Robin sighed, hating the way life had treated her friend.
“Trust me, I know about stuck-up assholes. I live in their capital.” You snort.
“So why are you asking about Ed? Any particular reason?” Robin peaks at you from under her sunglasses. ”
“He seems different from the guys in L. A” You twiddle with the strings on your bikini bottoms.
“Well, I know he has a big fat crush on you.”
“Really?” Your face lit up, giving away your motive for conversation.
“Seems like you do, too girl friend.” She nudged you, and you tried to hide your face under your beach towel.
“Ooooooooooo Bunnie has a crush on Eddie the Freak.” Robin teased.
“What did he do to earn that title?”
“There are many rumours; I’m sure you’ll find out soon.” She wiggled her brows suggestively.
Robins’s innuendo had you giggling so hard that you almost started crying.
You pulled Eddie’s attention when he heard your angelic laugh. Eddie stood distracted by watching you lay out with Robin, your tattoos on display, more than he had seen initially. Your teeny black-and-white bikini was a sight for soar eyes, being stuck with Steve all day and night. With the sudden distraction, Steve had the opportunity to body-slam Eddie into the ocean.
Eddie’s audible “oof” was heard, and before Eddie knew it, he was gasping for air. When he finally got his bearing straight, he saw you looking over, concerned at the two men, then gave a slight wave to ensure he was okay.
“Playtimes over, Harrington,” Eddie shoved Steve off of him.
“Oh, I think it’s just beginning for you, Munson.”
The two men exited the water looking too hot for their own good, like some personal Baywatch episode was coming at you in 3D.
“Like what you see?” Eddie smirked at you as they both approached the both of you.
“Absolutely.” You squint up at him, the sun catching your eyes.
Eddie plopped beside you and shook his head like a dog getting ocean water all over you.
You squeak at how cold the water is.
“Oh, sorry, Bunnie, let me get that for you.” He smirks.
He brushes the water from your face with his towel.
Oh, he knows what he is doing.
Your skin deceived you as the goosebumps arose when Eddie touched your face.
“You cold, Bunnie?” Eddie noticed and pulled you in with him as he wrapped his towel around the both of you. Your bare back pressing against his cold, damp chest wasn’t helping, but hell, you were not about to start complaining.
“Thanks”
Robin gives you a pointed look, then immediately grabs Steve’s hand to yank him up.
“Come, we are getting food.”
Steve leaves without protest, seeing what Robin sees- that you and Eddie should have some alone time.
“So a little Birdie told me you have a reputation back home.” You were leaning up against Eddie’s chest, basking in the sun.
“Oh, did she, now? And what might that be.”
“that you’re a little freaky,” you giggle.
“You sure you want to know about th-"
“Oh my god! It is you! Oh my god, I love you. Can I please get a picture with you?” A girl not much younger than yourself, clearly a fan of yours, looks down at you, and Eddie is cuddled up.
Without missing a beat, you get up and greet the fan.
“Can you take our picture?” She gives her phone to Eddie before he even agrees that he’s getting up to help.
You give him an apologetic look. This was not the kind of day he signed up for.
You pose with the fan and talk with her briefly before she asks, “ Is that your boyfriend?”
You look over your shoulder to see Eddie again sitting under the umbrella.
“No, no, he’s a friend,” you smile.
“Too bad, you guys would be a cute couple.”
You entertain her only a few more minutes before she leaves.
“Sorry about that.” You sit back down beside Eddie.
“That’s okay, I get it. You’re famous and all.” He smiles.
“I’m not that famous,” you sigh.
“Don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart.”
“Well, maybe…” you shrug.
“You have strangers coming up to you complimenting your work; that’s sick as fuck if you ask me.”
“It's something I’ll never get used to.”
“Tell me more what it’s like?”
“What? Having a fan approach me?”
“Yea. I guess being a famous rockstar was all I ever dreamed of until a few years ago when I realized it wouldn’t be in the cards for me.
“What if it could be?”
“What do you mean?”
“I have a crazy idea.”
-
Pictures of you and a “Mystery guy” were planted all over the tabloids the following day. Of course, no one stopped to take a photo when it was just you and Robin or the four of you sitting on the beach.
“I’m sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into my crazy.” You apologized while you were all out to dinner. Eddie was sat directly beside you.
“I think I like crazy,” he smirked and gently touched your knee.
You tried to hide your bashful smile while playing with the stem of your martini glass.
Robin and Steve instantly locked in on the chemistry between you. They tried to look at one another subtly, but you caught it.
“What are you guys up to?” You ask.
“Nothing,” Robin laughs, but Steve isn’t shy about the topic.
“You guys are cute,” he smirks into the glass before sipping the golden bubbly liquid.
“Steve!” You squeak.
“I agree,” Robin concurred.
You wanted to agree with them, but you hardly knew Eddie, but you yearned to know everything about him. The more time you spend with this group, the more you don’t want them to leave. You can’t imagine how it will be once they go home next week. You would kill for them to spend more time with, especially Robin and your newfound crush, Eddie.
-
As the sun sets on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Coachella stage, you feel the nervous excitement building inside you. In just five minutes, it would be your turn to shine. Every move, every step, every beat was etched into your mind. You had rehearsed and memorized everything, from the choreography to the cues. The anticipation was palpable as you prepared to take the stage. Eddie Robin and Steve were set up in the VIP section, and you had an excellent sightline. You felt the cheers from the crowd pulsing through your veins as you stepped under the spotlight.
“She’s incredible!” Robin cheered.
“I had no idea she could sing like that!” Steve was in shock.
“What do you think, Eddie?” Robin turns, but her friend is nowhere in sight. “Ed? Hey, where is Eddie?”
Steve looks around, and he has no idea.
“Maybe he had to take a leak or something?”
Unbeknownst to them, you had a little surprise for your friends.
“How are we feeling tonight!?” You ask the crowd from centre stage.
The crowd roared in response.
“I said, “How are we feeling tonight? “ you ask again, and the crowd cheers as loud as possible.
“Very good, Coachella! I’m so grateful for you guys having me! this is a crucial moment in my career, a highlight, really.” You paced the stage.
“I’m so grateful for you guys to take time out of your day to come out and see me. It means more to me than you ever know! You guys make me feel like a rockstar!”
The crowd cheers again, even louder, and you can’t seem to break the smile off your face.
“Now, before we get this party started, I need you guys to give a warm welcome to a new friend of mine.” You look over to the side stage and wave a hand.
“Everyone, put your hands together for this rockstar! The best guitarist I’ve ever encountered! Give it up for Eddie Munson!” The crowd cheers as you ask them to, and you swear you hear Steve and Robin above all else.
Eddie cannot believe he is standing on stage in front of a crowd with thousands of people in California instead of 6 drunks in Hawkins, Indiana.
Eddie never imagined this opportunity would come to him, but here he was as if a magical being had granted him one wish in life.
When you looked at Eddie, a smile spread across your face, etched into his memory forever. Eddie looked so hot that you couldn’t help but rake your eyes up and down, taking him in. He wore his black ripped jeans, boots, and denim vest, showcasing his many tattoos.
The way you looked tonight was so beautiful. Eddie didn’t think he could make it through the three songs he’s rehearsed with you over the last two days.
Your music wasn’t Eddie’s usual genre. However, it wasn’t as bubblegum pop as he expected. He appreciated many rock elements and would be an idiot to pass up this opportunity.
“Okay, let’s rock!” And Eddie started the first riff of the second half of the setlist.
The crowd was electric, and Eddie’s heart felt like it would pound out of his chest, especially when it came to the guitar solo he absolutely nailed.
“Thank you, Coachella! Goodnight!” The roar of the crowd doesn't die down.
You grab Eddie by the hand and run off stage. As you make it to the stage, Eddie wraps you in a high so tight it takes your breath away.
“That was incredible! Unbelievable!” Eddie howled in excitement. “I can’t believe that just happened!”
“It’s incredible, isn’t it!” You smile.
“Yes! God, I could kiss you!”
“Who is stopping you?”
Maybe it was the adrenaline or perhaps it was the fact that Eddie would be leaving soon, but you wanted it so bad that you threw all caution to the wind.
“What?” Eddie’s eyes winded.
“Kiss me, rockstar. I know you want to.”
You pulled Eddie in by the guitar strap, and your lips connected. The moment his plump lips made contact with your deep cherry-cola-coloured ones, you knew this was something more than physical attraction. You haven’t felt a kiss like this in a very long time. The both of you pull away regretfully, but you are standing in the middle of backstage, and techs and roadies are running all over the place; you can’t just make out with Eddie here.
“Come home with me to my place tonight? You ask bravely.
Eddie quickly nods his head, at a loss for words.
“Okay,”
-
Nothing could top this moment for Eddie. It was you and him alone for the first time. He was in your bedroom, and the height he was feeling was too much to contain. Eddie pulled you in closer, his lips crashing into yours harder as his hands grabbed the silver material of your mini dress. He pushed you up against the wall, and you felt his tight hold on your body. His hard body pressed up against yours, and the only thing separating you was four layers of thin cloth dawning you and Eddie.
“Fuck you’re so hot.” You moan.
Eddie’s head spun at your confession. You thought he was hot. You, the girl who made all of his wildest dreams come true and then some.
“I want you,” you mumble into his lips.
Eddie didn’t need to be told twice before his hand travelled up between the soft skin of your plush thighs.
The way your skin felt under his fingertips makes you shiver. Slowly, his callused tips found their way to the cloth of your soaked panties.
Eddie moaned into you as his kiss trailed down the side of your jaw to your neck, catching that sweet spot that makes your pussy weep.
Eddie’s fingers delicately stroke up and down your slit like he would break you, but you need more. You can’t help your hips rock back and forth into his touch.
Eddie didn’t think he would end up with a pop star grinding into his hand when he planned his trip to Cali with his friend, but he wasn’t complaining. He would be happy if this was the furthest the two of you got.
“More,” You plead, and your hand wiggles its way between the two of you to stroke his already hardening cock.
Eddie buckles his hips into your hand unwillingly, but the feeling of your hand on his cock had him acting on instinct. The two of you dry-humping one another against the wall wasn’t enough.
“Need you, want you so bad,” Eddie confesses.
You push up off the wall and drag Eddie to your bed. You push him back with a giggle, then fall to your knees before him.
“Holy shit,” he whispers under his breath. Your gaze meets Eddie, and it’s like a siren is looking back up at him, ready to drown him with your lust.
You quickly unbuckle and unbutton and unzip everything containing Eddie’s bulge from you, and you’re pleasantly surprised when you finally unwrap him. His tip was already crying for your touch, so red and shiny due to the precum that had been leaking ever since you kissed him when you both got off stage. His long, thick shaft taunted you as if it might not be able to fit.
“Want to teach me why they call you Eddie the Freak?” You smirk.
“Fuck Bunnie, you don’t know what you’re asking for. "
“That’s why I’m asking, big boy.”
You don’t give Eddie a chance to respond before wrapping your warm lips around his fat tip.
“Yes, sweetheart, right there,” he draws out his words as you take him in further.
His hands grip the roots of your hair, pulling them taught as your mouth takes him to the back of your throat.
“Oh god,” He moans again. The way your mouth feels around his cock is making him want to thrust up into you, but he holds back for your sake. He knows you asked him to share why he’s called the freak, but he’s not ready to scare you away with his kinks, not yet.
“Fuck baby, you’re so big” You pull off and replace your mouth with your hand so you can catch your breath. Your lung capacity may be suitable for singing, but you can only hold so much breath.
“You think so, pretty girl?” Eddie brushed a fallen piece of hair from your face, and you swore you had never been so hot and bothered.
You bite your bottom lip and try to grind yourself on your heels for any source of friction as you take him back in your mouth. His taste was addictive, and so was the way he was looking down at you with a look in his eyes that made you feel so wanted.
“Such good girl; you like being on your knees for me?”
You nod your head and hum on his cock in a reference, and that makes Eddie’s head spin. The way your mouth is sending vibrations through him has him pulling you up off of him because he would end the night early if you keep that up.
You giggle as he switches your positions and strips himself. Your head hits your pillows, and you sink into the plush mattress.
“You’re wearing too many clothes," Eddie smirks as his hands find the hem of your dress, pushing it up, up, up, until it meets the lower part of your breasts. Then you take over, folding the fabric over your head.
“Fuuuuuuuuck” Eddie draws out before letting his head fall between them. He presses his face into your chest, kissing and sucking on your tits before he finally takes one nipple into his mouth.
“Tonight should be all about you, Sweetheart.” he nips at your sensitive skin.
“Should worship you like you deserve.”
A low main leaves your throat before Eddie dips down to discard your sodden panties. Finally, he has you where he wants; needy for him and naked.
“Knew you’d have sucha’ pretty pussy, Bunnie.”
“Edddieee” you cry; it’s pathetic how riled up you’ve become.
“Don’t be a brat now,” he warns, but that only makes your pussy throb even more than it has been.
You’re dying to be touched; you craved him so badly that you couldn’t stand it.
Eddie’s mouth dips down to your lower stomach, long drawn-out mouth kisses trailing along your skin around your mound, your under thighs. His teeth nipped and bit at your tender flesh, not breaking the skin but enough to mark you up, to claim you as his own.
“Eddie, please, baby, touch me.” You ask as you stroke the fallen hair out of his face.
“Asking so nicely, good girl.” He purrs.
You can’t help but let out a long sigh as Eddie's tongue makes contact with your swollen bundle of overly sensitive nerves.
He tasers you fully as the flat of his tongue drags itself over your slit. Your slick coats itself on his lips and chin as he sends a rush of pleasure through your veins.
Eddie, the Freak Munson, should be renamed to Eddie the Munch for the irresistible way he’s eating you out. His hands push your inner thighs wider so he has more of you to consume. Your exposed pussy calls to him as he eats you like he’s enjoying it more than you are. He wants you to cum all over his mouth.
Eddie lifts his head and replaces his mouth with his fingers as he pushes up inside of your pussy while massaging your clit with his thumb.
“I know you’re close, baby; give it to me. I need to know how you taste coming on my tongue.”
His dirty words had your head spinning and your core tightening. He was right; you were so close, you wanted- no, you needed to come.
“Please, please, please,” you begged for him to let you have the wave of pleasure wash over your body.
Eddie had you right where he needed you, in the sweet spot of being so desperate that you’d agree to anything he asked. He loved being in control this way; he loved wanting to feel powerful but also loved how much you trusted him to do so.
But what Eddie loved most of all was how you were about to cum all over his face; he loves pussy so much he can’t get enough of it, so he dips back down and has you cumming on his tongue as he pushed it up into your hole and didn’t let up as his thumb rubbed on your clit.
He doesn’t let up until you’ve come twice before wanting to get to the best part.
“Did so good baby, you taste so good. I know you got one more in you for me.”
You can’t even speak; the way he just made you come so quickly, one after another, was mind-blowing.
“Want to teach me why they call you Bunnie?” Eddie mocks as he pulls you up to switch positions.
How were you to ride him after all that?
“Fuck Eddie, I don’t know if I can; my legs are like jello,” you giggle.
“I believe in you, baby,” he creases your ass as you align yourself over his cock.
“Wait, do you have a condom?” He stops you.
“I’m on birth control” You slowly rub your pussy over his shaft, teasing the head at your entrance, threatening to put it in.
“Shiiiiiit” Eddie’s head goes back. “You want to be my little Bunny? Hop on it raw?”
“Mmmmmmm, yes,” you hum as your hips rock back and forth.
“Fuck okay, okay.” And before the second okay is out of Eddie’s mouth, you’re already sinking on his cock. It feels so good that he stretches you until your hips are connected to the bottom.
The only thing filling the room was the sounds of skin slapping skin and the moans coming from each of your mouths. His hands roam your body, exploring the swell of your breasts, your nipples, down around your hips, your back and your ass giving it a tight squeeze.
“Fuck, that’s it. You’re such a good Bunny, bouncing and taking my cock so well.”
“So big.” Your legs were already burning as you worked yourself up and down on his body.
“You going to cum like that, huh?” His hips match your rhythm, and you work together to create the perfect pace.
“That’s my girl, that’s my girl, that’s my girl,” he chants like a prayer as your pussy clenches down on Eddie’s cock, making that your third orgasm of the evening. Your body shutters as your orgasm takes over you, the icing on the cake of the day you’ve had today.
“I’m close. Where do you want it.”
“In me, cum in me, please.”
“Fuck, you sure?”
“Yes!” You had stopped bouncing me, but Edie had you held in place as he fucked his hips up into you.
You can feel his balls slapping your ass and his cock twitching so deeply inside you that tiny ripples of post-orgasm spasms are still running through you.
With a grunt, Eddie collapses, and you fall on top of him. Your hot bodies pressed together, chests heaving, breathing in one another.
“Hey, you wanna stay?” You tentatively as as you curl up next to him.
“Sure baby, I can spend the night”
“No no-well yea, but no…I mean here in California… you can join the band” you bite your lip.
“You-you want me to join your band?”
You nod your head slowly.
“Woah…”
“I know it’s crazy! But you’re so good, and you love it. It wouldn't be exactly what you want, but it also puts your foot in the door, and I kind of don’t want you to leave.” You blab.
“All I heard was you don’t want me to leave, Eddie teases.
“I’m serious,” you playfully swat his chest.
“I’m going to have to call my boss in the morning,” he smirked.
“Really?”
“Id have gone an idot to pass up an opportunity like this sweetheart.
Tagging some mooties @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munson-blurbs @maisieisaloserr @ghost-proofbaby @littlexdeaths @take-everything-you-can @andvys @userchai @loserboysandlithium @floredaqueen @sexmetaleddie @strangerstilinski @myherometalhead
#Eddie Munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson request#eddie munson fan fic#Eddie Munson fluff#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson x oc
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Hear Me Out, Keep Me Guessing
Steddie || wc: 2.5k || rating: T || tags: alternate first meeting, pre-S4, Eddie is a rollercoaster of emotions, Steve is over it, fluff and flirting || ao3
Inspired by my own post
☆☆☆
“Okay, Munson. What’s your fucking problem?”
Eddie hops on top of the wooden picnic bench to gain a slight height advantage over whoever’s decided to fuck up his day, when he spots none other than Steve Harrington headed towards him through the trees, fighting his way through brush and bramble.
“Well, well, well. How the mighty have fallen. Crawling through the dirt just to visit his former court jester.” Eddie smirks, hears Harrington mutter something under his breath that sounds a lot like jesus christ before he finally makes his way over.
Harrington’s looking up at him, squinting into the sunlight, and Eddie’s slightly repelled by his sudden desire to run a hand through King Steve’s hair. It shines in the sunlight, matching the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.
Eddie takes a step to the left, casting him back into shadow again where he’s just his normal, asshole self and not the angelic image Eddie conjured from his horny, queer little brain.
He can’t remember if it’s his turn to talk or Harrington’s, but it seems the King’s lost the plot as well. Completely zoned out, he’s just standing there staring up at Eddie, mouth dropped open and eyes wide in a way Eddie will certainly not be thinking about later tonight. Absolutely not.
Eddie coughs. Loud and obnoxious enough to break whatever trance they’ve found themselves in. Harrington awkwardly chuckles, running a hand through his hair. An image of Steve leaning against lockers, towering over a girl with heat in his eyes and a hand in his hair floods Eddie’s brain before he can shake it out like an Etch A Sketch. What the fuck is even happening to him?
“Yeah, Munson. Like, what the hell is your problem?” It lacks punch and drama the second time around, but it gets them back on track. Harrington props his hands on his hips, his lip juts out into a tiny pout, and Eddie wonders if he thinks standing like a disappointed mom is effective in getting what he wants, or if being adorable just comes naturally to the former King.
“You’ll have to be more specific, my liege.” He watches as Harrington brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration and he makes a mental note to develop a better, more refined taste in men.
“The kids, man. Why aren’t you friends with the kids?”
“Kids? What the hell– what kids?” He hops down from the table. If this is going to be a legitimate conversation and not a shake down, he figures it’ll be easier on even footing. Harrington takes the seat opposite him, his shoe accidentally knocking Eddie’s ankle.
Steve doesn’t move his foot. Neither does Eddie.
“My kids, man. They said they tried talking to you all week and you wouldn’t even hear them out!”
Eddie watches his fingers tap absently on the table top. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, and it’s shocking that Eddie is just now realizing that Steve’s actually anxious. Normally Eddie considers himself better at reading people, when he’s not distracted with puffy, pink lips and a confusing line of conversation.
He looks down, rewinding the past week. He’d made it through his first week of his third senior year without anyone getting in his face. Maybe he’s old enough now that even asshole seniors like Jason Carver have decided to leave him alone. Thankfully it seems the offer also extends to Gareth, Kenny, and Jeff, who’ve only reported minor name calling and a light shove.
That’s where he spots them, stops the tape midway through lunch on Wednesday when a group of three freshmen approached the table. He’d spotted the curly-haired kid earlier in the week, bravely decked out in a Weird Al shirt and a hat from some science camp. The kid was enough of a freak to earn free admission to Hellfire, but the other two required a bit more thought.
Eddie clocked Little Wheeler through the station wagon window Monday morning when he’d cut Nancy off in the parking lot. The kid seemed alright, but with a priss like Nancy as a sister, it was a tough call. The other kid seemed a bit too sporty, and a little too interested in basketball tryouts.
When the three amigos started talking DnD, the guys invited them with open arms. It was a relatively peaceful lunch. Exciting even, at the prospect of adding new members to their campaign. They’d mentioned trying to convince a few of their friends to play. A girl named Max Mayfield, who turns out lives a few trailers down from Eddie.
But when the curly-haired kid mentioned Steve Harrington, the Hellfire boys clammed up tighter than nun’s ass. His named dripped from their mouths like it was covered in gold, the hero-worship rotting them from the inside and Eddie wouldn’t stand for it. No true freaks would stand to be friends with an asshole bully like King Steve.
Of course the freshies tried to argue, saying he’d changed. It didn’t matter to the Hellfire boys. Clearly the freshmen were corrupted, and they couldn’t be trusted. So he’d sent them on their way, and the three of them posted up in the corner of the lunchroom every day since. Far away from jocks and freaks alike.
Now, Eddie looks across the table and sees false bravado slathered over the anxiety etched into the former King’s face. He doesn’t know how three freshmen freaks found themselves under the wing of Steve Harrington, but it seems the feeling is mutual. Steve cares about these kids.
“Yeah,” Eddie says, “I remember them. What’s it to you, Harrington? Aren’t they a little too old for a babysitter.” The joke falls flat when Steve sighs, heavy and exhausted, like somehow a rich boy from the Loch carries the entire world on his shoulders.
But he plays it off, trying to meet Eddie’s quip halfway. “Babysitters get paid, dude. I do it from the goodness of my heart or some shit.” Steve leans back, scrubs his hands over his face like he can erase whatever’s behind his eyes.
Eddie stares at him, hoping to catch a glimpse. The only consolation is Steve puts his other foot on the opposite side of Eddie’s, his ankle now fully cradled between Steve’s.
“They’re nerds, man.” Harrington states it like it’s a fact and not an insult he’s hurled at Eddie a hundred times over the years. “They’re freaks, you know– like you.”
Moment officially broken, Eddie scoffs, pushing away from the table wondering why he ever entertained talking with Harrington in the first place. As he grabs his lunchbox off the forest floor, he hears shuffling behind him.
“Wait,” Harrington shouts. “Just, fuck man, can you just let me finish?”
“Finish what, exactly?” Eddie snaps, whirling around to crowd into his space. He wears big and scary like how the King wears his crown and how assassins wield their blades. With enough power and confidence to scare off any enemy. “Finish listening to you shit on the little guy? Listen to you harp on the freaks of the world, or how you corrupted your little pions?”
“What?” Steve asks, lips pursed and eyebrows scrunched. Eddie’s not surprised his jock-rattled brain couldn’t find that word in its very limited dictionary, but what does surprise him is that Steve doesn’t back down. They’re practically nose to nose, so close Eddie can spot a small freckle on his lash-line, and Steve’s standing here like he doesn't have a care in the world while Eddie screams in his face.
It’s quiet again. He can hear the rustle of tall grass and birds overhead. He can feel Steve’s breath on his lips and Eddie can’t remember what they were talking about. Again.
Steve grabs his shoulders, and in his daze, Eddie lets himself be maneuvered back to sitting at the picnic table, while Steve stands in front of him.
“Are you always big and loud and obnoxious? Can you just cut the shit for like, five minutes so we can have a normal fucking conversation. Jesus christ, you’re practically perfect for them.” The last part is quieter, seems more like an unfiltered afterthought.
“Ok,” Eddie says. If Steve’s willing to take the crown off long enough to talk with Eddie, then maybe he can shed his own metaphorical battle vest. “Say what you have to say, then.”
Steve clears his throat, shuffles slightly as he gains his footing. He looks at Eddie with a determined set to his shoulders.
“Henderson, Sinclair, and even Wheeler– they’re my kids. I’ve spent the last nine months watching out for those little shits because all they’re good at is getting into the worst kinds of trouble.” Eddie tracks him as Steve paces the forest floor, rambling and raking a hand through his hair like it helps him think. “But I remembered you didn’t graduate, right? And you run that Dungeons and Dragons club–”
“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie interrupts. Steve stops, turns to face him, and shoots him the bitchiest glare Eddie’s ever seen, but before he can say anything, Eddie pushes on. “You, Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, leader of meatheads and bimbos alike, know what Dungeons and Dragons is?”
Steve sighs, hands back on his hips as he rolls his eyes. “Ha ha, Munson. Don’t worry it’s all against my will, okay? I’m not coming to steal your freaks and weirdos so I can lead them too.” He smirks, and it pulls a laugh out of Eddie, shocked that Steve’s willing to joke around with Eddie at all, let alone when it’s at his own expense.
“Now, quit interrupting me, you’re as bad as Henderson.”
Eddie mimes zipping his lips closed, only to open his mouth to swallow the imaginary key. Butterflies explode in his chest at the sound of Steve laughter, and Eddie wonders if bashing his head into a tree would be a decent excuse to explain the red flush erupting on his face.
“Anyways,” Steve chuckles. “They’re smart as shit but don’t know when to give something up just to get out of a fight. I’m surprised they haven’t gotten their asses handed to them already, and everyday I pick them up all I'm thinking about is which one of them I’m gonna have to stitch up. Sure, some of the guys in the grade below were alright, like Andy. But guys like Hargrove, like Carver.” Eddie can practically see the dark cloud form over Steve’s brow.
He remembers as well as anyone the fallout of Harrington v Hargrove, Fall 1985. There’d been endless rumors about what happened, each one more ridiculous than the last. Now he’s left wondering if it’s not really about Nancy, or drugs, or Billy fucking Steve’s mom, but about these kids. The timing checks out, nine months on babysitting duties lines up pretty well with when Steve showed up to school beaten and broken.
Maybe Steve isn’t all he seems to be.
“Guys like Carver won’t mess with you. They’re too scared you’re using DnD to worship the devil and get kids into sodomy and drugs and shit like that. I told them that you’d be cool. That you’re big and loud, that you play DnD like them. You're smart and you read the same nerdy books. I told them they’d be safe with you, man.” Steve rubs his face again, until his hands fall to the sides and he tilts his head up towards the sky. “I just need to know someone’s looking out for them. Please, Eddie, just–”
“Okay.”
Steve’s attention snaps back to him, relief written plain as day in the wide set of his smile. “You’re serious?”
Eddie can’t help but smile back. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Steve smile so unguarded, and never aimed his way. The sheer brightness of it fills him with warmth he wants to wrap himself up in.
All on top of the fact Eddie's never gotten this many compliments from anyone before, let alone from a guy as gorgeous as Steve Harrington. His ears are practically on fire.
“Yeah, Harrington. I’ll share custody of your little nuggets.” Before he knows what’s coming, Steve sweeps him up into a hug, lifts him fully off the ground and can feel the tinkling of his laughter on the shell of his ear.
“Thanks, Munson. Damn, you have no idea how freaked out I’ve–”
“What about the other stuff?” Eddie can’t stop himself from asking. He has to know, deep in his bones, that Steve is thinking this through. That Steve won’t change his mind in a few days or months and decide it’s time for Eddie Munson to eat dirt.
He lets Eddie go, but holds his shoulders at arms length to look him in the eye. Any lingering mirth has been replaced with intent curiosity. “What stuff, Munson?”
He can tell by Steve’s tone they’re both talking about the same thing. Rumors that’ve haunted Eddie since eighth grade after Davey Richardson beat him up under the bleachers. It didn’t matter that Davey kissed him first, all that mattered was he was popular and Eddie was weird.
He’d grown numb to the slurs over the years, but how could he forget hearing the reason why Byers beat the shit out of King Steve. The only surprise from that fight was it sounded like he never even tried to fight back.
“Harrington, if I don’t get to act loud and obnoxious, then you don’t get to play dumb.” The intensity of Steve’s stare reminds him of the few conversations he’d had with Chief Hopper before he’d died. The man could tear Eddie down to the bones with one glare, and he’s sure it’s the only reason the Chief brought him back to the trailer instead of a jail cell.
“Eddie,” Steve says, tone firm, “I’m not that guy anymore. I don’t care about the shit people say, especially self-righteous assholes like Carver. The only thing I give a shit about is you watching over the little gremlins and not selling them drugs, so I can breathe easier when I don't have eyes on them.”
Steve shakes him lightly, like it’ll sift this world-changing view into his brain, then pats his shoulder as he passes by him.
“Wait,” Eddie shouts, always a glutton for punishment. He spins around to catch Steve walking backwards away from him, hands in his pockets, effortlessly cool. The sun’s catching his hair again and there’s a smirk on his lips. “You really don’t care?”
Steve laughs, taking a step back. He chews on his bottom lip, and he smiles when he catches Eddie looking. Because he knows. Steve knows now, before Jeff or Wayne or anyone else.
“Eddie, whoever you decide to love or fuck– or not– is none of my business.” He turns to leave, and as Eddie relaxes he hears Steve call out, “unless you want it to be.”
Steve’s light laughter follows him out of the woods, and Eddie plops himself down in the same spot on the same wooden bench in the exact same forest as he always does every Friday after school. Except a twenty minute conversation with Steve Harrington leaves Eddie feeling like his world's been turned upside down.
Maybe ‘86 will be his year, after all.
#and then eddie follows him to the bimmer and they bang it out#steve's bad with words except when he's flirting with a pretty boy#good babysitter steve harrington#eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington#even though he kind of hates himself for it#alternate meeting#excessive flirting#pre season four#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie fic#stranger things au#steddie#steddie ficlet#queeniewritesstories#stranger things
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Thinking about when Jace got teased by asking if he knew where he had to put his cock in… a fic about it would kill me
a.n: im sure this has been done a million times before but this is my take on it :3 this is prob not as smutty as you probably hoped but i hope you like it <333 only warnings are reader is a northern (no specific house) and oral (fem)
“You do know how the act is done i assume. At least in principle.” You see the way jace tenses next to you and aegon shoots you a pleased look. your face falls, this was not going to be good.
“Where to put your cock and all that.” You place a hand on jaces shoulder but he does not acknowledge you as you can tell he is growing angrier by the second. “Ignore him jace, he’s not worth it-”
“You can play the jester if you wish. but hold your tongue before my bethrothed.” Aegon says not more but you remove your hand from his shoulder as jace gulps down the remainder of his wine. You can tell he’s pissed. His jaw is clenched and his leg bounces up and down, eyes set at the wall.
You hate how hot he looks, how his stare has your thighs clenching together. You have only been betrothed for a few months now. You had taken a trip down to dragonstone to meet him when the trial suddenly was called and you agreed to join him and the rest of his family.
When you place a hand on his thigh his leg stops moving and his head turns towards you, eyes wide. You squeeze his thigh lightly as you lean closer to him, your words hushed. “Do not let him bother you jace.” The look in his eye is dark as they roam around your face and land on your lips. You hold your breath and your hand slips off his thigh as you turn away from him. There was no way he was going to kiss you but you can’t help but feel embarrassed still.
Your attention is quickly taken away by baela who asks you numerous questions about the north and you happily answer all her questions, assuring her you would be more than happy to show her around should she be interested in going there.
The night goes sour and you rush after jace who quickly storms out of the room after being dismissed. You call his name as you sprint down the hall but he does not turn to look at you or stop his movement until you are right next to him, in front of his room.
“Jace-”
Before you even realize it your on the bed with his head under your dress. His tongue lapping at your walls with his hands pressing against your knees to keep them apart. One of your hands covers you mouth while the other grips tightly at the hair on his head, with every pull he lets out a groan that sends shivers up and down your back.
You do not know how you even ended up here. He was just so angry about the whole dinner that he needed something to relieve his stress and he has vowed that has much as he wishes too he will not bed you before your wedding. But this was not him bedding you, he has not stuck his cock where his tongue is plunging in and out it did not count in his eyes.
He always has hated that you had to cover your mouth, always wishing he could just hear you fully but he only has one more moon cycle before he can fully, till then he can settle for the muffled sounds of your delight.
Aegon knew nothing of your relationship he had no clue why he let it bother him so much. He had no clue that jace had you crying his name on his lips more times than he can ever count, hes sure aegon has never even had a women release before but jace sure has and you were living proof.
perm jace taglist <3
@earth4angels @tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons @ravenn-darkholme
#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd imagine#jacaerys targaryen x reader#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys strong#prince jacaerys#jacaerys targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#hotd jacaerys#jacaerys x reader#jace x you#jace velaryon#jace targaryen#jace x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd x reader#hotd x y/n#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house targaryen#jacaerys
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masked fantasy
slasher!lyney x reader II 2.8k
warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, modern au, implied!yandere, implied murder, fingering, cunnilingus, use of toys, creampie, overstimulation, dacryphilia, praise pussydrunk!lyney, established relationship, gaslighting/manipulation, mention of blood, unedited
synopsis: you've been on edge lately seeing news report after news report of people killed by a masked pierrot serial killer, targeting people you seemed to vaguely know. your boyfriend, lyney, insists you drop it and focus on him instead to try to get your mind off of things. you listen, but something in the pit of your stomach continues to nag at you.
Gloomy clouds above hid the stars and the moonlight above. Rain loudly padded against the windows, a small waterfall streaming down it. You snuggled into your blanket further on the couch in an attempt to knock the chill away from the living room. A sigh emitted from your lips watching the 6:00 p.m. news report of yet another murder in your town from a masked serial killer. This wouldn’t very unique to some; however, you began to notice a pattern
The media and detectives have deemed him the Pierrot—a serial killer who dons a French Carnival-Style Jester mask. Reports from the police said he’s still at large and seemed to be killing indiscriminately, but you knew a little better. The photos of the victims all shared one thing in common with you, you had vaguely known them in the past.
One was an old high school classmate, another was a teacher's assistant who once assisted your professors in college, another was a barista worker from a cafe you sometimes go to, even old childhood friends you haven’t spoken to for years. You wanted to chalk it up to a weird coincidence but the pit in your stomach churned, discouraging you to relax.
You worry whoever this masked killer was, he was working his way to you.
Thunder suddenly boomed in the sky, causing your body to jolt from the noise. You let out a sigh; the stress seemed to finally be getting to you.
Your boyfriend walked in, an amused but concerned smile on his face. You and Lyney had been dating for a while now, meeting in college when you decided to study abroad in France. Eventually, you moved into his place that he shared with his two siblings—his twin sister Lynette and his adoptive younger brother Freminet.
Things were great with Lyney. He was doting, caring, and amusing as well. He made you happy; he felt real. He was someone you could imagine marrying maybe in a year or two.
“You alright? You seem a bit jumpy today,” he hummed, handing you a mug of hot chocolate. The aroma of the milk chocolate made your mouth water as marshmallows floated on top. You flash a small smile, taking the mug for him and taking a sip—hoping the warm liquid would coax your anxiety.
“Honestly, not really. The whole Pierrot serial killer thing has been really bothering me lately. I vaguely know the victims, albeit there aren’t people I know like that or associate myself with now. But, still! I recognize them,” you sighed, looking at the reflection of your mug. Lyney’s face slightly softened at your confession.
“...I’m scared that the killers are actually targeting me. Like this is some fucked up mind game or whatever. I’m scared it’ll also mean the people that I currently care about are in danger too. …like you,” you muttered. Lyney chuckled slightly before you looked up at him and narrowed your eyes. He covered his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter, murmuring apologies as he tried to calm down.
“Darling, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Besides, you have your amazing, attentive, loveable, strong boyfriend here to help. I’m here to protect both you and my siblings,” he chimed, leaning in to peck your forehead. You side-eye the man as he plopped down next to you on the couch, placing his mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table. He grabbed some of the blankets covering your lower body, getting in close to cover his form as well. Your thighs and sides pressed together as he smiled.
“I don’t know if a shortie like you will be able to fight off a psychopath,” you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Slight annoyance flashed through Lyney’s amethyst eyes as he pouted.
“You’d be surprised…” he muttered. You chuckled once more before leaning in to kiss Lyney’s plush cheek as his eyes softened in affection.
“Well, let’s just lighten the mood. We were going to watch Halloween special shows after all,” Lyney chimed, leaning over to grab the remote and change the television. That was right, today was supposed to be your date night. Freminet was having a sleepover with some of his friends and Lynette, begrudgingly, went out to give you two some space.
You felt Lyney’s hands underneath the blanket stroke against your thigh. At first, it was his thumb, before his whole hand slowly crept up and down. You gazed flickered to his that were glued to the television screen, albeit they were half-lidded and a smirk fell on his now rosy face.
“Well, aren’t you a bit touchy,” you murmured.
“Oh, am I? I didn’t seem to notice,” he hummed back, turning his gaze towards you. As he leaned in close—lips hovering by your own—a cell phone rang loudly. Your body jolted up once more, not expecting the sudden noise as anxiety shot throughout your entire body. Lyney flashed a sympathetic smile as a soft chuckle echoed out. He padded your thigh to try to comfort you, reaching out to grab his phone that was ringing out.
“We got to get you to relax, mon amour,” he murmured. He got up from his seat, walking away from your form.
Guilt gnawed on your body. You felt bad for being so anxious lately from this serial killer like your body is completely on edge as if you were a rabbit in the den of wolves, but you shouldn’t.
“I’m in my home. I am with my loving boyfriend. I am okay, I am safe,” you whispered out to yourself. Eventually, Lyney walked back in, and settled back to his spot on the couch.
“That was Lynette. She said that she would be coming home around midnight. It gives us plenty of time if you want this that is,” he stated, letting his hands trail across your thighs. You smiled, placing your hands on his cheeks. The corners of his lips curved up, leaning his head against your touch.
“I think a distraction would be good for me,” you whispered. His nose brushed against yours, lips hovering to where they once were before the interruption.
“Then forget all your troubles and leave everything to me…”
His lips finally found themselves to your own and you brought him closer to you. Your legs widened as his knees sank against the cushion of the couch to lean to you, deepening the kiss. Your hand reached over, softly grazing the crotch of his pants feeling his half-hardened cock pressing against his jeans. A soft moan escapes his lips, still connecting with yours before he parts away, and trails them along the nape of your neck.
“We…need to go to the bedroom,” Lyney groaned, continuing to kiss down your neck and nibble at the sensitive skin. Your body shivered, and you bit your lip to hide the smile creeping on your face.
“Oh, but you’re the one who has me pinned down here,” you reminded. With a grunt and pout, Lyney leaned back up, grabbed your hand, and found his way to your lips once more. The two of you bumped into walls—taking each other’s clothing off, leaving a trail to your shared bedroom. Lyney pushed you down on the bed as he slowly crawled on top of you with a mischievous smile.
“You seem so eager now. What’s the difference, chérie?” he hummed, dragging his lips across your thighs. His hands squeezed at your thighs as his lips finally trailed along the plush flesh. His hand reached to cup your cunt earning a soft moan from you as he nipped at your thighs.
“You seemed to be a great distraction, I guess,” you whined, grinding your core into his hand to encourage him to stop teasing you. Lyney playfully rolled his eyes, letting his two longest fingers sink inside your cunt, drilling them to precision and skill.
“‘I guess’” he mocked. “You, out of anyone, should know I’m more than just a ‘guess’. You know how well you enjoy passing the time with my fingers deep inside of you like this…or my mouth…or my cock. As he continued to plunge his fingers deeper inside of you, feeling your walls flutter, he couldn’t stop himself from grinding against the bed to try to get some friction on his throbbing clothed cock.
He soon learned near your drooling core, globs of your slick clinging against the fingers plunging inside of you.
“But, it’s fine. I’ll ensure you’ll think of me and nothing else. Just me and only me,” he stated. He finally pressed his lips against your clit as your body jolted in delight. Your hands dug into his soft ash-blond hair, pulling him in even deeper as his chuckles reverberated against the nub. He darted his tongue out, beginning to slowly swirl circles along the perimeter of it before letting his tongue flick rapidly on the bundle of nerves.
Your body shivered in pleasure, back arched, as Lyney tried to contain his smile, feeling your thighs beginning to press against the cheek of his face. He continued to flick his tongue against your clit before encompassing his lips around it and sucking on it—fingers not wavering and continuing to thrust inside of you.
Lyney lifted your leg against one of his shoulders and he pressed the flat of his tongue against the nub, offering a few gentle licks on it before he shifted back to suck on it. You writhed underneath him, as his blunt nails dug into your hips to try to prevent you from moving too much. The sinful sounds of slouching echoed out in the bedroom, your cheeks hot feeling overwhelmed by the attention and meticulous touch of both his mouth and fingers.
“Lyney, oh fuck. Please, please…!” you begged out. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, back arched once more—quivering—as you finally reached your high. His breath is heavy, letting your leg fall back down on the bed, leaning up to watch your pussy convulsed against nothing. His lower mouth glistened in your arousal as he licked his lips to clean up what slick clung onto there. The sweet taste of it was enough to make Lyney grin, watching your tired form trying to recover from your climax.
He leaned down against your side, feeling his hard and pulsating cock against the soft globes of your ass. He grabbed a handful of the globe, letting his cock slide between your thighs and slit a few times. As he made contact with your overstimulated clit you jolted and a soft whine emitted from you. Lyney laughed, tapping his tip against it a few times before he finally let himself slowly plunge inside of you.
As Lyney slowly sank deeper, He moved his mouth to your neck, groaning loudly, feeling your walls pulsating. When he finally bottomed out, his lips softly kissed your neck before rutting into you. The sound of slapping skin was loud inside the room and the smell of sweat wafted throughout it too. Lyney continued to nibble at your neck, admiring the bruises and hickies he decorated on the skin. His groaning got louder as he sucked a breath in, feeling your walls beginning to cave and tighten.
“Fuck,” Lyney moaned out loudly. You gasped as you felt him move and shift your body. Your ass hung in the air, as your head said laying on the pillows. His nails harpoon against your ass, drilling himself even deeper inside of you. As he continued to rut inside of you, he leaned down and kissed your back, groaning once more. He could feel your walls continuing to cave in, making it harder for him to control his thrusts and not lose himself too much in the pleasure.
He suddenly slipped out, cock quivering as he took a few breaths to try to control himself from climaxing. As he softly sighed, moving past it, he opened his eyes and admired your widening hole drooling out.
“W-What are you…” you asked, softly before Lyney pressed a finger to his lips. He reached over to the nightstand, rummaging through it. You thought he was looking for a condom, but your eyes widened seeing him pull out a small bullet vibrator instead. He held down the button on the side as the contraption began to vibrate erratically in the palm of his hands.
“I think keeping you on your toes would be best for tonight. Besides, I haven’t heard you use this before when I’m in the shower,” he chuckled as you bit your lip in embarrassment. He slid his cock back inside of you, before snaking his hand around and pressing the erratically moving vibrator against your overstimulated clit. You cried out his name, his thrusts deep and rapid. The whole bed creaked to his fast strokes, Lyney’s breaths getting heavier as he repeated your name in a slurred way as if your cunt had made him drunk.
“There…there…there…that’s right,” Lyney moaned out. You covered your face feeling tears begin to prick out as the pleasure and burn of overstimulation settled in. You shout his name, body convulsing as you reach your high for the second time tonight, writhing for what it seemed like hours beneath him.
In a dazed form, you felt Lyney flip you over admiring your absolute fucked-out form, quickly turning the vibrator off and throwing it across the bed. He continued to plunge himself inside of you. His eyes admire your chest bouncing to the fast pace of his thrusts. His cheeks were flushed and his voice whining, grunting, and groaning your name. You could barely focus on anything, your legs instinctively moved and wrapped against his small waist.
“I love you. I love you. Je t’aimerai toujours. Je n’aime que toi!” Lyney moaned out. He leaned his head back, snapping his eyes shut as he finally reached his high. His hips continued to bug, thrusting the ropes of cums deeper inside of you. He bit his lip as another soft moan emitted from him, taking heavy breaths before looking down at you.
He smiled, wiping away the tears pricking your eyes, speaking softly, and whispered in his mother tongue affection gestures to make sure you were alright. He placed his forehead against your own seeing you slowly come back from your senses, eyes completely tired but your form relaxed. There wasn’t an inch of tension he could see that you had before.
Lyney brought his lips down against your own, offering a slower and more sensual kiss.
“You know I’d do anything, absolutely anything for you. I love you so much it hurts,” he whispered. You smiled, pecking his forehead as he slowly pulled himself out of you. Soon globs of his cum began dribbling from your cunt and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Your eyes drift to the clock; Lynette will be coming home soon. You two needed to clean up and shower to avoid any unnecessary awkward conversations.
You finally closed your legs, moving to get up from the bed you accidentally hit the vibrator down as it fell to the floor. You sighed as you got up, your legs wobbly as you tried to readjust yourself.
“W-Wait! Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it and change the sheets. You just go clean up in the bathroom. If you need help just tell me, but I don’t want you to fall!” Lyney suddenly murmured. He seemed oddly on edge suddenly. You shrugged, leaning down to pick the toy up.
“It’s fine, it’s just right here. I can take…care of it….” your voice trailed off. Your eyes catch something odd under the bed. You reached to grab it, revealing that same Jester mask you saw on the news report from earlier. Parts of it seemed more damaged and cracked than the rendering the broadcast had, with a particular smudge with a dark red substance splattered on it.
Dried blood.
You look up in horror to gaze back at Lyney. His eyes, which you always knew were sweet and kind, looked back to you with more of a darker twist—his lips cemented in a frown.
“I told you to drop it, didn’t I…?” he sighed. You felt frozen in shock and fear as Lyney moved from the top of the bed to join you on the floor. His eyes, still twirled with that dark emotion you couldn’t read well, but his gaze softened. His lips curled up in a smile, you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or if he was just trying to comfort you from the revelation.
He dragged his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the tears that cascaded down. You didn’t notice you were crying.
“....Because sometimes we prefer the fantasy than the truth darling.”
#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact smut#genshin x reader#genshin smut#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin#lyney x reader#lyney smut#lyney imagines#lyney scenarios#yandere lyney
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What would happen if you were to lock Meta Knight, Dedede, Magolor and Marx all in the same room?
Content warning: Graphic Content.
DDD: "Wha- What the?! What is this place? Meta Knight?! Meta Knight where are we?"
MK: "Sire, I've not a clue. We're in some...cage"
M: "Cage? Cages has bars, this is more of a cube!"
MK: "This is no reason to be pedantic, we are trapped and that is the issue at hand."
M: "Hm...."
THIRTY MINUTES LATER.
DDD: "Meta Knight, do you see anythin' up there"
MK: "Sire, there is not even a seam of which the ceiling meets the wall. It... The material... It is not concrete, it is not wood, it is not even metal. It neither scratches or warps like plastic too. It feels like glass, but it isn't transparent otherwise... Well, we would see something, no?"
M: "Well... There's the possibility that it is transparent and the white we're seeing is what's outside of this cube... Like we're all trapped in a glass cube in a white void in... somewhere."
MK: "Quiet you. If that were the case, there'd be a reflection wouldn't there?"
M: "Mm... Well, not always! After all, you don't get a reflection from plastic, right? We could be in a plastic cube!"
MK: "Did you not hear me, if it were plastic then I'd already free us! It doesn't scratch, it does not warp."
M: "Maybe it's translucent rather than transparent. Hm? There's clearly a light source coming from something."
DDD "No bickering you two. Crap. I don't even feel some form of air comin' through either. This room has no circulation of any kind... As ya' said. no seams so the walls and floor are all one solid material. No way this is hand-made then if there's a interior... Not to mention... It's solid, no sense of hollowness on the other side of these walls. Magic maybe? Well, if it were magic I'd have a sense of it."
M: "Heh. Well, I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me one one you two have figured out anything."
FOUR HOURS LATER.
M: "Bets?"
DDD: "On what?"
MK: "....What?"
M: "Bets on how long it takes for Kirby to come save us."
DDD: "Optimistically... Three days?"
MK: "That is if Kirby has a idea of where we are..."
DDD: "You bring up a good point chrome dome. Usually when we go missing there's a huge event. I just remember taking a nap an' then I'm in this crazy place."
MK: "In my circumstances, I had just finished looking through some electronic order forms from a merchant on Planet Mecheye whom my operations does business with and for. I wanted to re-check the product code for a new set of energy valves meant for a future upgrade. So I decided to leave the communications room to and head to Captain Vul's office so that we coul-.
M: "Gahaha! Geez! Who cares about that? Cut to the point."
MK: "..."
DDD: "I'll have to agree with my jester over 'ere Meta Knight. We might have all time in the world but we don't need a play-by-play of your day."
MK: "Right, sire. Well, I did not wish to wait for the lift so I decided to teleport... Then, well, I am here."
M: "For me, I just blinked."
DDD: "What?"
M: "Yes. It was very weird. I got something in my eye, blinked a couple of times and when I re-opened my eyes on the... third blink I opened my eyes to this white room."
MK: "Hm... That rules out a few theories I have."
DDD: "Does it now?"
MK: "Aye. Clearly, our imprisonment is not of the result of magic, a physical kidnapper, or, in my case, a faulty re-route of my teleportation. It... It is the result of something or someone beyond that. There's no correlation between us and how we arrived here. It is anomalous and random."
M: "Ahah... We're totally in it now."
MK: "Why are you chuckling, tell me, is this but a game for you? What is it in this case?"
M: "Relax. Meta Knight, was it? You can't teleport out of here with that cape of yours. Dedede couldn't break a dent in the walls with his hammer and your sword couldn't scratch. It in this case is the worst possible scenario."
DDD: "Don't say that."
MK: "Yes. We needn't the excessive negativity."
M: "Hmph. If that is how you wish to be, who am I to stop you."
DDD: "For now, let's just rest. Sleep a little. Clear our heads and come up with a plan."
24 HOURS LATER.
MK: "We do have some provisions. Three MREs, a chocolate bar, two lolipops, an Invincibility Candy, and finally a full canteen of water."
DDD: "Is this really all we have?"
M: "Gosh! You're right. If I had known we'd be trapped in a cosmic prison. I'd bring some snacks!"
MK: "We do have a single Invincibility Candy, I suppose we can take advantage of its properties."
M: "How?"
DDD: "You never had one, have you?"
M: "No, I can't say I have."
MK: "It is simple. The Invincibility Candy replenishes all. One bite, and you're instantly satiated, all wounds heal, and so on. I suppose I can break it down into as many small chunks as possible and we can ration it out once the normal provisions run out."
M: "Ahaha, I see now!"
MK: "For our normal provisions... I suppose it is best we conserve what we can, using only the absolute minimum. However... Well, I suppose I do not need to eat or drink..."
M: "...Oh? And why is that?"
MK: "Being what I am... Whatever that may be. I do not need to consume food or drink. After all, my species is long lived, hardy, and nigh immortal. Consumables are not exactly necessary."
M: "Hm. ...Well, I suppose more for..."
M: "..."
M: "Well, I suppose that's more for me and his highness then, right? Thank you, Meta Knight!"
DDD: "Hold on jus' a second. I don't want you to starve Meta."
MK: "It is of no concern to you. I will be fine. I would rather fast if it means keeping those who can't alive."
DDD: "If you say so..."
MK: "With our food situation squared away... Well, I suppose we can sleep?"
THREE DAYS LATER
DDD: "Wait a second..."
M: "...?"
MK: "What is it...?"
DDD: "I... I don't think help is coming."
MK: "..."
DDD: "Meta Knight, there is somethin' very strange and very wrong about this prison place here."
MK: "Calm yourself. What is the issue?"
DDD: "You can't teleport out of here, and that is a dimensional cape, right?"
MK: "No, unfortunately, I cannot."
DDD: "Is there anything, anything at all that could stop you from using it to teleport? Maybe that can be a clue to where we are You can already pull stuff from it, so it's not completely broken, right?"
MK: "Yes, and no. The problem is, my Dimensional Cape works as more of a hammer-space, similar to Kirby's mouth. Teleporting is, for lack of a better explanation, opening a door within that hammer space to traverse to a different location that is contingent on dimensions. No matter what I've tried, I couldn't open that door so to speak. So, the only thing that would stop me from accessing it's properties for teleporting... would be... if there wasn't a dimension to tap into in the first place."
DDD: "Crap. If that's the case.... You can't use your cape so... So we're stuck not just physically, but outside of physics itself?"
MK: "Er...Yes?"
M: "I don't understand what that means. What exactly is the problem?"
DDD: "If what I'm theorizing is correct, we are outside the existence of our 'dimensions' itself. In other words, it is like we're outside of existing within a physical or chronological instance... Whatever this place is... It's in a sort of null-dimension outside of what could be considered a "physical" dimension of sorts."
MK: "..."
M: "...Huh. Is it even possible to... Traverse that? Magolor could come find us, right? He's a dimensional traveller."
DDD: "I don't know... I don't know if Magolor could even make it... Can you even traverse a dimension that isn't even... How should I say, how d'you go to a place that was never present from your own perspective?"
MK: "..."
M: "..."
TEN DAYS LATER
*Clang*
*Clang*
*Clang*
M: "Will you give it a rest? You've been at that wall for hours. That sword of yours isn't gonna break it. You haven't even left a scratch!"
MK: "I have... *huff*... I have to try something. We can't just be... Stuck."
M: "Hah... Do you know of the definition of insanity?"
MK "..."
DDD: "..."
M: "So, what now?"
MK: "We continue waiting...."
M: "Right, but what then. Do we continue waiting and waiting? Heh. Is that it? We do nothing and wait for the inveitabl-"
MK: "Silence. Do not even speak such thoughts."
M: "Right, right. Of course, you would say that. Right, Sir Meta Knight?"
MK: "Kh-?! What are you implying, anyways you devil?"
M: "You're going to outlive us both, aren't you? You already know that."
MK: "...That... That is true. What are you trying to get at? Why are you saying this."
M: "What then, Meta Knight? What then after that? Are you prepared for that?"
MK: "...So be it. If... If that will be my fate I have... methods to..."
M: "Take care of yourself, perhaps?"
MK: "..."
TWO WEEKS LATER
M: "We're out of food. All of the water is gone. ...We have only two small pieces left of Invincibility Candy."
MK "...I see. Aye. Go ahead, take one and pass the other to his highness."
DDD: "Wait, are we really out of..."
MK: "Yes, Sire. I'm sorry."
M: "Tch. Two weeks. Not a single change. NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING!"
DDD: "..."
MK: "SILENCE! Do you think I do not know? We've been in the same forsaken box for two weeks! Do you think I already don't know we're TRAPPED?!"
M: "Without food or water... Well, Dedede here is now biding time, huh?"
MK: "Bah! You are in just as much danger, no?"
M: "...Oh, right... Yes, you're right."
MK: "That hesitation, what for? Hm?"
M: "...Hmph, it doesn't matter now. Okay? I lied."
DDD: "What...."
MK: "So you did know a way out? Another one of your sick pranks?"
M: "Kyahahah! No, no, no. Trust me, I do not care for being stuck here as much as you two do. I admit. A soul? Don't have one. Thank Kirby for that one. I lack a soul, ergo, I had no necessary need to eat or drink. Sorry about that, I really am. However, if I am to die here I refuse to die on a empty stomach."
MK: "You vile selfish beast!"
DDD: "...Meta Knight, calm down. .... It ain't...It's not worth it. Is it now? What's done is done. Haah... Let's just... Let's just sleep. You two are exhausting... I don't have the energy to deal with it."
M: "..."
MK: "...My apologies."
Three Weeks Later
M: "I...I don't think Kirby's coming for us. Hah... Meta Knight? Why... Why am I scared?"
MK: "... I... Kirby will come for us."
M: "Wouldn't he have, already? Why hasn't he?! There's so much he could've done by now. He could've wished for our safe return through NOVA by now."
MK: "That's... Kirby... Stop. Kirby is going to come for us or we're going to figure out a way out..."
M: "Why hasn't he?!"
MK: "I do not know! I don't know why Kirby hasn't shown up..."
M: "..."
MK: "...? Sire, are you okay?"
DDD: "...Meta Knight. I'm scared. I want to go home. I don't want to die like this. Anythin' but this... "
MK: "I know. Eventually, we'll get out of here. For now... Go to sleep, Sire. Conserve your strength."
DDD: "...Alright."
M: "..."
MK "...I will. I will fix this. I will get us out of here. I have to, any means necessary."
M: "Pah, good luck with that..."
MK: "..."
SEVEN WEEKS AND THREE DAYS LATER
MK: "Sire, I'm sorry."
M: "Huh why do you...?"
DDD: "Mmngh?...Wha...What're yo-"
*Ssslraash--!!!*
M: "W-WHY?!"
MK: "I had to. It's the only way to escape."
M: "Escape?! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!!!"
MK: "He was in pain. He could barely sit up. He was shivering. It was an act of mercy. A quick death is far more appealing than a long, drawn out one of anguish."
M: "Hahaha?! Have you lost your mind or something?!"
MK: "Perhaps. We aren't escaping from here. I realize that. There are times where you can only give up. That is okay. I have made peace with that."
M: "...Wait. I don't... Meta Knight?! Meta Knight! ...What are you doing?"
MK: "Worry not. I will make this quick."
M: "I... Hold on, wait. I don't... I don't... I don't want to-!"
EIGHT WEEKS LATER
MK: "....I'm sorry, I'm so sorry....Sire... Uuhg... I'm sorry... Sire... I can't do it... I can't do it.... I'm sorry... I'm sorry.....Kirby... Agh..."
ELEVEN WEEKS LATER
MK: "....It is time. Deep breaths... Allign the blade....and..."
MK: "Nn...!?!!!-"
TWELVE WEEKS LATER
TWENTY WEEKS LATER
FOURTY WEEKS LATER
THREE YEARS LATER
"My, my, what an interesting scenario! I can't say I am too surprised of the outcome. Well, thank you again for using HWC's Virtual Problem and Scenario Observer, VPASO!"
-Executive Secretary Susana Haltmann
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4 Sided Dive | Episode 29 The Tower | Thru C3 E113
Question: Did Ashton find Jester’s relationship advice helpful?
Taliesin: (Emphatically) Yes.
Question: Why did he seek advice on Fearne at this time?
Taliesin: Honestly, because between guilt, which has been kind of festering forever in Ashton’s head, and also that they don’t really, like, they don’t hit on people normally. When they hook up with people, people hook up with them. They’re not really-
Marisha: The initiator.
Laura: I could see that
Taliesin: They’re not the initiator. They’re just willing to be cool, and then be nonchalant about it, and like, whatever. Like it’s not, there’s not a lot of- And like, not that this was commitment either, but I’m like, I don’t hit on people.
Marisha: Uh-huh.
Taliesin: And also, I feel really bad about a bunch of shit, which also then adds a bunch of like- I don’t want to be guilty and I don’t also want to be going, “Hey babe, it’s the end of the world, want to?” Like, no, no, no, no, no, I’m into this! It just happens to be the worst time that there is for this.
Laura: Has Ashton ever pined for someone before?
Taliesin: No, no.
Laura: Is Ashton pining for Fearne?
Taliesin: (Like when you’re trying to express something and your friend hasn’t quite understood) No…
Sam: What is it about her that turns him on most?
Taliesin: It’s honestly, it’s the- it’s a mirror of their own recklessness.
Sam: (Indicating Fearne’s supposed marsupial pouch)
Taliesin: Yeah, well, that, it’s the pouch too.
Taliesin: But no, it’s very rare for them to meet somebody who is just as irresponsible, who like has that same irresponsibility. And like, the way in his head that it pops up is, like, she really hits him in the best of the worst of him. Like, very much the you bring out the best of my worst. Which, the worst is never going away, and I kind of know that. So, I feel like my chaos is better around you, and I like, I’m not used to really liking people that way. Like, it’s always a little messy, ‘cause family is just designed to disappoint you and go badly. So yeah, it’s a whole-
Taliesin: (Speaking about Ashton specifically, I think) They’re not healthy! At all!
Marisha: No, you just said a lot of really sad things.
Taliesin: Oh they’re sad, they’re sad. Yeah, life has not been kind. They’re doing their best.
#demisexual Ashton confirmed?#they're still fucked up over the shard situation#just talk to her you dummy#Fearne brings out the best in Ashton#Ashton doesn't hit on people#that explains literally everything about episode 94 onwards#they've been taking baby steps towards her this whole time#things are different with Fearne#like I love you but I'm bad with words and it's the end of the world so...#callowmoore#ashton greymoore#fearne calloway#fearne x ashton#critical role#cr3#bell's hells#4 sided dive
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Hi! I’ve been re-reading the insatiable madness series and can’t wait for the next chapter! I have a little thought though, what if reader cosplays a character the harbingers know? Like Raiden Ei or Zhongli? And then reader almost perfecting the makeup look and persona of that character that the harbingers think they are the character reader is cosplaying, really wanna see their reactions! Have a good day/afternoon/night! :))
- 🌮 anon
Ladies and Gentlemen, The Special Ask:
In the canon story I'm not going to include cosplay regarding clothes or wigs.
(this is because they're a college student with parents who barely support their genshin habit) 💀
Plus that shit is expensive, I think we all know Y/N doesn't have that type of money.
This question was asked by five different people funnily enough, and they were all within the same weekspan! Either the same person asked the same question but wrote it differently grammatically every single time, or that's one hell of a coincidence. Either way, I wanted to answer since it's a fun concept.
I did think about this when coming up with a plot - the Harbingers were first supposed to meet Y/N at a cosplay competition actually! But, I changed it since there would be way too many questions and too much chaos that I probably wouldn't be able to convey well :(
@fuhuaily you asked about this on the 30th of January, I've mentioned you since you didn't put on anon mode <3
Just wanted to warn people that I decided to choose Raiden Ei as the specific cosplay, which means there will be she/her usage when Y/N is wearing the cosplay. This is because Childe sees the cosplay as an entirely different person in his mind, thank you!
Childe was having a relatively normal morning.
Sure, he'd woken up with worst neck cramp he's ever experienced in his life, but he felt ready to take The Balladeer in another fight. To him, this means he's in tip-top form.
Well, he thought everything was normal until he realised that you were nowhere to be seen.
"Hey, has anyone seen Y/N this morning?" He questioned his insufferable comrades, rolling his eyes when seeing their exasperated faces when they turned to him.
"Probably sleeping in again." Scaramouche rolled his eyes in return. "That mortal sleeps later and later everyday."
"Hm. I thought they'd be crying." Dottore shrugged.
"Why?" Pierro mumbled worriedly, a sharp glare crossing his face and waiting for the doctor to explain himself.
"They had a tantrum due to their homework, not a big deal."
"They had a what!?" Pulcinella raised his voice, worry in his tone. "And you didn't tell a soul?"
"They were being a child. No, not like Childe. Ugh, that's besides the point. They were whining about biology, something about forgetting which parts of the heart were which." Dottore explained, an uninterested face present on his face.
"You ought to report these situations sooner, Dottore." Pierro scolded him.
"Why didn't you help them?"
"Jester, he did." Columbina smiled politely at her superior, a small wave gestured to get his attention. "The Decider didn't listen and ran off."
"Tartaglia, go see what they're up to. If they truly are in their room crying again it's best we force bring them downstairs for a chat." Pulcinella coughed into his hand.
"Who makes the orders, you or I?" Pierro turned to look at him.
"What are you going to do about it?" Scaramouche snickered into his hand. "According to Dottore, we're going to be stuck here. Can't tattle to the Tsaritsa now, can you?"
"Don't you start with me, puppet." Pierro glared at him, feeling all the other harbinger's gazes on the two.
"The minute we get back to the Zapolyarny Palace, I will make sure everyone is reminded why the rankings exist." He threatened.
"Ah, and the Tsaritsa will be informed of everything that takes place. I must remind you not to take things too far otherwise it will get worse for you."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. If we get back home." Childe rolled his eyes, walking upstairs after loitering at the bottom to hear the drama.
"I heard that!" Pierro shouted from the bottom.
Childe sighed and walked up to your bedroom door, the nameplate crooked and slightly dusty. He knocked on the door three times. Actually, make it a fourth. For good measure, he reasoned with himself.
"Don't come in! Who is it, and what do you want?" He heard you call out from behind the door, your voice barely discernable.
"The boss man is wondering if you're alright. He's concerned about you crying or something." He answered.
"Whaaaat?" You sarcastically shouted at the door, already recognising Griffin Burn's voice shouting from the other side. "Noooo."
"You totally were."
"Was not. Anyway, I can't come out my room right now. I'm a little... occupied with something." You called out, hairspraying the blonde wig in front of you.
"Listen, as much as I care about you being busy and personally wanting to leave you to it, it's not up for discussion. Pierro and Pulcinella don't look pleased." He rubbed the back of his neck to soothe his cramp.
"When do they not look pleased? Sometimes it seems like simply being in their presence pisses them off." You sighed to yourself, foregoing the wig you were working on and taking pictures of yourself in the mirror.
"Well, I wouldn't say that's the reason... But the way you turn their mood upside down is always funny to watch." He chuckled to himself.
"Whatever, can you leave me alone now? Tell them I can't come down right now - I'll be there in half an hour at most."
Childe felt confused with this. What could you possibly be doing that causes you to be unable to come outside your room straight away? From what he knows, you don't have any evident hobbies. Throughout the days the Harbingers have stayed in your home, you're forced to spend time with them only and answer questions they have about this world.
This is the first time you've ever done something by yourself, and from the sound of your voice, you seem to like doing it too. So much to the point that you got irritated when he tried to make you come downstairs right away. Seeing you act independant for once is a big change he wasn't expecting this morning.
He also doesn't know why, but he doesn't like this change one bit.
Ideas cross Childe's mind as he tried to guess what you could be doing. Eventually... no. No, no, no, no, no. You couldn't possibly be... No, you can't be. An hour for doing that??? If that truly was the answer you must have some impeccable stamina! Maybe the urge to have a spar with you wasn't as outrageous as he thought.
"Hmm... Okay. But, I don't know what Pierro will say to this. If only you had a reliable man on the inside who could tell him to leave you alone for now. Oh wait, that's me." He slyly pushed an idea he thought of in his head.
"What's your point? I don't like that tone of voice you're using." You rolled your eyes at the door.
"Let me in and show me what you're doing! In return, I'll defend you when we go down in an hour or when another Harbinger comes up."
"Seriously? Are you actually blackmailing me right now?"
"Blackmail?" Childe feigned a shocked gasp. "Of course not, it's just a deal within both of our self-interests."
"Riiiiight. Your interest being what I'm doing, which is very nosy by the way. And my interest is not being in trouble with Pierro. For some reason, he's always the one turning my voice against me. Ugh, I hate my life, I've been reduced to a hormonal teenager who whines and complains all the time. Oh wait, that was me years ago."
"Just open the fucking door."
"Fine, but you have to promise not to tell anyone." You gave up, putting down your phone in your hand and tucking it under one of your pillows.
"No way, did you give up that quick?" Childe spluttered.
"Obviously not. I just figured that you'd go on and on and on about it. Plus, you'll probably find out eventually if you search through all my cupboards."
Childe put his hand on the doorknob, his fingers shaking in anticipation. He was going to be the first Harbinger to enter your room, and you had no problems with that? It seems his day really is going great today!
With a deep breath, he pushed through the door, anticipating your room to be neat and tidy. However, unlike your consistent checks to make sure the house was tidy, your bedroom unfortunately wasn't.
Looking in your direction, you were kneeling on the floor with a can of something he didn't recognise in your hands. Whatever you were looking at intently looked like it was about to fall over any second, the blonde hair being propped up by a cardboard box on your bed.
"Who...? Where's Y/N, and what are you doing with that hair in front of you!?" He exclaimed, not recognising the person in front of him.
Is Childe really this shallow to not recognise me when I don't look like myself? Maybe I can use this somehow... You thought to yourself, deciding to pull a small prank.
"Daring to enter my personal chambers without my permission..." You slowly turned around, trying your best to keep you movement rigid and stoic.
"You are aware it's not the most intelligent of ideas for lower lifeforms to anger their superiors, correct?"
Childe couldn't move, he didn't recognise the person in front of him. She had purple eyes and raven hair, her plait having the same shade of purple at the tips. She wore a stone cold glare on her face which gave no hint of mercy, he figured as much considering the tone of voice she used before. The thought of her not giving him any mercy made him feel excited, has he finally found a worthy opponent to spar with in this world?
"Well, will you at least give an excuse for your blatant blundering?" You narrowed your eyes with folded arms.
"I..." Childe's eyes shook, his dull eyes shining in adoration. "I want to fight you."
Hah? Even when Childe doesn't know it's actually me, he still wants to fight me? Of course he would...
You can't actually fight him. The safest option right now would be to break character. But, this is too fun. Let's keep going.
"You disturbed my peace within my own sanctuary, and now demand things of me?" You questioned him, taking a step closer.
"Do you really wish to taste the engulfing lightning laying dormant in my blade?"
"I do." Childe nodded, displaying his own hydro blades, their glow lighting up the room.
"Very well." You nodded, unsheathing the engulfing lightning polearm you made from its custom case.
"You're not going to take my request for battle seriously? Why fight with a weapon as shoddy as that?"
"Bitch!" You broke character.
"This was my first ever prop I made myself! Apologise right now or I'll kick you out of my house!"
"Wait, Y/N? That was you all along?" Childe cautiously stepped closer, his blades disappearing with his change of thought.
"You're really... them?" He eyed you up and down, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.
"Yes, you prick!"
"How are you all purply? And the way you acted before, it was nothing like how you usually are!"
"I wanted to mess with you since you didn't recognise who I was. It's such a shame I was dressed as the Raiden Shogun, it would have been much easier if I wasn't cosplaying an archon."
"Raiden Shogun? As in the Electro Archon!?"
"Oh yeah, I forgot you didn't go to Inazuma. Well you do, but after the Traveller finishes their business there." You thought outloud. "But still, fuck you for calling my masterpiece 'shoddy'!"
"It's not even made out of metal! Good thing you'll never become a weaponsmith..." He laughed nervously, eyeing your angry strare growing by the second.
"Anyway, could you finally tell me what you're doing in here? It's not just pretending to be an Archon, right?"
"Of course not. Also I'm not 'pretending to be' anyone, I'm cosplaying." You explained, picking up your hairspray and continuing to spray the golden locks.
"...What the fuck is cosplaying?"
"It's a hobby of mine. To put it in simple terms for someone as uneducated as yourself, you dress up as fictio-- uh, people you admire."
"You seriously admire the Electro Archon? Scaramouche would have your head for that." Childe rolled his eyes, unable to hide a mocking grin.
"I don't admire her. In fact, my opinion of her is quite negative. I just find her beautiful, so, I wanted to cosplay as her." Yeah, that negative opinion of her is only due to the fact that now you have to deal with her prototype puppet bullying you both physically and mentally.
"How many of your wacky costumes do you even have?"
"Quite a lot. I recently sold a couple online because I don't wear them much anymore. I got a lot of money for it ya know?"
"Damn, so this is an actual business you've got going on then."
"Exactly. Anyway, can you get out now? I showed you what I was doing." You shooed him away with a hand gesture.
"Nuh-uh. What are you doing to that blonde hair on your bed?"
"Don't even get me started on this Navia wig. It's the last part of her outfit I need and the hairspray ISN'T STICKING. I have spent almost 15 minutes trying to still the curls and it isn't working. If I'm not careful I'll dry it out!" You complained, aggressively spraying the hair.
Childe just stared, feeling the hairspray shroud his lungs leading to him cough excessively.
"Can't you just, not do that? If it's not naturally meant to be that way why are you trying to force the hair to keep still?"
"Styling, my friend. It's because styling exists."
"Riiiiight..." Childe dragged out the vowel, accidentally mocking you from earlier.
"Wait, do you have Lord Capitano's outfit??" He asked suddenly, practically having stars in his eyes.
"Ah, no, I don't. I wouldn't be able to pull off a cosplay of him anyway. Hmm, I don't know about you, but I think he'd be overjoyed at the fact you can't cosplay as him." You answered, snickering into your hand.
"Why would I use one of your wacky costumes when I can get the real thing from the man himself?? I just have to fight him for it!" He excitedly proclaimed, running out of the room whilst shouting his name.
"Oh shit, CHILDE NO!"
Running down the stairs after him without thinking, you were greeted with the Harbingers looking exasperated at a very loud and excited Tartaglia trying to fight Capitano but just being dodged.
"This is why I keep my hobbies to myself.." You sighed into your hands, watching the scene unfold with the rest of the Harbingers.
"Decider, what did you feed him this ti--"
All the Harbingers turned to you with wide eyes, some looking confused and some (Scaramouche) enraged.
"What the fuck... do you think you're wearing?" He grumbled, voice gradually getting louder as his shock wore off into anger.
Uh oh. You forgot you were still in your full get-up... AND THE BALLADEER IS RIGHT THERE. THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED!
"Let's calm down, and-"
"I asked you a question, mortal." His teeth clenched, stepping dangerous steps closer towards you.
"WHY ARE YOU WEARING HER CLOTHES? You could probably fool an incel like Childe, but I would never be fooled by your appearance. What do you think you're doing, pretending to be that... that.... traitor...!"
"Well, I just thought-"
"You thought wrong." He snapped. "What would possess you to dress like someone I hate? Someone you know I despise."
"Listen, you have every right to feel frustrated with the character I decided to dress up as today. I don't fault you one bit for that. But you have to understand, this was just bad luck. Of all the days I decide to wear this cosplay..." You tried to reason with him, leading to his eyes snapping open.
"You mean to tell me you do this to others? And I thought I was evil." He scoffed.
"The only people who think of themselves as evil are people who are trying to be looked at that way." You winced at his accusation.
"Except Dottore, that man is vile in both personality and hygiene."
"Genuinely shut your mouth." Dottore scratched his ear, only proving your point and causing many Harbingers near him to scoot away.
"That has nothing to do with this." He folded his arms. "You know, I've been getting sick of your attitude as of late, aren't you the one who always makes me apologise when I do something wrong? Why don't you do that for a change?"
"Hah? But I already apologised?" You muttered.
"Don't make stupid excuses. All you did was take fake-pity as if you're a friend of mine. I want you on your knees with a heartfelt apology."
Fuck that. You're not apologising sincerely to this piece of shit. Yeah, you messed up and genuinely feel bad, but you'd never tell him that.
"Uh, no thank you." You waved him off. "I didn't even wear this to torment you, I was checking to make sure my stitching was stable enough."
"So you can wear it again?"
"Yeah, for a competition. The whole point of dressing like this is to compete with other cosplayers."
"Ohhh, so that's what you were doing!" Childe pitched in, seemingly giving up with his one-sided fight.
"These competitions you speak of," Sandrone coughed into her hand politely, gaining attention. "Do many compete?"
"Yes. You can dress up as whoever you like. I decided to dress up as the Raiden Shogun because she's beautiful. Also she's popular among competitors to cosplay as, so I like the amount of competition I get by dressing up as her."
"Interesting..." Pantalone mumbled. "And these clothes are expensive, no?"
"Definitely. They can cost over a hundred if you get the entire outfit - and I'm talking about the cheaper lower-quality ones. As for me, I buy the raw materials and sew the outfits myself."
"You... made this?" Signora gaped in awe, stepping closer and feeling the fabric.
"Yes, it has potential. Have you tried clothes which aren't Inazuman?"
"Of course, I dress up as all kinds of people. I'm currently working on Navia from Fontaine. She's--"
"The President of the Spina di Rosula." Arlecchino finished for you, sipping her cup of tea. "The children stationed in Fontaine told me."
"Right, Lyney and his siblings. Yes, I remember them."
"Hm? You know of them?"
"Something like that." You laughed nervously, creeping towards the stairs.
Let's not tell her they're framed for a murder trial and almost get wrongfully convicted...
"Anyway, I'm going to get changed as per request by Scarawoosy. I'll be upstairs, and may not come down. So uh, yeah. Have fun with whatever you wanted me to do before."
You quickly ran off after that, hearing Scaramouche's shouts for you to grovel growing fainter.
"You're just going to let them run off like that?" Scaramouche looked around him, only questioning the others when feeling Capitano's heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Not necessarily." Pulcinella walked into the room, his cane supporting his slow movements. "It's an admirable skill to have, wouldn't you think so, Dottore? I'm aware you have a similar skill."
"Indeed." Dottore contemplated his words. "Although, it was only because we've lived for hundreds of years did we realise they were pretending to be the Electro Archon."
"Do not put me in the same league as Tartaglia." Arlecchino swirled her cup with a teaspoon. "I could easily tell they were pretending."
"No, you didn't see them." Childe argued. "The second I entered their room, they switched personalities and aura's quickly. Not to mention they agreed to fight me when we all know how much they hate any talk of that kind."
"So they're good onstage." Sandrone grinned to herself. "Perhaps if we asked too much of them regarding their ability they'd crack under pressure. It's certainly not perfection, but it's a close start I suppose."
"I'm very intrigued." Columbina announced, being strangely silent throughout the entire confrontation. "Although Childe is younger compared to us, we shouldn't doubt his words. He was named a Harbinger for a reason, maybe they were very convincing?"
"Ugh, out of all the people to defend me of course it's you." Childe shuddered slightly, staying quiet when noticing her intense gaze.
"My point is, we should test them and find out which people they specialise in. Heheh, I'm more focused on the amount and range of people they have in their wardrobe."
"You put forth a good point." Capitano nodded in agreeance. "Although, do you believe they perhaps have some outfits of us?"
"They better not." Scaramouche stated, walking back to the seat he once sat in moments ago. "If they had my outfit, I'd rip their hardwork to shreds." And perhaps, he'd give you the real outfit instead... after all, you still need a punishment for going behind his back and choosing her of all people to present yourself as.
"Well, if they had my dress I wouldn't be opposed. They'd finally be worthy of looking at in the eyes if so." Signora grinned wickedly.
"I want to see what else they have up there." She announced before also walking up the stairs.
"Wait for me!" Columbina giggled, running after her. "If they have my outfit, they have to put it on right away!"
"I better follow them, you know how those women get when intrigued. Besides, it will give me the opportunity to look inside their room." Pantalone pocketed his coins before also walking up the stairs, much calmer than the woman before him.
"Rooster, where is the Jester?" Sandrone spitefully asked him, a slight sickeningly amused tone in her voice.
"Working, as usual. He often tells me 'when we get back', but at this point that day might never come."
"It will come." Dottore silently warned him. "Despite what you've seen me do during the day, at night I work on a plan for the machine back. It would be oh so helpful if The Decider could help me, but why would they help me when that's practically planning their own death?"
"So, it will take longer without their help?" Capitano questioned him.
"Correct."
"Well then," Sandrone had an incredulous look on her face, not believing the stupidity of the men around her. "Why don't we just force them to help?"
"So we're not playing the 'nice guest' role anymore?" Scaramouche laughed, a laugh almost escaping his lips.
"No. I would say we can't afford that anymore." Pulcinella secretly winced, feeling his bones grow shakier every minute.
Extra:
I honestly see a Y/N who would keep up their cosplay hobby during captivity using it as a way to escape. They would dress up as other characters and imagine themselves to be them as they're not being held captive.
The Harbingers would also use this skill of yours on their enemies as bait. They'd have to assess and train you how to act like them, but eventually you'd be a spitting image of them and be the perfect trap for luring in potential assassins. Don't worry, they'd never let them actually hurt you. They've most likely shot the enemy down before you even realise the threat has turned violent.
Scaramouche, if he had no feelings for you, would definitely use the Raiden Cosplay against you. I feel he would tell you and lash out at you whilst saying everything he's always wanted her to hear but never heard him out for. It sucks for you, but it's a good stress-manager for him. As long as you play the part correctly, he won't get physically violent. Play the part poorly, and expect to become the punching-bag instead. In the little oneshot, Y/N is quite lucky it ended where it did. They should try to avoid dressing up as Archons going forward though.
#InsatiableMadness#InsatiableMadnessQuestion#sagau#genshin impact#yandere genshin impact#fatui harbingers#yandere harbingers#genshin#pierro#capitano#il dottore#columbina#arlecchino#pulcinella#scaramouche#sandrone#la signora#pantalone#tartaglia#childe#fatui#genshin fatui#cosplay#InsatiableMadnessEvent
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Monthly Proto Vox AU update
For anyone who doesn't know, ever since Prototype Vox was discovered, I've been gradually putting together a backstory for Vox centered around the idea that that's how he originally spawned in Hell. It's gotten to be over 10K words long. Just wanted to make a new masterpost since I've added onto the older one 32 times.
Also, I don't think I ever posted about this, but I put this on Ao3 a few weeks ago.
Alastor goes to speak with another overlord, trying to decide whether or not he should kill them. While there, he notices that said overlord has the most fascinating little toy/pet/jester. Such novel technology… he thinks he’ll take it, whether the overlord wants him to or not!
Alastor keeps Vox around because he’s cute and entertaining. As time passes, a legitimate friendship starts to form as Alastor realizes that Vox is far more than meets the eye— tricksy, devious, and intelligent. He learns that before he arrived in Hell, Vox was a handsome, well-respected adult man, and he isn’t too keen on constantly being mistaken for a child and treated like a joke by other sinners. A pity he has to live like that… but it’s not like there’s anything to be done for it! And Alastor must say, he’s fond of his little picture box the way he is.
With Alastor’s guidance, Vox slowly accumulates knowledge and resources and discovers that he can modify his body. He jumps on the opportunity at once— he doesn’t want to live like this anymore, and he’ll do anything to be respected (or at least taken seriously) by other people again. Alastor disapproves but holds his tongue.
Time passes, and Vox changes more and more things about himself until he’s almost unrecognizable. He and Alastor get into arguments about it. It’s galling to Vox that Alastor keeps insisting he was better off in a form he hated. Mix all this with the modernity and “morality”/standards stuff, and you eventually get Vox and Alastor falling out.
Years later, Vox hates that he was ever that weak and can’t stand being reminded of Alastor, their old relationship, or his early life in Hell. He works hard to destroy/bury any traces of who he used to be, but Alastor is a walking, eternal reminder of the past he’d rather forget. Alastor is loathe to admit it, but he still misses his old friend. Sometimes, he wonders if he ever truly knew him at all.
---
Freshly fallen Vox seeking out an overlord’s protection because, holy shit, if he tries to survive on the streets any longer, he’s gonna get killed, or worse. Most sinners get asked if they can do anything useful when they go to an overlord; Vox gets asked if he can sing, dance, and do comedy routines. He can, so he’s quickly scooped up by the overlord. He supposes he should be grateful that he was able to score a comfortable job doing something not terribly unpleasant, but the dehumanization of being treated like a doll or an adorable purse dog grates on him. He remembers who he really is (or used to be) and would do anything to be seen as a man again rather than a novelty.
---
Imagine feeling so utterly desexed by your body, finding someone you think you can trust to respect you, confessing that you’re in love with them, and they laugh in your face for thinking such a thing was even remotely possible. Alastor doesn’t do a great job clarifying that he’s disinterested in a relationship out of personal preference rather than because he doesn’t respect Vox, and Vox walks away from the encounter seething, believing that Alastor never saw him as anything more than a pet or a clown.
---
Man, this would especially suck for my hc version of Vox, who used to be a small-time Vaudevillian when he was a child. Like. Yaaaayyy, time to dance around and act cutesy for people who have complete power over you… again…… when you’re pushing forty…………
---
Vox was REALLY starting to feel like he'd made an irreversible mistake before Alastor came into his life. He'd been in the employ of his overlord for four years, and he could count the number of times he'd been allowed to leave their compound on two (four-fingered) hands. They weren't cruel to him per se, but they really did seem to see him as a pet– something to trail after them all day, do tricks on demand, and show off to colleagues at parties. Any plans he had for carving out a dignified, powerful life for himself were going up in smoke. He knew a lot of things from constantly overhearing conversations about the overlord's business, but he didn't have anyone to trade that information to because of his restricted mobility. He understood that he had some pretty unique powers, but he'd never gotten the chance to use them in combat, only to perform. It was becoming clear to Vox that the only way he was going to escape this doltish, embarrassing life was if someone killed his overlord (something he couldn't do himself due to the deal they struck).
And then the Radio Demon came walking through the door.
---
Vox really has no idea what Alastor's deal is when they first meet. Like. He kidnaps him but also says Vox can leave whenever he wants. But like. where is he supposed to go??? Alastor just killed his overlord, which, yeah, Vox wanted to happen, but now he's homeless and isn't sure how to proceed. Is it safe to stay with Alastor, or is he just going to kill him next?
Vox keeps up the "silly little cartoon" persona for a while because Alastor seems to find it amusing, but things gradually slip through the cracks. He's scared Alastor will abandon or kill him if he grows bored or dissatisfied with him, but... Alastor seems to like the real him? He actually lets him speak freely and talk about whatever he wants? He uses his tech powers to turn off the in-built censors that keep Vox from swearing?? When he realizes that Vox is actually really cunning, he wants to hear his feedback on things??? Sure, he still kinda talks down to him, but Alastor's like that with everyone. This... maybe this could be more than just trading one master for another.
---
Random thoughts about Vox’s overlord
She was enamored with him from the first moment she saw him. He was just so precious! And he was willing to do anything to receive her protection!
Her industry had nothing to do with entertainment; she took Vox in purely to be her own personal jester.
Not sure if she owned his soul or just had a deal with him to give him a safe place to live in exchange for his services.
Loved treating him like a doll. Would dress him in cute, oversized outfits, carry him around in her arms, and occasionally bring him to bed and cuddle him like some sort of plushie.
There were occasions, especially towards the beginning, when Vox would snap at her or reveal elements of his real personality. Those incidents would only lead to her doubling down on the demeaning treatment. She’d experienced mistreatment at the hands of men like him when she was alive and saw asserting her power over him as cathartic and karmic.
Usually brought him with her everywhere, but would sometimes leave him locked in her office/room by himself if she had something important scheduled. Vox had initially thought he could leave or at least walk around when she didn’t need him, but no. Besides, why would he want to leave? The streets of Hell were no place for a tiny, fragile thing like him!
Vox fucking hated her and was glad to see Alastor bash her brains in and feature her on his show.
---
Mainverse Vox died by being electrocuted by an ungrounded mic at work right before they went live. This Vox died by being electrocuted while trying to fix the family TV. His kids had been begging him to at least try to fix it since the repairman couldn’t come until the next day, and they didn’t want to miss their favorite cartoon. He was feeling indulgent that day and felt that, as the man of the house, he should be able to fix things without always calling someone else to do it for him. It didn’t end well.
---
Thinking about Vox and Alastor’s first encounter.
Alastor might have seen Vox before at an overlord event, being shown off by his boss or performing for her friends. He may have seen him for the first time when he walked into Vox’s overlord’s office and saw her toying with him. Either way, Alastor was immediately intrigued. He hadn’t seen many sinners like Vox, with his screen head and cartoony body, and could instantly tell he was a highly skilled performer. His eyes followed him, even as Vox’s overlord put him aside and ordered him to get her and Alastor drinks. Vox could tell Alastor was watching him but wasn’t sure what to do about it. It’s probably not a good sign when the infamous Radio Demon is eying you like you’re his next meal.
Eventually, the overlord noticed that Alastor was not paying full attention to their conversation and was preoccupied with Vox. The topic briefly switched to him before Alastor inquired if she’d be willing to bargain for him. Vox was horrified. The overlord attempted to politely decline; she couldn’t bear to part with her precious little poppet. He was hers, and it would be cruel to separate them— they adored each other so much, after all. Alastor just smiled blithely and clarified: he wasn’t asking.
All hell broke loose in an instant. One moment, Vox was observing a conversation between his boss and her colleague; the next, the office was crawling with shadows, and his overlord was pinned to the wall, impaled on a tentacle. Vox panicked and tried to flee, but there was no escaping that room. There are two options for what happens next: either Vox is seized by Alastor and teleported out of the building, or Vox’s boss screams at him to help her, only for him to glance between her and Alastor and fix her with an icy stare.
No matter what happened, the outcome was the same: Vox found himself teleported onto the streets of Hell with Alastor looming over him. He frantically attempted to talk Alastor out of killing him, but Al just laughed jovially and told Vox that he had no intention of harming him. Vox was free to leave whenever he wanted, but Alastor would like to see just how entertaining he truly was.
---
As they're walking, Alastor notices a weird clicking sound coming from Vox. He asks what it is, and Vox awkwardly explains that he's wearing tap shoes and starts trying to take them off as he walks. Alastor is amused and tells him not to bother. He'd love to see him dance sometime.
---
Val: Baby? What were things like before you met me? Vox: Awesome. I had- I had women all over me, they just couldn’t get enough. Everyone was always dying to see my shows. I was voted the hottest person in Hell. It was great. Vox’s actual early career in Hell:
---
Thinking about one of the times Vox “mouthed off” to his overlord. He may be a performer, but there’s only so long he can stay in character, especially when said character is so undignified. He refused to play along with one of her little games and snapped at her that he was a man, not a fucking show dog.
Next thing Vox knew, he was nearly blinded by pain as his boss twisted his antenna almost to its breaking point. Her voice sickeningly sweet, she told him she knew exactly what kind of man he had been— Earth’s crawling with them. But those days are over now. Respect has to be earned in Hell; it’s not just going to be handed to him like when he was alive. The afterlife has made him a joke, and the sooner he accepts that the happier he'll be. That’s what he signed up for when they made their little arrangement, after all. She asked if she was understood and kept twisting his antenna until she got a loud-and-clear “Yes, ma’am” out of him. With that, she snapped back to normal and either cheerfully ushered him towards [whatever she was forcing him to do] or dismissed him in her typical patronizing manner.
Vox broke half the items in his room that night in a rage. He tried to leave gouges on his skin and dents in his head, but he couldn’t manage it, what with his stupid, soft little hands.
---
It doesn’t really fit with my headcanon that Alastor was super white-passing when he was alive and spent most of his life pretending to be white in order to have more opportunities, but I feel like he may have felt a kinship with Proto-Vox due to them both being “outsiders”— people who are/were constantly dismissed by those in power and have to work twice as hard in order to be taken seriously, even though they’re more skilled and competent than everyone else in the room. And so it hurt all the more when Vox leapt at the first opportunity to change who he was in order to join the class of people who had once looked down on him. It didn’t fully click with Alastor that Vox wasn’t always like this– that he was trying to return to who he once was rather than abandoning who he’d always been.
---
Vox wasn’t exactly doing himself any favors in terms of connecting with the other sinners who worked under his overlord. He was so desperate to reestablish at least some control over his situation that, on the rare occasion he got to interact with people without his boss looming over them, he was insufferable, acting as though his position as their overlord's constant companion made him superior to regular employees. It never actually made him feel any better though, since most people either just rolled their eyes or testily reminded him that his oh-so-important job was to make a fool of himself all day and be doted on by his "owner."
---
To most outside observers, it really looked as though the relationship between Vox and his overlord was genuinely loving. She was just so affectionate with him. There was never a moment when she wasn’t tittering away at his jokes, or playing with his antennas or plug tail, or scooping him up into her arms or lap, or hugging or tickling or cuddling him, or covering him in kisses, or coming up with adorable pet names, or showing him off to others as though he were the rarest gem she’d ever come across. No one ever seemed to notice that Vox was never the one to initiate these kind of interactions. Depending on who you asked, it was either the most adoring master-servant arrangement Hell had ever seen, a (possibly biological?) mother-son dynamic, or just an INCREDIBLY kinky relationship. Vox played his part well, laughing along and hardly ever letting the smiling mask slip. No one ever could’ve guessed just how much he loathed her and the entire humiliating situation or how cruel she could be whenever he dared drop the act.
Well, no one except Alastor, that is.
---
Imo, Proto Vox would just sound like normal Vox slightly pitched up, but man, Hell giving him a lisp or some other "funny" way of speaking on top of everything else would be such a gut punch for him. His good looks and his charismatic manner of speech were key to his success when he was alive, and now both of those lifelines have been severed.
---
Personal, headcanon-specific thoughts:
Proto Vox’s outfit is very similar to a costume he wore during his childhood on Vaudeville.
Alternate option: While I hc that sinners spawn naked, if they don’t, then Vox spawned in the exact 1920s sailor suit he used to wear during most of his childhood performances.
His Hell form is a punishment not only because it robs him of all dignity, but because it’s a constant reminder of a part of his life when he had no power over his situation and was treated like an object meant only to entertain.
---
Thinking about how Alastor’s “a smile is a means of maintaining control” philosophy might strike a chord with Proto Vox. When he was alive (and later, in his career as an overlord), putting on a smile was a way for him to project the person he wanted others to perceive him as. If he looked the part, then people would believe he was the confident, steady, trustworthy man he presented as. After he arrived in Hell, though, a smile became a mask he could not take off. Hell had chosen a role for him, and if he failed to play it well enough, he risked permanent death or worse. He resented having to keep that mindless grin on his face at all times. This wasn’t who he wanted to be. This wasn’t who he was. The idea that he could use that iron mask to regain control over his life was foreign to him, but it made sense. Now that he was no longer chained to a master who kept him locked into that hated role at all times, he had a choice in how he wanted to use it— for day-to-day survival or to further his true ambitions?
---
Vox and Alastor’s first encounter was at an overlord party like something out of a Regency romance, except Vox was three feet tall and didn’t notice Alastor was watching him because he was too busy performing for his boss’ overlord friends. Alastor appreciated the skill on display in Vox’s routine and was intrigued by the unusual way his “owner” treated him. Sure, some overlords treat those under them as pets, but she was so overly cutesy and “loving” with him that it stood out, especially given the way Vox feigned reciprocation. Interesting.
---
A scene/story idea: Vox is sitting at a desk in a grand, spacious office. It’s late, and he’s just killing time, wishing he had a cigar (and a mouth to smoke it with) and occasionally scribbling down notes for future reference. The stationary he’s using has the date printed at the top, though. It’s his daughter’s tenth birthday. He reflects on how it’s been three years since he last saw her and the rest of his family and how he’ll likely never see them again. He hopes his wife is throwing her an appropriately extravagant party, at least. They’d gone all-out for their son’s tenth birthday; half the neighborhood was there, even one or two of the ladies from work who had blown him in exchange for putting in a good word with the producers. It was a great time.
And then his boss comes walking in, complaining about what a stressful day she’s had, and the illusion that this is Vox’s office shatters. He hops down to the floor, taking his dance/comedy routine notes with him. His boss is busy getting herself a drink, so he hopes she didn’t notice him sitting in her chair. He starts trying to engage her in conversation, switching to his work persona (cheerful, cutesy, and childish). She did notice him, but she just smiles indulgently and says he always knows just what to do to cheer her up— he looked so silly sitting at her big, important desk. Now, she needs a bit of comfort; they’ll be going to bed now. She scoops Vox up as easily as if he were a doll and carries him off to serve as her (very angular) teddy bear. Vox keeps the adoring smile plastered on his face and tries to put aside the burning shame and rage that this is what the afterlife has reduced him to: a child, a pet, a toy meant to entertain those who wield the actual power.
---
You know, come to think of it, there’s actually some basis to Alastor feeling a bit of a kinship with Vox. Aside from the obvious shared trait of them both being communications/entertainment demons, Alastor’s demonic form is a prey animal. Al never had to deal with the consequences of having that kind of form since he spawned so powerful (unless we’re going with the theory that he made his mystery deal right when he got to Hell and draws the majority of his power from it (which would be pretty interesting in this context…)), but still.
---
Made Vox's room in the Sims
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---
Vox tried to walk out of his job once. His boss pushed him too far, and he snapped, yelling at her to find someone else to play this fucked up game with; he’d rather take his chances on the streets. Next thing he knew, he was bound, muted, and blindfolded, being crammed into a tiny suitcase. His overlord told him to reflect on what he’d said. There’s no life after second death, only nothingness. Is that really a risk he wants to take?
Vox was in “storage” for the next week. He didn’t try to leave again after that.
---
When Vox’s boss finally decided he’d had enough time to reflect, she opened the trunk to find Vox barely able to move under his own power. He was trembling like a freezing cat, having spent seven whole days bound in the fetal position, unable to move, speak, hear, or see. He couldn’t even unfurl himself from said position without her help. When she took him into her arms, he clung to her, any thoughts of hate or anger gone, replaced with a desperate desire for human connection after a week of nothingness. She cradled him in her arms— sweet as a lamb and without a shred of that odious pride she’d been working so hard to stamp out of him. Whispering kind, soothing words, she stroked his shaking, silent body as she carried him back to her bedroom. She dozed off with him in her arms, secure in the knowledge that her darling little doll had learned his lesson: being her toy is a privilege, and the only possible alternative for him is oblivion.
---
Thinking about Proto Vox and body dysmorphia
Vox hated everything about his body.
He hated being so small, not even half the size of most other sinners.
He hated his face, cute and goofy-looking. He hated his “missing tooth,” which only added to his childish appearance.
He hated his head, oversized and heavy. He hated how clumsy it made him before he became accustomed to it.
He hated not having a physical mouth and being unable to eat.
He hated his voice, higher pitched than it had been when he was alive. He hated the childish-sounding lisp he had been afflicted with.
He hated how he couldn’t swear or talk about adult topics without his voice being drowned out by an in-built censor.
He hated his body and its strange combination of wood and metal, both of which bent in ways that shouldn’t’ve been possible.
He hated his hands, soft and rounded and nailless.
He hated how he had spawned without genitals, completely smooth and sexless, like a doll.
He hated how no one perceived him as anything even remotely resembling a sexual being, even though he was a fully grown man who had once had his pick of beautiful women when he was alive.
He hated how he weighed almost nothing, making him easy for others to pick up or restrain.
He hated the way nothing in Hell was built to accommodate sinners his size, forcing him to climb (or be lifted onto) things as simple as chairs.
He hated the way his boss made him dress: in baggy outfits that made his smallness even more apparent, in children’s clothes, in silly, oh-so adorable costumes. He especially hated when she insisted on dressing him herself as though he were her doll.
He hated how often people mistook him for a child or deliberately talked down to him as though he was stupid just because of his ridiculous body.
He hated how people laughed at him and how he had no choice but to make them laugh in order to keep himself alive.
He hated how, in one fell swoop, Hell had robbed him of everything that had made him him. His good looks, his charisma, his respectability— everything. Never in a million years would he have anticipated that this would be his punishment for his misdeeds on Earth, for looking down on others and treating them like objects to be pushed around, but he had to admit, it was a pretty potent punishment nonetheless. And he would do anything to escape it.
---
Vox’s boss was kind of massively projecting her own resentments and trauma onto him. She didn’t actually know that much about him. It was pure luck that her impression of him as an arrogant chauvinist who had treated the people in his life poorly was… you know… accurate.
---
Vox realized that he had a voyeurism kink the third time his boss had sex with someone while he was still in the room. Probably not the outcome she intended, but it wasn’t like Vox could do anything about it anyway. He still felt sexual desire, but he’d spawned in Hell without genitals so that energy had nowhere to go. Just another lovely part of Vox’s Wonderful Afterlife.
---
Most sinners are horrified when they see their new forms for the first time. Vox was just devastated.
He was horrified when he first woke up, of course– transported to a strange new place, surrounded by giant monsters, and barely able to keep from swaying under the weight of his oversized head. No one paid him or his panic any mind save for a few smirks and chuckles. Vox found himself pressed up against a wall, out of the way of the flow of pedestrians, trying to process what was going on. Once he realized something was wrong with his body, he ducked into a nearby store, desperate to find a mirror (and get away from the crowds of fellow sinners). The store clerk let him in; they weren’t supposed to let newlydead into the shop since they usually just cause a scene, but Vox looked harmless, and they felt a little bad for such a tiny, fearful sinner. Vox made a beeline for the nearest mirror.
When his reflection finally came into view, Vox… he was lost for words. Seeing his childlike proportions, it finally registered that the world hadn’t gotten bigger; he’d gotten smaller. His body… there was something wrong with it. It was made of wood and metal like a puppet; only the materials seemed to bend like rubber. Worse than that, it was completely smooth and featureless; his genitals were simply gone. His hands were soft, rounded, and nailless, more like stuffed gloves than human hands. His head was encased— no, not encased, replaced with a television set that looked like it made up the majority of his body weight. Displayed on its screen was a face like something out of a cartoon: large, shiny, googly eyes, a wide mouth, and one conspicuously absent tooth. All topped off with a pair of floppy, overly long antennas that made him resemble some kind of insect.
Vox was speechless, staring at his new body. He felt tears bubbling up as he examined each part of it. He wasn’t sure how, but some part of him knew this wasn’t a dream and that this form would not be temporary. No tears fell though, trapped behind the glass of the— his screen. He couldn’t recall the moment of his death, but the realization of where he must be began to dawn on him. A soft, despairing sound escaped him, and Vox realized his voice, too, had been changed. He was not himself anymore, just this tiny, adorable thing, right out of one of the cartoons he’d been trying to repair the TV so his children could watch. A joke.
Suddenly, Vox felt someone grab him by the arm, dragging him away from the mirror, his feet barely brushing the floor. The owner had noticed a newlydead had snuck in and was having the prerequisite “What have I become?” freakout in their store. Carelessly, they shoved/threw Vox back onto the street and slammed the door behind them. Reeling, trying to wrap his mind around the gravity of the situation, Vox stumbled and collapsed on the sidewalk, surrounded by sinners who either stepped around him like he was nothing or paused for a moment to chuckle at the clumsy newlydead struggling to regain his balance under the weight of his massive head.
---
Vox's own shitty beliefs ended up being used against him during his early years in Hell.
In life, he'd treated his wife and son poorly because they complained about being unhappy with the way things were. Vox believed that if all your physical needs were met and you were able to live comfortably, you had no right to complain. He provided them with everything, and all he asked for in return was for them to be the happy, perfect wife and son he expected them to be. What was so hard about that?!
In death, the tables were turned. Vox was able to live comfortably in a safe environment, doing a job that most sinners would describe as incredibly cushy, but he was desperately unhappy. He was forced to play an inauthentic, demeaning role 24/7 and couldn't complain about it unless he wanted to be punished. Just sit there quietly and smile while the "grownups" are talking. No one wants to hear your silly little opinions. You should be grateful that you're even allowed to be here.
---
Words were Vox's boss' preferred weapon when it came to surreptitiously tormenting him, but she wasn't above using physical violence as a means of "discipline" either. Aside from the antenna and "storage" incidents, she'd occasionally employ "percussive maintenance" at the beginning of his time with her in response to breaks in character or sullen comments. Once or twice, she burnt him with cigarettes in response to particularly "bad" offenses.
---
Vox's boss would give him gifts sometimes. Little presents wrapped up all pretty with a bow. Sometimes, they were for special occasions, like the anniversary of his "coming to live with her"; sometimes, they were "rewards for good behavior." Vox would accept the presents graciously and then never open them, leaving them to collect dust in his room. There were a few occasions when she made him open them in front of her, though. Usually, they were just quaint little trinkets or clothes, but once, she gifted him a goldfish (or the Hellish equivalent) in a tiny bowl. It was the closest she'd gotten to something he'd actually want, yet it still felt like a veiled taunt. It didn't take long for the fish to die; its bowl was simply too small.
---
Vox does his absolute best to keep his past a secret from everyone, particularly Valentino. He knows on some level that it wouldn’t really change anything other than give Val and Vel something else to tease him about, but Vox’s ego is so fragile that he feels like he’d die if they found out. Unfortunately for him, Valentino is incredibly observant when he wants to be. He doesn’t know the specifics, but based on various little things from throughout the years and the pointed insults he’s heard Alastor throw at Vox, he can guess that Vox’s early days in Hell were... less than auspicious. However, he assumes Vox was just some corporate toady, and he would be just as shocked as anyone else to learn how Vox actually began his afterlife.
---
Playing with the idea that Vox’s boss hired him with no ulterior motives; she simply thought he was cute and would be an easy source of entertainment. However, as time went on and she got a better sense of what kind of person Vox was, she began deliberately tormenting him. The abuse and humiliation started off under the pretext that she was only doing it to “correct an attitude problem,” but it soon became clear that her real issue with Vox had nothing to do with his abilities as a performer.
---
It doesn’t really fit with the “lore” I’ve been putting together for this AU, but the idea of Vox trying to go in for various media/performance auditions and either being laughed out of them or told to look into less dignified roles is compelling to me. He looks and sounds so much like a goofy little child; why on Earth would anyone even consider him, especially when there are countless other sinners looking for work whose forms aren’t so distractingly cutesy?
I’ll be honest: Babydoll from Batman TAS is a significant influence on how I conceptualize Proto Vox.
---
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Reminds me of fakeannafromthebox's Caterpillar Val AU. Vox is so miserable. He wants to be back in his modified body NOW, but it's going to take a while for them to rebuild it. Val and Vel tease him about it at first... until they realize that Vox is genuinely really hurt by it. He never wanted them to see him like this.
The denizens of Hell are confused as to why Vox is suddenly on a month-long hiatus when he's literally never taken a break from the media before.
---
Been considering whether it should just be happenstance that brings Vox and Alastor together or if Vox should hit his breaking point, go behind his boss' back, and send Alastor a false message in her name, hoping that it will provoke him into killing her.
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Had a mental image today of Vox sitting in on one of his boss’ conversations with a colleague, as per usual. He’s bored and miserable until the two overlords start discussing the Radio Demon. Vox has heard stories— might’ve even caught one or two of Alastor’s broadcasts— but he’s never heard him discussed like an actual person rather than an urban legend. Vox’s boss starts shittalking Alastor, and Vox suddenly gets an idea. He begins secretly recording her, capturing all her private complaints about him on tape. Vox is terrified of what she might do if she discovered what he was doing, but at this point, he's so good at masking his true emotions that she doesn’t even notice anything is off. Vox held onto that recording until he gained access to a communications device. He hesitated for a moment, thinking of all the ways this plan could go wrong and result in his permanent death, but… he couldn’t pass up this opportunity. He couldn’t bear to stay here any longer.
Alastor figured out it was Vox who sent him that message a couple years into their friendship, but he didn’t hold it against him. In fact, he was impressed with Vox’s determination, taking his fate back into his hands regardless of the risks. He eventually told Vox so himself when the topic came up years later.
---
Vox once made the mistake of snapping that he was not a child at one of his boss’ colleagues who had been talking about him like he was too stupid to understand what they were saying. Honestly, the momentary shock on the colleague’s face was not worth the ensuing, agonizing conversation where his boss muted him, apologized to the other overlord, then prompted them to try to guess his real age, and took far too much pleasure in explaining to them that despite Vox’s appearance, he was actually 41.
---
Thinking about Proto Vox sitting in on his boss' overlord meetings like the Egg Bois in episode 3. Most of the time, his boss would hold him in her lap like a doll, but sometimes, she'd leave him sitting on the ground until the meeting ended. He wished he had a way to put the information he was “eavesdropping” on to good use, but he wasn't allowed to leave the stupid compound without being accompanied by his boss.
---
One particularly dehumanizing experience Vox remembers far more vividly than he would like was the first time his overlord stripped him naked without his consent so she could redress him in a new outfit she’d picked out. This became a semi-frequent occurrence, but it never stopped making his skin crawl. This sort of thing wasn’t supposed to happen to someone like him, and yet here he was, robbed not only of the freedom to choose his own clothes but even to dress himself if his boss so willed it.
Even over half a century later, Vox still needs to be coaxed and convinced by Valentino to surrender control during sex. He has no intention of ever telling Val why having someone else undress him puts him on edge.
---
cw sexual assault
The first time Vox’s overlord stripped him naked was also when she discovered that he had no genitals. Of course, she couldn’t let that fact go uncommented on and groped between his legs to confirm, cooing all the while about how perfect Vox was. Vox didn’t even have time to dissociate during the experience; it all happened so fast. Before he had time to process what happened, he was already being redressed in whatever stupid outfit she’d picked out for him that time. The dissociation came later.
In hindsight, Vox thinks it’s sort of darkly funny how he felt as though he’d been sexually assaulted despite not having any sex organs at the time. It’s really not.
---
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Thank you!!!
Yeah, Vox is extremely uncomfortable with thinking of himself as a victim. It's easier to just compartmentalize the experience and tell himself that of course he wasn't sexually assaulted– sex wasn't even involved!
At the time, he had no idea how to feel about it. Before he even had time to process the event, he was expected to just move on with the day like nothing happened. Vox wished he could've just forgotten about it– it only lasted for a few seconds, it "didn't count" because he didn't have any genitals to grope, and, in his successful-white-1950s-man brain, groping wasn't even that bad anyway– but the feeling of violation lingered, no matter how hard he tried to dismiss it or distract himself. He eventually managed to push those feelings away, but the memory will still pop up on occasion and he'll have to convince himself all over again that it wasn't any different than all the other times his boss manhandled him.
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Oh, I'm glad you liked the post!
Yeah, I can see Alastor giving that roach speech to Vox when he's trying to convince him to stop modifying himself. Vox is just like "You think I'm a bug???" He never noticed; he was too focused on the cartoon/TV thing. Message not received.
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Alastor probably has weird feelings about the way Vox's old boss treated him. On one hand, it's kind of funny, and Alastor's clearly not opposed to treating people like pets, given his later relationship with Husk. On the other... he feels a weird sort of kinship with Vox in so many regards, and his relationship with his overlord... [leak discussion] it's uncomfortably similar to Alastor's with his contract holder– tricked into a bad deal, treated with condescension, and forced to pretend to adore them in public [end leak discussion]. Alastor likes the idea of helping Vox gain power and rise above his station, but not him changing himself in order to accomplish that goal– he sees too much of himself in Vox to stand that.
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Vox doing ad reads/voiceovers for Alastor's show is a great idea. Perfect way to get back into the industry without opening himself up to mockery; plus, he's got a wonderful voice. Would also give him another reason to hate radio once he and Al split: audio-only work will always be a reminder of a time when he couldn't bear to be seen.
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Might incorporate how long it’s taking me to come up with a name for Vox’s boss by making it so he’s only allowed to call her “Ma’am”/“Madam”/“Miss” instead of her actual sinner name.
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Thoughts on Proto Vox in the RAM verse
Proto Vox thoughts that heavily feature my OCs
---
Once he finally gained the ability to project a functioning mouth onto his screen, Vox got himself into some… interesting situations trying to keep up with Alastor whenever they went out for drinks. He didn’t care that he was half Alastor’s size; he’s drinking just as much as he is! Maybe even more!!
Those were some of the funniest nights Alastor had (and still has) ever experienced.
---
Thinking about Vox, dead for a week or so, with cracks in his screen and dressed only in a button-up shirt he'd stripped off a corpse double his size, pitching himself to his soon-to-be overlord and trying not to come across as desperate as he truly was. The streets of Hell aren't kind to anyone, but especially not to defenseless-looking, newly arrived sinners with body parts that could potentially be resold. In his short time in Hell, Vox had already had multiple people try to strip him for parts and had only escaped them by the skin of his teeth. He'd barely been able to sleep since he arrived, constantly on guard for more attackers. He looked a fucking wreck, but that only added to his charm, in his boss' opinion. He looked like a starving Victorian orphan trying to give a serious business pitch– so cute!
---
Vox wishes he could feel comfortable in his bedroom at the compound. Being in there means he’s away from his overlord— that he can finally drop the act and just breathe. It’s a nice room, too, especially compared to the living quarters of most other employees. Vox feels as though the privacy and comfort should be enough. But… it isn’t really his room, is it?
His overlord chose the decor: soft and twee and old-fashioned. She can start pounding on the door, ordering him to come out and join her at any moment. The fact she’s too tall to fit in the room is small comfort. It feels like living in a dollhouse; there’s the illusion of privacy, but one wall is missing, allowing the owner to move things around or snatch up the doll inside at a moment’s notice.
---
Honestly, Vox's boss definitely got her "money's" worth out of Vox. He wasn't lying about being a multi-talented performer; he had a wide array of skills.
He had extensive training and experience with dance and comedy (although he was 25 years out of practice) from his childhood on Vaudeville. He was a consummate singer, good at improv, and familiar with a handful of instruments, particularly the piano. He could act fairly well (although he was always more convincing when he came up with stuff on the spot) and had even become a perfect mimic due to his demonic form.
Vox's overlord couldn't have asked for a better entertainer, and she counted herself lucky that he just happened to wander into her building one day looking for work– she didn't even need to place an ad!
Vox was proud of his various skills– he sure as hell hadn't spent years working himself to the bone to hone them for nothing, after all– but he missed being the host rather than the entertainment. He hadn't had to perform like this since he was a child, and it was just as exhausting as he remembered.
---
Vox's primary job was to be a jester for his overlord, but he was also somewhat of an assistant to her. He'd make or serve her and her guests drinks (alcohol, coffee, whatever), carry things for her (which would often be embarrassingly difficult, given his size), and run very minor errands for her (usually just delivering messages to employees a few doors down). Additionally, once she discovered that he could record audio, she started using him as a living tape recorder. She'd bring him to meetings, have him record the conversation without the other party knowing, and then play the audio back once they were in private so she could take note of the exact phrasing and use it against them later on. This last use for Vox ended up being her downfall; she kept him so cloistered that she never thought that he'd be able to use her own words against her one day.
---
Up until the incident where he tried to quit, Vox’s boss would sometimes casually threaten to replace him if he didn’t immediately bend to her will. There were countless other sinners and Hellborn that were perfectly capable of doing his job without an attitude problem; why shouldn’t she just trade him in for one of them? Or perhaps she should employ another entertainer to work alongside him (i.e. compete with him). If Vox thought he was too good for this job, then he could go back to the streets whenever he liked. These threats almost always succeeded in getting him to comply, and she was a bit disappointed when she realized they were no longer as effective as they’d once been.
---
Honestly, Vox’s boss getting another “pet” would be a whole shitshow. When Vox was alive, he once outed a coworker as gay because he was getting more airtime than him, which led to the coworker’s family institutionalizing him. And that was when the stakes were just career success. Vox may hate his job, but it’s what keeps him safe and alive. He’d feel so threatened by the new person that he’d probably end up getting them killed just to protect his position. His overlord is 100% aware of what's going on, but she gets a kick out of watching Vox do whatever it takes to stay in her favor.
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Vox actually starts initiating affectionate interactions with her out of desperation not to be replaced. His boss (who lowkey only wanted make sure he didn’t grow complacent in his position) is delighted. The poor imp she hired has no idea what they’ve been sucked into. Vox is cold and hostile when they’re in private but then will turn on a dime the second he sees their overlord. Their boss is constantly doing subtle little things to pit them against each other, but the imp feels like they never truly had a chance of surpassing and replacing Vox. All the imp wants to do is make enough to feed their family, but in the end, all they get is being ripped in two by vines when Vox snitches on them for taking a few extra bucks from his boss’ desk.
---
In the modern day, Vox and Alastor disagree about how they met. Alastor will say that he rescued Vox from his overlord and took him in afterward. Vox will say (or rather, would say, since he never speaks about his past) that he rescued his damn self and chose to stick with Alastor because it was the best possible option at the time. Neither of them are wrong, but their mutual bitterness skews their perception of the situation; Vox, the "helpless charity case," and Alastor, the "means to an end."
---
velvette seeing the kind of clothes vox used to have to wear for work and just. vomiting on his behalf
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Vox thought he was at a bit of an advantage when his soon-to-be boss offered him a simple deal sealed with a handshake: serve as an entertainer for her and she'll give him a safe place to live. Verbal agreements aren't as enforceable as written ones, and the vagueness of the deal left him plenty of room to wriggle his way out if need be!
What Vox didn't realize was that things in Hell don't work like they do on Earth. Sure, vague deals have loopholes, but it's the person with more power who's usually able to take advantage of them as opposed to the "victim." Additionally, written contracts have clauses– specific stipulations that must be abided by. If he'd negotiated things a bit more closely, he could've demanded that she allow him freedom of mobility or had to accept any attempts at a resignation. As is, she was able to keep him at her side at all times and threaten him into staying because there wasn't anything in the deal that said she couldn't do those things; as long as she was giving him a place to stay, she was upholding her end of the bargain.
Vox definitely remembered this lesson when he started drawing up contracts/deals of his own during his later endeavors. Deals can be just as binding as soul contracts. Vagueness is an invaluable tool when it comes to tricking people into bad deals, although granular specificity certainly has a place too, so long as you can get the sucker not to read the fine print.
---
Out of all the things Vox had to do to entertain his overlord, slapstick was his least favorite. It was just so undignified. He already hated having to play dumb and childish, but being the butt of the joke was so much worse than simply being doted on. He couldn’t stand being laughed at, but he didn’t have another choice; if his boss wanted comedy, he had to give it to her, otherwise he’d be punished. For as much baggage he had regarding dance, he would chose it over pretending to hurt himself (or genuinely hurting himself) for his boss’ amusement every time.
This hatred of being laughed at persisted even after he escaped his overlord’s clutches. Vox eventually learned to use his unthreatening appearance to his advantage, but back in the day, a good way to get your shit rocked by the Radio Demon’s tiny apprentice was to laugh at him when he wasn’t trying to be funny.
---
As of right now, Vox's sinner name has always been "Vox." He's eternally grateful that he'd already picked out his sinner name by the time he approached his overlord, because who knows what ridiculous name she would've saddled him with otherwise. However, if Vivziepop ever talks about Cockroach Vox and it turns out he didn't used to be named "Vox," then that name would've been the one he went by up until he met Alastor.
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Vox was not an overly foul-mouthed person when he was alive, although he certainly wasn't afraid to swear if the situation called for it. However, that casual relationship with tasteful speech went completely out the window after he died. Aside from the in-built censor that kept him from audibly cursing or talking about subjects like sex, he now had a very restrictive persona that he needed to play into. Having to say shit like "Gee whiz" or "Golly" in order to keep up the "cute little cartoon" act was maddening. It was such a relief when Alastor figured out a way to shut off the censor; Vox finally had complete freedom in how he chose to speak again. Honestly, he may have gone a bit too far in the other direction, but given the culture of Hell, it's more unusual to be excessively clean with your speech than it is to swear every other sentence.
---
I wonder if any of the other, older overlords remember Vox from his early days. His boss had a habit of bringing him to meetings and having him perform at parties, so someone like Zestial would’ve probably encountered him at least a couple of times.
On one hand, Vox is beyond grateful that none of the old-timers recognize him as “Lantana’s little lapdog.” On the other, he’s slightly offended that no one paid him enough mind back then to remember him.
Zestial 100% knows who Vox used to be, he’s just choosing to keep that information to himself for the time being.
---
Thinking about a scenario where Vox gets stuck in a hopelessness spiral that causes him to break character in front of his boss. He asks her why she’s doing this to him; what does she get out of all this? Lantana is annoyed by his self-pity and asks him if he has any idea how lucky he is.
Oh, poor Vox, forced to live in the lap of luxury. Condemned to perform wholesome little routines for one of the most powerful overlords in the city while other sinners (female and male) have to prostitute themselves to survive. What an awful fate, having to let her spoil him, love him. Countless sinners would kill to have half of what he has, and here he is complaining because his ego is too fragile to handle not being “in charge” anymore. She’s shocked he’s so ungrateful that he can’t appreciate the gift she’s given him; childhood is a beautiful thing, after all.
Vox knows it’s all lies— she enjoys humiliating him, forcing him to smile through gritted teeth as he plays the demeaning role she’s picked out for him— but after years in her clutches, a small, animal part of his brain wonders if she’s right. Is she being honest when she says she only hurts him to correct him? Does she actually believe that taking away his freedom and keeping him in a gilded cage is love? Is he really better off here than he would be out in the world, struggling to force people to see him as the man he really was used to be?
No. No, he can’t let her get in his head like this. He’s had to give up so much of himself to her; she can’t have his thoughts too. Just don’t say anything. Let her think she’s made him second-guess himself. Don’t allow her to wrestle what little control he has left from his grasp.
---
Vox’s slogan, “Trust us!” started off as “Trust me!” After a while with Alastor, Vox learned to start playing into his harmless appearance in order to gain people’s trust, only to lead them to their deaths or otherwise betray them later on. Most people thought he was either a literal child, stupid, or so weak that they could easily overpower him if need be, so it was easy for him to convince them to let their guards down. Vox managed to get his first few contracts using this method. Trust him! He couldn’t hurt a fly, honest!
Alastor loved this routine, not only because it was hilarious to watch people unknowingly dig their own graves, but because it was useful to him as well. Alastor’s reputation had become so fearsome that it was difficult to get people to stick around long enough to ensnare unless they were truly desperate. It was helpful to have Vox around to lure people in, or to just run errands that would’ve otherwise been a pain due to people’s annoying habit of fleeing at the sight of him. They were a good team, he and Vox; Alastor couldn’t understand why he would choose to give that up in order to become an off-brand copy of him. Yes, it wasn’t the most dignified niche, but it was an important one! And one that very few could pull off even half as well as Vox!
---
Random thought: Vox’s original voice made it impossible for others to tell whether he was a child or an adult. He didn’t quite sound like a real child, but his voice was pitched in such a way that he didn’t read as an adult either— sort of like when adult voice actors play kids. Vox could still hear Himself in certain inflections and in moments when he was allowed to drop the act, but it was extremely alienating, never truly feeling like himself even when he was doing something as simple as speaking.
---
I don’t subscribe to the “Valentino started off with his own abusive pimp” theory (not because I think it’s implausible, it’s just that my HC version of him only worked under the previous overlord of the sex trade for like a year before killing them), plus I think Vox and Val met after Vox was already somewhat established, but whoo-boy, the two of them meeting while they’re both still under the thumbs of their respective abusive bosses would be fun.
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Two concepts:
Vox’s boss brings him along to an overlord party that Val happens to be performing at. Some drunk dumbass picks him up and shoves him onto the platform where Val was pole dancing— they thought it’d be funny to make the sexless little clown interact with the dirty whore. That was Vox and Val’s first meeting. (Loosely inspired by some of kibbles-bits’ art)
Vox and Val’s respective bosses start up a casual relationship, resulting in the two of them visiting each other’s bases semi-frequently. They get to talking and eventually come to realize that, holy shit, the other guy is an actual person?? And a fun/interesting/clever person too???
---
Vox: Yeah, my #%$!@ of a boss makes me sleep with her sometimes. Val: Ohhhh, me too! Well, at least Mantis Bitch is sexy~ Vox: What? No, I mean she literally makes me sleep in the same bed as her. Like kids do with stuffed dolls. Val: …Huh. Well, I guess that must be somebody’s kink. Vox: $?*@&€# %*¥=…
---
Self-indulgent 4 am whump thought (cw involuntary surgery)
what if proto vox spawned with his childhood leg injury intact? it’s usually not an issue as long as he doesn’t exert himself, but his new job requires him to spend most of the day standing and perform physically intense routines for his boss. for the first several weeks, he doesn’t let on that he’s in pain since he’s terrified of being thrown back out on the streets, but eventually, either his boss confronts him about why he’s suddenly developing a limp or he makes the mistake of mentioning it to her himself, hoping he can convince her to be a bit more restrained with her orders. either way, when vox explains that he’s had this issue since he was a child and that there’s no way to get rid of it, lantana just casually says that she’ll see to it, no problem. vox is concerned by her self-assured tone, but when he asks her what she meant, she abruptly changes the subject with a finality that tells him this is not a matter to be debated.
for the next week, vox is left wondering what she intends on doing. just as he was starts to forget about it, he gets his answer. one day, vox wakes up to find himself in an operating room-turned workshop, held to the table by a few flimsy straps and a nurse(?) gently restraining him. there’s no need to be frightened! they’re just going to see if there’s anything they can do to fix his leg, that’s all. vox tries to reign in his panic as the head doctor examines his leg, but it soon reaches a fever pitch when it’s determined they can repair the damage! by replacing the “bone.”
it’s painful, having someone saw through several layers of his wires, but not as painful as vox imagined it would be. the horror of watching it happen, though, makes it all so much worse. watching someone reach into the mess of his leg and slowly pull out a long, metal rod is like something out of a nightmare. the “surgeons” measure and examine the rod (his bone), then cut a replacement to his size and insert it back into his leg. his wires (his flesh) quickly knit back together with only a bit of help from the doctors, and suddenly vox is back on his feet, being told to return to work as though he didn’t just watch his own leg “bone” be forcibly cut out and replaced.
it taught him that his body could be modified. he never had to deal with his old injury again. vox chooses to focus on these things rather than the absolute terror he felt watching them operate on his leg. he doesn’t need (doesn’t want) to think about the experience itself, only the outcome.
---
3am thought: Vox at the beginning of his employment, trying to figure out what his boss’ limits are and what he can get away with. He’s not thrilled that her idea of “entertainment” seems to mostly consist of song, dance, and comedy, so he starts trying to engage her in conversation instead. Vox is a great conversationalist, and he knows it. His plan is to pull her in, convince her that they have some kind of genuine connection, and then use that to his advantage. That plan is dashed though when, after two or three attempts at engaging her in substantial, adult conversation, she cuts him off and briskly tells him that she didn’t hire him for his conversational skills, she hired him to entertain. If she wanted to hear him speak, she would tell him, but right now, it’d be prudent of him to shut up and do as he’d been told.
---
Random wondering: What would it take for Vox to finally snap? Or would he just become so good at staying in-character that he appears to have snapped/given up to everyone around him?
Idea: Alastor acquiring Vox after he’s cracked and fully given into his boss after decades in her service. It’s only with Alastor that Vox slowly starts pulling himself back together, allowing elements of his original/real personality to re-emerge. Alastor doesn’t even mean to do this; he just treats Vox with a modicum more respect than he’s used to and gives him positive feedback when he acts more like himself. Vox idolizes Alastor for “saving him from madness,” so of course he flies off the handle when they have their falling out.
---
Vox was lucky his body operated on rubber hose physics. The size difference between him and his boss was so extreme that if it didn’t, she could’ve easily shattered his bones (if he had any) or dislocated his limbs, simply by handling him too roughly. All the better. She was usually fairly gentle, but since she knew she could treat him like a rag doll, occasionally, she did. It hurts, dangling in the air by the arm while the person holding you gives you whiplash every time they move too suddenly, but not as much as it would for an organic demon.
---
Three random thoughts:
1) I checked, and the height-difference between Proto Vox and his boss (and Valentino) is directly proportional to that of the tallest and smallest women in the world.
2) Shirley Temple would probably be a good inspiration for Proto Vox’s style of performance.
3) It could be interesting to play with the way Vox’s innocent and wholesome persona would interact with Hell’s general culture. Lantana kept him pretty desexed and infantilized while at “home,” but when she made him perform for groups, the comedy of the routine would be derived from contrast. Most demons wouldn’t get the appeal of his usual schtick played straight, but contrast that cutesy shit with Hell’s usual fixations (sex, profanity, and violence)? Now there’s something worth laughing about. It’s like teasing a fallen cherub.
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the mental image of lantana telling vox to “go play” at a party will not leave me
“darling” “baby” “sweetheart” “dear”
i am slowly giving in to the whump urges
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random fact: the way vox is treated by his boss in this au is heavily inspired by the way some imps (particularly the smaller ones) seem to be treated in the hellaverse
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thinking about the first time lantana struck vox.
it was just so unexpected. vox could hardly even remember the last time someone had hit him— maybe when he was a rowdy young twenty-something? his parents had occasionally struck him as a child, but that was rare.
a week or two before, he’d made a comment that was a bit too sullen for her liking and she’d suddenly grabbed his arm, striking it once with an object like a schoolteacher with a misbehaving student. it’d caught vox off guard, but it was more shocking than painful, and lantana instantly moved on like nothing had happened. he didn’t expect things to escalate so quickly.
he spoke out of turn— that’s what prompted it. he’d been listening to his boss discuss business matters with an associate, and he’d tried throwing in his two cents. it was still early on; vox was testing what he could and couldn’t get away with and had thought the two of them might find his feedback worthwhile. he was wrong. he’d only gotten a couple words out before he was suddenly knocked to the floor by a blow from one of his boss’ lower arms. she didn’t even say anything, just returning to her conversation while he was left stunned on the ground.
when the colleague finally left, lantana picked vox up, sat him on her desk so they were at least somewhat closer to eye level, and laid out exactly what she expected from him from now on. he would not speak unless spoken to when in the company of others; she brought him along to these meetings to be visual stress relief, not to participate. on that note, he would not talk to her about business at all. she had no interest in his opinions, and going forward, she would not hesitate to discipline him if he kept trying to stick his nose where it didn’t belong. finally, and most importantly, he needed to remember his role. he was there to entertain her— to be a sweet, silly little distraction from the stresses of overlordship, and she expected him to act like it. it didn’t matter if she wasn’t playing with him right at that very moment, he was still “on the clock.” amuse her when she wasn’t busy, sit quietly and look cute when she was, and above all, stay in character. she would strike him as many times as was necessary in order to get that through his head, and would throw him out if he still refused to comply.
lantana asked if she was understood, and vox, terrified of returning to the streets, agreed. he left the room hating her, but also felt a strange, unwanted sense of embarrassment that he had overstepped to the point where she decided she “needed to” hit him. he should’ve known better. this woman was not to be “trusted” any more than she was to be manipulated.
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Random thought: Proto Vox's unofficial theme would be "Make 'Em Laugh" from Singin' in the Rain
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was thinking about female or trans male proto vox recently and got to wondering what lantana would be like in that scenario since i've made gender dynamics such a big part of her character. came up with a few different options.
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#Just infuriating things about being three feet tall in a world where the average height is 6’6: door knobs.
Vox had three options when encountering a closed door back in his early days: knock and hope someone on the other side heard him, ask a nearby person to open it for him (which always made his skin crawl), or try to figure out a way to reach it on his own. The worst was when someone saw him struggling to reach the door knob, took pity on him, and opened the door for him, usually with a condescending comment tacked on at the end. It was such a blessing once he finally unlocked his electricity/teleportation powers and didn't have to deal with that crap anymore.
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Random cheesy idea: Three moments in Vox’s life when the phrase “children should be seen and not heard” was relevant. The first is a time his parents applied it to him, the second is a time he said it about his own children, and the third is his boss using it against him in Hell.
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thinking about option 2 vox. she says something snappish to her boss about not being a child. next time they go out, the clothes lantana gives her to wear are different than usual: clothes that are exactly to her taste from back when she was alive. they're somewhat oversized.
vox looks ridiculous with her stylish, refined dress hanging awkwardly on her sexless wooden frame. she's sliding around in too-large heels, and the gloves reach all the way to her shoulders, sagging pitifully around her arms. she looks like a child playing dress up; a little girl wearing her mother's clothes. it was like a slash to the heart, seeing herself like this; knowing that even if she had the freedom to choose how she dressed, she would always look like a joke.
the cocktail dress and heels got her laughed at and mocked more than usual. the pinafores and bows just made people gush about how adorable she was sometimes. it was easy to see which was the better option.
it was years before vox felt comfortable enough to start occasionally dressing her age again. alice wouldn't mock her for choosing to dress as an adult. she'd mock her for a whole lot of other things, but at least they were never tied to her appearance (aside from her peculiar modern head, of course!).
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I know I said this verse’s Vox died while trying to fix a TV, but what if he still got electrocuted on set, but instead of a quick little zap, there was a massive, cartoonish explosion
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Idea regarding the "storage" incident: The thing that prompted that confrontation was another overlord/business associate showing an interest in Vox. They were involved in the movie industry and thought they could put him to good use in their films, so they asked Lantana if they could purchase him or even just rent him out for a bit. Vox was thrilled– finally, a chance to get back into the industry and out of this fucking building! And it'd just fallen right into his lap! He immediately tried to say "yes," but Lantana cut him off and turned down the offer. She had no intention of giving him up, so she wouldn't let him get away that easily. Vox was pissed when she said "no." He usually held his tongue when his boss did something that upset him, but he was not about to let this person who didn't even own his soul take away this opportunity. He dropped his cutesy persona, demanded she give him a reason he couldn't go, and then tried to accept the other overlord's offer. Lantana sharply grabbed him by the arm, saying something along the lines of "Because you still haven't learned to do as you're told." She denied her now rather uncomfortable associate once again and asked them to leave. Vox tried to shout to them as they turned to leave, but Lantana just muted him, then started twisting his antenna when he tried to unmute himself. Once the other overlord was gone, Vox exploded at Lantana and tried to quit right then and there, but of course, she wasn't going to let that happen. Once he was let out of "storage," Vox was too scared of what else she might do to him to try to quit/escape again (at least, not openly).
#redlady speaks#proto vox au#hazbin hotel#vox#hazbin hotel vox#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin vox#vox hazbin#vox the tv demon#2013 vox#cockroach vox#alastor#radiosilence#radiostatic
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Union
In the midst of going over blueprints for their future home, Jaune’s concentration gets interrupted by flowing petals. He cracks a smile before turning around to see Ruby completely obscured by her cloak.
Jaune:Have you come for my soul?
Ruby:Might as well. Already have your heart.
Jaune:Heh, then I kindly ask for you wait. Your payment will be paid in full down the aisle.
Ruby:How stingy. I’ve already given you both of mine; and a little extra~
Jaune:*red* How was work, you gremlin?
Ruby:Patrol duty was fine. Starting to think crooks know my schedule.
Jaune:Or you threw most in jail.
Ruby:Organized crime calls for chaotic heroism. Anywho, house plans going well?
Jaune:More or less. If all goes well then we’ll be living outside Vacou before our anniversary.
Ruby:Always thinking ahead. Meanwhile I’m struggling with awesome vows.
Jaune:You brought a world together. I’m sure you’ll think of something.
Ruby:Feelings are a little harder than a battle cry or call to arms. Speaking of feelings, I have a little something for you.
Jaune:*looks at cloak* Is that so~
Ruby:*blushes* It’s not what you think! Not this time. This gift is way better!
Jaune:I don’t know Rubes. Last gift that started like this was pretty amazing. *smiles*
Ruby:Just close your eyes and hold your hands out!
The knight chuckles as he does what he’s told. Immediately something weighted and cool to the touch lands in hands. Jaune opens his eyes and stars at a white scabbard. Somehow, this took him by surprise. It had his symbol in the middle and was surrounded by red thorns.
The grip of the hilt was this dark blue with a spiral of fierce red that went up and outlined the golden hand guard that was modeled in the shape of his symbol. He pulled out the gift from the scabbard to reveal cold, shining white steel that had its double edge and tip run red like hilt. If Jaune was being honest, he’s never seen a sword look more like a work of fantasy. Ruby stood right in front of him and put her left hand in the hilt, showing that his symbol had subtle thorn and rose engravings that matched her gold and red on her engagement ring.
The accomplished and proud Huntress then took a step back and started twiddling her thumbs while swaying, finding it hard to meet Jaune’s gaze; so she pulled her hood over her head. At this point it probably matched her face.
Ruby Rose:So uh yeah, that’s a Ruby Rose Original.
Jaune:You made this!?
Ruby:*nods* I’ll be honest. I spent so long shopping for wedding bands with Weiss helping. I’m still definitely getting one! But none of them really… felt like they were saying how I feel. There’s not a moment I want you feel like you’re fighting alone; even when we’re far apart. With this, I’m always by your side ready to help. The scabbard is a shield too but if I’m being honest I’m still a rookie when it comes to that kind of smithing. Consider this my own form of engagement to you.
Jaune:Ruby this is…I don’t even know what to say.
Ruby:*trembly* I uh..it’s fine if you treat this as a ceremonial blade too. After all…there’s history in Crocea Mors and I don’t want to step on that or make you feel like you have to stop wielding it because of m-
Two hands gentle hands pull back her hood and reveal teary, anxious eyes. Honestly, Ruby felt so ridiculous right now. All this effort into a heart felt token of affection and yet anxiety gripped her mind on how he’d take the jester. His thumbs run across her cheeks to catch a few stray tears.
Jaune:Hey, talk to me. What’s with the tears? This is an amazing.
Ruby:I just…Crocea Mors is its own vow. It has been for years and I know I shouldn’t be feeling guilty or nervous but I do. Gods, it’s so dumb hehe. Pyrrha would totally give me an earful for being so-
Jaune:Thoughtful? *smiles*
Ruby:..Heh, yeah. Yeah she would.
Jaune:Well, I don’t know if your beautiful brain and smithing skills have noticed, but you’ve really gotten good at knowing my style.
He briefly lets go of her and grabs his sword along with the new gift. Jaune pulls out both and puts them against one another. Yeah the hilt is different but it’s wide enough to work. Without hesitation, Jaune took the scabbard of Crocea Mors and slid it on the new sword easily; right down to the satisfying click in place that took Ruby by surprise.
Jaune:If you really feel guilty, then I can do this! Not gonna lie, I’d feel like shit getting that scabbard dirty in the future. It’s my first Ruby Rose original! Also gives you time to hyper fixate on shield crafting. As for the blade, I know this bad boy will keep me safe and sou-
Once again, petals flowed. Each one danced around him while the rose itself pressed her lips against his with gratitude and overflowing joy that dispelled fears like magic.
Ruby:Jaune Arc, you truly are my fairytale ending. My happily ever after.
Jaune:Hehe, And you said your vows would be hard? C’mere.
He pulled his loving fiancée into a deeper kiss before matching her smile. She was right. This present was the best.
Jaune:Does this engagement sword have a name?
Ruby:The deepest part of my soul wants to call it Bloody Moon but that doesn’t inspire luck as wedding gift.
Jaune:I kinda like what you said a few moments ago.
Ruby:Oh, so Ever After?
Jaune: Tale’s End
Ruby:That’s so- damn I’m marrying the right person. That’s such I good name! When our house is done I think my first order of business is mounting the scabbard with Crocea Mors somewhere nice and proud. Gonna need your height though.
Jaune:Naturally. And who knows. Maybe it’ll protect the both of us in a new way someday?
xxxxxxx
Several years later
Jaune:Alright squirt, ready for your first real sword sparring!?
A foolish question for a young girl waiting to dives out the front door and slide across a sand dune into a wide battle stance, her grin in full bloom with Crocea Mor ready to aid her first step towards greatness.
Carmine:Born ready!
Ruby:Do your best! Show him who’s boss!
Carmine:Ha! With this by my side, I might as well be invincible.
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Hiya
Hiya El!! Just have a few questions if you don't mind. Sorry it seems s long and you'll probably not answer a lot of them but these are mostly just things I was curious about and I didn't want to send them one by one.
For Mouse:
~How were they when they started teething
~How did they come up with the Truce Juice concept in the first place? Like what inspired them?
~Can or will they murder someone if they hurt the batfam badly? Like the opponent was way too op and Mouse had to kill them to protect their family and home? Kinda like this ---> https://youtube.com/shorts/AP9izD4XWXQ?si=lGQ2qfK3VXB2JPXh where they dont regret or feel good about it, they're just...tired..
For Punchline:
~Would she like Sundrop/Moondrop from FNAF? What about Laughing Jack from Creepypasta? Pennywise from IT? Basically all the clowns/jesters from different fandoms, murderous or not, how does she feel about them? I feel like she'll vibe with Sundrop/Moondrop for some reason-
~Punchline meeting Ronald McDonald for the first time. How she feeling about him?
-🍨
Sundae, I love the influx of questions! I'm happy to answer them for you.
Littlest Wayne inquiries:
1. How was Flittermouse when they started teething?
Irritable! As an infant they were pretty quiet. Very little to complain about in their eyes — food, clean diapers, lots of arms to snuggle into, shiny toys to play with, etc. — so the sudden crying and lack of willingness to eat normally was a shock to the entire family. They figured out pretty fast that Mouse was teething, though, and adjusted accordingly.
Everybody except Bruce, who did not super enjoy being their sentient teething ring. He put up with it, though, because seeing you cry was worse than dealing with tiny teeth marks in his ankles.
You can read more about Mouse's mouth shenanigans in Teething, and Air Jail, and First Steps!
2. How did Flittermouse come up with the idea for Truce Juice?
During a hostage situation! They were representing the Wayne family for a charity auction when Penguin and his men crashed the event to rob the wealthy benefactors. Mouse overheard a couple of Penguin's long-time henchmen complaining about having to threaten restaurant owners in order to be served food and lamenting the days when they could just stroll into places like civilians. The wheels started turning then, and they confirmed the need for a "villain-friendly" eatery when getting held up in another hostage situation a month later by the Riddler, who muttered something about how much he missed getting breakfast bagels he didn't have to make himself.
A year, several cooking classes, and a very long and tedious hiring process later, they had a business!
3. Would Flittermouse ever take a life to save their family?
Fantastic question. If they had to, I think so! I can't think of a situation in which they would need to do that, or be put in a position that required taking a life to save someone else at the moment!
I think it would really, deeply, terribly fuck them up if they did, though. They would be forever changed as a person, and I don't think they'd come out of the shadows for a very long time afterwards.
Punchline inquiries:
1. Would she like the Sundrop/Moondrop daycare attendants?
Yeah!! Sunny is a performer, whose entire purpose is to entertain and amuse his charges! Punchline is a performer, whose entire purpose is to entertain and amuse her father! They're both clown/circus-themed, too! I think they'd get along extremely well, with the only clashing points being Punchline's tendency to get a laugh through violent means.
Moondrop, to the best of my knowledge, though he is another circus-themed unit and literally part of Sunny, wouldn't get along so well with her. Punchline only sleeps when her body shuts down and succumbs to exhaustion, and Moony's job as the nighttime/nap-time attendant is to put children to sleep. She would be very resistant to a nap, and he, famously, does not respond well to disobedience!
2. How would Punchline feel interacting with Laughing Jack, Pennywise, or IT?
Not great!
Punchline can respect a jester theme! That's not the issue! She's just not super big on murdering children or secretly being dark Eldritch abominations who instill terror and fear into the hearts of all. Clowns are supposed to be funny! If you're not getting a laugh, why are you dressed like a clown? She doesn't find them entertaining, which is a death sentence to her father.
3. How does Punchline feel about Ronald McDonald?
This clown is everywhere but he just sells happy meals! Not a single joke in the repertoire? What a capitalist loser! Take the clown shoes off if you aren't gonna work for them!! Say something funny!!!!
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royalty au ideas ?!?! i think it'd be a huge Zalgo vs Slenderman thing. Zalgo takes control of a kingdom (Albatross Kingdom, belonging to the Grossmans—prev king died and Isaac took the throne) (Slenderman finds the Proxy Kingdom, where he rules for some time) (OKAY THESE R TEMP NAMES IM SO BAD AT NAMING SHIT)
everyone in the picture is an adult except for william who's a teenager.
some WIP notes (they're all over the place)
toby, brian and tim are apart of Slender's Kingdom. he adopted them when they were wee little orphaned kids. and then once tim grew up, slender left due to er conflicts with zalgo! so tim became king
toby, as the youngest, wanted slender's attention the most. he envied tim for alw being in the spotlight. he also felt like tim and brian looked down upon him, though that was never the case. the reason toby became a guard is because he wanted to prove to tim that he could be something more than just his little immature brother.
if you're wondering why brian looks so angry just look at his fuckass haircut
no i'm kidding it's because he's the middle child. he didn't feel like he had a purpose. i can see him being the joking type when he was younger, but grew to be more cynical as he struggled to figure himself out. AND, when slenderman left, things were tougher on the boys—now brian nor toby could rlly "prove" themselves to slenderman... n tim was learning how to rule, so the siblingship with him was falling apart too.
kate and nat are two of the best guards they have! kate joined first, but natalie took the position of general just because she was more outspoken than kate was. they're both intimidating, however when jeff, new recruit, joined, they were quick to form a friendship with him.
kate might be from an Albatross attacked town. there's a bunch of little places that got set ablaze by them, and i'm thinking kate was directly found by slenderman. i'm not so sure on their backstories yet, but i do know that kate is a sort of sister figure to toby. in fact, toby might connect with kate more than he does with his actual siblings.
jeff and liu both exist here :) their town burned down when they were younger, and they were separated since. jeff became a thief. he met sally, too, but she was actually shot by one of the Albatross archers (i wanted it to be ben so i could have a jeff ben rivalry) when caught in crossfire.
he was wanted for years before he ended up at the Proxy Kingdom and was promptly captured. he pleaded and told his story, and they decided to make him one of the guards because he had INTEL!!! AND A MOTIVE!!!
toby is a bastard and uses jeff's obedience against him by saying shit like "hey guess who decided to make you a guard instead of killing you straight away" "your cell's still available btw" "remember which kingdom you're in" <- he loves uplifting his ego by putting jeff down LMFAOOO
natalie will put toby in check bc she knows what it's like to lose people, and be scarred for life. toby's just like >_<
laughing jack is a fae and AN EX JESTER for the Albatross Kingdom. i like to think that fae naturally become entertainers bc of their silly magical abilities (that do nthn but provide cool shows).
erm hm isaac's fucking insane. he's a sick n sadistic guy who lost an eye after laughing jack got tired of his shit.
william looks up to isaac because they're family (cousins or smth), and isaac treats him as a sidekick even though he looks down upon will. he belittles william, but william will never do anything except take pride in being THE ISAAC GROSSMAN'S sidekick!
LJ runs away after witnessing, for years, the way isaac LITERALLY TORTURED SERVANTS FOR FUN. he meets up with other rogues (liu, ej, candy pop, kagekao, and zero) (they're a little squad) (not that relevant but still)
shit happens... IM VERY TIRED I MUST SLEEP
IF ANYONE HAS ANY QUESTIONS OR EVEN COOL IDEAS I'D LOVE TO HEAR BC THIS AU IS SO FUN TO ME HAHAHA!!! thank you for hearing me out.......
#i cant draw weappns but these r just little Guys so its okay#KJ doodles#royalpasta au#ticci toby#timothy wright#brian thomas#clockwork#jeff the killer#kate the chaser#isaac grossman#william grossman#laughing jack#creepypasta#creepypasta au#creepypasta fanart#creeps comic#crp fandom
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Okay but given that crows are ready to Throw Down with eagles at the slightest opportunity, I have to know- 1) are there crows in the Seireitei and 2) how much of their Daily Enrichment is causing problems for the 11th Division on purpose?
There absolutely are crows and jays and even ravens in the Seireitei and very nearly all of their daily enrichment is causing some level of mayhem at every division of the Gotei-13,
...except the 11th.
See, Zaraki has the distinct advantage over most eagles in that he is also a human, with a canny eye for social dynamics, and he's worked out a deal with the local corvids. He noticed the pair of ravens on the roof of the 11th the first afternoon he was there, made a note of them, carefully folded it up, and put it in his mental back pocket for later.
The ravens didn't actually notice him that much on the first day because there was an entire bisected corpse of the former Kenpachi and the medics were delayed in retrieving it for some reason so that meant lungs and liver and a spleen and gallbladder and a special course of freshly exposed brains before an eyeball each for dessert while some poor wretch from the 4th completely failed to chase them off with a broom. They did very much notice him in the middle of the afternoon on the second day, when he returned from the early morning captain's meeting they had slept through, on account of yesterday's food coma. -But even still sluggish with guts full of guts, they still sat up and took notice of a man wearing, loud, shiny and extremely steal-able BELLS.
A-ho, A-ho! Called the first raven from the middle boughs of the pine in the courtyard as the new Kenpachi sat down on the porch that surrounded the small and rather pathetic little garden, sighing deeply. What's this that jingle-jangles in like a jester and sighs and settles like a corpse at the bottom of a lake?
A great way for your mate to lose her beak if she gets any closer. He growled back, and the raven on the roof behind him startled, flapping away out of his blade's reach.
A-joke! A-joke! Don't hiss and rattle so! She huffed, joining her wife on the pine and ruffling her feathers.
It might be amusing sport on another day, but I have no humor to speak of. He clattered, turning his patch-covered eye to them in apology. I have suffered a bereavement.
A-no! A-no! Who is it who has died? Asked the first raven.
One who granted me the knowledge of letters, and further so, the wisdom of tales- in telling, and moreso in listening. Thrice blessed by her I was, and only now do I learn of her demise, fifty years too late. He explained, rubbing his temples and shaking his head, trying to soothe himself.
A-woe! A-woe! cooed the second raven in agreement. Any who teaches is a living saint, and their passing the most terrible loss.
A-woe, A-woe! the first raven cooed in sympathy. She didn't leave clutch or wife for you to look after?
She had a husband, but I do not know his name, and he is apparently deceased as well. The Kenpachi frowned. Her brother yet lives- he is my colleague even, and how I learned of this. A wretched way to meet someone she spoke so highly of- but you are right, he needs looking after. He is... unwell, and was never thriving to begin with, but the same sort of saint of words as she, and much braver than his body should allow. Of course, I will look after him for her, as is right.
A-woe, A-woe- A wretched meeting but the right and honorable thing to do. Nodded the second raven.
A-woe, A-woe, but this is not the source of your miserable sighing? asked the first. No, his care does not worry me- The Kenpachi shook his head, folding a leg up and resting his elbow on it and his cheek on his hand in turn. It's that I am left to wonder- If I had known sooner, or even before this catastrophe, if there was something I might have done. But you are interesting company so I will divert myself from useless morose- what do you call yourselves, carrion queens that live beneath my roof?
I am Mun-Yin! Declared the second raven, that spoke only in statements.
If she is Mun-Yin, might I then be Hau-Yin? Asked the first, who spoke only in questions.
You might. The Kenpachi nodded.
A-so? A-so? Who might you be that wears the shredded rags of a dead man like a pauper, but speaks with the grace of a prince? Hau-Yin asked, hopping from the pine to a closer boulder, cocking her head at him.
A-ho! A-ho! It may be your house that supports our nest, but we live above your roof, not under it! Mun-Yin laughed, hopping closer as well.
I am Zaraki Kenpachi, Captain of the 11th division! He smirked at the birds who rolled their eyes at him.
A-no! A-no! Pouted Mun-Yin We didn't ask for your NAME!
A-no! A-no! Sulked Hau-Yin Who ARE you?
The Kenpachi regarded them for a moment, then lifted his head from his hand and leaned forward, a conspiratorial grin on his face. Would you like to know a secret?
A-yo! A-yo! We love a secret! Said Mun-Yin, bouncing in excitement.
A-yo! A-yo! Do we not spend all day learning all the secrets of the city? Giggled Hau-Yin.
Then I will offer you a trade- The Kenpachi grinned, beckoning then closer. -I'll tell you who I am if you promise to leave my hair-bells alone.
Hmmm... the ravens considered, then shook their heads.
A-low, A-low, those are some very shiny jingle-jangle bells, and that's but one measly little secret. frowned Mun-Yin
A-low, A-low- Agreed Hau-Yin. That's not much of a trade is it?
On the contrary, it's a very good secret! Maybe the best secret in all of the Seireitei! The Kenpachi wagged his finger at them. Nobody knows it but me and my daughter, so it's very exclusive! And the risk is all on my end- some secrets are dangerous to know, but in this case, it would grant you great advantage- it would be DEEPLY embarrassing for me if any of the humans -and whatever Komamura is- were to find out.
Hmmm... the birds considered again, and nodded this time.
A-Quo! A-Quo! Very Exclusive and Deeply Embarrassing Secrets are The Best! We will take very good trade! Agreed Mun-Yin
A-Show! A-Show! Who are you, that we will leave your bells alone? asked Hau-Yin, hopping closer and bowing her head, looking up at him with a mischievously glittering eye.
I am Zaraki Kenpachi, Captain of The Eleventh Division, Father of Yachiru, Great Sword Bastard of the North 80th District, and most relevant to you- Youngest and Most Beloved Son of She Who Rules The Sky.
The ravens stared blankly at him for a moment.
What that fuck? Asked Hau-Yin.
Didn't realize we were speaking to ROYALTY. Muttered Mun-Yin
See? It's a VERY good secret! The Prince Kenpachi grinned, leaning back and lounging a bit- someone like him could make even a bare wooden porch look like a throne. -Also, you see how you DO SO live under my roof! He added, pointing up at the clouds.
The ravens shuffled a bit nervously, reconsidering him.
A-so? A-so? Hau-Yin asked, cautiously, shuffling a sideways to him.-How does Your Highness come to be a Shinigami then?
A-so! A-so! nodded Mun-Yin. Your Highness and We alike are strange enough birds for taking Names, but to take a JOB is unheard of!
It has it's benefits... The Prince Kenpachi shrugged. Alas, I may be Her Majesty's Son, but I did not inherit my mother's wings and guts, so I cannot live on the wind and whatever I might find by the roadside alone. Still- like a Name, a Job both restricts and offers opportunity- I am bound by duty, but I also am gifted a dry and sturdy nest and all the meat I may eat in exchange. And better still- My daughter now has her choice of tutors and scholars to learn greater Wisdom than I ever will.
A-sow! A-sow! Mun-Yin considered. You do reap well in that exchange!
A-though, A-though- considered Hau-Yin. Would you have the chance to reap in such fashion had you the wings of your mother? Are you perhaps Blessed in strange Human fashion?
The Prince Kenpachi laughed. Perhaps I am! Perhaps you may be even more blessed than I- you have wings and carrion-guts, but you are not bereft! I can offer you similar employment, if you should find it agreeable.
A-ho! A-ho! You are in a fine humor now, My Prince! Chirped Mun-Yin.
A-ho! A-ho! What is this Job you have in mind for the like of us? Asked Hau-Yin, intrigued.
I am in much better humor now, thanks to you both. The Prince agreed, offering Hau-Yin an outstretched hand and patting his knee to indicate Mun-Yin should join him too. There is naught you may do against death, but you may yet ease my bereavement- I am am saddened by the loss of my friend, but it's the lateness of the news that worries me. You say you spend all day learning the secrets of the Seireitei, and that you greatly desire Shiny Jingle-jangle bells?
A-so! A-so! Mun-Yin bobbed excitedly, hopping onto The Prince's hand. All over, all over from the high pillars of the execution grounds to the lowest grates where the sewers open up, we fly all over all over My Wife and I! And we see and we hear and we remember all the secrets of the city!
A-stow? A-Stow? You poses yet more shiny shiny bells? Hau-Yin clicked with interest, hopping onto his knee.
I happen to have two such golden bells, even bigger and louder than these, and will happily give them to you- with a Doll's shiny ribbon so you may wear them if you so desire- and other shiny and noisy things as I find them, if you tell to me all the secrets of the Seireitei.
Hmmm... the ravens considered.
A-yo, A-yo- It is a good deal. Nodded Mun-Yin. -But sometimes the winter is cold or the pickings are lean, and there is only so much comfort a shiny jingle-jangle brings when it is so.
A-yo, A-yo- Agreed Hau-Yin. Maybe sometimes a secret is worth a night out of the storm or a scrap of meat instead?
You are both very wise. The Prince Kenpachi nodded and the ravens preened with the praise. I am amenable- The ribbon-bells for all the secrets you know right now, and we can work out what payment is best in the future, when you discover more secrets for me?
A-Yo! A-Yo! crowed Mun-Yin, flapping with excitement. Your Highness is as generous as he is wise!
More, I hope! Laughed The Prince Kenpachi. I promise, I am a colossal fool!
A-Yo! A-Yo! crowed Hau-Yin What secrets would you like to know first? And may I have a Pink Ribbon?
I would like to know all you know about- hm, that's a tricky question actually.- There are so many things I wish to know! He considered, rubbing his chin, then jumped to his feet, making them hop, an Ancient Bird Game. Let me go get your ribbon-bells first, and make up my mind!
A-ho! A-ho! the Ravens laughed, hopping down the hall after him.
---
"Hey Boss, I found the payroll forms but fuck me if I can make heads or tails of- what's wrong?" Ikkaku called out as he came into the courtyard half an hour later, only to find Yumichika standing in the doorway, frowning pensively with his hand over his mouth.
"I'm not sure anything is wrong, per se-" Sighed Yumichika, waving at the scene before him.
Zaraki was seated on one of the boulders in the courtyard, delicately fastening one of Yachiru's shiny pink hair ribbons around the neck of an exceptionally smug-looking raven in an elaborate bow with a large golden bell in the middle. A similarly adorned Raven perched upon his shoulder, chattering excitedly between fondly preening where his eyepatch parted his hair.
"-but I can't help but think I've seen this scene before..." Yumichika muttered.
"They look like they're all having fun?" Ikkaku shrugged as Zaraki finished the bow and the raven ruffled her feathers into place, making it jangle and Yachiru giggle and applaud from where she sat on her father's knee. The Newly-belled raven hopped around to croak and click at him as well, flapping excitedly, and he put a hand up to stop her, asking her something in the shrill hiss and click of his native Aquiline tongue.
"You ever get the impression The Boss is way more articulate in Eagle than he is in Japanese?" Ikkaku frowned.
"Darling, he learned his Japanese from Bandits and Buskers and in Brothels, his Eagle has GOT to be better than that." Yumichika rolled his eyes.
"-ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Zaraki suddenly bellowed, shaking his finger at the raven in his lap.
Both ravens cawed in objection.
"-THIS IS NOT UP FOR NEGOTIATION! SO LONG AS YOU TWO LIVE UNDER MY ROOF, YOU LEAVE KANAME AND HIS EYEBALLS ALONE." he growled.
The Raven on his shoulder tipped her head, speculating.
"-He is TOO using them, they're there to keep his eye sockets and brain from getting infected with gods-know-what flesh-eating bacteria or whatever. NO. PECKING."
Both Ravens hunched up their wings and turned away, pouting.
"What's-His-Ass in the Fifth? The faintly greasy one that looks like a sad mop? His glasses are fair game, if it will amuse you." Zaraki relented, and both birds perked up. "-Might be worth a bag of potato chips if you can bring me a pair intact." he offered.
"Oh Gods, he's not gonna make me try to add a pair of BIRDS to the payroll, is he?" Whimpered Ikkaku.
#AEIWAM#an elephant is warm and mushy#Bleach#bleach fanfiction#kenpachi zaraki#Look you don't hand me an old man with an eyepatch for me to NOT give him a pair of ravens#long post#It's fun though
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``Philophobia``
Shadow Milk x Truthless Recluse
(Author's notes at the end, not heavily proof read)
"The moon is quite beautiful tonight. Is it not?"
When had he appeared on the balcony?
Perhaps he had been there even before the blonde had, though only choosing to show himself now.
After all, he can do whatever he pleases in his domain.
"There isn't a moon cycle here. It looks the same every night."
But it was quite nice..
"Ah, of course! Silly me, how could I forget?"
The most simple explanation was that he hadn't. Shadow Milk Cookie was never the type to simply "forget."
He obviously came here for some reason, but Pure Vanilla currently lacked the patience to deal with him.
Pure Vanilla sighed and looked down, strands of golden hair falling onto his face. "If there isn't a reason for this talk, I'll be heading to bed."
He began to leave without a response; and for some reason, Shadow Milk seemed to be allowing it.
How odd.
Pure Vanilla stood in front of the balcony door, fixated on the silver handle.
Stunning engravements were carved on it. They were, though he only reluctantly admitted it, quite intricate. The moonlight found its way to accompany the little design in a way that elevated it greatly.
He found it hard to believe that Shadow Milk had paid such close attention to something so... pointless.
As Pure Vanilla turned the handle (or attempted to) and saw that the door had not budged, it became evident that Shadow Milk was not keen on having him leave so easily.
That explains the unusually passive behavior...
Pure Vanilla said nothing.
"Well? What are you waiting for? Come back here. I just want to talk to you."
His tone sounded like he was speaking to a dog. It was absolutely degrading, and Pure Vanilla hated every moment of it. Yet...
Pure Vanilla walked back to the railing of the balcony.
What else would he do?
Another silence engulfed them.
"What do you want?"
Shadow Milk clicks his tongue. "Oh my, such hostility! I've barely done anything yet..."
The blonde wishes to rip that blue jester to shreds... or at the very least send him a repulsive glare.
Though, he resists these urges and instead keeps his gaze fixated on the moon.
He thinks looking at his tormentor will only make him more angry.
"I was just bored. Didn't feel like torturing your friends. Black Sapphire's busy, and I... can't be bothered to deal with Candy Apple."
Ah, he recognized that name. She certainly was loud.
Pure Vanilla overheard from one of her fan-girling rambling sessions that Shadow Milk's original home was the dark side of the moon.
Well, he technically had already been aware of that fact... but it only reocurred to him now.
Pure Vanilla continued staring at the full moon.
Behind this beautiful face was a dark and cold plane of existence.
It was undoubtedly lonely...
Was that place really what Shadow Milk called home?
"Do you miss it?"
Shadow Milk looks at him, confused.
"...What?"
Pure Vanilla's gaze never falls from that ethereal celestial body. "Your home."
And though the response is thoroughly lacking, Shadow Milk seems to understand.
And he laughs at the thought.
"Why would I ever miss a place like that? It's boring, and..."
Pure Vanilla's gaze meets his own.
How could I miss that place when my other half resides here?
"And it's empty."
Not technically a lie. Everything does feel abnormally dull and utterly lacking when he is not with Pure Vanilla.
Surely it's just because he owns part of his soul jam..?
"I can imagine," Pure Vanilla would say.
You can't. Isolation is devastating.
But he took the comfort anyway. "Being here is much better. Especially since I get to be here with my other half~" Shadow Milk grinned with an impudent look.
"I am not your other half-"
Shadow Milk places a finger in front of his lips. "Shh. You've been talking too much today." Shadow Milk continued to bask in the silence, gazing absent mindedly at the multicolor eyes.
Shadow Milk feels himself staring a bit too much, but... it's just to annoy Pure Vanilla, right?
And when he moves his hand up to cup his face, that too is surely just to annoy the other..
"You've been staring for quite some time now," Pure Vanilla says. He's met only with a small hum. Shadow Milk remains as shameless as ever with his staring.
Then, he looks at the key design that adorns his robes. "So, Pure Vanilla- oh, I guess you go by Truthless Recluse now, huh?"
Shadow Milk struggles momentarily to come up with a fun nickname for that.
"I think I'll just continue saying Nilly. You're fine with that, right?"
"No. I never said-"
Shadow Milk gently tucks a strand of the other's hair behind their ear, interrupting them.
It's only after the sudden silence that he realizes how intimate the action was.
Ah, how shameful! A beast should never have been caught dead doing something like that...
"Um-" Shadow Milk shakily removes his hand from the others cheek. "The point is.."
He diverts his gaze so quickly it's almost embarrassing. Just mere moments ago, he had been so keen on messing with the other!
Why was he the one getting blushy instead?
Pure Vanilla just remained silent; watching the spectacle with, albeit only slight, amusment.
"Oh? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong- I just..."
Got flustered? Became overwhelmed? He couldn't admit to such humiliating emotions!
Pure Vanilla slowly placed his palm against the other's, and though it's cold to the touch, he remains there all the same.
"I must say, I never thought you were the type to get embarrassed over things like this."
When had he become so bold!?! And since when was he the one in control of the situation?
"Just what do you think you're doing..."
Pure Vanilla's gaze softens. It must have been extremely lonely being trapped all of those years if such a simple action was enough to get him like this.
And an action that he himself initiated, nonetheless.
"Nothing that you haven't already done to me."
Pure Vanilla gently interlaces his fingers with the others.
How strange... Why was he entertaining something like this?
Then he brings his other hand up to the others cheek; just as Shadow Milk had done to him moments ago.
Pure Vanilla's touch was light; as if it were a ghost...
And yet- Shadow Milk's entire body felt like it was burning.
He absolutely despised it...
But oh... how he wished to remain like this for just a little while longer.
And perhaps move a little bit closer?
Oh, what was he thinking? He couldn't possibly think that this... feeling... was anything good.
And so, suddenly, Shadow Milk feels himself move away.
He can't allow himself to become vulnerable infront of someone like him.
Or anyone, really.
But especially him...
"Ahaha! I've decided to spare you of my... annoyances today. You can go do whatever it is that you wish to do now-"
He knows the other must notice how flushed his face is; and he prays with all of his soul --(or perhaps lack thereof?) that he'd just ignore it.
It was strange, though. Wasn't Shadow Milk lonely? Shouldn't he want this?
I mean, he does...
He really
really
does.
And yet, he still moves away.
Pure Vanilla says nothing as he watches the other disappear, becoming one with the shadows and escaping to who knows where.
It would be a lie to say he wasn't the tiniest bit disappointed about him leaving.
Shadow Milk; ever the lonely soul.
Won't you let him help you?
And as Pure Vanilla gazes from the balcony; hand still in the air. (Why is it still in the air? Is he waiting for something?)
He thinks;
You may be the greatest liar that this world has ever seen,
but you will always remain the biggest coward.
AN:
Originally, this was just supposed to be an X reader fic, but these two have been rotting my brain... (I said I wouldn't do a character x character, but I just love them so much!)
I really tried to capture them well, but looking back on it now, I think SMC would have been more desperate for PV'S understanding.
(But oh well, this depiction of him isn't the worst, right? Still desperate enough, I hope?)
I know chapter 8 didn't confirm that the two of them were romantic, and I understand that they are by no means a healthy ship!
(Any ship with SMC isn't healthy, let's be real)
But I just really wanted to experiment with their interactions and I hope I did the complicated emotions surrounding them some justice.
This is probably a one time thing, but if you REALLY want more, you can send me a request and I can probably make something... I have some ideas floating around-
But yeah, I understand if this isn't your thing- anyway BYE.
[Lohotine OUT]
#crk#cookie run kingdom#cookie run#shadownilla#milkshake crk#shadownilla crk#pure vanilla x shadow milk#pure vanilla x shadow milk cookie#pv x smc crk#truthless recluse x shadow milk#shadow milk x truthless recluse#shadow milk x pure vanilla#shadow milk x pure vanilla crk#cookie run fanfic#shadow milk cookie x pure vanilla#pure vanilla cookie x shadow milk#pure vanilla x shadow milk crk#pure vanilla x shadow milk cookie crk
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