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missycolorful · 2 months

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I think I'll just say this: I don't agree when people call any of the islanders "bad parents" just because their parenting is flawed.

Like, parents and their parenting is flawed. Inherently. One parent cannot meet all the demands of their child; it is literally impossible. As humans are imperfect, there will always be something missing or lacking in one's parenting. Hell, sometimes even two parents can't meet all their child's needs, depending on their personalities. If that's the case, then I guess all parents are bad parents. But that's not the case, so I don't get why people are so adamant when they see that a parent isn't handling things 100% perfectly and go "wow this person's parenting sucks."

And this is even more so when you take into account... pretty much everything going on in Quesadilla island. These people never really planned to be parents, yet here they are! And this island is out to kill these kids, so it's also a dangerous game of survival now, too! There are horrors around pretty much every corner. Plus, outside or inside forces are making the islanders suffer very often. The islanders are never okay. How they take care of their children is going to be different just by the very basis of their environment. The standards of parenting are different here. Their relationships with people, including their children, were never going to be 100% healthy or positive or okay. It's just not possible.

so, no, I don't think that just cause, say, q!Tubbo or q!Phil aren't great in regards to their emotional intelligence and often isolate themselves, or when any other parents in general don't handle what their children are going through perfectly, that they're bad parents. That kinda statement feels like it diminishes pretty much all the hard work and effort and love they put into taking care of their kids and even kids that aren't their own. Tubbo gives his everything for Sunny, and was/is an active babysitter for a lot of other eggs. Phil works so hard to love and teach survival to and take care of his two eggs equally. (Like, being 'basically' a single parent, of one or WORSE, two, is already hard enough in the real world - imagine being one on this fucking hellscape they're on).

Like, I don't think there's anything wrong with pointing out the parents' flaws. Their flaws make them human, and it'd be foolish to disregard their humanity. And it's interesting to analyze their flaws and what they say about the character, and how they impact their family. There's nuance there, and it should be discussed.

But I think when you're just going "oh, they're bad at parenting in general" because they fumble the bag in other departments lacks nuance. Sure, if you're just saying "they're bad when it comes to certain aspects of parenting," that's a different story, because that's understanding their flaws while recognizing that those flaws don't define all of their parenting. But to just say they're bad at it in general isn't productive analysis of their characters in any way. I haven't watched q!Phil take care of his egg for a whole year (followed by a second egg more consistently shortly after) only for people to shit on his parenting just because his lack emotional intelligence is more noticeable as of recent due to all the trauma and bullshit he's endured. And I haven't seen q!Tubbo put his whole heart into taking care of Sunny as well as multiple other eggs, being Chayanne and Tallulah's reliable godfather, just for people to put down his efforts because he's not always great at more emotionally in depth conversations. They're good parents in a lot of ways, and those strengths shouldn't be discredited just because they aren't good at other things. Their characters deserve way better than that.

tldr these parents are all good in many regards and are just trying their damn best in the worst of circumstances, can we cut them just a bit of slack, please?

#qsmp #fuck it i'm tagging the characters i mentioned #philza #tubbo #missy rambles #also tldr this discourse is fucking dumb #like jesus calling them bad parents feels like it's shitting on all the time they've spent on this damn island taking care of these kids #all cause they're bad at talking about feelings sometimes? give me a break

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esteljune · 2 months

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Jhonny "Soap" MacTavish x surgeon f!reader

Synopsis: It's Christmas Eve, Johnny is on temporary leave at his family home. He didn't have the courage to ask you to go with him because you've only been dating for a few months and you have to work anyway. As soon as you tell him on the phone that you'll be working the night shift, he feels like an idiot for not asking you to come with him so he jumps in his 4runner (thanks @brewed-pangolin for introducing me to this mindblowing headcanon) and drives for over three hours straight to come to you.

____________________________________________

As you watch him walk out the door, you've never once protested, never hesitated, always showing your best side. Your best, which is equivalent to sincere love, the most tender dedication, the broadest understanding.

Every time that blue-eyed giant leaves you behind, a piece of you inevitably goes with him, a piece of that heart that now beats wildly in front of his tender and apprehensive gaze.

It's hard not to get carried away knowing that this ridiculously and scandalously attractive guy drove like a maniac on a holiday just to see you again.

He had drawn you to him by grabbing the stethoscope intertwined around your neck, a satisfied and cheeky grin painted on that face so painfully close to your heart that it made your stomach churn.

Whatever you had wanted to object to his madness had been silenced by a kiss. One of his. So deep and all-consuming that it clouded your brain, keeping you anchored to his hot skin, to that rapid breath with a vague scent of tobacco and coffee.

"As much as the prospect of kissing you for the fifteen minutes of break I have left is definitely tempting, Sergeant. Can you tell me why you're here? Like, for real." you murmured on his soft lips, in the pause needed to catch your breath, the stubble on his scarred chin tickling your face.

"Steamin' Jesus. Because I wanted tae ask ye tae come to Glasgow with me when I came back, but I didn't. Instead, ye'll spend the night with your hands inside someone's chest." he cursed in that thick Scottish accent that was capable of making you lose your head on its own. His forehead pressed against yours, desperately.

"Johnny, stop worrying about me. I'm fine. And I'll be fine tomorrow. Knowing you're happy and safe is all I need right now." you breathed a smile, and you meant it, you meant it with every fiber of your being.

And yet, that pain, that insecurity so deeply rooted inside you had not escaped those brilliant ice blue eyes.

If he had known words strong enough to tell you how Soap felt, he would have done it, but he was not like you, his world was all action, adrenaline, discipline, control, instinct. There had never been much room for that oppressive and nameless feeling that had crushed his chest since the day he met you.

For Johnny, actions were worth much more than his limited arsenal of words.

"Here, take these. I want ye to keep them. For when I'm gone." he grunted with a breath caught in his broad chest, as his big, calloused hands nervously fumbled around his neck.

He almost awkwardly pulled off the dog tags, now dulled by the time spent resting against that familiar body, and dropped them into your hands. For a moment you could have sworn you felt him trembling. Your heart skipped a beat.

"I can't accept them, you stubborn Scot. Your blood type is written on them." you muttered, trying to camouflage your burning cheeks, the words dying in your throat.

"It's also on my combat gear." Johnny grinned in response, with that childish and mischievous smile that had often almost made you slap him.

"You always have a quick answer, don't you?"

You looked at them, more intensely and for longer than you would have liked. The truth was, you were afraid.

"I can't, Johnny. Keeping them... It would almost feel like you're never coming back to me." you confessed in a barely audible whisper, your heart sinking a little in your chest.

His rough fingers on your chin had the effect of an electric shock, forcing you to lock eyes with his prodigious blue ones.

"It's just a wee loan, aye? You decide if and when to give them back tae me. I'll always be here." he smiled and you felt like you could breathe again.

"If I could tear me heart out of my chest and leave it with ye, I would, lass. Ye'll have to settle for these."

That promise seemed to imprint itself so deeply inside you that you thought it would leave a scar.

"You can't say these things to me, Johnny. I'll end up believing them." you replied softly, praying with all your heart that it was true, that his absence would not one day destroy you.

Seeing in his eyes that he had caught the doubt that had slowly crept into you broke your heart.

"Hen..." he began in a hoarse whisper, again searching for words he didn't know.

The sound of your pager interrupted him and the moment was already gone.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” you smiled, brushing your fingers against his achingly beautiful face, his icy eyes melting into yours and turning your blood to lava.

“Go. Save the world, bonnie.” he was so proud of you that he felt his chest might burst. Whatever he had wanted to tell you, he was sure you knew it already, you knew everything, even before he confessed his love to you. You had understood it before he did.

He loved you, and he let you go.

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Please bear with me and my poor imitation of Johnny's accent T_T unfortunately english is not my first language

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tacticaldiary · 5 months

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N&R MASTERLIST || COD MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Simon Riley x Reader

WARNINGS: Stalking, Blood, Kidnapping, Panic Attacks

The Heat Of Indifference || Chapter 1 >>> (coming soon)

Unrequited delusion turns the sweetest cup of intentions sour.

She stares at the note in her hand numbly. A tremour starts in her as she skims over it, spreads until her shaking has nothing to do with the chill of the air, the cool metal of the mailbox her other hand clutches onto.

'too busy for me?'

'i'll make time in your life for me'

'fucking someone else behind my back?'

'you looked so pretty the other day, i had trouble staying away'

'took a few pictures for my collection'

Crumpling the note, she looks around the dimly lit porch as if she might spot the culprit, might see the man that's been making her life a living hell, inducing a paranoia she's never experienced before. Unsteadily, she stumbles backwards into her house, locking the door and sliding the deadbolt.

Safe. It doesn't feel safe. Breath caught in her throat, she runs to her bedroom, sets her back to the door after locking it.

The other notes could be ignored, mixed in with the other fan mail, some scattered in her emails and her inboxes on social media, but this one? In her mailbox?

Her personal mailbox?

The one right outside her house?

He knew where she lived.

Bile crawling up her throat, she fumbles with her phone, dialing the number she memorised ever since she signed with the agency. It rings once. Twice.

Alban picks up on the third ring.

"It's one in the morning-"

"He knows where I live," She gasps out, the grip on her phone a kind death itself could not have pried away. "He-...he put something in my mailbox, what if he's inside?" The thought sends her into a spiral. "He's-he might be here, Alban, might be in my house. He's seen it, knows where it is, what if he's waiting outside? What if-"

"Calm down, hey, listen." He cuts her off, the sleep in his voice dissipating at her panic. "I'm on my way, okay? Hang tight, lock your doors. Stay put, you hear?"

"Stay on the line?" She requests shakily.

"Of course," The jingle of keys, the zip of a jacket. "Fuck, I shouldn't have let you go home alone from the shoot, I'm sorry." He sighs.

There's no more talk from her end, she listens as he stays on the line, hears the hum of a car engine, the slam of a car door. Alban would be here, and she wouldn't be alone then, and then-...

And then what?

Back to square one? Back to losing sleep and screwing up auditions To looking over her back and wondering when the next note would appear? No, that's not the life she wants, her gut twists painfully just thinking about it.

It started sweet.

A letter in her fan mail, just another proclamation of love, messages of praise and devotion online. Nothing out of the ordinary for one of the most popular rising actresses of her time. It's a place she's earned after years of hard work, growth and determination.

Then the letters started to change in tone. Annoyed. Impatient. Not understand why she wasn't writing back, why she wasn't noticing him.

The threats started after that.

To a degree, she understands that putting herself in such a bright spotlight opens her up to people like this, people who lived in delusions and acted in their own interests, but to be the victim of it...it was overwhelming, stressful, and frightening.

She's really, truly frightened.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The blanket around her shoulders was knitted by her mother.

Warm but slightly scratchy, it's one of the items that appears misplaced among the sleek, expensive look of her living room. Leather couches, wall-to-ceiling windows, and an open floor plan.

The dull scratchy blanket brings about a childish comfort, something long forgotten between the glitz and glamour of her new life. She buries her nose into it, her thanks muffled by the fabric when Alban places down the steaming mug of tea. His hair is pulled up in a bun haphazardly, his jacket only half zipped up. Pajama pants speckled with cartoon bananas she'd make fun of if she could bring herself to conjure a laugh.

The crickets sing, and it's good background noise for their silence. It's odd, how at ease the world is when the weight of it feels like it's caving down on her.

"I don't think this is going away on its own." She finally says, gaze flickering to meet Alban's.

"The police said they'd do what they could," He clicks his tongue. "The best they're going to do is run prints on the note, see if they can match the handwriting to somebody."

"Didn't work before, won't work now." She mumbles.

"So you know that we need someone other than the police now."

She manages a tense nod, and her acceptance seems to grant him an ounce of relief. "I'll give my contact a call then. We'll get you a personal detail sorted out by tomorrow."

The idea of someone being in her space 24/7 makes her uncomfortable. Alban had brought it up before, had brought it up multiple times actually, but she'd always shot down the idea, hoping the problem would resolve itself on its own. A personal security detail, a bodyguard. It seemed...excessive before. She values her privacy, values the little space that's left untouched by the eyes of the public, and letting someone else, a stranger, into it makes her uneasy.

His gaze softens. "I know this isn't what you wanted." He squeezes her shoulder, "But I'd rather see you alive and uncomfortable than dead in a ditch somewhere."

She likes that outcome too.

"I'll live." It was just for a little while, she reasons. "Just till everything passes."

"Just until it passes." He promises.

His presence makes her grateful. Alban has always been an anchor to her, someone to rely on. Her manager. Her friend, above all. He'd been with her through the ups and downs of her career, of her life.

"Thank you." It's not enough to convey the company he brings, but he seems to get it. His smile is knowing, and reassuring.

Enough to make her relax the barest bit.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"I'll find the bastard myself, wring out his neck!" Melvin glares at her through the rearview mirror. He's been on a rant for the past twenty minutes, and she hasn't the heart to tell the old man to stop. On the contrary, it makes her feel better that someone is as angry as her about it.

"Not if I get to him first." She smiles despite the dreary topic.

"Now you listen here, you tell me about any more trouble you're getting into, alright?" They pull into the parking lot and this time Melvin turns around to stare at her, fiery and outraged. "I'll find 'em, set 'em straight!"

His wispy grey hair curls around his forehead, wrinkles and smile lines carved into a face that's seen more of her childhood than her own father ever cared to.

Melvin was the closest family she had. He'd driven her to her first audition, had seen her through it and took her to get the ice cream he always grumbled was too sweet when she'd been rejected on the spot.

"I'll let you know." She nods solemnly.

He narrows his eyes, squinting at her. "Are you mocking me?"

"Me? I wouldn't dare." She laughs, scrambling out of the car before he can go off on another tangent about the youth of today. "I'll see you in a couple hours!"

The office building stands at an impressive height at the heart of the city, glass windows showing off an impressive view of the surroundings. It wasn't often that she came here, Alban mostly took care of any paperwork she had to fill out and submit so there was never a reason for her to be sat behind a desk when she could be performing and showing her talents elsewhere.

Things had cooled down considerably after last night. Alban had stayed the night with her, and although she hadn't gotten much sleep it was reassuring to know that Alban's contact had pulled through and arranged a meeting with the security company that the man had been raving on about ever since this whole mess started. He'd gotten everything sorted before she'd even woken up for the day.

Task Force...something. She couldn't remember the numbers at the end of the title, but they were supposed to be the best of the best.

The elevator has a line too long for her to think about waiting in, so she turns to the stairwell inside. It was only three floors up, and she could use the exercise anyway. She's already a few minutes late to meet them all anyway, the wait wouldn't be worth it.

Would she meet her detail today? Her bodyguard? She really should've asked Alban to expand on his vague "I've taken care of it" this morning...

The hallway she ends up in stretches the expanse of the room, widening into a larger floor plan overlooking the rest of the city. A break room of some sort? Confused, one glance at the floor directory hung up next to her answers her question.

Wrong floor.

Clicking her tongue, she turns to go back into the stairwell when the hair on the back of her neck stands up, and a chill shivers down her spine. It's the same feeling of being watched, the feeling that's made her triple-check her locks at night and lose precious hours of sleep trying to convince herself that she was safe.

There's nobody else in the hallway, not a soul passing by. The distant voices and noises indicate whoever's occupying the floor is in the offices farther in, but nowhere near her...

Faltering, she takes a few hesitant steps into the nearest room. An office of some sort.

The feeling remains, stronger than ever. Goosebumps prickle her flesh, her teeth worry her lower lip. This is stupid, this entire thing was stupid! It's an empty room...

"I know you're there!" The words pass her lips before she can stop them, fuelled by frustration and fear. Her own eyes widen at her words, but she doesn't take them back. No, she's commited to it now. Clenching her fists to hide the trembling of her hands, she turns around in a small circle trying to find the source of her discomfort. "This isn't funny, it's fucking creepy! Just leave me the hell alone!"

Maybe it's a trick of paranoia and the light but she swears she sees a shadow move out of the corner of her eye, and it startles her so bad she bumps into the desk behind her, clutching it so hard her knuckles go white.

Her heart is in her throat when the door creaks open.

This felt like a fucking horror movie. 'I've never been in one of those before', she thinks a little hysterically. 'Don't think I'll ever have the chance to after this.' Maybe it was a random employee who'd forgotten something in the office, she tries to reason with herself, or Alban coming to see what's taking her so long-

She screams when a tall man in a balaclava peers through the door, a hand fixed on the pistol on his belt.

Blindly grabbing onto a stapler, she throws it at him and scrambles to put the desk in between them. "Leave me alone!" She yells, wielding the keyboard like it might protect her from him and his firearm.

The man catches the stapler and gives her a rather unimpressed look.

He was clearly fucking insane, she thinks. Batshit crazy, stalking her down in an office building in broad daylight with a mask. The cool glass of a window touches her back and she swallows, glancing behind her. Four stories up, but if he made a move to grab her would she have enough time to unlatch the window and climb out? Did she even want to risk breaking her legs?

"It's a shitty idea."

The voice is smooth gravel, the grit of the sand on a clear beach.

"Who are you?" She narrows her eyes, fingers playing with the latch. "Why do you keep following me?"

"It's my job." He deadpans, and it makes her hesitate to jump to her idea of trying to escape the situation.

"...what?"

He loosens a sigh from his chest, and tugs out the manilla folder she hadn't seen tucked under his arm before. She tenses when he takes a step forward, tossing it on the desk. A couple of documents spill out, and she catches bits and pieces until her eyes land on the logo sealed at the top of the folder.

Her eyes flicker back to him and spot the same logo patched onto his jacket.

Last night comes back to her in a rush, the hurried explaination she was given.

Task Force 141.

A security company known throughout the country as being the best of the best. Being ex-military, they took care of messy situations in ways that didn't reflect poorly on anyone, kept their means and methods unknown but their clients happy. Alban had given her an overview of the company a while ago after the photographs of her had started to arrive.

"Screaming your head off like that, jumping out a four-story window? Bloody hell, no wonder you need a babysitter."

Any lingering fear snaps to irritation. "I don't need a babysitter, I need someone who's not going to scare the shit out of me." Still a little shaky, she lets go of the window. "Alban hired you?"

"Clearly." His dry tone makes her bristle. He'd just scared the hell out of her, her being a little jarred is perfectly understandable. "Sent me to see what the hold up was." He jerks his chin towards the documents. "Needs your signature, then I'm yours until your issue blows over."

Him? He was her on her private detail? Her bodyguard?

She expected someone in a suit with an earpiece, simple and subtle, something akin to the usual security that surrounds her at her venues. Fitting in was important, after all. The less she was noticed the safer she'd be.

Given that, the 6'3 man with the large, strong stature definitely had taken her aback, but his face was the thing that freaked her out the most, the mask making her mind flash to every horror movie she'd ever seen.

A black balaclava covers his lower face and tucks itself into the collar of the all-black suit he dons. The fabric's printed with the bottom half of a white...skull? Puzzled, she gives him a once over, wondering how someone this...intimidating could possibly be inconspicuous. He holds himself with a rigidity she's only ever seen in someone who holds discipline to a high standard, shoulder back, eyes brown and piercing in a way that makes her feel oddly vulnerable.

She nods slowly, picking up a pen from one of the holders, willing her heart to stop pounding from the lingering adrenaline. "I'm pretty sure you know an awkward amount about me already." She skims over the paperwork quickly. "But what do I call you?"

Life had taught her the hard way never to blindly sign a document.

"Ghost." She pauses, blinking up at him. He doesn't look like he's joking, and after a beat of silence her lips quirk up to a half amused smile.

"Ghost?" She cocks her head. "Like the things that haunt houses? That's your name?"

"Afirmative." He retorts.

"But that's a nickname, I don't think your parents would have named you Ghost." That was just unnecessarily cruel. He'd have gotten bullied at school with a name like that. "What's your name name?"

"Ghost is enough of a name for you. I'm here to keep you alive, not have a heart to heart, yeah?"

Okay. So he wasn't the warmest person she'd met.

"You're off to a great start, nearly pushing me out a window." She mumbles under her breath going back to reading.

"It was your hand I recall being on the latch."

At the flourish of her pen, her signature settling next to his and Alban's, some of the weight on her shoulders settles into something slightly more bearable. Things would be easier for her hopefully.

She could admit that although he was gruff and not the friendliest, he was certainly intimidating. By the way his eyes flicker around the room every now and then, he was perceptive too. Despite their rocky start, she already felt like someone was watching her back.

"Anything else I need to sign?"

He doesn't respond, shifting in place instead, eyebrows furrowed. It makes her uneasy, his sudden change in posture. Muscles tensing, his sights land somewhere behind her and he suddenly moves to grab her before she can register it.

A crash of glass echoes through the room as the window opposite to them shatters.

She can barely let out a shriek before Ghost has her against a wall, shielding her body with his, pressing close enough for him to feel the way her heart hammers in her chest.

Sandalwood and smoke, she can't help but note as she draws in a shaky breath. He's built well, all strong muscle and capable hands that crowd her back. Her breath hitches for a completely different reason.

"You alright?" He grunts out, peering over his shoulder. It's sharp, the way his gaze flickers from the shards of glass to the bolt embedded in the wall a metre away from where she'd been.

Right where Ghost had been standing.

"Fine," She manages, looking between him and the bolt in the wall with a cold sinking in her stomach. "I-...you're bleeding!" She exclaims, reaching up to tilt his face to the side, a splotch of red seeping through his mask. Before she can make contact, he steps away from her leaving her hand hovering in the air.

It shatters the brief moment from before, the breath she couldn't catch loosens from her chest.

She feels like she looks a little stupid with her hand hovering like that and, the back of her neck going warm as she clears her throat. "Your cheek." She says aloud after a moment. There's a small cut where the projectile had grazed him, bleeding sluggishly.

Ghost doesn't pay her any mind as he yanks the bolt out of the wall, cement cracking onto the floor. Turning it this way and that, she finds enough feeling in her legs to move towards him-

"Stay there." He orders, and the authority lacing the words stuns her into compliance. "Away from the windows."

She certainly sees how he's ex-military now, that he's used to his orders being obeyed.

Ghost turns around eventually, brow furrowed and she finally has a clear view of the item.

A white rose is twined around the bolt, the petals speckled with red dots. A drop of crimson drips onto the floor by his feet and she realises that the colouring isn't from the flower itself.

It's Ghost's blood, tainting the purity of something so delicate weaved with an intentional threat.

He was here.

In her house, on her mind, in her workplace, God, he was in her workplace now. Her breath stutters as she tries to take a deep one, panic she refuses to let loose in front of him clawing at her chest. So she was right, someone had bee watching her. It hadn't been him, it had been her stalker that had made her wary.

This was new. She'd never had actual contact with the guy before, her nightmares had been restricted to words scrawled onto a page. Judging by the bolt's direction, the man was probably in the building opposite.

Ghost barks something into a radio connected to his belt, sharp eyes sweeping the room, narrowing at the window across, cautious and confident.

He's an ass, they haven't started on the right foot but she doesn't want to see him dead. What if the next 'threat' hit true? What if she had to stand there and watch his head trickle crimson, watch that strong body hit the floor with a lifeless-

"I don't think this is a good idea." She blurts out, frightened by the thought. Nobody needed to get hurt but her, was expanding this...this horrid torment onto other people really worth it?

When he doesn't answer, she pushes on. "It's...you could get hurt. Or killed." A shaky inhale. "And I don't want-"

"Your concern won't void my contract. I've survived worse." He cuts her off, peering out of the window. She swears she spots the barest bit of amusement in his dead stare when he glances back at her. "You're too exposed in the open. We're going to your residence, my team's already secured it, set up a perimeter."

And she can't find it in herself to protest when he ushers her out of her room taking care to shield her from the windows.

Glancing up at the blood seeping through his mask, the unease from last night creeps back into her heart. What would have happened if Ghost hadn't been there? Would she have been the target instead? Would she be...Alban was right, it was stupid to think that this would stop on its own.

Hope was a fool's playground.

Ghost notices the sudden tense silence, casts down a long glance as they enter the elevator together, strangely free from the mass of people earlier.

"You're safe now."

She looks up in surprise, but he's already shifted his gaze to stare at the metal doors in front of them. Safe. How long has it been since she's felt safe?

Miraculously, she finds herself nodding. Finds herself trusting. Trusting this man she just met a few minutes ago. It's strange, but she lets his reassurance wash over her, her shoulders dropping down ever so slightly.

It seems enough to satisfy him, because he doesn't comment again.

Safety.

What a luxury she'd taken for granted.

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(1/12/2023)

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solluve · 2 years

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luxiem school drabbles!!

I was vv busy due to exams and test huhuu, I still have a upcoming final exam

noctyx ver coming out soon !!!

modern school au but you lowkey have a rivalry in most of them!!!I HATE SCHOOL

warning; kissing/ mentions (belehg) long passage be warned, lowkey bad ass writing lmfao IM EMBARSSED

not proofread (yet) ────────────────────────

vox

You were terribly annoyed, you had every right to be! Once again, the embodiment of the devil had beaten you again for test scores, and he was shoving it right in your face.

"Really? A 85% y/n? Cmon, I seriously thought you could do better." His voice boomed in the hallways, you didn't even know why he had decided to follow you outside the classroom. Whatever goes on in the classroom, is suppose to stay. You had just hoped that the sea of people who block his view of you.

How did he even manage to get a higher grade than you? From what you knew, he'd simply just lean on his chair during class and break the dress code with those hideous flip flops. He wasn't even a teachers favorite! In fact, all teachers hated him, but all students had loved him. He wasn't super athletic, but he was decent at almost any sport the school threw at him. He just probably did it all for the girls and boys to fawn over. Who knows, maybe even a student had given him am extra study lesson in exhange for quality time or sports advice.

His tall stature gave him the advantage in the hallways however, despite your constant twist and turns around students and diffrent hallways, his pursuit continued until you reached your locker.

A loud slam erupted from the impact of hand to metal, and your head had shot to your side. One hand on the locker supported his figure, and he stared at you menacingly with a smirk ingraved into his features. Oh how you'd pay to rip it right off.

"Are you done following me, stalker? You won, whatever." You sighed and started to fumble with the combination code to your locker. You didn't understand why you were even nervous, you had no fear for this man at all, you just wanted him gone.

"Stalker? how hurtful y/n! But Besides, I'm not done celebrating. Don't you think I deserve something for my first ever win?" He boasted, you could still see the crumbled up paper that represented his test score smashed agasint the locker.

"I have nothing to give besides my congratulations. Now shoo." You peered stadight into his crimson hues, he was clearly amused by your defensive behavior.

"Well, I guess I should just claim my victory reward then. Every treasure needs hard work anyways" he sighed, and quickly cupped your face with his hands, smashing his lips onto yours.

Your eyes had sprawled in shock, not once during it did your body relax, but you didn't complain either.

He pulled away playfully, a crescent smile was painted onto him, it looked so much better than that menacing smirk.

"I dont remember that being a part of the war?!"

"You don't even remeber the test answers. 85%."

like he smashed ur lips onto yours, you smashed your leg up his

okok I'll stfu

______

shu (love this mf too)

How could you even compete with this man?! If vox was the devil, he was the angel. He was top of your computer science class, and it didn't even look like he paid attention either. Did he join this class just to show off? Or is this some type of help-failing-students-in-computer-sceince program he was in. Your dear freind had failed that class until they got tutor by the magical man, and all of a sudden they improved gradually! We're all your lectures never enough for them?! You were already a decent student in the class, you turned about an assignment or two late every month, but that was just it! So why did he have to show up and "out do" you in anything with such a nice persona?! There was something up, you just knew it. There had to be something sinister and evil about this oh so perfect shu yamino. And it was your death wish to find out!

And the only way somebody would start such a difficult mission is to be with the man himself.

"Aha, Shu Yamino, may I please discuss something with you?" You had asked right when the bell had rung, Computer science was your last peroid, so you didn't think you'd be bothering him as much. He had given you a nod to continue as he began to shut off his computer and collect his stuff, you had gone completely silent until he fully turned towards you with a questioning look.

Honeslty up front he was better looking than you had thought. You never came to realize his highlights in his hair, or the way his middle part resembled a banana more than you had made it seem to be in your head, longer yet slightly thinning hair as it went down adorned his neck and landed at around his collarbone. A v shaped smile and bright purple orbs had just combined everything together. You need to get YOUR act together too.

With a quick throat clearing and straighting of posture, you had finally spoke to your secretly worse enemy;

"I'm. Having...Trouble..?" Was all you can manage to put out. You could've slapped yourself in that moment, now he probably thinks your having trouble trying to form a simple sentence as well. But in response, a breathy chuckle emitted out of his vocal chords

"Trouble? Sure, on what specific topic?" Aha! He bought it so easily! You didn't ever think the nerd would be so easy to manipulate— no like seriously. It's concerning how easy that was.

"I'm having trouble on Algorithm." You blurted, honestly that was one of the most simplest stuff ever, it was honestly a requirement to know that before you took the class. You just sorta blurted it out. He had bought everything you had said so far, but he'd probably now doubt you. He knew you were smart, and knew that you avoided him like the plague. This was too obvious, it's better to abort the mission by no—

"Sure, when are you free? I can do today if that's sounds well."

oh.

"Aha! Great, I can do it.. at the Cafe nearby Lake ave..does that sound well?" Shit. It took all of your willpower to compose yourself. That was terribly unexpected, so much so that you honestly regretted everything. All you had to do now was wait until your doom.

You even forgot what this was all for.

You waited at the exact spot your proposed the idea too. A nervous wreck. You had to remind yourself half way what you were here for.

'Find the bad side of shu yamino'. All you had to do was act terribly stupid! Surely he would snap at you, and you'd finally find out the truth.

But here you were, shu yamino ever so patient. You had done everything! You asked stupid questions, you have fumbled with your paper. You even had thought about going to far lengths like spilling the mysterious drink he bought. You wonder what it even was, it smelled awful. For some reason however, the man never stopped smiling and holding his calm persona. It was a facade, you knew it! All it would take it a final push to break it down, despite everything you knew your were close.

With one more stupid question of repetition, he sighed and put down his pencil. Fianlly, you had succeed—

"Give it up. I know you."

huh? "Did you really think I'd fall for this? I know that your a good student, I just played along with everything. Right when you came up to me I automatically knee what you were up to! But, I enjoyed this date of ours very much."

Wait, date?

You were bummed and embarssed he had caught you, but maybe it was for good. Maybe your mission was just to get closer to shu.

and maybe you could mark it as successful.

________

mysta

How annyoing,, it was terribly difficult to work with that man! You prided yourself in making sure nobody had broken hallway rules, you were never annyoing when correcting and reminding people, but you were when it came to him.

Mysta Rias was not only one the schools pranksters, but the "make-yn-have-the-worst-day-everinator!" He'd constantly run in the hallways, sometimes even using school property to swing himself around like a parkour course! Like your math teacher isn't going to give you extra points becuase you jumped off the water fountain at a 90° angle. Maybe you can use your poor math skills to find out the damage cost of that same fountain.

And there he went again in the middle of transition blocks, shouts of students in discomfort as he pushed past them in a mocking manner. This time for sure you would catch him, you just...also need to push past the sea of people. In a action of haste you also discarded the murmurs and other children's grunts as you rushed past everyone, and you held a firm grip upon the brunette.

Finally, You had caught the mf! Now at it was left was to drag him to the principles office and stop his stupid antics. However, a kid with green eyes stared back at you with fear.

Wrong fucking kid.

The sea of people had cast out into there classes, you held onto the kid in total shock. This was so embarrassing!! YOU GRABBED THE WRONG KID. YOU HAD ONE JOB OML

You heard a menacing irrating laughter behind you, and you new who it fucking belonged to.

"LMFAOO, you deadass thought I was that mf?! Who do you think I am?!" A fucking idiot tbh..

In a mfing FLASH you had grabbed mysta instead, dragging his ass into the direction of the princapls office. He had chuckled on the way there..until he had relized where your actually taking him.

The cocky,, arrogant persona quickly changed into one of desperation.

"Wait, you can't take me there! That will be like my what, 15th visit?! Hey cmon, I thought we were freinds, in fact, more than that!! You can't just betray me like this!!" He had scrambled out of your grip and stood right back up, quickly grabbing your shoulders and putting you in place.

"How 'bout this, if you don't take me there, I'll reward you with..a kiss!"

you gon be a enemy of the state if he keeps this up

_______

luca

Where do I start with the Jock of the school. Definition of, "Bronze but no Brains." Infact, you were probably his brains. You tutored him a lot, much to the jealousy of practically everyone in the school. It was a pain to tutor him, it was like training a dog on how to play card games. He constantly tried to change the subject, and he constantly had tried to get YOU to work out with him. You were never interested in physical activity, you much had rather secured your diploma using academic skills. You honestly thought it was all pointless, you had to be terribly good at the sport to get a diploma, it was honestly heart wrenching to see kids go through it.

But not Luca, Luca had such a postive attuide, it was like he wasn't educated on how the world and school had worked. He believe everyone could get anything. Which is a good way to think about stuff, but it's not good to apply it to everything you do.

Luca had always told you the same exact thing however. "Try the sport! I'm sure you'll be amazing at it!" And you had always told him the exact thing, "No thank you."

You had repeated the same thing every time until it was his Birthday. The 10 of April, right when the temp began to rise into spring bliss.

"Its fmy birthday wish! That's all I want from you. No presents, gift, cake, nothing!" He shouted from across the study room, in which you angrily placed your finger to your lip in a an act to shut him up, but he still persisted.

You need to also teach him that presents and gift are basically the same thing.

"Just try one sport, I'll be your coach! We can do it after school when nobody else is here so you won't feel embarrassed to fianlly move your noodle arms around!"

What a backhanded mf.

You had a headache from his nonsense, to the point you mindlessly told him 'fine' just so you could have a moment to yourself to recover. You had completely forgotten about it, until he dragged you onto the field.

You were already out of breath from running there, now you had to actually play the sport?! You didn't even get a pick! He immediately chose football. He chucked a football towards you, in which you immediately ducked for cover.

You both knew this was going to be a terribly long day.

Minutes turned into minutes, hours into hours, you had completely lost track of everything. You laid on the field in exhaustion, as he joined you a couple minutes later— for some reason. You don't remeber inviting him.

"So! That was fun, yeah?" You had groaned in response, but you wouldn't lie to him, it was terribly fun for once.

"Whatever, my body is going to feel terribly sore tomorrow."

"I could kiss it to make it feel better!"

punch him he has cooties

_________

Ike

He was honestly perfect, and honestly the most sane out of everyone. He was at the top of his class, and had his fair share of sports and extra circular activities. He put teachers to shame with his own knowledge. And that'd exactly where it had lead you to.

Somehow you had managed to get into a AP English class. You never knew why, maybe it was becuase they ran out of people and decided to throw in students who they thought they could do well, or maybe they actually thought you were smart! Option 1 sounds more realistic though.

Your class was assigned another essay to write, and honestly you were ar the verge of a breaking point. ANOTHER essay? You could've sworn you just finished one about an historical white man. But hey, who's keeping track? Your not even keeping track of the your cup of coffee that tipped off your desk.

A huge splash echoed through the class, and a damped feeling sunk into your uniform. Shit, did that really just happen? Your gaze turned to the cup of coffee that was fully ruined, and wasted among the floor. That was going to a pain to clean up.

But wait—that's not even the point! You don't care about how tedious it will be the clean up, you care about all the eyes on you and your uniform! This was terribly embarrassing, you didn't even know what to think, your mind simply went blank. The bi haired male started back at your from the other side of the classroom, and the teacher muttered something before going to grab the janitor. Your mind was completely blank, you could hear kids snickering amongst themselves. You didn't even feel like crying, you just prayed you were dreaming.

Amongst your frantic thoughts, a hand decorated in diffrent rings reached out to you. You had peered up to see the same Bi- color haired male, the same bi colored orbs gazing right back. He had a concerned smile, and he urged his hand closer, signaling you to take it. It was almost like he teleported from his seat to you.

"Your clothes, let's stop by the office to get another uniform." He muttered, and you gladly took it. You rather had been anywhere besides that classroom.

It was silent on the walk there, you were questioning a lot of things, but especially him. You could've sworn he didn't talk to anyone else, you saw him with a freind group once, but that was it. None of his freinds were in the same AP English class either, so it was werid why he was the one to offer to take you.

Maybe he pitied you that badly.

If only you recognized how he always stared at you in class, and it wasn't just becuase you spilled coffee everywhere that one day.

You were a nervous wreck, and he was for a completely diffrent reason.

──────────────────────── it's 1am I'm so tired I'll correct grammer in the morning 🫂🫂

#shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #shu x reader #nijisanji x reader #luxiem x reader #vox akuma #vox akuma x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #luca kaneshiro #luca kaneshiro x reader #mysta rias #mysta rias x reader #mysta x reader #luca x reader #vox x reader #ike x reader #kms

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vegeta-bananabluish · 8 months

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Piccolo X Janet (part 2)

@dbshipsweek, day 7 free day! Piccolo X Janet part 1: Link Ficlets of flustered DB men series: Link

Piccolo pulled his sleeves as far as possible over his hands, but even though it was the most oversized shirt he could find, it still didn't fully cover his wrists, leaving his bright green hands and razor-sharp nails painfully visible. He had never been ashamed of his unique appearance before, and he couldn't understand why he felt that way now. While he impatiently tapped his fingernails on the table, he had wondered why he was putting himself through this.

In the doorway, Janet appeared, wearing a colorful dress and a radiant, sweet smile that hit him almost as hard as a direct Masenko blast.

"Hi Piccolo!" she said as she adjusted the long skirt of her dress to sit neatly. Piccolo pulled the brim of his cap down further over his eyes and grunted a greeting in response. As Janet took off her cardigan and draped it over the chair, Piccolo was at a loss for words and let the conversation fall silent.

Thankfully, a waiter arrived to take their order, just in time to save him from the growing feeling of discomfort in his stomach. “What can I get you, folks?" "Water for me," Piccolo mumbled, observing how Janet's big brown eyes moved along the menu in her hands. "I'll have a cappuccino, please. And the mocha cheesecake sounds good too, so add that to the order," she said, putting the menu back in its holder. "Anything else for you, Piccolo?" Janet asked, her eyes taking him in inquisitively, which he found rather odd. He shook his head firmly, his lips tightly pressed together from the mounting stress.

The waiter retreated to place their order, leaving them in an atmosphere charged with tension again. "You sure you don't want to eat anything, Piccolo?” Piccolo had a growing suspicion that Janet was trying to uncover something he was reluctant to reveal. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest and hid his hands under his armpits. “You'd think a big guy like you would need a lot of calories just to get through the day," she remarked slyly, her eyes scanning his physique, and despite being almost completely covered in fabric, Piccolo suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable.

"No, just water for me," Piccolo replied. Oh, so she wanted to know who he was or where he came from then. Piccolo couldn't understand why he felt disappointed, wishing that she had suggested the coffee date purely because she enjoyed his company.

"No food, ever?" she cautiously asked, as if testing the waters of forbidden and unfamiliar territory.

Piccolo felt his green skin flush with red on his cheeks. Janet had evidently connected the dots, or perhaps the adorable quarter Saiyan in her class had provided hints. He saw no point in denying it and shook his head slowly.

For a moment, Piccolo got lost in her big, brown eyes, reminding him of rich, fertile earth under the sun of a bright, midsummer day. Eyes that allowed him to see through, and behind the glass, it seemed like something was clicking into place for her.

"So..." she began again, fumbling with the delicate jewelry on her wrists and fingers, seeming as if another question was burning on the tip of her tongue. "Do people of your 'kind' ever...fall in love?"

Janet didn't waste any time beating around the bush and the abruptness startled Piccolo to the point that he needed to suck in a sharp breath between his fangs to stay fully conscious. There was so much to unpack in that simple question, but foremost he wondered if Janet asked this question because she had something to gain from it. And in a strange way, he hoped she did.

Janet patiently waited for Piccolo to compose himself. "I'm not..." he stammered. "I'm not entirely sure." he finally admitted, his usually rough voice slightly trembling with uncertainty. "I've never really thought about it before. My life has been focused on training and battles." He thought it best to keep quiet about the fact that his species generally reproduces asexually by spitting out eggs. And that he might not be able to fall in love at all, because it served no evolutionary purpose. But strangely , his curiosity was piqued, judging by a tickling sensation that wormed its way into his stomach. "Would you be interested in…exploring that?" Janet cast her big brown eyes down, and for the first time, she appeared somewhat nervous in his presence . "If you’re capable of that, I mean," she clarified.

Piccolo was amazed at how incredibly cute she looked when she was being shy. He tried to swallow the growing lump stuck in his throat, and almost fell out of his chair when the following words slipped from his lips: "...I—I think so..."

#piccolo x janet #piccoloxjanet #piccolo dbz #janet dbz #piccolo's love struggles #dbshipsweek #DBshipsweek23 #bananabluish

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lashysdomain · 1 month

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Sing me a Song of Scrutiny

The night after Artinos' win has been one of the best he's had in a long time- well, you know, other than ACTUALLY winning.

Apologies and understanding had been reached the night before, along with the plans for celebration. Arti wanted to let his crew go get a good rest in order to party as hard as they could the next night, with Justya having planned the place and time for everyone.

The past few hours had been spent at a high end bar- one of the few Arti hasn't been kicked out of for his weird requests- and as the evening wound down those still up for it made their way to a bowling alley.

Flopping down in their lanes seating Arti takes a deep breath, combing hands through his curled hair; it’s already lost a lot of its bounce, but with how quickly it usually leaves his straight hair he's happy it's even there at all. Just as he's settling into his rest the harsh buzzing of phone against plastic startles him, his crew glancing back at their boss to make sure he's alright before returning to the game.

Fumbling the phone out of his pocket Arti answers, getting up and walking away to take the call in a more private area to not bother the others.

"Hello?"

"Ah- Good. You're still alive," Arti's heart skips a beat hearing the voice on the other end, putting a hand to his mouth to hide that he's smiling. "I've been trying to contact you about your cars extended warranty."

The violet laughs, leaning against a wall while his hand plays with one of the dying curls. "Yeah? That's all? You okay Isatol?"

"I'm fine. I just wanted to check on you since you've been out for so long. I tried to call you a few times earlier but I never got a response, so I got worried."

Oh, right. His phone had rung at the bar an hour into the festivities, but he'd just silenced it. Probably would have been smarter to at least text the person back, oops.

"Ah- Yeah, we were only just getting started... I forgot you don't go to this kinda thing... I'll probably still be here for a few hours."

"Oh.... Alright." Isatol's disappointment is obvious, words briefly catching in Arti's throat at the thought. "Just make sure you come back soon, alright Artinos?"

He stiffens slightly- Isatol always calls him Arti- almost never his full name. Is he that upset? Maybe it has been long enough... Maybe he should go back home.... Isatol asked so nicely, after all....

Wait, but he didn't actually, did he? He didn't ask... Why did he think Isatol had asked him to come home? If anything it sounded like a statement-

The sound of something clicking through the phone snaps Arti out of his momentary brain jumble. "Ah... Y.. Yeah, just a little longer, promise."

Hanging up without a second thought the disoriented feeling the call leaves Arti with brings him back over to his crews lane, slumping back down into his previous seat still looking at his phone on the missed calls screen. Jeez…. One hundred and seventy nine calls? What was Isatol thinking?

"Arti?" Justya's voice startles him, the violet giving her a big silly grin of reassurance but his moirail isn't so easily tricked by the usual idiocy. "Who was that on the phone?"

"Oh uh... It was Isatol.... He was worried because I've been out so long."

"I mean… yeah, we're out celebrating your first win. What'd he think, we'd say hi, do a cheer, and be done?" They roll their eyes, dropping into the seat beside him with a huff. "Clingy much…"

Arti laughs, slinging an arm over his rails shoulders and pulling them close for a half hug. "Yeah yeah.... He's not used to me being out ya know? I'm usually either training or at home.... He tried to call earlier, and didn't get an answer so that's probably part of it..."

"Yeah well he's gonna have to get used to it if he's serious about you," their tone gives way from disdain to annoyance, something Arti's gotten used to hearing when the topic of his mate comes up, "If you start placing high more and more we're going to be in the spotlight, taking on bigger races. You're only going to get busier."

"I'm already busy, silly. He knows most of what I do is always work…. I should probably head back soon though… If I actually play I'm absolutely going to make an idiot out of myself.."

Justya shakes her head, grabbing Arti by the arm to drag him to his feet. "Nuh uh, you're staying and going to look stupid with the rest of us. This is a party for you as much as for us. You're the one behind the wheel."

Whining Arti tries to pull away back to the safety of his seat, lips puckering inward as he thinks of something and struggles to not burst out laughing. "Noooo! You can't do this to me! I'm good with wheels, not balls!"

"I can and will. You're playing at least 1 game." The fact Justya can't contain their own amusement breaks the thin veil keeping his laughter inside, the poor idiot stumbling forward onto the lane, one of the crew shoving a ball into his arms.

Maybe going home can wait for a while.

But he asked so nicely…

#artinos #artinos rp #artinos writing #story songbook #isatol #isatol rp #isatol writing #drabble

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theothersarshi · 27 days

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I don't want to derail @theshitpostcalligrapher's post, so I'll make my own. Anyway, they were really nice to @theworseshitpostcalligrapher on this post, where the latter rewrote the same three words in a similar style in a reblog. (So it's really nice all around - there's acknowledgement of what's going on, there's approval, there's building up.)

And I wanted to share a story.

Back when I was in primary & middle school (grades 1-8 over here in Romania), I was a very, very earnest kid, a bit naive, but when I loved people or things, I really loved them. Keep that in mind for what happens next.

We had 1 hour of Art class/week all throughout middle school, but our middle school Art teacher Did. Not. Teach. I can't emphasize how much teaching didn't happen. We had to have watercolors/tempera and a paint brush, and he'd tell us things like, "Paint something Olympics-themed" or "Draw something for the local theater festival". Then we'd get grades based on how nice our paintings/drawings were. That was it. That was all.

...I found out things like the human body having proportions only when I was already a student, while talking to my future bff. I found out tempera isn't "watercolors, but in a tube" even later. But never mind that.

My middle school best friend had talent, though. She was naturally Good At Art and she came up with this amazing style (well, amazing to us 12 yos) where she made up big drawings out of tiny pencil doodles - asterisks and spirals were among her favorites, I think. It was not quite like typewriter art, because her doodles didn't overlap, but typewriter art + Pointilism + doodles is the best way I can describe it. The rest of us hadn't even thought about using a pencil.

I was in love. And I could sort of understand how she did it, so I started... copying that. I wanted to try it out for myself, do the thing. I changed the basic doodle shapes, but I kept the general idea. (I would have preferred something realistic and colorful, but I had no idea how to do any of that; see: teaching, not happening)

My colleagues called me a copycat (understandable). My mother called me a copycat (*sigh*). Even my teacher called me a copycat (I'm wondering vaguely if that's why he never taught anything, so we'd never end up copying a style we saw, *le gasp*). One must never, ever do what someone else is doing! ORIGINALITY!!!ONE! Figure it out yourself, in your own way!

Adult!Me thinks our teacher could have used this as a Teachable Moment to talk about why her drawings worked and to point us in the direction of similar artists or whatever. Or maybe he could have realized I wanted to learn something and pointed me in the direction of, I don't know, a book about how to draw, maybe. If he didn't want to teach his class himself. But I digress.

I was left feeling bad and like a complete loser. My best friend at the time mocked me, too, because of course she did. As far as I know, when we got to high school she never drew again (we were no longer friends by then, due to unrelated reasons).

It feels particularly wonderful to me to come across people actively encouraging and helping each other to learn, even if they're walking paths others have walked before. I never learned how to draw, but I did learn how to write stories, and there's a lot of fumbling around and imitating others to see what works and why before you become good. It takes so much practice. It's hard.

And sometimes maybe you just want to do The Thing for yourself, and that's also fine. Who the heck cares if you decide to have your own Van Gogh-style painting of your own bedroom on the wall of your bedroom?

Anyway, it makes me so happy when I see creatives being creative and sharing things with others. It's probably very flattering to be the only one at the lonely top, but when you have a community and you can learn from others, everyone wins more.

#and really I'm a bit depressed sometimes #and life feels hard and ugly #so seeing kindness and community reminds me things can be pretty and good

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canvas-madness-txc · 1 month

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Keeping Secrets

"Don't forget." The words swirled around him hauntingly, and Papyrus couldn't shake it as he slowly put the drawing away.

Running his hand over the desk, he caught on something cube-shaped. Picking it up, loud static burst through what he realized was a radio. The radio he was looking for. Fumbling through the buttons, he managed to turn it on.

"IS IT RECORDING? IT IS? ALRIGHT," a raspy voice said through the speaker.

If he had hair, it would have stood on its end. A shiver went up his spine, and a lump formed in his throat. It was them.

The first bit of the message remained garbled no matter how hard he tried to fix it. From what Papyrus could get from some of the understandable bits was it was an introduction.

A shrill cry echoed in the mist.

Papyrus nearly jumped, and from the sounds of it, so had the person recording.

"ALPHYS. IT'S FINE. IT'S FINE. IT WAS ACCIDENTAL, SO THERE'S NO USE IN WORRYING," the stranger continued. The recording went on as the unknown person lamented on projects being worked on by the royal scientists. New assignments. The current state of the underground. Many of which Papyrus remembered from Sans's experiences in the lab. He made note that the stranger was an old colleague of Alphys's. Maybe that meant they were also one of Sans's? There was a tear in his consciousness when he thought of asking Sans of this situation.

Shutting off the radio, he slipped it into an old bag near the chair. Slinging it on his shoulder, he made his way to the exit. Thinking of leaving the room took some weight off his mind. His foot caught something on the floor, and he slipped.

Regaining himself as he slipped, he noticed that the whole lab floor was coated in a lair of dust. The crunch that echoed from underneath him as he walked to the door grated his nonexistant ears.

His footsteps slowly creaked on every step of the stairs. The lab door handle turned slowly. Death lurked in every doorway with hell at one dark window.

Icy fingers gripped his hand in the darkness.

Whipping around, he and Undyne ran into each other.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?" He had been alone— or at least he thought he was...

"You tell me!"

"I ALREADY ASKED YOU!"

The two of them, both huffy and unnerved, stood in silence.

"I HAD TO GET SOMETHING. IT DOES NOT MATTER, I AM LEAVING ANYWAYS," he said while turning around, leaving his lie vague and crumbling. As he walked away from her, he could hear Undyne walking behind him. Catching up with him, the two began to talk again.

"I'll go with you."

"WHY?"

"Because I can," she said with a sly grin. Papyrus knew that arguing with her was not going to lead anywhere.

The two left the castle, and the underground passed by them. His mind whirled around him, like racing winds.

A sharp punch flew into his shoulder, throbbing in agony. Papyrus barely caught himself as he stumbled.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?"

"It's not my fault you weren't responding!" Her face went from accusitory to concern. "You look awful. What happened?" Regaining himself, Papyrus tried to find the words to reply.

"NOTHING," he said at last. It was not a novel response, and the look Undyne gave him confirmed that. That was not going to satisfy her. Of course it wouldn't.

Luckily, she didn't bring it up. For a little while, the two of them walked in silence, letting his mind roam around in peace.

"Stop being grumpy. It's lame." He perked up at the comment. She shoved him playfully, but it felt almost the opposite. It had been a while since something of this sort happened.

"I could punch you right now."

"I'M AWARE BUT THAT HAS NEVER PROVEN TO END WELL BETWEEN US," Papyrus replied.

Not another word was passed between them. His mind felt like a carrousel. Loud. Bright. Dizzying. Without the cotton candy or childhood innocence that sparked enjoyment. There was a hint of unease creeping into his mind like a two-way mirror. He felt watched, and there was no light to shed on who or what was looking.

But now was not the time to get cold feet. Even if his suspiscions were as scalding as coffee. Rain pounded on the two of them as they made their way through Waterfall and entered Snowdin.

At his house, the two of them stopped at the front door, and Papyrus faced Undyne.

"DO YOU WANT TO COME IN?"

"Nah, I'm fine," Undyne replied, shaking her head. "I should probably get back to the lab."

"RIGHT."

Undyne vanished back towards Hotland, leaving Papyrus to his own twisted contemplations.

#underfell #underfell fic #underfell papyrus #underfell undyne

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goroaix · 2 years

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〘 Perhaps Xiao enjoyed mint and flowers more than he thought he did. 〙

Xiao x gn reader. No warnings

Xiao would never say this out loud, but he found himself thinking of them more than he would like. They were always on his mind, lingering at both the best and the worst of times. Really, he didn't know why their face would grace his thoughts but he didn't know whether he should have been grateful or a little irate.

Their visits weren't as frequent, he reasoned to himself, the wind blowing in his hair as he rested on his usual perch of the wangshu inn roof, it is the lack of routine that's putting them centre front in my mind.

Yes, that was exactly it.

The mortal's visits had become a little more scattered simply due to the fact that they had to return to the academy, their dissertation on the verge of being completed and their graduation looming. Just before they'd left a month or so ago they had come to him, speaking of topics he did not understand nor cared to (something along the lines of how hydro elemental energy and dendro affected the local flora and water... Table? Xiao couldn't hope to understand such a thing).

However, he would have also been lying through his teeth if he said that he did not feel the effects of their missing person. He has grown accustomed to seeing the daily, fresh bowl of almond tofu and a side of mint jelly. A scent of the latter plant always lingering wherever they went.

Perhaps this was another reason why he would find his mind drifting. Mint plants were in abundance in Liyue and even in the throes of battle, there was always one or two around.

Hmph. The idea of him being conditioned wasn't one he favoured.

"I'll be back soon," they had said, their smile as bright as ever and Xiao's heart seemed to be the only thing he that he could feel, could understand. "I won't be too long, three months at most, but when I graduate I'll be sure to show you my diploma first!"

Xiao did not know what a diploma was but he didn't have the heart to ask and potentially dampen their excitement. He had instead settled for a nod of his head, his arms folded over his chest. "I will look forward to it," he said simply though meant it earnestly.

Perhaps he should have told them that it didn't matter to him if it would have prevented this monopoly of his thoughts. He pursed his lips and stood up, the wind cool and welcoming as he transported himself down to the ground and the empty grassland which held no visitors of the mortal or monster kind.

There were, however, plenty of mint flowers. Xiao didn't think too hard about his actions, instead reaching out to take the flowers and gently plucking them from the ground. His eyebrows followed in concentration, normally nimble fingers fumbling with the stems as he looped them through one another before finally feeling satisfied with what he had made.

A small flower crown - one that paled in comparison to the ones that they made for him time and time again. However. Xiao did not feel any sense of disappointment at his lacklustre effort, rather, a warm feeling dispersed throughout his chest.

As long as the scent of mint was in the air, Xiao wouldn't mind waiting another two months for their return.

#xiao fanfic #xiao x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #xiao fluff #xiao imagines #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff

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ghostchems · 10 months

Note

I'm sorry if this is triggering, but I'm having a weird few days after being diagnosed with PTSD by my therapist the other day so if I may, may I request the papas comforting a sister of sin in my position? If not all may I have Popia? I'll understand if this is hard or weird to write for, thank you for reading

this is very very short but i wrote it with Copia in mind. i also want you to know that i totally understand how you feel. this exact thing happened to me a year ago! had no idea it was even a possibility. love u anon, hope you like this lil thing!

Papa quickly stands from behind his desk as you finish speaking and is by your side in an instant, pulling up a chair and taking your hands in his. You’re surprised by how swiftly he moves but his touch is more than comforting.

“Keep talking, Sorella, I am here to listen.” He whispers and gives your hand a gentle squeeze. Your eyes meet his mismatched ones and you give a soft sigh. Papa has always told the siblings that he would be here for them when needed. It was always a nice thing to hear but you were never truly sure if the offer always stood.

But here you are. The second you had asked him for some time, he immediately pushed off whatever meetings and had you in his office. He gave you water. He made sure you were comfortable.

“It’s just strange, you know?” You say softly, your eyes drifting down to your hands entwined in his. “It’s a whole different way of looking at things… things that have happened, why I react in certain ways to certain things…” You fumble over your words. His one hand falls to your shoulder and then to your back and gives them a soft rub. “It’s… weird.” You sigh again and bury your face in your hands.

“Take your time.” Papa starts to drive his hand slowly up and down your back. “Take as long as you need, Sorella. I am here for you.”

#papa emeritus iv #comfort #Copia #popia request

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showfallmediamaintenance · 5 months

Text

[Video transcript begin.]

[Humming, as someone walks through the mall, the camera is set in the person's front shirt pocket, they bring their hands up and toss a wrench between them, the person fumbles it as they do it a second time, and they let out a sigh, no longer humming. The person reaches down to grab the wrench.]

?: God damn hands, never do what I want ‘em to.

[Voice identified: The Mechanic.]

[He grabs the wrench again, and continues walking. The lights in the mall become slightly dimmer as he progresses. He passes two other employees, waving almost robotically to them, his movements stiff instead of fluid.]

[After a few minutes, he approaches what appears to be a corpse. Instead of stopping at staring, he just makes a noise of slight disgust, and steps on top of it, continuing his walk.]

Me: Where the hell are the damn janitors? Gross.

[He enters a more secluded area, the lights growing even more dim, he slows slightly.]

[A faint humming is heard, the song is identified as “Ruler of everything.” the person humming skips into frame, wearing a white shirt a black suit jacket, jeans and a Showfall mask. Black hair covers the top of the mask.]

Me: … Hello? Can I help you?

?: [Overly cheerful.] YES YOU CAN! Just the mechanic I was looking for, see there's the busted pipe that's leaking nasty nasty gas into my editing room.

[Voice identified: Mari?]

Me: Shit, really? That’s probably not very good for productivity. Thanks for lettin’ me know. I’ll get right on that. Not really my job, but I should be able to help ya.

[The Mechanic takes a step in the other direction, before pausing, and turning painfully slowly back to Mari(?), staring them down.]

Me: [Long pause.] … Where is that, again?

M(?): Just follow me! I'll lead you to it!

Me: Oh, thanks!

[He walks over to Mari(?).]

M(?): Y'know, it's been tough ever since that one Editor escaped. The one with the brown hair, one eye about as dark as my hair.

[Mari(?) points directly to their hair.]

[The Mechanic laughs, but it sounds forced, his tone and pitch of voice never changing.]

Me: I forgot about that, honestly. A real shame. They were so good at– wait.

M(?): What?

Me: … How do you know their eye color?

M(?): Asked the Archivist for her file, figured it would be nice to know how to be better than her!

Me: I guess that makes sense. So… uh. How long has this pipe been doing that?

M(?): About two and a half days, I've been trying to find the best Mechanic to fix it.

Me: Oh, uh. Hm. Alright, yeah. I’ll have it dealt with in a jiffy.

M(?): So uh, do you have a name or nickname other than Mechanic? I have nicknames to differentiate all the editors.

[A series of joints cracking as The Mechanic quickly turns his head to Mari(?).]

Me: No.

M(?): Then what should I call you? I call everyone in your department ‘Mechanic.’ It gets confusing!

Me: Then just call me Mechanic. Simple. If it’s confusing, then that’s on you.

M(?): How about Fred? You look like a fred to me.

Me: Would you shut u– sorry. No. Just Mechanic.

M(?): Why? Why be so confusing, can I at least have your number.

Me: It’s not confusing. And sure, fine. 12.

M(?): Then I'll just call you twelve. Better than the same thing I call every other mechanic.

Me: JUST CALL ME MECHANIC. IT’S NOT HARD.

M(?): Nuh uh.

[Mari begins humming the song again.]

Me: I am so close to whacking you over the head with a fucking tool box. Just show me where this fucking pipe or whatever is so I can continue with my other responsibilities!

M(?): If you did that my mask might break, then you'd be in big trouble!

Me: [A deep breath.] God. Fine. I don’t even understand why you wanted me to fix that pipe, I don’t even know if that’s part of my job! But we’re already on our way over, so I might as fucking well.

M(?): And I appreciate it!

[The two turn a corner, the surroundings the same as they were when the two started their journey, indicating the lack of progress.]

Me: What the…

M(?): Hm?

Me: Oh, you fucker. I know what this is.

M(?): Huh? The fuck you talking about?

Me: We just went in a circle. You’ve been lying to me this whole damn time, haven’t you?

[Mari(?) stops, stretching out their shoulders clearly thinking.]

M(?): [Their normal tone.] Ohhhhhhhhhh. Right. When you lead people somewhere, there's supposed to be an actual location huh?

[Voice reidentified: Mari.]

Me: Yeah! There is!

M: Welp… Fuck.

[Mari removes the mask, showing their heavily damaged face. Before The Mechanic can respond Mari punches him in the face, he reels backwards and falls to the floor with a shout.]

M: You were supposed to spin. God damnit guess I have to do this the old fashioned way.

Me: YOU MOTHERFUCKER!

M: Sorry this might hurt worse.

[Mari turns The Mechanic around, spinning the camera in the process before seemingly putting him in a choke hold.]

Me: [Slightly strangled, and continues to be so for the rest of the recording.] Let me go, you prick!

M: NOT HAPPENING EDGAR! IF I HAVE TO HEAR YOUR DAUGHTER MENTION YOU ONE MORE TIME I MIGHT LOSE IT!

Me: I don’t– have– a fucking daughter! AND THAT’S NOT MY NAME!

M: YES YOU DO! AND IT IS! YOU JUST DON'T REMEMBER RIGHT NOW BECAUSE OF THE STUPID FUCKING MASK.

Me: Fuck you!

M: NO THANK YOU! I'M TAKING THIS DAMN THING OFF YOU… As soon as I drag you back to the hideout!

Me: I’ll turn you in to the Manager! You can’t just fucking do this!

M: DO NOT MAKE ME KICK YOU IN THE BALLS.

Me: Your threats mean nothing to me, bitch.

M: Ok how about this.

[Mari seemingly gets extremely close to hitting The Mechanic in the crotch, only to stop and laugh. He doesn’t even flinch.]

Me: What are you hoping to accomplish, Editor? You know this will all just end in disaster for anyone you care about. Why try?

M: Because, I know behind that stupid fucking mask. Is my friend.

[Mari begins finally dragging The Mechanic away.]

Me: You’re a fucking idiot. I could alert anyone to the location of your stupid ‘hideout’ as soon as we get there, then it’d be game over. You’re seriously risking it all over some stupid hope that I’m someone you know?

M: Well if you do that I'll just rip the mask off, also you'd have to look behind you to see the location and I'm currently in control of your neck. You move an inch. I'll snap it like a slim jim.

Me: Mhm. Right. I know you’re not going to do that, because it’s always the same with you fucking rebels, you just can’t bring yourself to do it! Pathetic.

M: I shot my own girlfriend point blank in the fucking face. Try again idiot.

[The Mechanic laughs, it lasts for just a little too long.]

Me: Then do it. Snap my neck. Right now.

M: Nope. Not without reason, Showfall isn't winning today you bitch.

Me: You can’t hide forever, Editor. One day soon, you’ll be found. And your corpse will be thrown out like the trash that you are. This is all in vain and you fucking know it.

M: I don't have to hide forever. I'm going to get out, and I'm bringing you with me. You might not be Edgar, but I know he's there somewhere.

Me: You’re even more of a fool than I’d first thought. You’re going to get yourself gutted by security, and when that happens, I’ll be fucking laughing.

M: Like when you got your head bitten off? In the tunnels?

Me: Don’t you fucking dare.

M: Don't be an asshole.

[Mari mumbles something not picked up by the camera.]

Me: I can’t wait to see your ribs get crushed like a soda can. I hope you die, and I hope it hurts.

M: That already happened in high school dude, my ribs still hurt sometimes.

Me: Good.

M: Y'know, let's sing a song. Like a field trip.

[Mari begins singing the song she was humming before, still dragging The Mechanic.]

Me: SHUT THE FUCK UP.

M: Nope! Imma keep singing until I get my friend back.

[Mari returns to singing the song, seemingly enjoying it.]

Me: Are you having fun? Is this seriously entertaining for you?

M: Getting to piss off a Showfall employee? After everything they've done to me? Oh hell yeah, the most entertaining thing this company has done.

Me: I never should’ve offered to help you.

M: Well, what if I wasn't lying? Then a bunch of employees would die.

Me: Would’ve been worth it if it meant I’d never have to see you again.

M: Gotta come up with better material bro, I've heard better from like… High-school bullies.

Me: As soon as you loosen your grip I’m knocking your fucking teeth in.

M: Well now I'm just not doing that.

Me: You’re going to have to eventually.

M: Nope! I can get the mask off even with one hand around your throat.

[Instead of responding, The Mechanic just attempts to kick Mari.]

M: Please stop, that won't work.

Me: Yeah, no. Fuck you. Die.

M: Dude, that’s not going to do anything.

Me: You can’t stop me.

M: I can, it's called I tighten the choke.

Me: You wouldn’t dare–

[Mari tightens the chokehold, cutting The Mechanic off abruptly. Some twitching can be seen as the camera moves slightly.]

M: Tap the fuck out.

Me: [Extremely strangled.] Never.

M: Do. It.

Me: [Still extremely strangled.] No.

M: Then die.

[Mari seemingly slightly lets go, just enough for The Mechanic to breathe.]

Me: Coward.

M: You squeezed my arm.

Me: No, I didn’t. The fuck are you talking about.

M: Just now you squeezed my arm, tell me. Does the name Rose mean anything to you?

Me: No, it means jack shit.

M: You're lying. I was masked once too y'know?

Me: I’m not lying. That name means nothing to me.

M: It has to. Because somewhere behind that mask. Edgar is still there.

Me: You’re hopeless.

M: Na, I have plenty of hope.

Me: Not what I meant.

M: Don't care, didn’t ask.

Me: This little game you’re playing where you pretend that I’m your friend is getting old, Editor.

M: My name is Mari.

Me: Wrong.

M: Nope, tell me. What happens when I take your mask off?

Me: Now, why would I tell you that?

M: I already know dipfuck, I just want to hear it come out of your mouth.

Me: Well, you won’t.

M: You won't be this anymore. I take the mask off, and I win.

Me: Small victories are nothing in comparison to what Showfall has over people like you, Editor.

M: And what would that be? Trauma? Meh, I already go to therapy.

Me: They have the power to snatch all of this away in an instant. You know this, everyone knows this. All it takes is one little push, and everything fucking collapses before your eyes.

M: That's why I'm leaving, with everyone.

Me: You can think you’re leaving, but then you take a glance at someone’s upper left arm, or their shoulder, or their thigh. You can never leave.

M: Laser tattoo removal.

Me: Even then, it remains. Maybe you won’t be able to see it, but you can’t escape it.

M: Yes you can, it's called moving on. Leaving the memory of this place to burn.

Me: If you want to think that, feel free. But don’t say I didn’t fucking warn you.

M: Times up bitch. HEY ROSE GOT YOUR DAD!

Me: For the last time, I’m NOT A GOD DAMN FATHER.

[TRANSCRIPT OVERLAP DETECTED: AUTOMATICALLY ENDING TRANSCRIPT.]

#showfall ask blog #showfall media #showfall #encoreverse blog #transcript

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insomniacsvirtualobservatory · 1 year

Text

"Avoidance x X = Love"

Or in which Kaito is sending mixed signals, and Aiden is oblivious. Hakon offers help with mixed results.

Content warnings: swearing, Kaito tells Hakon to kill himself, Kaito spirals because they're stressed

_______________________

"Hey, Hakon- You know Kaito right?" Aiden sidles up to the frenchman, hands in his pockets with a look of puzzlement on his face.

"Sure I know them! I mean it's a little hard to ignore him when they call you a bastard every time they adress you!" Hakon jests, shaking his head fondly, "Why? Having some trouble with le petit scientifique?"

Aiden hums and leans against the wall, bringing his arms up to cross them over his chest.

"You could say that...He's been acting a little odd-"

"When does he not?"

"Shut up..." The Pilgrim punches Hakon's arm dismissively to which the nightrunner feigns silent agony.

"I'm being serious- He's been...Avoiding me? Like more than their usual ehm...Antisocialness?" he says quietly, "I swear I can hear them breathing in their room but when I knock on the door it's like he ignores me? Or-or when I see him out around the Fisheye they always seem to scuttle off somewhere whenever I try to catch up and talk to him..."

Hakon listens with curiosity as Aiden goes through a short but substantial list of strange occurrences involving the ex-GRE doctor seemingly avoiding him.

"And you're telling me all of this because?" he asks after some thought.

"Well I was hoping that maybe you could well...Talk to them? I'm not mad!" he adds hurriedly, "Just sort of...Worried? I hope I didn't offend him or anything- I mean aside from the fact that he has the most reliable supply of those military medical kits, they've really kind of started to grow on me- as in we're friends now-! I think...I hope-"

"Okay okay, Aiden I understand. You think you've upset him, which isn't exactly hard-" he snarks, earning an indignant look, "-and you want me to be the middle man so that you can ask them what's wrong without actually asking him?" Hakon flashes the pilgrim a knowing look.

"Please? You know I'm not good at talking to him! Especially after I freaked out in their room after they gave me that handmade inhibitor cocktail..." Aiden flushes with embarrassment and hides his face in his hands. Hakon barks out a laugh, unfolding himself from his spot against the wall and shaking his head.

"Oh mon Dieu- You should've seen his poor face- yes! Fine I'll talk to them for you if you stop bellyaching" he chuckles. Aiden sighs in relief and watches nervously as the nightrunner steps away towards the back of the Fisheye, presumably to find the little scientist.

"Salut petit bâtard!" Hakon throws open the door to Kaito's makeshift lab in the Fisheye with reckless abandon. The lab coated scientist yelps and fumbles with his instruments, dropping a few vials of dubious substances on the floor where they shatter and spill all over the hardwood.

"GODDAMN IT! Learn to Fucking knock! You goddamn- you prick! You fucking prick!" They shout, flapping their hands and rising from their desk with righteous malice.

"Yeesh! And I thought my second wife was a bundle of nerves!" Hakon chuckles, closing the door behind him and leaning down to pick up some nearby shards of glass scattered about the floor. Kaito fumes, gripping their upper arms tight and tapping a foot.

"Never do that shit again! And also stop fucking comparing people to your many divorces! It's stupid and the joke is getting old!" he exclaims indignantly.

"You wound me! I was under the impression that you thought I was funny!" Hakon says with a smile, tossing his small collection of glass shards into a nearby trash bin, where they tinkle lightly as they fall. Kaito sits back down waving a hand as they gather up their strewn about tools and papers.

"Well, Frenchman to what do I owe the displeasure of having to talk to you?" they mutter, tapping a small stack of documents into place. Hakon sidles over and leans against Kaito's desk. The scientist shoots him a cold look and flashes their eyes down to Hakon's hands against the wood, but makes no further complaint. The nightrunner flashes a smug grin in return.

"I know why you're avoiding him you know..." he intones, tapping his fingers on the edge of the desk thoughtfully. Kaito freezes up before their head snaps up to give him a look like a deer in headlights.

"Does he know?" they ask worriedly. Hakon shakes his head no and Kaito exhales with relief. "Good! Keep it that way! Or forever sleep with one eye open! Bastard!"

"As if I don't already?" Hakon quips, "Seriously, Kaito! You cannot hide from him forever! He's going to start asking me things and well...I can't exactly avoid giving him answers-"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP! NOPE NOPE NOPE STOP TALKING, KILL YOURSELF!" Katio shrieks, standing up on his chair to brandish a pen with violent intent. Hakon backs away with his hands up, laughing all the while.

"S'il vous plaît, détendez-vous mon ami! Relax! I'm joking! Mostly- but honestly why not just bite the bullet? The worst he can do is say no, eh?" Kaito goes white and sits back down heavily.

"That's the point, Hakon! That is the nightmare scenario!! He says no, and then it becomes awkward to speak to him in a general capacity- not to mention a professional one! He will not ever take me seriously again and then what will I do?! AUUUGHHH NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE!" they pull at their hair anxiously and pull their knees into their chest, tapping his feet on his chair. Hakon sighs shaking his head.

"You're over thinking it again, Kait', it'll be fine! And you know it, stubborn git that you are..." he says quietly, stepping back over to stand next to him again, "If you're really bellyaching about it that much I'll help you, yeah?" Kaito peeks up at the frenchman over their knees with an expression laced with doubt.

"I trust your assistance as much as I trust an ice cube not to melt when put on a hot plate you degenerate..." he mutters sharply

"Fine! Don't accept my help! But im serious about this Kaito, Aiden may be dumb but he's not stupid! He's going to put the dots together eventually and that'll be ten times more embarrassing than if you just talk to him! Pour l'amour de Dieu..." he mutters.

The scientist considers this, mentally weighing the options presented to him.

"...On one hand this could all end in metaphorical or literal tears...You could die, I could die of embarrassment and humiliation...." they mumble

"And on the other hand?" Hakon probes. Kaito remains silent for a number of minutes. Finally he uncurls from his little ball and looks at Hakon sheepishly, or at least with an approximate expression.

"On the other hand I suppose some people, regrettably including myself, would call you reliable and trust worthy...To a point, do not let that get to your pompous head." they answer flatly. Hakon grins and shrugs.

"Ehhh no promises...But I'll take that as a yes?"

"Take it or leave me alone, preferably the latter" Kaito answers with a grimace. Hakon knocks on the wooden desk and straightens up.

"Alright, so how do you want to do this?"

"I'd prefer not to do it at all! But I suppose if you wanted to drag him over here under the guise of a request to do a check up, then that would be an innocent enough deception to engage in a proper conversation...." Kaito smiles maniacally.

"En anglais s'il vous plait?" Hakon asks lazily.

"Lie to him and then bring him to my laboratory! You fucking asshole..." Kaito exclaims, slapping at the air in the nightrunner's direction, to which he raises his hands in surrender.

"Yes yes! I read you, I read you!" He chuckles, stepping back towards the door, hand reaching down to the handle. "When should I bring him, huh? Should I bring candles and wine-?"

"GET OUT!" Kaito throws his composition notebook at Hakon's face, which instead, hits the door with a thump.

#Typewriter.Exe #Dr. Kaito [Redacted]#Dying Light 2 #aiden caldwell #dying light hakon #oc x canon

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annihilatian · 5 months

Text

on the roof she says, oh, doesn't he understand? doesn't he know? and he does know, in the ugliness of the dark. but she's dangerous. sick. he's seen it before, this kind of twisted; it infects down the bone marrow, into the spirit. still, he touches her. caressing her cheek, smelling the softness of her hair as the wind picks up. he can hear the quiet smack of her mouth as she swallows. he knows, and softens to her in kind, opening his arms for her to sink into. forgiveness. her hand was misguided, yes, but she'd trussed up her ritual in name of him, and so—he can fix this. she won't be given mercy in an institution, or in prayer. god's silence will sink into her heavy as stone, and she will be turned over to a padded cell and lost forever to herself. and whose fault will it be? hers, for being lost, fumbling in the dark?

it's his responsibility, he tells himself, to stop her. to stop her, to save her, he wants to save her. if he can save her, he can save anyone. her, pleading with her wet-soft mouth, this is why she takes a good heart and eats it down for god, for him, for justice. this isn't justice, he murmurs in kind—not cruel anymore, feeling the weak and the warm of her. a hand on her shoulder, the other at her hip. thumbing at her tender neck. his bare mouth warm on her scalp, her hair tickling his nose. her pulse leaps, breath hitches.

he can block it out, technically; turn his mind to anything else. the ever-present churn of traffic below. but he doesn't. his own chest clenches. she's venom-sweet and he's swallowing her down with every second passed as their heartbeats align, breathing falls into place. speeds. her hands warm through his suit, sliding up to the seam of his mask. he grasp her wrist, shakes his head—but she doesn't try to lift it, to undo the divide of man and devil. she circles his jaw in her blood-ridden hands, and oh god, she kisses him, awful and tender as a needle into skin.

he should stop this. but her mouth is warm, horribly warm, moving against his with a reverential intimacy. he knows hunger for god like a backhand to the mouth, and he knows adoration with bruises on his knees, and this—wrecked desire, has hounded him all his life. she opens to it, invites it, and he—is not strong enough.

god, forgive him the wanting of it. can he still taste the meat in her mouth? can he still smell blood on her skin? she's malleable under his hands as they collide, thigh-pliant as she wraps it around his hip, drawing him closer, closer to the heat of her. i promise i'll never bite. a lie, her heart says, but a sweet one, one he hums against—he can do this for her. give her this. take her in his hands, take her here. she whispers nothings against his mouth, and he in kind—i've got you.

come, come here. he pushes her back, onto the waist-high wall of the roof. one gloved hand sinks into her hair, arching her neck back, rough-sharp. he trails hard, wet bites on her throat—hungry but not piercing. leaving bruises. . she needs — she needs, hips, flushed heat on his spine, grinding against her, each rhythm and shape of it. her hands claw at his shoulders, her mouth seeking him out. he kisses her hard enough to leave a pulsing bruise; ugly, devouring. he wants to, to be the one to eat. the second skin of his body sits tight and red between them, but she doesn't seem to mind. it isn't matt murdock she sought, and he won't take it off. better like that. there's something ascetic to it, untouchability; never quite feeling more than the pressure of her hands. everything and not enough. never enough. his radar pulses in beat to her heart, a promise like religion just out of reach.

catheryn pleads something—anything—fill the void, help, and he lets go only long enough to tear off one of his gloves--the only skin he can bear to her--and drops it to the ground. too much delay, too much space. "poor thing..." he murmurs, unhooking the button of her pants, running his forefinger over her--and isn't she just. like a lamb bent to the altar, he pulls her taut by the base of her throat, teasing, wet and open, light touches. lighter than his hand about her neck. with every following writhe she gives, he pulls back, a low laugh unfurling. still, her hands scramble, distracting. begging. letting go of her, he presses her wrists to the wall behind, says: "keep them there," not a request, and he slides another finger inside her, rhythmic and slow and constant.

every hitch of her lungs is tracked, noted, sensation flooding around him as he keeps pace, pushes another one inside her, tells her how good she's doing; praising her little sounds, letting her dig her heels into his spine. he might be smiling, breathing roughly. heady. his skin is burning inside his suit, craving contact; but it's the good kind of hurt, a hook in his stomach tugged forth.

catching her mouth again, he swallows her groan, sinks his teeth into that bottom lip of hers. as she comes, he fucks her through it, too much, she gasps, she lets her hands slip, back onto him—sinking uselessly against the padding of his skinsuit. maybe, a little, he wants her to hurt too. aberrations of the self, wanting to decreate communion, meat and flesh as an act of god undone; consumption as an act of devotion. and who is he, in this, her undulating illness? figure-framed, idol-bound.

#angelmaker #coefficience #sucking & fucking era!#anyways. sorry.

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rotp-on-ao3 · 2 months

Text

Okay, My Psych Lovelies

I understand that this isn't Bury Me or my Untitled ABO Fic, however! I have a feeling this ficlet will tide you over until I can bang out Bury Me's ending. It’s set similar to my ABO fic, but might not be part of it. Keeping that vague as an option in case I wanna put this in.

(P.S. As a stylistic choice, anything italicised is either remembered dialogue or dialogue layered with the voices that once said them. Also, if you happen to spot any errant crocodiles [ > < ], let me know. I'm sure I got them all, but crocs, man[gender neutral].)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: How We Fucked Up So Bad/We Were Teens

Category: M/M

Fandom: Psych

Pairings: Brief Shawn/Gus, Pre Shassie

Characters: Shawn Spencer, Carlton "Lassie" Lassiter, Burton Guster (Mentioned), Henry Spencer (Mentioned), Unnamed Motel Owner (Mentioned)

Warnings: Mentions Of Underage Sex (The Shawn/Gus), References To The Shitty American Sex Education (Burn In Hell Reagans), Mentions (And Brief Statement) Of Abusive/Sexist Language

Summary: Shawn talks about the why Gus is painfully straight in a universe where everyone is inherently bisexual.

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"Did you know I'm the reason that Gus is straight?" Shawn asked as soon as Carlton stood next to him on the practically abandoned pier. "Of course, Gus would never say it was, but then again, he's a fantastic friend like that."

They stood in silence for a few beats before the omega turned around to gaze at the people instead of the water. "But then again, I'm sure the trauma of that day had blocked it from his memory.

The alpha stayed silent, assessing the younger man out of the corner of his eyes. He wondered where this was going.

"You know that male omegas basically function the same as women, right? So even guys that say they only go for women will occasionally go for a male omega. Not Gus." Shawn's hazel eyes took on a faraway look, as if living through the memory. "We were just clumsy teens, trying to figure shit out before we ended up having what could've been meaningless sex. Henry had to ruin that."

The alpha's head jerked around, so he could gaze at the omega in confusion. Shawn huffed a wry chuckle at the movement. "Hard to believe that kind of thing happened, right? Because we treat each other like brothers? That treatment only happened after that day."

Blue eyes softened. Guilt was faintly layered in the brunette's words. The older man finally spoke. "What happened?"

Shawn gave a faint humourless smile. "We were, oh, 16 or so. Knew next to nothing about sex, beyond using condoms, yay public education!"

It would be very easy to imagine the day alongside the retelling. To see it play out. A couple of teens on a childhood bed. A pack of condoms between them. Embarrassment colouring their cheeks. Easy to hear what was said that day in a more younger voice layering over the older voice.

"Come on, Gus! It doesn't have to mean much. Wouldn't you rather have a safe environment where we can laugh at each other? Instead of being laughed out of the backseat of your own car? It was a rather persuasive argument for a couple of teens. We fumbled, we laughed, and then found a rhythm. I'll spare the details." The imaging faded to just seeing a teen's door. One could imagine the various 'Keep Out' signs and warnings littering the space. One could suspect they went largely ignored. "Henry was supposed to have been working late. He wasn't even supposed to be home. Still don't know why he was home."

Watching in his mind's eye as Henry entered the house, pausing at the strange sounds, and silently creeping up the stairs, Carlton could almost understand much of Shawn's disdain for the man. "Really says a lot about him that he didn't clock what was going on before he barged in with his weapon drawn. Or maybe he did and just thought- I dunno."

"What the hell is going on here?!" (Faintly, carried on the wind.)

"Thankfully, Gus wasn't reckless and stalled any movement. That wouldn't have been a fun ER visit." Shawn gave another humourless smile. "Jesus, dad! Learn to fucking knock! Closed doors mean something to people, you know?! Gus was careful and I know any girl he gets with will be lucky to have someone so considerate."

And Carlton could almost see it clear as day: The teens, only partially visible over a younger Henry's shoulders, were using the blanket to preserve at least some modesty. "It was super weird to hear Gus' actual name after integrating the nickname into daily life."

"Burton. Get dressed and haul ass home." (Harsh, like a particularly icy breeze.)

"The first and only time Gus ever hesitated at what my dad had told him what to do. It took Henry barking out a 'Now!' to get him moving." It was small, but a fond smile found its way on the omega's lips. This was the easiest to imagine. A young Guster unsure of leaving his friend with a visibly upset father. The man snapping at the boy, getting him moving. A heartbroken smile on a teen Shawn's face as he watches his friend go.

"Henry yelled at me for hours. Flinging all sorts of slurs and epithets at me. Told me that I shouldn't rope Gus into any of my sick games like that and 'Thank fuck you were at least using protection so you couldn't tie the poor boy to you in some irreversible manner!' Eventually, he exhausted himself and I could go shower."Carlton could see the tears on the teen's face; expression set in cold fury, even as the tears kept rolling. He wouldn't rage after, no. He'd lock it away.

Carlton could see that, just watching as the omega recounted the event. The smouldering embers of a long banked rage, flared to life in those beautiful hazel eyes.

"Then came the start of my long list of ever changing careers. I left that night, once I was sure that Henry was well passed out." Shawn paused as he mulled over his words. "Don't know why he didn't alert every cop in the area after he was notified I wasn't in class."

From what Lassiter could suspect, it was a pride/ego/image reason. It would say to his colleagues, 'I can't keep my child in line.' It said, 'How can I do my job, if I can't keep my home life in order.'

Leaning bodily on the railing, hesitatingly, Carlton asked, "Where did you go?"

"Walked my bike a couple of blocks before riding off aimlessly. Ended up at an omega-run motel just north of town." Shawn lent his head back, gazing vacantly at the clear sky. (Seagulls swooped in and out of his line of sight, though he barely noticed them.) "Seems just yesterday, I was pleading with the owner to let me work menial jobs in exchange of lodging."

And the older man could see it. A young Shawn, duffle strapped across his body, walking his motorcycle a few streets down in the dead of night. Driving around, until exhaustion started to hit. Finding a motel and hoping they would look the other way, only to realise he didn't have the cash to stay.

"Please! I can work for lodging! Housekeeping, desk work! Just… please…" (Fervent pleading turning to a whispered beg.)

"The owner took mercy on me. Let me stay, as long as I completed all the busy work set for me. Stayed for a couple of weeks, until I felt okay enough to go back. The owner made sure that's what I really wanted." The barest of smiles flashed on the brunette's lips.

"You're running from something, honey. You sure you wanna go back?" (Concern was clear as the day they were having. Bright and confusing.)

"Told 'em, 'Can't run forever. Gotta face it at some point.' Turns out, I never had to face it." Shawn's face was worryingly blank, as if emotion fled from him. Carlton shuddered. "Went to class that day, late. Gus was asking if I really should be at school. Citing that I'd been recovering from a bad case of the flu. Not even a hint of what we'd done when I asked later. Just a 'What're you talking about? We never did anything that night. You were coming down with something and I didn't want to catch it.' And Henry…

I'm sure Henry knew something broke that day. We never had a normal relationship and from that point, we never would. He covered for me by telling the school that I had the flu, so he must've felt something." Blinking, Shawn put his head in his hands and scrubbed them down his face. His gaze locked onto the pier's planks. "Didn't even yell at me for up and leaving in the middle of the night. Just told me, 'I'm glad you felt well enough to go to school, kid.' It was something."

The two detectives stood in silence after that, unsure of what to say. The sea breeze gentle as it moved past them.

#rotp ficlet #psych #psych ficlet #shawn spencer #carlton lassiter #alpha beta omega #rotp update #burton guster #henry spencer #sexist language #pier talks #chats at the pier

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