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gracieheartspedro · 4 months

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Your Needs, My Needs

THE PRELUDE

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: you have made it to your new home in taylor, texas. your anxiety of owning your our home and being alone is coming to a head, but you need to be productive. a trip to the local furniture turns into you meeting some locals and your new cowboy neighbor.

word count: 3.7k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, description of small age gap, joel being a sarcastic shithead. sarah is canon, so joel is a dad. distracted driving. talks of consuming food. reader has mental illness, mainly described as anxiety, but could be other illnesses. I make it pretty vague. the reader likes football? lmfao

author's note: this is the prelude to the many parts I have planned for these two. this is sort of just setting up everything. I want a slow burn for these two, so hopefully these first couple parts make you guys sweat with anticipation. I also wanna quickly thank all of you for the love on the preview of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it! let me know what y'all think. YEEHAW!

“Sign here and she’s all yours.”

When you brought the pen to the dotted line, you knew that this was going to be the start of your new life.

While you were nervous about taking on such a huge project, you were ready to find solace in your alone time and work on yourself along with the beautiful farmhouse. You needed some peace and quiet, anyway.

She was set on 20 acres of land on the outskirts of a small town called Taylor. The land looked like something out of a movie, it’s rolling hills and sprawling fields.

The house was about 130 years old and needed a lot of TLC. You found it online after hours of scrolling. It was still liveable, but the older couple who owned it before moved to a retirement community and could not keep up with the maintenance. When the inheritance hit your bank account, you called the local realtor and told them you would be flying out there to check it out. When the car pulled up the long driveway, you knew that it would be yours.

Texas was a new start for you. And boy, were you ready for it.

You did not have a lot to move in, just a small UHaul full of boxes of clothes and miscellaneous trinkets. You left your furniture in your shared apartment in New York. You needed to find something that was more your style, anyway.

You moved everything yourself. You were not sure you were ready to trust anyone to help you move in. You knew no one locally, anyway.

It took about three days to get settled, and by that, you simply put up a shower curtain and finally put sheets on your mattress on the floor. You had also created a laundry list of random things you wanted to get done around the house in the next month. Priority number one was getting the bathrooms working. The toilet downstairs doesn’t stop running and your upstairs one won’t flush at all.

You decided that today was the day you would go out and buy some furniture for your living room and bedroom. You would also inquire to some locals about a plumber. It would take you days to work up the courage to reach out to someone in the phone book, so here’s to hoping you just run into someone on the street.

You hop into the sedan that you were renting until you could buy a car. It was nice but it was no match for your long dirt driveway. You already expected to pay extra for all the dings on the exterior.

The roads that lead into Main Street are long and winding. You loved driving, so when it was nice enough to put the windows down, you did so.

Since there’s no one on this specific stretch, you decide to switch the CD you had shoved into the disc drive, opting for another mix you had made years ago. The radio never played what you wanted, especially the local stations in Taylor.

In your distracted scramble for the CD, you don’t take note of the large stallion running next to your car. The CD is wedged between the seat and the main console and your fingers cannot reach the awkward position.

You’re not speeding. But when a giant horse runs out in front of you, you can not hit the break quickly enough. You stop breathing, bracing for impact. You jerk the wheel slightly, swerving away from the steed. Before your front end can make an impact, the horse is snatched back towards the divot in the road.

You are in complete and utter shock over how abruptly it all happened.

Your eye eventually catches a man on horseback, his cowboy hat shields most of his face, but you are more focused on how built this man looks. His biceps were straining against his button-up shirt as he held the lasso taut against his chest. His legs were locked around the brown stallion he was on, his jeans riddled with mud and dust. He had dark curls that peaked out from under his hat.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You yell, your car slowly inching forward from its spot in the middle of the road, “Where did that thing even come from?”

The mysterious cowboy just shakes his head and trots away, clicking his tongue to guide the horse back into the field.

Your heart felt like it may leap out of your chest. A car was chugging down the road ahead of you, so you knew you had to move out of the way. You turn into your lane and slowly start down the road again.

You do not even bother trying to find the CD, again. You would rather sit in complete silence.

When you make it to the small stretch of downtown, your heart rate slows down. You spot a local furniture store that looks a bit dated. It was your best bet plus, you wanted to stand on solid ground and gain your bearings.

You parallel park rather terribly and hop out of your car. You huff loudly, throwing your purse over your shoulder and slamming the door behind you.

A hot cowboy saved your life.

It’s the most Texas thing that’s happened to you since you moved here.

You head inside the storefront. A smaller white-haired lady sits at the front desk, her head in a gossip magazine.

“Well, hello there,” You muster in your best cheery voice, trying to act like you did not almost die, ��I’m lookin’ for some furniture.”

She chuckles as she places her reading next to the register, “Well, you came to the right place, sweetheart.”

You return the laugh, glancing around the large store. Couches and recliners in rows in the front, wooden bed sets lining the back wall. You were so indecisive, you were not completely sure where to start.

“I need a bedroom set and a couch or two. I just moved into th-”

“The old Caldwell farmhouse,” She cuts you off, hopping off her stool, “Saw you movin’ in a couple days ago. My boy is your neighbor.”

The joke about small towns is always true, you know that already. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You could not shit without someone knowing about it.

You raise your eyebrows, acting like you’re shocked she knows about you already. “Yes, that’s right. Your boy?”

“My oldest son, Joel. He lives across the way from ya,” She starts gesturing towards the couches, “Pop a squat on one and see which one ya like.”

You end up sitting on every couch before landing on a brown leather one with a matching loveseat. The old woman is a great saleswoman on top of being sickly sweet. She told you since you are one of her first customers of the month, she would give you a great discount on a coffee table. You were a sucker for a good deal.

You knew what bed set you wanted immediately. It was a light-washed wood with tall pillars sticking out of every corner. It came with two matching dressers and one nightstand. It was only you, so you didn’t quite care about another side table anyway.

When the lady starts tallying up your total, you watch the slow-moving downtown. A couple walking across the street into the small diner. An older gentleman walking his small dog. The rickety old trucks that loudly took up the roads.

You’re so stuck in your head, you don’t even hear what your total is. All you do is hand over your credit card. She smiles and giggles as she swipes the card.

“So I’ll have my boy deliver it to you tomorrow. He is busy workin’ today, but I’ll have him get it to you. He’s quite the handyman, always busy doing jobs around town. Will you be home in the morning?”

You would have to have some strange man in your home to set up the heavy wooden furniture. It made the hairs on your arm stand up. You knew you would not be able to haul it all, so you had to take the leap of faith and hope and pray this frail old lady’s son is not a serial killer. Or stalker. Or both.

You needed your furniture, after all.

It will be okay, you tell yourself.

“U-uh, I will,” You swallow, “I don’t work right now, so I’ll be home all day.”

“Oh, goody! I will send him your way in the morning. He may have his brother with him just to get the bed up your stairs, but I promise they are good boys. If they aren’t, you come to me and their mama will deal with them.”

You laugh nervously, “Of course, thank you so much.”

–

You had woken up late, your anxiety creeping up on you last night. Your brain would not stop racing. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am. You hop out of bed around 10:30 and wrap yourself in a cardigan. You have been leaving all the windows open at night, but you can tell the seasons are shifting because it gets so cold at night.

The doorbell rings and it’s like your heart falls out of your chest. You know that after you open this door, you’re welcoming in someone completely new and unexpected and it makes your whole body jitter. You make your way to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it.

Of course. It’s him. The hot cowboy.

It made sense. The endless green across from your home had to be part of his property. The road you almost died on yesterday was right beside his land. His house was tucked right across from the end of your driveway, with countless barns spread across a couple of acres.

You were secretly hoping he would be some silly-looking hillbilly, but instead, you find out your delivery man is the ridiculously attractive cowboy from the day before. His hair is tidy and dark without the cowboy hat on. It’s peppered with some white hairs, but it only adds to his appearance. His flannel has the top three buttons undone and his jeans are stained with age. You are finally able to get a good look at his face with no shadows covering his permanent scowl.

He had to be about 10 years older than you. You were not too far off from wrinkles, but you were still young enough to bear children without being considered geriatric.

He squints at you when you swing the door open. The sun is hitting his eyes, highlighting the warm rich brown color.

“Howdy neighbor,” He greets, a small smirk plays on his lips, “’m Joel. Nice to meet you officially.”

You introduce yourself, trying not to stutter as you say your name. He made you nervous. You chalk it up to just being nervous around men in general. But it’s the way his eyes trailed you as you moved just slightly.

You feel the need to clear the air because of the way he’s staring through you.

“And uh, listen, about yesterday,” You try to apologize, but he cuts you off by raising his hand.

“Wouldn’t be the first time an outsider got themselves hurt bein’ reckless down the backroads. Just glad you didn’t hit my horse.”

The response has a bit of a bite to it. You back up a step, your body also taken aback by his directness. You are used to confrontational people, but you’re not used to Southern folk being that way.

“No, next time I’ll aim for the ditch and tell my insurance that there was a silly cowboy in the road that I had to miss.”

You can tell by the sheepish smile on his face that he was not expecting you to be feisty.

“Don’t think they’d give ya’ much money for that,” He says in a hushed but matter-of-fact tone.

You relax your shoulders, trying to collect yourself. “Probably not.”

He turns back to his truck that has your bed frame in the back of it, disregarding the previous statements. “My brother is comin’ by in a few to help me get this stuff in.”

“Well, let’s not let all the air out of the house right now,” You extend the door wider for him. You are giving this man full access to your home now. You try to suppress your obsessive thoughts and instead decide that you know exactly what you can have him do while you wait. You remember his mom told you he was good with his hands, and since he wants to be snarky to you in the comfort of your own home, you would try to pick his mind about some of your home projects. “Come in, let me ask you something.”

You begin, gesturing him into the entryway. He accepts the offer, kicking his boots off on the porch. You appreciate his thoughtfulness and for a second, you realize you may be the asshole.

“Mama told you I was a handyman, didn’t she?”

You giggle, finding it funny that he could read the situation you were about to put him in. “She sure did.”

“She needs to stop tellin’ folks that,” His accent is so thick and syrupy, that it makes your insides tingle, “Got too many people askin’ me to fix their stuff.”

You guide him to the bathroom right off the living room and kitchen, “You know much about plumbing?”

“I’m assumin’ you don’t,” He mutters, “What do you have goin’ on?”

You point to the loudly running toilet, “This thing won’t stop running no matter what I do.”

“Well, what have you tried doin’?”

You both stand in the hallway, you looking up at him with furrowed brows, him looking down at you with anticipation. He was quick-witted, and you started to hate how much you liked it. He gave your sassiness a run for it’s money.

“I’ve flushed it a bunch of times. Cursed at it and kicked it,” He stares at you blankly. It makes your stomach roll, “Jesus, Cowboy, can you give a girl a break?”

He enters the narrow bathroom, approaching the toilet like there may be a bomb in it. He reaches towards the handle and jiggles it violently, which makes you giggle a bit. That’s exactly what you did.

“So, why here?” He questions, squatting in front of the bowl. He continues to mess with the handle while you process his no-context question.

“What Texas or this bathroom?”

He chuckles, his smile spreading across his beautifully tanned skin.

“You got tons of jokes, huh?”

You don’t respond, just shrug your shoulders. He stands up, wiggling the top of the tank off the toilet. You watch his hands lock onto the sides of it, ensuring it will not drop off and shatter on the dated tile.

“Texas,” He strains, freeing his left hand to mess with the handle. You lean against the door frame.

You are not even sure why Texas. You just needed to get as far as you could away from New York. You did not want your past to catch up with you, and you did not want to get stuck in a city again. But you could not share all this with a random stranger. He may be in your house, looking at your commode, but you can’t completely trust him yet.

“I just wanted a change of scenery. I always wanted a farmhouse.”

“Lots of upkeep,” He jabs, doing one more once over of the tank, “‘M thinking you may need a new float or chain. I can get my tools tomorrow and come over to fix it. May need to order a new part, though.”

You push off the wall, arms still crossed over your front. He puts the top back on and finally makes eye contact with you.

He would come over again? To fix your toilet?

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, ‘m sure it’s the chain or float.”

“No, I m-mean,” You start to stumble over your words. You swallow, collecting yourself for a moment so you do not look crazy to him. “Are you sure you’re okay coming back over?”

He gives you a thin-lipped smile, “What are neighbors for?”

His brother arrives in a rickety old truck at about 15 past 11. He looks a lot like him, but shorter. He has those same eyes though, permanently tired.

“Nice to meet ya, ma’am. ‘M Tommy.”

You grab his hand to shake it and he lingers a bit longer than you anticipated. Joel stayed on your front porch, putting his boots back on to start unloading the furniture.

You are thankful the weather was kind today, especially since every evening this week has been stormy. The sun was beating mighty hard on the men as they collaborated on getting your furniture inside.

While they get everything set up, you busy yourself making lunch. You get the bright idea to make them each a sandwich. It’s the least you could do.

You pile the cold-cut turkey and cheese onto the white bread you had, topping it with some mayo. When you hear their footsteps trailing down the stairs, you race out with the sandwiches on a porcelain plate.

“For your troubles,” You say before standing in their path to the door. Tommy smiles brightly, instantly snatching a sandwich from the plate.

“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a big bite, humming in satisfaction. He walks around you, leaving you standing in front of Joel. His eyes are piercing, his lips ajar a bit, but nothing is coming out.

“Turkey and cheese, I promise.”

He reaches out grabbing the sandwich from you, “No sweet tea to go with it?”

Your heart sinks, instantly becoming self-conscious of your decision to be nice to these hicks. He was so intimidating with his steely expressions and broad shoulders. There was an essence about him that did not speak to his stone-cold exterior. It was more gentle. But you could only see hints of it when he smiled.

He can tell the wheels in your head are spinning. Before you can speak, takes a bite of the sandwich and shakes his head.

“‘m kidding, Yankee. Thank you, I ‘preciate it.”

You settle for letting out a long sigh and returning to your kitchen. You spend a couple of minutes, putting back all the ingredients in their proper places.

You hear Tommy yell for Joel, his voice kind of panicked. You race out the front door and see Tommy balancing your coffee table off the side of the truck. Joel is running to his aid, the dust from your driveway kicking up behind him. You hold your breath watching Joel help him balance the wooden piece of furniture.

“Can’t have you breakin’ your back before homecoming,” Joel fusses, guiding the legs of the table to the ground, “You know damn well Maria would have me, too.”

“Yeah, what’s a homecoming game without the head coach?”

You perk up, instantly becoming interested in the conversation that you weren’t supposed to be listening in on. The two men lift the table and start heading your way, right on the threshold.

“You coach football?” You ask Tommy, trying not to show your excitement. You loved football, it reminded you of Sundays with your grandfather. You never got the privilege to go to an actual game, even in high school.

“Yes, ma’am, for the local high school in Taylor. We are gonna make it to the state championships this year.”

You glance at Joel when he says it. He rolls his eyes, “Gotta win at least one game to do that, Tommy.”

They place the coffee table right in front of your new leather couch. Tommy grunts, trying not to argue with his brother in front of a strange lady.

He can’t help himself, though. He instantly snaps back at Joel.

“You know them boys have been practicin’ day in and day out. Why ya gotta be so negative?”

Joel places his hands on his hips, “Cause Sarah told me the guys in her grade are a bunch of dummies. I highly doubt they are ready to kick Georgetown’s asses.”

Tommy starts towards the door, “Just cause Sarah says it, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“I believe my honor student daughter before I believe my dumbass little brother.”

You are not shocked Joel has a daughter. You are just shocked that she’s in high school. He looked too young to have a teen, but then again, he did have some grays sprouting. You cross your arms over your chest, watching Joel scoot the table across your hardwoods.

You’re staring at his hands, trying to conjure up a wedding ring on his left finger. But there’s nothing. Maybe he did not wear it when he was working. Maybe he just forgot to put it on this morning. Maybe his passive aggressiveness towards you was simply to ensure there was distance between you and him, giving you subtle hints that he was taken.

He finally glances up at you, stopping in his tracks when he notes your gaze.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

You have no clue what to say because you are so trapped in your head about him. He’s a stranger, god damn it.

“N-no, everything is okay.”

“Don’t look it.”

“I just was not expecting the coffee table to look so dark against the hardwood,” you lie, pulling whatever you could think of out of your hat, “Doesn’t it look dark?”

Joel looks between the floor and the table, shifting in his stance, “Don’t know bout that.”

“O-oh okay.”

“Alright, well we got ya all set up now,” He starts to head towards the entryway. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow with that part for the toilet. I’m expectin’ another sandwich for that one.”

You grab your front door as you wave to Tommy as he heads for his truck. He smiles and gives you a head nod. Joel turns back to you, his ears perked up for a sarcastic jab from you.

You think back to something he said to you earlier. You crack a smile, “What are neighbors for?”

PART 1 COMING SOON!

taglist (ppl who asked to be tagged): @joeldjarin @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @mysaviorjoelmiller @brittmb115 @missladym1981 @jasminedragoon

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #cowboy!joel #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller angst #joel miller tlou #joel x reader

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solarpunkani · 10 months

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hi would like to make this clear that this is gonna be an unhinged rant about my college classes.

For context, one of my classes is a semester-long group project (hell) and I pitched the idea of solar powered community fridges to my group and we rolled with it. Here's a post i made on it previously. We don't have to make the fridges themselves, basically just talk about the problem our concept addresses (food insecurity in this case) and how we think this concept would work and how, in a hypothetical reality where we made it real, we would test to see if it worked.

Anyways we had to post the rough draft of our presentations so people in other groups could see what we were doing and comment on them with their thoughts and all. Yknow. Classic 'college class discussion board have to reply to at least one project with quality feedback' stuff. And

Man.

I am so frustrated.

Highlights:

My group keeps insisting that we should have an app for the solar fridges. I don't know why they think app design needs to fit into community fridges but they put it into the draft posted to the forum.

In this case they proposed the app would be kinda like Instacart? Where people who want to donate to the fridges but don't have groceries on them and don't feel like going to get groceries can put in money and then people will then go buy the groceries to put in the fridge. Or use the funds to help with fridge maintenance. And the fridges would have 'QR codes, links, etc. to connect community members for the common cause of helping tackle food insecurity in the community.'

Lots of the comments were pretty good! People liked the idea. There were some concerns about insulation and keeping things cool with low energy cost (the program is online but the college itself is in Georgia USA so many people are in Georgia) but yknow.

But the frustrating part to me I guess is that a lot of people seem convinced that people would use the fridges 'unfairly' and that we'd need to find a way to restrict how much food people can take out or how many times they can use it or something. Which frankly in my opinion defeats the purpose of it being a community fridge. Here are some examples of things people have said so far (comments are due tomorrow evening but I'm mad now so I'm venting now):

One student said "How will you know if the pantry is being utilized fairly?" and "How will the app work? In a dream world, this might be a way to help with tracking and accountability. (Just a thought…) Maybe folks would need to sign up on the app, they get a code… and the fridge acts as a sort of vending machine to deliver what they need. This would give you data to measure success. :)"

Which. I just. This feels completely antithetical to the purpose of a community fridge??? Or a community anything???? Little free pantries and little free libraries don't operate on a 'you get a code to access it once' vending machine basis?? We even mentioned community farm stalls/community pantries in the draft write up! And showed examples!

Another student said "Great thoughts. I am concerned about one person taking all the food for themselves. It might be a great idea to have them in an enclosed area with access control through the app that would log and lock out people who are overusing the resource. Perhaps a barcode could be added to Apple Wallet to track each individual's arrival? Possibly having a mechanized lock and opening mechanism that would only allow each fridge to be open for a specific time before automatically closing and locking? Each scan would only allow access once each 24-48 hour period, preventing "password sharing.""

I cannot emphasize enough that this is the comment that has brought me here today because with all due respect what the flying fuck do you think is the point of a community fridge! I'm already prickly about the idea of limiting access to the fridge itself to only people with cellphones, but to this degree?! Like maybe its because I'm the one who came up with the concept and I care about terms like 'mutual aid' and 'community building' and 'judgement free accessibility to food' but have these people not heard of the concept of helping people?!?! With no strings attached?!? If someone takes all the contents of a community fridge or pantry--which, seriously, how likely is that--they're probably hungry and need it! The concept of putting community resources behind a lock and limiting accessibility is just repulsive to me???

Like someone else commented with this excellent point--"As several have addressed above, I am also wondering how would you monitor use? If you use the simplicity of the honor system, it could easily be taken advantage of. However, I feel like if you were to create some sort of access code, how is it to say that they people needing the use of the fridge will have access to the necessary technology to get the code? It's a tricky situation to think about." For the purposes of this hypothetical assignment where we'd need to track how many people are using the fridges? Yeah I guess we'd need to be able to track how many people use it and when. But in reality??? In real life reality where people are living and struggling and hungry??? I just don't really give a shit!! Helping five people is better than helping none, and locking access behind technology everyone pretends is universal but really isn't is not the way to help!

And of course one of my groupmates is already commenting on all these posts like 'oh! I really like the idea of restricting access to a code! :)' even when someone said 'hey my family struggled with food insecurity when I was a kid and I think this would be helpful but not if you could only access it with an app some of the most vulnerable citizens wouldn't be able to access it I wouldn't have been able to access it' my groupmate was still like 'oh but that wouldn't be a problem today now would it? :) Maybe we should make a way to get a code without downloading the app :)' like maybe there shouldn't be an access code in the first place?!?!

Like am I crazy or like. What the fuck. Again I am here so I don't blow up on a bunch of masters students in a discussion post but like UGH

"you gotta be able to gague if the people who're using it are the people who actually need it" food insecurity can look so many different ways for so many different reasons and you can't always judge by appearances and income levels who is struggling to feed themselves or their families!! There are people who have nice jobs who are struggling because they're caring for sick family members or kids or dealing with student loans or ANYTHING! There are people with nice clothes who are trying to decide between buying groceries and paying rent! There are people living in their cars or couch surfing looking for jobs who also happen to own an XBox or a Laptop!!! "Sorry you can't access the community fridge because you don't look poor and needy enough to me. but if you do, good news--you can only use it once every 48 hours so make it last!" Bullshit utter bullshit.

I talk to people in my life about things like community fridges and little free pantries and mutual aid and the like and people are always like 'ok but theres gotta be strings attatched' BUT ACTUALLY NO THERE DON'T GOTTA!!! Maybe we could change how we view our fellow human beings and stop assuming that everyone around you are greedy little demons looking to ruin everything good and that you are the only holy and righteous saint on the streets who understands the concept of 'community resources' and 'sharing' maybe??? It's like that post about community fruit trees where people are like 'oh but what if people steal all the fruit' like HELLO? how do you STEAL a PUBLICALLY ACCESSIBLE RESOURCE

I'm tired of this goddamn class I'm tired of this goddamn group project if anyone actually has the ability to make a solar powered community fridge you have to promise to keep it accessible and not put it behind locks and QR codes and limited access and facial tracking BS promise me promise me promise me

#out of queue #community fridge #i am going to go INSANE this class is driving me INSANE have yall not HEARD OF ACCESSIBILITY #AND COMMUNITY RESOURCES????#ani rambles #solarpunkani is solarpunkangy

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2w1ld3st-2dr3ams · 7 months

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𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝟙: ℍ𝕪𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕤

K!nkt0ber Day 1: Hybrids

➸ Muse 1: Tomioka Giyuu (Demon Slayer)

➸ WC: 3.3k

➸ CW: Cow Hybrid!Giyuu, mentions of pornography (or a raunchy scene in a movie), inexperienced Giyuu, mentions of past abuse, fluffy shit all things considered, a lot of boob stuff, TLDR: Just milking Cow Giyuu's tits and there's feelings in there.

➸ Mumbles: Recycling baby (this was meant for last year, help me) Also, an excuse to write for Giyuu tits tbh.

It wasn't often that you heard rustling in your backyard, given that you didn't have any pets and wild animals weren't anywhere near your house. Perhaps it was your neighbor's dog or that one raccoon you saw stuffing it's face with garbage nearby that one time. Either way, you didn't particularly like the idea of something rummaging through your backyard, especially if that thing decided your backyard would make an adequate toilet. God knows you had one to many debates with your neighbors about their animal's bathroom habits and, in your personal opinion, too little time had passed between the last one and this up and coming one.

Whatever the reason, you decided it was better if you shooed the little critter out yourself. If you caught it early enough, maybe you could persuade it to leave it's business elsewhere, preferably not in your recently remodeled backyard. You grabbed a nearby broom to shoo the animal away and begrudgingly made your way to the origin of the sound. When you got there, however, all that greeted you was the stillness of nature and a prominent hole near one of your recently planted bushes. This, in turn, damaged the structure your bushes were resting on and managed to make one fall over. As you could imagine, there was an even more sizable hole in your backyard now, not to mention the de-rooted bush that lay so pathetically on its side.

Irritated by the revelation of such sabotage against your hard work, you made your way back to your house to look for your tools—the faster you took care of the now ruined section, the faster you could set up some proper fencing to stop any further incidents. You quickly zoned out as you got to work, trying not to think of the culprit of this crime most likely laughing at your agony or the fact that you were feeling very strongly over a simple hole. Just as you were finishing the maintenance and re-planting the bush, you noticed some rapid movement out of the corner of your eye. A flash of hair was escaping the corners of your vision when you turned your head towards the movement. All you could figure out from all the rapid head turning was a scurrying tuff of dark hair that seemingly swayed with hurry.

You, of course, deducted that whatever that was had to be connected to your backyard. It was a rather large animal too, considering the size and quantity of the hair. You couldn't think of many animals near your area that would match the description, so you settled on incriminating the little trash eater that still made such a ruckus at night. Deciding to leave the thought of sentencing animals like a judge aside, you made your way back inside once you had finished packing your tools away. You would go visit the town center and find some fences tomorrow, today you had promised one of your neighbors that you would dog-sit while they went on a weekend getaway with their boyfriend.

A few hours later, you found yourself hiking to your house as exhaustion was dragging you down by your hairs. Any chiropractor or orthopedic would be cringing at your posture right now, your back almost made a perfect arc forward and your head was inching closer to the ground. Your neighbors dog was adorable and you didn't mind doing them a favor every now and then, but if you heard that damm dog bark at the wind outside one more time you would've lost your sanity. Apparently, all the other dogs of the neighborhood had been feeling some sort of way about the outside of their comfortable homes at exactly the same time. You would hear a cacophony of barks during the late evening and sit there rethinking your choice of living situation.

Through the snippets of conversation your tired ears caught, your neighborhood was being haunted by…something. You weren't sure if haunted was the right word, more like invaded. There had been multiple reports of something terrorizing people's backyards and an increase in black-haired-animal sightings nearby. Considering a possible raccoon infestation, you made a beeline to your backyard, getting anxious by the second that your little thief-cosplaying friend had decided to pay you another visit. The noise you made clearly scared whatever was inhabiting your garden, as you heard a very pronounced "Ah!" coming from the darkness.

Instead of being greeted with a chubby, short, and dual-colored cretin, you were greeted with a very naked man sporting peculiar cow ears and horns and a matching tail. He was in a horrible state, if being publicly naked wasn't bad enough, sporting a variety of bruises in an array of tones. His chest area was especially bruised, sporting what appeared to be suction marks around his nipples. He was, rightfully, terrified, his face contorting into a mixture of fear and regret. The one thing you noticed about him the most, however, was that peculiar head of very prominent black hair that almost camouflaged into the darkness of the night.

Your first thought was relief, since you finally had a face to the culprit of the crime scene that you had just cleaned up hours prior. Your second thought was checking what you last ate and drank in the last 24 hours. After making sure you didn't consume any hallucinogenic substances, you turned your attention back to the man—half man was probably a better way to put it. You couldn't get a proper word out before the being in front of you began rapid-firing apologies and explanations. You couldn't make out very much from his…eloquent speech, apart from the words "farm", "mistreatment", "hybrid", and "escaped".

Though not much information was supplied, it was enough for you to put two and two together. Plus, if the continuously frequent visits from men in uniforms asking about "a missing product" told you anything, this farm had located him and was currently hunting him down. Now, you weren't educated in the laws about half human-half animal people, but you were fair to assume that whatever was happening at his farm was against a bunch of workplace regulations. You did your best to bring the now hyperventilating man to your house without causing too much suspicion, which was noticeable hard to do considering how sketchy it would look to see your neighbor's silhouette dragging something prominently non-human back to their house. Nevertheless, you both made it inside without anybody calling out to you, which you would take as a victory.

First order of business now, get some clothes on the poor man. It was decently into the nighttime now, the poor thing must've been freezing. You told him to sit down near the heating device while you went and got some clothes and blankets for him. You got him one of your old shirts as well as some sweatpants and underwear. While making sure he was comfortable and warm, you started making light conversation just to fill in the air. You weren't sure what to do in a situation like this, so maybe eradicating the silence would make you think better. Your efforts were wasted on him though, as he looked down at his lap with a perfectly sculpted neutral expression.

Deciding to let him be, you got up and cooked the both of you some food. You made sure to avoid steak or dairy products, half out of respect and half out of dumbfoundedness. You sat down next to him and handed him his food, which he immediately dropped. Startled and a bit offended, you asked him why he did that. He responded with that neutral face, perhaps sporting hints of embarrassment, that his muscle function was heavily underused thanks to the abuse he endured back at the farm and that it would take a while before he got full control over his actions. It made you question how he could've made such a sizable hole in your backyard, but you were too tired to question him about it. Your half-asleep mind came up with a brilliant solution to his dilemma, fortunately.

Picking up your fork, you pricked a bit of food and brought it to his lips. Surprised adorned his face for seconds before he hesitantly opened his mouth, allowing you to feed him. You went slow, matching his pace and letting him tell you when he wanted another bite. It was serene, an act of kindness that the hybrid in front of you probably hadn't felt in a long time.

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

Giyuu didn't register when his adoration for you intensified to what it was today. He remembered the night when you first met very clearly, as it managed to break down every single prejudice he had about himself in mere hours. You were so gentle with him, so patient and loving, even when he had dropped your food and messed up your backyard. You didn't send him back to that place, you never even pressured him to tell you about it.

By this point, he had been living with you for about a year and a half now; it melted his heart that you wanted him to stay and hadn't kicked him out yet, but it also made his ever-growing feelings for you fester for longer. It scared him, being so close to you. Closeness back at the farm meant he had broken a rule and was about to be punished, it meant torture and nights spent crying until he had no more left to give. Closeness with you, however, felt like home. Home, what a funny word indeed.

He felt close to you when you both sat down by the heating device that night you met, knees almost touching due to the proximity; he felt at home with you when you softly brought food to his lips, letting him know you were willing to cooperate with him in the moment. He felt close to you when he was cowering into your chest because of a nightmare, reduced to a sobbing mess of tears; he felt at home with you when you gently cradled his head in your hands, wiping his tears away and promising that he was safe with you. He felt close to you when he let you touch his horns, bowing his head to you in an act of submission; he felt at home with you when you traced over his horns like they were made out of porcelain, like if the man in front of you deserved nothing but the softest of touches.

You were his home, the place he could run to without judgement, the place where he knew he wouldn't be shunned or thrown away. Naturally, Giyuu wanted to repay you; old habits die hard and this one just happened to be learned back at the farm. He knew that relying on his instinct for this wouldn't get across his point though, so he had to formulate something else.

He thought for days about a variety of presents he could give you, but none of them seemed perfect enough. You had enough home decorations, he couldn't cook all that well to make you something, you had made it clear to him that you didn't want a maid much less try and use him for food, he didn't know how much he wanted to risk going outside with you; there were so many discarded options he was beginning to get overwhelmed. He could always offer you his body, but he wasn't quite sure how to approach that subject. Sex and intimacy back at the farm where basically two different worlds; where there was one, the other couldn't be. He couldn't give you something as bland as a sexual experience, you could get those for less than he was offering you and with much more experienced people.

Why was this so hard? All he had to do was thank you for everything you'd done for him and then give you something in return, why was he fretting so much over this? He looked at you in search for something that might help him figure out what he could give you—and accidently stumbled upon the perfect gift. You were staring at the TV screen, soft eyed and sporting a stupidly lovesick grin, as some movie played on the screen. Said movie just happened to include a couple's first time, and they couldn't have been more awkward about it. Still, the way each touch they made radiated love and adoration was making you giddy. Giyuu saw how much fun the couple seemed to be having, even though they had failed to advance below the waist for the past 45 minutes or so, and could instantly feel his cheeks heating up. Did you want something like this?

It was a little overwhelming, you see. Giving you his all, his most vulnerable, and recieving the same from you? Being treated so gently, so softly, so…human. The image on the screen flashed to a shot of a pair of hands slowly carresing and fondling with the chest of the other, taking time to squeeze them and tease their partner. Giyuu looked back at you and saw you with a slightly darker hue adorning your cheeks. Huh, he might've just found his gift for you…and all thanks to some random Saturday night movie.

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

You came home from a night out to a completely silent house. Yeah, Giyuu wasn't known for being loud, but he would at least have something playing in the background while he went about his day. Sometimes you would catch him humming some tune you've never heard before, but it never failed to make your day. You put your bag down, took of your shoes, and traveled deeper into the empty house. Once you reached your bedroom door, you began getting suspicious. Did he run away? Was he unhappy here? Was he playing a prank on you? Did the people looking for him miraculously find him? You hadn't seen him since you set foot in your house and you couldn't distinguish even one sign of life anywhere.

Still, your concern was overpowered by your tiredness, so you promptly entered your bedroom and passed out almost immediately. You swore you would never underestimate how soft your bed could be again; it felt like you were sleeping on a very fluffy cloud. As you dozed off, you failed to notice the door of your bathroom door opening and closing, a figure now ocuppying the space in front of it. Your lost roommate was blinking down at you in confusion; you weren't supposed to fall asleep this early, were you seriously that tired? His plan of recreating the movie scene failed, and that stung a bit, but you looked so comfortable drooling on your pillow that he let you be.

Though, he couldn't help but sit down next to your pillow, pushing his thighs together until they sort or replicated it. He had done his own research, no matter how long it took him to figure out how to work your computer, and found that humans liked resting their head on soft things. And if you asked him, his thighs were pretty soft. Slowly, almost as if he wasn't even moving at all, he managed to position your head on his thighs, moving the pillow away from you. It was a different touch than what he was used to, the blades of the machines never felt quite as soft as your hair on his skin. He looked down at your sleeping face, scrunched up yet so peaceful, and he couldn't stop the strange warmth that invaded his chest. He never understood you fully, but having you here with him was enough for now. Even if he had planned for something completely different, this wasn't so bad either.

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

You don't remember your pillow being so warm, and so soft. Slowly shifting to lay on your stomach, you wrapped your arms around your comfortable pillow and snuggled into its warmth.

Oh how you couldn't be more wrong.

Giyuu was both flabbergasted and appreciative. You looked like you were having the best sleep of your life, but the way you hugged onto his hips and how your lips would occationally graze his thighs had him more worked up than he wanted to admit. There was a faint ache in his chest, different from the mushy feeling he felt. This one was a bit more painful, as if something was messing with his chest. He knew that feeling all too well. It was the same feeling he got right before those suctioning cups were placed on his chest.

Maybe, releaving himself a bit wouldn't hurt—at least, not more than the pain he was in right now. Holding in his milk wasn't healthy and, no matter how badly we wanted to keep this from you, he also didn't want to wake you up. So, he relied on his instincts to guide his hand down towards his nipples, a wet stain on the shirt he was wearing. He flicked one of his nipples over the shirt, stain becoming just a tad bit bigger as he could feel the liquid drip down his chest and abdomen. He bit his lips hard, attempting to muffle any noises that fell out of his lips. He swore he didn't sound so sinful back on the farm.

"Ngh~"

You turned back around, laying on your back once more before yawning. You felt something wet fall on your tongue.

Was that…milk?

Your face scrunched, confused as to why your saliva tasted like milk. There was also something dripping on your face. Did you sleepwalk outside again or was there a leak in your roof? You slowly opened your eyes, bothered by the constant droplets on your face which broke the very nice dream you were having. Instead of being greeted by another hole—you were starting to notice a pattern—you were greeted by the sight of Giyuu's chest slightly covering your vision as his hands teased and played with his chest. Your ears, which were apparently not working before, suddenly decided to bless you with the sound of soft moans and wanton whimpers, a few keens here and there when his fingers did a particularly rough motion.

What a wonderful sight to wake up to.

"A-ah! P-please~"

He didn't even know what he was begging for, but it only made his motions become rougher. He was in too deep to notice that you had opened your eyes and had shifted your head off his lap. That is, until he felt your hand on his shoulder. He turned his head towards you, eyes dazed yet holding a twinge of panic. Still, he couldn't stop his fingers from moving across his chest, moaning shamelessly. He was panting like he ran a marathon, chest swollen and a bit heavy.

"Y-you're awake! I have a—mphm!—g-gift for you!"

He managed to get out through his moans. With a not-quite-all-there smile, he pushed his tits together. You could see why they were so heavy now, as milk seemed to endlessly pour down his chest. He leaned forward slightly, allowing a perfect view of his cleavage. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes, a dumb smile on his face.

"I-I saw how much you seemed to like that—ngh!—s-scene in that m-movie the other day, so…"

Well, he didn't need to tell you twice. He let out a loud keen once you attached your mouth to his nipple, tongue running over the sensitive bud while you teased more milk out of his chest. The sounds he was making were glorious, and you were quite thirsty after that long nap…

Oh well, he'd have to sit still and pretty for a few hours while you got your fill.

#☁️w1ld3st dr3eams #☁️k!nkt0ber 2023 #☁️dream world–>(demon slayer)#☁️dream sequence–>(one shot)#☁️muse–>(giyuu tomioka)#dom reader #sub character #sub demon slayer #sub giyuu #☁️presentation–>(gender neutral)

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sansebastinae · 6 months

Text

(3 days before flight)

"Rocky, should I untether Mark from the pipes?"

"Don't even think about it Sebastian. I don't want to get into trouble !"

»»» 11th Day of Mission

Load LOG : // SL-21-20XX-28-12_01…

(alternate title : fuck characterisation, hello OOC. get OOC pain'd.)

###########

23:04:26:85 UTC +1 CET

Recording? Ok...so today-

("Talking into your diary again like a girl, love? ")

"Fucking…" clunk "It's my logging session. I'll throw something at you."

("Did you forget where you are?")

"Fick dich."

("…I hope that's German for 'I like you a lot?' ")

< clunk >

recording terminated due to lack of sound / voice activity.

###########

END LOG SL-21-20XX-28-12_01

// -----------------------------

Load LOG : // SL-21-20XX-28-12_02…

###########

23:11:33:02 UTC +1 CET

…Ok, the light is on, it is recording now.

This morning the Earth looked bluer than usual, and I really liked it, so I grabbed the camera and quickly snapped a picture. My photography skills are good enough!

NASA's Jackson called us the noisiest astronauts ever. Fair... But he did remark on how efficiently Mark and I get the work done around the station, given the state and the age of the machines. We would really just split the massive amount of maintenance into two and made sure we tied up any loose ends, and they were always impressed.

Today we had to do a pretty massive job of putting on the NOAX stuff on the many of the station panels. It was our second time doing a spacewalk in only eleven days, so that's a big thing. And it was…four hours outside, putting basically space caulk. Heat really gets to these big guys! The application was less than fantastic though, as we had to use spatulas to put them on…it was a really careful science experiment. There's Mark and me, stuck to only the metal railings of the station for our lives, putting state-of-the-art things with some ma's spatula. It's hot doing this the whole day, just mashing this stuff in! Sweating in space is not fun…

I looked up the stuff when I got back from the work. They use these things in Formula 1 cars…? Well you learn something new everyday and experience new things too, but I'm not sure how this caulk thing will benefit that much… probably only useful if Michael Schumacher goes 27 thousand kilometres per hour, sure…

Ok, I have been putting off talking about Mark.

The previous recordings already have them, but for memory's sake, I will just mention it here. I know, I know, I'm going to be 24 next year, and here I am, still feeling like i'm in middle school with how I'm acting.

We've been co-workers for two years now, and we've had our fair share of being at each other's necks. Horner didn't help either. The only thing he had to say to us before we left was that we were like an old married couple. And to get "our shit sorted by the end of the trip".

Well…

It really is hard to put it into words. It was pretty obvious to everyone, so I am the idiot here. Hah... I tried not to think much of it, especially during the suit up procedure for the spacewalks. it needed two people anyway.

Before we went back into the airlock, the bastard went to unhook my tether off the metal railing! Fucker!! Do you know how screwed we'll get if I wasn't anywhere with the EMU? He had the gall to laugh in his suit. I should have just beaten his face in just now.

("You didn't mention me holding your hands?")

clnk

("oh shoot--")

recording terminated due to lack of sound / voice activity.

###########

END LOG SL-21-20XX-28-12-2

----------------

#sebmark #writing #art

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slashhinginghasher · 24 days

Text

Cricket and Marena first meeting let's goooooo

This was supposed to be a "miscommunication teehee" piece but it turned into angst at the end whoops

As always, Cricket belongs to the phenomenal @thesightstoshowyou

Spring break meant a month spent in Jesse’s penthouse in the Florida Keys. Having never been to college, or any school really, the concept held no weight in Marena’s mind, but apparently it was like Christmas for Chromeskull. The massive influx of visitors from all across the country made for a bounty of easy prey, and the cops’ attempts to control the chaos of the drunken partiers kept them too busy to worry about some pesky murders - at least until the tapes started rolling in a few weeks later. For Marena’s part, it meant people in brightly colored clothes making a lot of noise on the beach below while she watched from the security of the penthouse’s lofty patio, getting her brains fucked out multiple times a day as the excitement of the hunt cranked Jesse’s libido up to nearly unmanageable levels, and a lingering worry that the Miami homicide department would somehow sense she was back in the area.

She would never understand how Jesse returned to the same murder spots again and again with such confidence. The mask helped, she supposed.

Marena was curled up with a book on one of the sitting room sofas while Jesse showered off the sweat from his morning workout (mercifully, one involving his private gym and not her today). She’d started reading a lot more, in both English and Russian, after being acquired by Jesse, and what had once been a laborious task was now something she actually enjoyed. The novel before her, though, was dense and confusing enough that she felt like she was twelve years old and just learning to read all over again. She’d had to start making notes on a scrap of paper just to keep track of what the hell was going on.

The lock on the front door clicked open. Her head jerked up at the sound. The maintenance staff for all of Jesse’s properties were strictly on-call - no regularly scheduled visits, lest someone walk in on something they shouldn’t see. Was it the cops? The FBI? She’d have expected a battering ram in that case, although it wouldn’t work on the reinforced door.

Setting her book down on the coffee table, Marena slipped her hand into her pocket to grab her knife and listened as hard as she could. There were a few muffled shuffles and thumps, a brief murmur of voices. The shower was no longer running, but Jesse had a skincare routine that rivaled that of a high-class hooker, so it would be some time before he emerged. (She had mentioned the hooker thing to Jesse exactly once, and he’d choked her so hard she blacked out the next time they had sex, which was approximately two minutes after she made the comment.) She would have to be the frontline against whatever intruder was coming down the hall.

Asa fucking Emory walked in, carrying several duffel bags, trailed by a pretty brunette woman in a sage green sundress.

Marena’s spine stiffened as she locked eyes with the predator on the other side of the room. Asa’s face was an impassive mask, but she could tell by the flashing of his eyes that he was hardly thrilled by her presence. To say their first and only meeting had been… fraught would be an understatement. Much of it felt like a fever dream to her, being of neither sound mind or body at the time. Jesse had later told her that it was only his direct and insistent interference that kept her from being turned into one of the mutilated creations that Asa crafted at his torturemurder hotel.

But none of that explained what Asa was doing here now. Did he have some sort of timeshare on the apartment? Had Jesse invited him to join in on the spring break slaughter party? And who the hell was the woman clasping her hands nervously behind him?

“Marena,” Asa said icily.

“Dr. Emory,” Marena replied, equally glacial.

He glanced around the room.

“Where is he?”

“Shower.”

Asa sighed heavily through his nose, as though Jesse’s inconvenient hygiene schedule was Marena’s fault. The mystery woman bit her lip. She opened her mouth. Reconsidered, closed it again. Her eyes bounced between Asa and Marena. Beautiful eyes: one warm brown, the other mossy green. She took a small, fortifying breath and spoke up in a timid whisper.

“As-”

“Quiet,” Asa snapped, and she immediately shut her mouth again with an audible click, shrinking back into herself.

Marena felt a pit forming in her stomach. A phantom smell of perfume, sweat, and blood on the back of her tongue. She was gripping the knife so tightly she could feel the filigreed pattern of the handle imprinting itself on her skin. This was so, so not good.

Asa’s gaze was lingering on her bare neck. She’d had a thick leather collar the last time they saw each other. What did he make of its absence now?

The stalemate was broken when Jesse sauntered in, clad in nothing but his silk boxers and a towel around his neck. He grinned broadly, so clearly he was expecting the company and had conveniently neglected to tell Marena.

“Took your sweet time getting here.”

“You don’t get to lecture me about punctuality, Cromeans,” Asa growled.

Jesse chuckled, then looked over at the woman, who had straightened fractionally when he walked into the room but was still half hidden behind Asa’s broad shoulders.

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re getting all shy on me now,” he said, followed by an unfamiliar sign that must have been the woman’s name. She gave him a little wave and a quiet “hi”.

“Manners, Cricket.”

“Sorry, Sir.” The woman, Cricket, stepped fully into view and folded her hands in front of her. “It’s good to see you again, Daddy.”

Marena choked, on air or spit or her own incredulity. All eyes turned on her when she started to cough: Cricket’s quickly dropping to the floor, Asa’s as cold as ever, and Jesse’s dancing with mirth. The latter was smirking, that smug, shit-stirring grin he wore whenever he did something he knew would get under Marena’s skin. She glared at him while she tried to get her breathing under control, knowing he could read her face as easily as she could read his.

Fucking really?!

Fucking really, baby. C’mon, don’t you wanna try it out?

“There are so many things wrong with you,” she croaked. “What the fuck.”

There was a soft, terrified gasp from Cricket but Marena was already walking away. Jesse grabbed her arm as she passed and she tried to recoil - “don’t fucking touch me, god” - but of course he didn’t listen, reeling her in and planting a kiss square on her mouth before releasing her and sending her on her way with a swat on the ass.

Her shudder of disgust was almost entirely unfaked.

***

“You are far too lenient on her,” Asa groused after the door to the master bedroom slammed shut.

“Yeah, but she’s fun when she gets riled up like that.” Asa fixed him with a glare that had brought many a grown man to tears and Jesse rolled his eyes, knowing it would piss the other man off even more.

“You won’t be laughing when it’s your neck with a needle in it,” Asa snarled. He grabbed the duffel bags and stalked off to the guest bedroom, muttering uncomplimentary things under his breath. Cricket remained frozen in place, anxiously clutching at her locket. Jesse could see her brain working overtime trying to process what had just happened. She jumped when he tipped her face up with a finger under her chin.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked tremulously.

“Not at all, doll. She’s just shy.”

Cricket gave him a dubious look that made him laugh before schooling her face into neutrality.

“And Sir is… okay? With that behavior?” Oh, she was stressed stressed if she was referring to Asa as “Sir” when he wasn’t even in the room. Poor little thing.

“Doesn’t matter if Asa likes it. She’s mine.”

She mulled that over.

“That time Sir left me at the hotel overnight, he said he had to watch something for you… that was her?”

Jesse nodded. Cricket bit at her lip. He could tell she wanted to ask about what had happened that night, but she was a good girl. She didn’t survive as long as she had by prying.

“Okay. Thank you, D-” she cut herself off, indecisive.

“Just ‘Jesse’ to you now, doll. Unless you prefer it the other way, I won’t mind.” He winked. She blushed.

“I should help Sir unpack,” she murmured, and scurried off.

***

Two of Marena’s fingernails were chewed bloody and she was going to work on finger number three when Jesse crouched down in front of her perch on the window seat.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

What was wrong? What was wrong was that someone had ripped a figure straight out of her adolescence and plunked it down in front of her like some kind of sick threat. She had known so many girls who made themselves small and sweet, the only way they knew how to survive the men who led them away every night and gave them pain, and even then it was rarely enough to save them.

“Her name is just Cricket?”

“She doesn’t need any other name.”

Dehumanizing. Reducing woman to insect.

“She wasn’t with Asa that night.”

“I asked him to keep her out of the way. He can be rather… single-minded when it comes to Cricket, and I needed his full attention on you.” Jesse shook his head indulgently. “Not that it made much of a difference in the end, huh?”

The Marena of now was already far more domesticated than the Marena of eighteen months ago, but maybe that wasn’t enough for Jesse anymore. Maybe this was his subtle way of telling her what was in store, even though he was hardly a subtle man.

“How long has she been Cricket?”

“Asa’s had her for years. Since before I met him. She was actually part of my welcoming committee.”

Was that nostalgia on his face? Marena felt sick. Jesse noticed her expression and frowned.

“I haven’t touched her since we met, baby. That part of our arrangement ended the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Arrangement? Jesse tried to take her hands in his, but she snatched them away.

“I don’t care who you fuck, Jesse! That’s not the goddamn issue!”

“Then TELL ME WHAT IS.”

The issue was that the woman in the other room had given up her entire self just to be able to keep breathing, and Jesse expected Marena to do something as petty as hate her. The issue was that the fate she had railed so hard against, had been willing to die to escape, was coming for her no matter what. The issue was that he wanted to turn her back into a doll, and whether he succeeded or killed her, she lost either way. The issue was that he had always been on the other end of the knife, had never had to fight against being made into something lesser than himself. The issue was that all of her pain and fear and heartbreak meant nothing because he decided it didn’t. Her life wasn’t hers, it never had been and it never would be, and the latest reminder of that was cupping her cheek in his hand and staring at her like she was a silly little girl.

Please understand, she begged him with her eyes. I need you to understand.

He didn’t. He thought he did, but he was wrong. He thought she was jealous and lying about it for the sake of her pride. He would go out tonight and turn some other girl she didn’t have the bandwidth to care about into a carcass, and then he would come back and kiss her and fuck her and make her cum and she would like it and hate herself for liking it. They would fall asleep and she would have nightmares that left her chest and throat aching with unvoiced screams.

She let him kiss her without complaint before he got dressed, and again before he left the room. She slumped against the window and watched all the scurrying little ants on the beach below. She felt numb. Doll-like.

#maybe they should've put one of the girls in the bathroom and let them sniff each other through the door first #btw Sights i'd looooove to see this from cricket's perspective pspspspspspspsps #midnight star #my writing #others ocs #jesse cromeans #marena polunochnaya #asa emory #cricket #cricketverse

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wowbright · 8 months

Text

Tag someone you want to get to know better.

I was tagged by @daisyishedwig and sort of by @gleefulpoppet!

favorite color: I find this question confusing. Do people really have favorite colors?

last song: Don't stop me now by Queen

last movie: vacation friends 2. Oh wait, no, it was Alfred Hitchcock's Notorious.

currently watching: the most recent thing I "watched" was The Dropout on Hulu, but the thing that is ongoing "watching" is The Librarian/s verse. (I say "watching" because I mostly listen in the background and look up occasionally while sewing.) So if we want actual watching, I guess that would be Liebes Kind/Dear Child, but again that is completed and not an ongoing thing.

other stuff I watched this year: our flag means death, what we do in the shadows seasons 4 and 5, all the seasons of only murders in the building, all the seasons and the movie of Miss Fisher's Murder mysteries (the Phryne Fisher version), the new quantum leap, Maniac, The Path... Honestly it's wild how much TV I have watched this year, I've been doing a lot of sewing.

shows I dropped this year/didn't finish: yellowjackets; that other horror show that takes place in the town outside of time and space that randomly sucks in people who are driving and then never lets them leave

currently reading: Feet of clay--a study of gurus by Anthony storr; Kingdom of nauvoo by Benjamin f Park; the Enchanted Castle by Edith nesbit; Dracula by Bram Stoker (in Dracula Daily Order); also there are lots of modern (last three decades) novels I have picked up recently and not been able to get very far in because apparently I am not in the brain space for any original fiction written after 1910. I think I should probably give up and go back to Dickens and Austen and the Bronte sisters, which I haven't read in a while. (I am pretty much always reading one thing or another by Nesbit.)

currently listening to: three of the above are audio books. My favorite recently discovered podcast is Overcoming Compulsive Hoarding. I don't have hoarding disorder but this is just a darn good mental health podcast in general. I highly recommend it. When it is no longer a new podcast to me, it will enter the realm of comfort podcast (ones I like to re-listen to). Other comfort podcasts are Coffee & Cults, Maintenance Phase, and Be Uncluttered. Today I listened to the latest episode of Oh No Ross and Carrie and most weeks I listen to Mormon Stories, except when I get sick of it and need a break.

currently working on: the same quilt I've been working on for the past year or so. And of course Mormon!Klaine (though TBH with the cat dying and migraines, not as much as I'd like).

current obsession: the quilt and mormon!klaine. Sewing reflective tape onto clothing, bags, umbrellas, etc. Also, using up as many arcane ingredients in our pantry as possible. Recently, I used the last of the orange extract and fennel seeds to make granola bars (sounds weird, tasted great!), the arrowroot powder in pumpkin bread and Filipino uraro cookies, the oat fiber to make muffins that didn't taste exactly like sawdust; and the mustard seeds to make cocoa mustard (which sounds weird but is actually yummy, if you like mustard). Next in line is Austrian poppy seed and nut cake to use up the rest of the 1-pound bag of poppy seeds. There's no wheat flour in it, you grind up the poppy seeds and the nuts to make a flour.

Tagging (no pressure): @kurtsascot @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @1908jmd @kurtmckinnon

#tumblr meme #gpoy #questionaire

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system-of-a-feather · 6 months

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General update, but we are good. Four miles in he calmed down enough to actually get himself humor what we were saying.

We have plans for this sort of stuff and honestly, "loosing 40 pounds" is not that huge of a deal and we were planning on doing it more properly after surgery cause our chest makes it difficult plus we are currently having to operate with a nerve issue in our hands so we have to be careful about straining it, but we were planning to do it anyways.

Plus XIV while set off and in his pisser over blew how bad I am and even were back when I was in charge of physical health because even if I ever did want to do any anorexic shit, Lucille is >my< cover and will beat my ass before I starve (/lh /joking). XIV is just a better man to have in charge because he can easily and reliably handle multiple realms of physical health with little issue or risk of going overboard AND make sure the system can still have a fun relationship with food.

That said, there are a number of places we can healthily adjust out food intake that we've laxxed back a lot because of mental health situation and stressors that made it a lower priority - but we have recently cleared out mental expenses towards PhD applications by having those finished as of today and we honestly needed a challenge to keep Riku from getting depressed anyways, so it works out and its a small deal.

XIV just >really< hates BMI as a concept even when he isn't effected by it and so its a shit storm in itself.

The thing with me and managing our health is that I'm autistic over it and back when I was way less stabilized and the system was overall way less stabilized, I'd get borderline OCD about it. These days though I'm just here and chilling and its whatever. Plus XIV's still there to tell me to shut the fuck up, hes just on medical leave.

Anyways, Ray the gatekeeper is in charge of food and exercise maintenance again after 2-3 years of being retired. I'll probably be up and around the front a bit more for the next few days while we establish a new routine and mode and shit, so maybe Ill chat more who knows.

#alter: ray #update #system update #eating disorder cw #ed cw #eating disorder tw #ed tw

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izzy-b-hands · 1 year

Text

"Izzy! You've come to see my work," Stede works to keep his voice even as he clings onto the ladder. "Impressed?"

He watches Izzy peer over the side of the ship, brow furrowed.

"Can I ask what it is you did?" Izzy frowns.

"It's obvious!"

Izzy nods, then shakes his head. "Gonna need a hint."

"Well, I had some props that would have helped," Stede says. "Here's a hint: art."

"Did...did you try to repaint the side of the ship?"

Stede nods. "Lost the paint and brush though."

"I'd imagine," Izzy remarks dryly. "Love, did you consider waiting till we'd stopped moving?"

"I had, but then I thought if I was careful I could do most of it now, and that leaves us all more time to explore at the next port!"

Izzy sighs. "That's...wait. You're soaked through; how long have you been out here?"

"Only a few hours," Stede smiles to hide his chattering teeth. The waves are a stinging sort of cold today, but it doesn't sting so badly now that he's cold enough to feel numbed.

"For fuck's sake," Izzy scoffs and sheds his vest. His sword and belt go next; Stede can hear the metal of the blade smacking the deck and the rounded hilt rolling with the motion of the ship. "Edward!"

Stede hears a faint "What?!" from Ed.

"We need blankets and tea!"

"We have some already!"

Izzy rolls his eyes. "Hang on. Don't stop hanging on, I suppose."

"I can't feel my fingers," Stede says, staring at them pale and locked around the rope of the ladder. "I'm not going anywhere for now."

"New tea and clean blankets and towels, Ed! Now!"

"Why?"

Stede fails to stifle a giggle.

"Is it not enough that I'm shouting about it? To suggest there's due cause for you to hurry the fuck up with it and help?"

"You shout about lots of things! Most things, actually!"

Stede leans into the ship, avoiding the wet dripping paint as he hides his laughter.

"Forget it," Izzy mutters. "I'll come get you, and make more tea, and get a warm bath ready, and-"

He scoffs and grumbles his way to Stede, then works Stede's fingers off the ladder to wrap around his waist instead. "Don't let go."

The cold sinks in worse once he's away from the constant thrashing of the sea, over the railing and shaking on the deck.

"I've got-" Ed walks up and drops the clean towels in his hands. "What the fuck happened here?"

"Ship maintenance," Stede supplies. "Painting is done!"

He pretends not to notice Izzy gently shaking his head in response. As far as he's concerned, at least a decent portion of it is done, and that's a success.

A success that's making him shiver fiercely enough to hurt, but still. Success.

"Honestly," Izzy grumbles as he pulls off his shirt and wraps it around Stede. "Could have gotten yourself killed."

"It does look nice," Ed notes as he peers over the railing. "We won't have many touch ups to do."

"Ed," Izzy sighs.

"What? He did well!"

"He'll catch his death!"

"Both things can be true!"

Stede reaches for the abandoned towels, only to have his hand gently smacked away while Ed and Izzy pile them on.

"Lucius is in our room; I'll have him run a bath," Ed says. "I'll get tea and have Roach make something warm. Soup? Soup."

"As soon as I'm dry and warm I'll be fine," Stede mumbles, but from under the thick towels he can't seem to be heard.

"Out of the wet clothes first, then into a robe and more blankets," Izzy adds, seemingly talking to himself as much as them. "Maybe ask Roach if there's anything he can do for his hands; look at his knuckles-"

Eventually they lift him up and lead him into what he presumes is their quarters, but he can't see beyond the towels tossed over his head in a caring panic.

"I'm just wet and cold," Stede protests as he finally manages to free himself from most of the towels, leaving them on the floor. "This is a bit dramatic, really. Excessive, even."

Ed shakes his head. "Not really. How many robes do we have clean?"

"I can only wear one at a time!" Stede laughs. "Honestly-"

"They're all clean," Izzy interrupts. "Where the fuck is Lucius?"

"Taking in the scene," Lucius says awkwardly from the nearby chair. "Are you panicking so much over him you didn't notice me?"

"No," Izzy blushes.

"Aww," Lucius smiles. "Adorable. Anyway, they're right. It's cold and going to get colder soon, and cold can absolutely kill a person. I've watched you nearly die a few times now, don't really want to watch you add another near death experience to the collection."

Stede frowns, or tries to despite his chattering teeth. "I really think-"

"I'll get a warm bath ready," Lucius interrupts. "Anything else we need?"

"Soup and something for his hands from Roach," Ed replies. "I'll get the robes from the auxiliary wardrobe, and Iz, can you get him out of the wet clothes?"

"This is getting very silly," Stede fusses. "I hope you both know. I can undress myself!"

"Your fingers are still curled over from holding the ladder," Izzy notes.

"Ah," Stede looks to his hands. "Did not realize that. Well..."

"You're not getting a choice here," Izzy continues. "We're looking after you until you're warm and looking better."

"I would enjoy it, were it me," Lucius says as he stands and strides towards the door. "Just my two cents!"

"I would too," Ed says. "Also, Izzy's right. You need looking after, and we love you, so we're looking after you."

He's heard them say that they love him many times before now, but he still blushes to hear it again.

"There we go," Ed smiles. "Now, I'll be back with robes, and let Izzy help you."

"Is he going to throw all the robes over me?" Stede asks as Ed heads into the wardrobe. "He is, isn't he?"

A towel drops back over his head from Izzy's hand, which feels like answer enough.

"Fine," Stede grumbles. "I do feel better."

He's held down on his chair by the many robes tossed over him, his hands barely free so he can eat the (extremely good) soup Roach made.

At his feet, Izzy is still persistently trying to warm them, rubbing gently with one of the few dry towels left.

Ed is at the opposite end, playing with his hair as he brushes it.

"That said, you could both stop and have some soup with me."

Both sets of hands pause at once, and he has to fight off a giggle. No one is immune to the scent of Roach's cooking, especially the soups like this one.

"Only if you're really feeling better," Ed leans down and kisses his head. "Then I suppose I could be swayed to sit for some soup."

"Don't even start," Stede continues to Izzy. "I know you haven't eaten much. And this has dumplings in. Roach's handmade dumplings, that I know you love..."

Izzy sets aside the towel. "A break might not be bad. But if you start to feel cold at any point-"

"I will ask for some stockings or socks, and you can get me some to wear instead of killing your knees while rubbing my feet," Stede interrupts. "Lovely though that has been, thank you."

They help him move to the middle of the couch, joining him on each open side and reaching for the small tureen of soup on the table in front of them.

"I should paint the ship more often," he continues. "Look at what it ends in! Good food, being cozy with you two..."

He knows what he's starting, and he giggles and lifts another bit of dumpling to his mouth while they sigh and snuggle in and beg him to do anything but that.

#text post #steddyhands #stizzy #to be fair stede did get a lot done and you know how? Mary and Doug's painting advice #they figured it would be done when the ship was drier and docked but ya know #stede doesn't let things such as common sense stand in the way of success and i support him because ive Been There lmao #finally got this wip done holy shit lmaooo #long post

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koko-doodle · 2 years

Text

FNAF SB: Glitched Twilight

Chapter 1

Summary: You are a technician that takes care of the cleaning and maintenance of the animatronics and various attractions at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex. As you work there, you find that things are a lot more complicated than they seem to be. Things are breaking in a manner too organized to be a coincidence. Will you quit? Or try to get the bottom of the mystery?

12 Pages - 5,758 word count

Chapter 2

Alright, this is it…. You say to yourself as you stare at the doors of Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex. This was the first day of your new job, you were hired as a robotics engineer for the care and maintenance of the animatronics and various machinery located inside the fun center. You took the job since it was the only high paying job that was somewhat in your field of expertise. You had just graduated as a mechanical engineer from college and it was time to start building your way towards a real career. This wasn’t exactly your first pick for a job but you had to start somewhere.

Fazbear Entertainment had made a huge comeback since they had a falling out after the incidents at Fazbear’s Fright. Their Help Wanted VR game had ‘cleared’ their reputation and boy did they certainly come back with an arsenal of enticing attractions. There were kids and families constantly pouring in and out of the pizzaplex doors, this place was always a go-to for family centered entertainment. You receive a few questionable looks from parents as you stand there but after a mother shuffled her kids away from you in the opposite direction you decide it was time to actually go in instead of staring at the building like a weirdo.

The building was surprisingly darker than you thought though that could be due to the neon lights and signs plastered everywhere. You retrieve your phone from your back pocket and pull up the email you had received confirming your first day of work. After scrolling past the cringeworthy first greeting and over excited welcome to the team, your eyes catch the bold text you were looking for at the bottom of the email.

Please arrive at 2pm sharp on MONDAY JUNE 24 with a valid ID and signed legal papers. You will not be permitted to begin work without ALL forms signed and submitted.

You decided to double check the folder you had brought containing said legal papers. There were so many forms you had to fill out and sign it felt more like you were signing your life away to buy a house rather than starting a new job. If there is anything you’ve learned from any of your internships though, you can never be too careful with machine work and businesses sure like to cover every possible scenario to ensure they can’t be sued.

Everything looked in order just as you had placed them last night so you closed the folder and slipped your phone back into your pocket. You looked around half expecting someone to be there waiting for you, an employee of some kind but the only humans you saw were at the ticket counters. You stood there looking around more for anyone who looked like they would know where to send you but with two minutes till 2pm, you decide to hop in a ticket line crossing your fingers that they would have directions of some sort.

“Hello, what kind of tickets for you today hun?” Said an older woman as you approached the counter.

“Uh well, none actually. I’m supposed to start my first day of work here and I was hoping you could tell me where I need to go?” You reply.

“What position? Cleaning or operating staff?”

“Operating I think? I’m the new robotics engineer.”

“Oh golly” she exclaimed, adjusting her glasses. “They sure are hiring you robot experts younger and younger these days, you look like you're fresh into high school darling!” She replies with a soft chuckle.

“Nope, just graduated college actually” you say, tilting your head with an awkward smile. People always managed to mistake you for a high school student, you knew that being 5’2” made you on the short side for someone your age but why did it have to be the first thing everyone pointed out.

“Well look at you, you little college graduate. Congratulations dear.” She gives you a warm smile before typing something onto the computer and slipping you a ticket. “This will get you through the gate, once you’re through there will be a service bot right around the corner on your right. Tell him you're a new staff member and he’ll show you where to go, m’kay?”

“Perfect, thank you!” You take the pass from the counter and give a small wave back as you follow her instructions. After passing through the gate you spot a staff bot waiting by the wall and casually approach it. After stopping a few feet away from it you wait for the bot to give a prompted response.

Nothing.

The bot just stares blankly ahead, not moving. With no LED eyes or moving irises there was no way to tell if the bot was even on or not so you decide to step a bit closer. With still no response you try waving a hand in front of its faceplate but again, no response.

“Hello?” You ask, still waving.

“….”

“Uh, hellooooo?” You ask again, this time tapping lightly on the face plate. This immediately springs the bot to life and it rolls forward and bumps into you. You stumble backwards slightly from the surprising force of the bot.

“HELLO. HOW CAN I BE OF ASSISTANCE.” It asks.

“Woah dude, chill!” You say putting a hand out to keep the bot at a distance.

“HELLO. HOW CAN I BE OF ASSISTANCE.” It asks again.

“Uh, hi. I’m a new employee, I was told you know where I’m supposed to go?”

“PLEASE PRESENT A VALID ID FOR IDENTITY CONFIRMATION” It responds. You show your ID but the bot stares blankly at you once again, clearly processing information. After an awkward few seconds that felt like minutes the bot turns and gestures to follow.

“THIS WAY, PLEASE FOLLOW ME”. It states as it begins rolling in the direction it gestured. You follow the bot in a slight jog, this guy may have slow computing power but he sure was fast. He leads you through an access door and through some eerie tunnels until you reach a small employee break room. He then gestures to a locker.

“THIS IS YOUR LOCKER FOR PERSONAL ITEMS AND BELONGINGS. REMEMBER TO KEEP ALL ITEMS LOCKED INSIDE DURING WORK HOURS, FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY LOST OR BROKEN ITEMS NOT STORED WITHIN YOUR LOCKER.” He turns to you and reaches out a hand quite forcefully. “PLEASE HAND IN YOUR LEGAL FORMS BEFORE CONTINUING.”

“Yeah, sure. Here” You say as you offer him your folder to which he practically rips from your hand.

“YOU WILL FIND A UNIFORM INSIDE THIS LOCKER, PLEASE CHANGE INTO THE MEGA PIZZAPLEX EMPLOYEE UNIFORM AND EXIT THE BREAK ROOM IN 5 MINUTES.” The bot then quickly zipped out of the small room, almost knocking you over in the process.

“Well excuse you, geez… someone’s in a hurry” you mumble as you approach your locker. It was slightly unlocked and after swinging the door open you find a stack of two neatly folded uniforms. You pick up the first uniform set and unfold it, after taking a quick peek around the room to verify you are alone you begin to undress. The uniform was stiff like it had been sitting in a box for a long time. You tried to shake out the polo shirt in an effort to reduce the stiffness but figured you’ll just have to live with it until you can wash it later tonight. On the back of the locker door at the bottom you find a small label with the lock code printed on it. After changing you take a picture of the label and exit the break room.

To your surprise a new bot is waiting for you just outside the door. You could tell right away this one was different because it was wearing a bright yellow covering over its chest plate. It shoved its arm in your direction and offered you a pamphlet.

“HELLO, PLEASE TAKE A MAP.”

“Oh, uh hi… where did the other bot go?” You say looking around.

“TAKE A MAP.”

“I thought the other bot was supposed to be waiting for me, he’s been showing me what I need to do.”

“TAKE A MAP.”

“I don’t think I need one, do you know where I’m supposed to go next?”

“PLEASE TAKE A MAP”

“Will this show me where I need to go?”

“TAKE A MAP.” He repeats for the fourth time.

“Is that the only response you have?” You ask, getting annoyed. The bots monotone voice and blank stare was enough to drive anyone crazy within a few sentences.

“TAKE A MAP.”

“Alright, fine I’ll just take a map then.” You grumble to yourself and take a map from his outstretched hand.

“THANK YOU. ENJOY YOUR STAY AT FREDDY FAZBEARS MEGA PIZZAPLEX.” And with that the bot rolled off.

“Hey wait, do I just wait here or something?!” You try to question but the bot had already turned the corner. “Does that mean yes?”

No response.

“Figures… these guys really need some more advanced response coding.” You comment and look down to the pamphlet in your hand, deciding to open it. Inside was indeed a map of the pizzaplex but this map had all the main employee service entries and exits marked as well. At the bottom of the pamphlet was a QR code that read ‘first day instructions’. When you scanned the code with your phone, it brought up an app to download. The app itself looked safe but the source of the download looked questionable. You shrug and install the app anyway, you are sure the app is safe considering the developers of the app itself. After opening the app audio begins to play as the pizzaplex logo shines across the screen.

Hello and welcome to the first day of your exciting new career. Whether you were approached at a job fair, read our ad, or if this is a result of a dare, we welcome you to the new and improved Fazbear Entertainment’s Mega Pizzaplex. Please ensure all of your signed legal forms have been turned in to the appropriate service representative. If they have not, make your way to the nearest service desk at the entrance of the building. Remember, you are required to turn in the necessary paperwork before working your first day, neglecting to do so will result in immediate termination by 6pm.

“Wow okay, that’s a bit harsh.” You say to yourself.

Your new career promises challenge, intrigue, and endless janitorial opportunities. I will be your personal guide to help you get started. I am your Mobile Operators Robotic Technologist, but you can call me MORT. Please enter your name in the required box below, this should match the employee forms you signed upon application.

You enter your name in the open box below as you were instructed and click the next button.

Welcome TATER TOT!

“Wait, what? That’s not what I typed!” You frantically tap all over your screen for a back button but unsuccessfully find a way to fix whatever kind of typo had happened. “Maybe I can change it later…hopefully…”

By now you should have been led to your designated locker and have changed into the appropriate uniform. These uniforms should remain clean and well kept for each day of work, any damage or new uniforms issued to you will be taken out of your paycheck. Keep that in mind as you work, Fazbear Entertainment likes to keep a clean and presentable staff as we are a family centered business.

There was a short pause before the AI continued.

Great, let’s move on to the guided audio tour of the building. If you would like to wear headphones for the tour, now is the time to do so. If you do not have headphones, please visit one of the gift shops located in the main entry area. There you can find an assortment of fun and colorfully themed headphones that match the many characters we have here at the pizzaplex. These headphones do not come free to staff and will need to be paid for. When ready, hit the next button and we will move on.

“Audio tour huh? That’s a first. I didn’t think that my orientation to the job would be an audio tour, especially one done by an AI.” You make your way back to your locker, pulling up the code on your phone to open the lock. It takes a few tries but eventually you are able to get in. You grab your headphones that you almost didn’t bring with you and pop them in your ears. You click the next button on your screen as you exit the break room yet again. You follow the instructions given by the AI as he leads you back to the main area of the pizzaplex.

Unlike most entertainment venues, our robotic entertainers are rented out for private parties and shows during the day. Your job as the technician is to maintain and upkeep the animatronics to ensure everything is in proper working order. Daily, weekly, and monthly maintenance tasks are required for the main cast here.

I certainly hope that doesn’t mean I’ll be cleaning every bot in this entire place every day, you think to yourself.

Let’s start with familiarizing yourself with your new work environment by touring the many attractions at the pizzaplex. Please keep all questions or concerns till the end of the tour. Head up the stairs past our infamous Golden Freddy statue to get to the main auditorium area.

You follow the instructions step by step as the AI leads you through each area of the building. From top to bottom, everything about the pizzaplex was bright and colorful. So many lights, sounds, and moving attractions, it’s no wonder children and adults love coming here. Not only was everything lit up like a Christmas tree but there were many fun character posters all over the walls. From the famous Freddy Fazbear and Chica the Chicken to the new additions of Montgomery Gator and Roxanne Wolf. Everything was tailor made for families to enjoy time together but more importantly, spend hundreds of dollars on attractions, toys and gifts. It was genius actually, with most of the staff being animatronics there wasn’t much need for as many human staff members which means less people to pay and more money in their pockets. Typical greedy businessmen with corporate ploys to bring in as much money as possible. At least they do pay what human staff they have decently enough and offer good benefits, that makes it worth it in the end. At least you think so.

After being led around the bottom floor you make your way to the upper floor. The AI, or rather, MORT, didn’t give you much time to stop and look around at each attraction. It was just enough to get in, hear a rant about some cool technology they had developed for this attraction that made it stand out from their competitors and then it was off to the next attraction.

Instead of giving you a history of Fazbear Entertainment while you walked between areas, MORT made it extremely clear what all the rules and regulations of the building were. No coming in after hours, no tampering with any of the equipment, no stealing merchandise, no arguing with customers, no selling of any lost items found within the attractions, and so forth. You laughed to yourself when you listened to him explain how drawing faces of any kind on the service bots would result in being fired and bannned from the pizzaplex property. Apparently you weren’t the only one who thought those bots could use a little more personality and less creepiness to them.

As you were led through you tried to keep an eye out for the lead cast, any of the Glamrock animatronics. You had read articles and seen photos of them but you had never seen one in person, none of the old animatronics from Fazbear Entertainment either. Most of the animatronics from the many businesses run by Fazbear Entertainment were taken by Afton Robotics for testing and remodeling. The pizzaplex was the first business in years to have animatronic characters back as the main attraction.

The company seemed to like to keep things confidential and locked up, not even any of their new attractions or branches opening were advertised until the day before. It was strange for such a large company to be so secretive but for a business that specializes in surprises, it sort of makes sense. Unfortunately you couldn’t spot any of the animatronics you’d been hoping to see, they must have all been booked for parties or meet and greets. Figures.

After an excruciatingly long four hour tour you found yourself back by the main entrance. By now it was 6pm and the dinner rush was starting to pour in.

That concludes our tour of the exciting Freddy Fazbears Mega Pizzaplex. If you have any questions, please ask them now.

“Yeah, I was wondering if I were to-“ you start but you are immediately cut off by the AI.

Fabulous, you seem like an expert at your job already. You must have been paying excellent attention during the tour.

“Wait, no. I do have questions. Can I ask them first before moving on or talk with someone who can answer them for me?”

It is now time for a regularly scheduled dinner break. Your employee keycard will get you two free kids meals per week, use them wisely!

“Ugh….” You grumble, this bot obviously listened about as good as a six year old. “Okay fine I’ll just figure it out as I go then. And I don’t have a keycard yet. Where do I find one?”

How unfortunate, keycards are distributed on your second day of work. Any lost keycards must be reported and replacements will be taken out of your paycheck. Would you like to report a stolen or lost keycard?

“No.”

Great! You are scheduled to return back at 7pm, we will continue to your first task after your break. The app then closes itself and a timer for one hour is seen under your notifications.

Alright then, I guess I am just going to have to buy my dinner for today, you think to yourself reluctantly and make your way to the main auditorium. The lines were fairly long at every food station but you managed to sneak in and get yourself a single slice of pizza, some carrots and water. Not a dinner fit for royalty but your bank account would thank you later. You sit down at a table secluded in the corner and slowly eat your food.

You find yourself amused as you watch the families buzz around the auditorium. From children throwing temper tantrums to parents breaking up fights between their children over toys, it was quite comedic to watch some parents fumble over their words. You can’t blame them though, you are certainly no child expert but it's a relief that you don’t have to deal with that as part of your job. You weren’t exactly a social bug, you mostly kept to yourself in school and most of your friends already had families of their own so you rarely saw them either. It was just you most of the time and you liked it that way.

You were watching some TikTok’s when you were startled by the sudden alarm blaring in your ears. You winced and pulled your headphones out rubbing your inner ear, soothing out the ringing from the sudden loud burst of sound.

Welcome back TAROR TOT, are you ready to begin your first task?

“Dude, you just about blew out my eardrum with that alarm! Did you have to turn it up so loud?!” You exclaim, still rubbing one stubborn ear that refused to stop ringing.

I apologize, I am equipped with state of the art alarm systems to assist you while you work in this loud environment. I will make a note to reduce the volume for next time.

“Thanks…” You mumble sarcastically under your breath. “So what’s my first task?”

I’m glad you asked! Your first task is to make your way to the parts and service room located on the first basement floor. There you will find some materials you are to study and memorize before you begin work tomorrow.

“Okay, how do I get there?”

Great question, first you will find the main stage. Once located, there will be an employee entrance to the right and or left of the stage. Once entered you are going to take a left, right, left, left, right entrance to staircase 2, down the stairs, then take another right, left, right, right and you’ll find the entrance to the Parts and Service Center.

“Hang on, slow down! I’m not even close to the stage yet. Can you wait until I get there?” You ask frantically packing up your garbage and depositing it into a trash bin before you begin making your way towards the center stage.

Once inside you will find your desk located in the corner with a computer and several user operating manuals. Please read all manuals by tomorrow morning.

“Can you repeat the directions one more time please?”

Sharing any information located within these manuals is prohibited and will result in immediate termination and ban from all Fazbear Entertainment business locations. These manuals are to be kept strictly confidential.

“Okay I got it but I need to get there first. I see the employee entrance over there, but where do I go after that?”

Your shift ends at 10pm, please be out of the building at that time. You are REQUIRED to have left the building at precisely 10pm, staying later is against the rules and you will be reprimanded if this happens. ABSOLUTELY NO EMPLOYEES ARE TO BE IN THE BUILDING PAST 10PM BESIDES SECURITY. This is a strict rule and will not be adjusted for any employee no matter the security clearance. It is of the UTMOST importance you exit the building before the security shutters close for the night.

“Okay…..” You find that you had slowed your pace and were looking at your phone as you listened to the AI explain the strict rule. It seemed really odd for a place of this size and grandeur to have such a strict security rule like that. “Why?” You ask curiously.

Once you finish reading the material, that will conclude your duties for your first day on the job, we don’t want you to be overwhelmed otherwise you might not come back. We will talk again tomorrow, happy reading!

“No wait! Shouldn’t I get to get to Parts and Service first before you leave?” You exclaim but the app had already closed itself. You tried to open it back up but it refused no matter how hard you tried. “MORT! If you’re supposed to be helping me you’re not done yet!”

No response.

“You are a terrible instructor you stupid unresponsive app bot.” You grumble as you shove your phone into your pocket frustrated. “I guess Fazbear Entertainment only makes their main animatronics smart… And gives them decent manners.”

You tried to recall the directions he had given you, reciting them over in your head but you were sure you hadn’t remembered them correctly. You entered through the employee entrance and began your trek to find the stairs but after doing several loops around, you found yourself back at the main stage. You try again but with no luck, this time you ended up at a security office near Roxy’s raceway. You try yet another time but find yourself in Gator Golf this time.

After the fourth try and still no stairs you slump against a wall inside the hallway. You had tried to ask the staff but they couldn’t give you any direction. The two human employees you had found didn’t know where to go since they worked in the cafeteria and the bots refused to give you directions. Said you needed to show a valid keycard before releasing the information.

“Great, I’ve wasted an hour trying to find this stupid place I’m supposed to be at and my so called idiot ‘assistant’ took the rest of the night off…” You rub your hands over your face trying to soothe your frustration. “I’m going to look so dumb if I contact management and tell them I can’t find MY desk. Some college graduate I am, they’d question how capable I am of working with animatronics if I have zero sense of direction… UGH!!!” You throw your hands down to your sides trying to decide what you should do next when a voice startles you out of your rant.

“Are you lost?” A deep voice questions as they approach you. “Can I be of some assistance?”

You watch as the figure makes their way to you and your eyes widen. Right in front of you was THE man himself, THE Freddy Fazbear. You try to not let your jaw drop while your gaze shifts up and down while you inspect him. He towered above you, even though he stopped a few feet away you could tell he was at least 6’3” if not taller than that. You knew the animatronics were tall but this was much taller than you were expecting.

“Um… yeah.” You reply slowly, still gazing at the animatronic in awe though he didn’t seem to mind.

“Where is it that you are trying to go?” He asks, slightly tilting his head to the side.

“I uh…” you begin saying but by now you finally realize you are staring. You clear your throat as you readjust yourself, trying to make yourself a little taller and more presentable. “Sorry, I was trying to get to Parts and Service but I got a little lost. MORT was helping me but he… took a break until tomorrow.”

“Not a problem, I can help you get there if you’d like. May I inquire as to why you need Parts and Service?”

“Oh right, I should probably introduce myself huh. I’m the new robotics engineer, I just started today… if you couldn’t tell.” You give an awkward smile while you rub the back of your neck.

“Ah yes! I was informed they had finally hired a new technician, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Freddy Fazbear but you can just call me Freddy if you’d like.” He smiles and gives you a thumbs up. “Welcome to the team Superstar!”

“Thank you.”

“Parts and Service is in this direction, please follow me.” He says pointing behind him. You nod and follow the animatronic as he leads you through the hallway’s twist and turns. You finally reach a door hidden in a dark corner and head down the stairs, you grumble to yourself as you do so. This was a door you had been tempted to try but you thought the stairs would be marked with, you know, a stairs sign.

You go through two more hallways before being led through double doors into the Parts and Service Center. You see a big room with what looks like a repair booth in the center with animatronic parts hanging up along the sides of the room. You found it very strange that there were rooms with locking doors along the far sides of the walls, almost like containment or observation cells you would see at a prison. The weirdest thing though was how the repair booth was an enclosed space. Won’t that make it hard to do repairs with such a limited workspace? You think to yourself.

“Here we are, Parts and Service. It’s a tricky place to get to if you haven‘t been down here before.” He says, clearly trying to make you feel better.

“Yeah, it’s the stupid sneaky stairway that I couldn’t find. Thank you for helping me, Freddy.” You smile politely.

“Not a problem, I am happy to be of assistance whenever you need it. Is there anything else I can help you with?” He asks.

You look around and spot an old rickety desk in the corner next to entry doors. There you can see a VERY large stack of binders you assume are the manuals you need to study.

“Nope I should be good now, I just get to do some light reading til closing time. Should be super fun.” You say sarcastically giving a double thumbs up and Freddy chuckles after he notices you staring at the stack of work.

“Alright then, I would love to stick around and get to know you but I was on my way to do our final show for the night when I found you, I probably won’t see you again till tomorrow so have a fabulous night.”

“Right, see you around Freddy. And thanks again for helping me.”

“Anytime Superstar.” He smiles and gives you a wave before turning and leaving out the way he came.

You make your way over to the desk and sit down in the questionable looking chair. You practically sink to the floor after you sit down, it was also as hard as a rock. You adjust your position until it is at least decently comfortable before scoping out the stack of manuals. You notice a note on the first binder of the stack that reads ‘Start out with these first then more will be provided later after you memorize the information located inside these primary manuals. You will begin with repairs tomorrow so be ready.’ You set the note aside and laid out the manuals one by one. They looked like they had seen some better days, they were all covered in some kind of dirt, oil, or grease. There was a manual for all of the animatronics; Glamrock Freddy, Glamrock Chica, Roxanne Wolf, Montgomery Gator, Daycare Attendant, and Staff Bots.

Each manual was about two hundred pages thick with detailed diagrams and explanations of maintenance routines. You let out a huge sigh and open up the first manual, breezing through the table of contents.

“Going back to college to do a crash course in one night I guess…. Yay.”

Time ticks by quickly while you read through the excruciatingly long textbooks, you had made mental notes of what looked like the most important routines to do such as the cleaning and care of the joints on all the animatronics. Each Glamrock shared a similar endoskeleton but the outer plating of the bots determined the unique cosmetic functions of each member. It was interesting to learn that Freddy had a very large chest cavity made for transporting cake, Roxy had eyes that could see through walls to find children quickly, Chica could eat actual food as a sort of party trick for kids, and Monty had extremely sharp claws that could be used for opening boxes and slicing cake.

You found it strange however that the daycare attendant manual was essentially two manuals in one, at least the table of contents labeled it as such. It started out by describing the different endoskeleton which was made specifically with lighter material and smaller parts to assist in heightened mobility. You thought it was pretty genius how the bot was put together honestly, the better mobility helps with playing more active games with the smaller children and the lighter material makes it so the attendant can overlook the daycare on a wire cord without needing a large pulley system to carry the weight of the animatronic. Things were starting to get interesting, the manual began talking about how a multiple personality had been integrated into the programing of the bot but then the manual just cut off. It was almost as if someone had taken out the other half, you breezed through the sections again trying to figure out if something had gotten misplaced but found nothing.

“That’s so weird… Why is the other half of the binder missing?” You ask yourself out loud, then you have a thought. “Wait, weren't there two daycare attendants? A sun and moon one?” You went through the sections again briefly looking for any mention of the other animatronic but were left with not a single word about a moon themed attendant. You then looked through the titles of the other manuals one more time but again found yourself with no information about this moon character.

“Strange…. Did he get decommissioned or something? Why don’t they take down his statue and posters if he isn’t an animatronic anymore? Why continue advertising him?” Just then you were startled out of your thoughts for the third time tonight as an alarm on your phone began blaring. It was fifteen minutes until 10pm.

“Gee thanks MORT, reminding me to leave on time but refusing to help me with directions. You’re soooo helpful” you grumble while you turn off the alarm. You had made it through most of the manuals, the important elements anyway; you figured that was good enough. You stand up and stretch, hearing your spine in your lower back pop back into place from sitting so long on the rock with wheels. You made your way back through the halls and stairwell, you had made sure to keep a mental note of the directions when Freddy was leading you down.

The Pizzarea was quiet and empty except for staff bots rolling around. You remembered that the Pizzarea itself closed at 9pm to customers but staff were still there cleaning until 10pm. You made your way back to the break room where your locker was and grabbed your things before making your way out. Just as you were opening the doors to leave the shutters began to close. You quickly jumped out of the way and looked behind you as the lights from the Pizzarea were slowly being blocked out. Guess they weren’t kidding when they said employees needed to be out before 10pm.

In the distance you could vaguely make out a figure of a woman standing near the revolving gates at the entrance. You couldn’t see much in the seconds you had to register what you were looking at but you swore she was wearing a security uniform. You tried to wave but doubted she was able to see it as the shutters closed, you figured you would just introduce yourself tomorrow night.

And with that, you finished your first night on the job.

#fnaf security breach #security breach #writing #Glitched Twilight #Chapter 1 #self insert #fnaf y/n

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total-drama-takes-takes-2 · 11 months

Text

tti episode 10

“Last time on Total Takes Island: things got heated in the kitchen- literally- and the Anons ended up exploding a ten-thousand dollar state-of-the-art mobile cookery, resulting in their epic failure and elimination of the ever-paranoid Frollo. The Fujoshis stole the challenge, mostly thanks to Courtney’s willingness to step up, and a little because of McLovin’s surprising hispanic heritage. Will the Fujoshis keep their lead? Will the Anons ever start getting along? Find out now, on Total! Takes! Island!”

The communal bathrooms are empty at this point in the morning, as almost no one’s awake so early. The sun has just barely risen over the lake, and it’s still a nice periwinkle blue out. Only one camper is fully awake and in gear.

Julia’s head peers around the side of the outhouse confessional, checking to see if anyone else is there. When she’s sure the coast is clear, she sneaks in, closing the door behind her, and begins fidgeting with the camera.

---

Julia shakes it around for a moment, grunting in annoyance before sighing and sitting back, crossing her arms.

JULIA: “I didn’t want for it to have to come to this. I really didn’t… Mostly. But he’s left me with no choice! That little insect is going down,”

Julia reaches forward again and the camera fizzles out.

---

The memory card pops out and she inspects it for a moment, memorizing the make and model before setting it back in place and hurrying outside.

Most of the tech- the computers, the mics and cameras, the maintenance supplies- are housed in a small green tent some ways beyond the mess hall. Julia’s seen it before on various challenges, always keeping it in the back of her mind, but this is her first reason to make use of it.

At this point in the morning, not even the camera crew are up yet, leaving the tent empty and ripe for the picking. Julia sorts through a few plastic bins on a wire shelf before finding one full of the correct kind of memory cards, pulling it out and setting it down by one of the computers, which she takes a seat at after.

She picks the first chip up. “Let’s get to work,”

---

JULIA: “I’m no genius, but I’ve picked a few things up here and there. Computers are a lot like people- say the right things, and you can bend their reality to your will!”

---

“Rise and shine, campers!” Chris’ voice blasts through the intercom, all too loud for 7 AM. “If you’re not up already, now’s your time to head down to the mess hall and stock up on energy for today’s challenge- it’s a real killer!”

He laughs before the intercom crackles out. Courtney smiles, slipping out of bed to stretch and dress themselves just as Ass walks in. Bonnie looks at the two from their bed, and then turns over in it.

“Good morning, Courtney,” Ass says plainly.

Courtney nods. “Good morning,”

---

BONNIE: “Ever since the cooking challenge, those two numbskulls have made some secret agreement to pretend to be nice to each other so we don't lose again. It’s honestly kind of sickening to watch.”

---

McLovin knocks on the door, then peeks his head in when no response comes. “Um… Bonnie, Caesar wants to meet you in the mess hall in ten,”

Bonnie sighs, yet still smiling, and slides out of bed to collect their clothes and toothbrush. Ass gives a small wave before turning back to Courtney. “Rough morning?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just look a little tired. Better bring your Type-A-Game today, ha,”

And with that, they flip their hair over their shoulder and walk outside, following Bonnie and McLovin and leaving Courtney alone.

The mess hall is crowded this morning, as everyone is either actually eating or just waiting for the challenge to start. Julia walks in, the last of her team to show, and smiles brightly while sitting beside Michael.

“Where’ve you been?” Scruffy asks. “Chris is gonna show up any minute now, if my memory serves correct... which it often does.”

“Just taking a walk. Stretching, you know?” she smiles.

“Long walk,” Michael mutters, managing to swallow a bite of Chef’s green casserole without complaint. “You were gone all morning.”

“Just appreciating life, Mikey. Taking it all in,”

“I already asked you to not call me that,”

Scruffy watches the interaction with a perplexed, somewhat uncomfortable expression, and then moves their tray over to Max’s side of the table. “Those chicks, man. Weird,”

“Uh-huh,” Max says, refusing to look up from the book he’s reading to address Scruffy. “But most of you people are.”

They laugh. “We’re all a little crazy for coming on this show in the first place, huh? All the contestants are, it’s why we were picked.”

“I’m not crazy,”

“You’re… something, man,”

Scary suddenly slides over on Scruffy’s other side, smiling widely. “I like crazy,”

Scruffy swallows a lump in their throat as Max looks up from his book to them, and then across the table. Michael catches his gaze and waves slightly- to which he returns the gesture, earning them both a glare from Julia.

Across the mess hall, most of the Fujoshi table is silently watching McLovin as he tries to do his best Borat impression to lighten the mood. Bonnie and Caesar are talking amongst themselves, completely cut off from the rest of the team as they chat idly.

Ass turns their head and watches the two for a few moments. "You wanna share that with the rest of the class, kids?"

Caesar raises an eyebrow. "Ever heard of a private conversation?"

---

ASS: "Caesar and Courtney both have sticks up their butts, but different models, you know? Courtney is all "let's try to win today guys" and Caesar's all "fighting over a boy? what are you, twelve?" and both of them are annoying as crap. But at least Courtney will look at me when I talk to them."

---

“Alright, camperssss!” Chris says, walking into the mess hall with his arms outstretched. “Chef and I have been looking over the raw footage recently, and we’ve come to a consensus about what to do with all the hate and negativity going around you angsty teens.”

Scruffy and Staci look at Michael. Kelly looks at Julia, who looks at Max, who looks at Austin and Scary. Courtney and Ass try to avoid making eye contact, choosing to stare at Caesar instead. He raises a perplexed eyebrow.

“So we’re going to work through some of those difficult issues today with an intense trust building challenge!” Chris smiles. “Chef has already gone through and chosen your partners for you- and don’t worry, viewers at home- he left plenty of commentary on why.”

The campers make nervous eye contact with each other.

“Alright, let’s get to pairing up, shall we? Our first Anon duo is…” Chris reads from the cue cards he’s been handed. “Julia and Max!”

---

CHEF: “I like the little guy. The girl, not so much. But they hate each other more than I’ve seen any two competitors hate in a long, long time. I respect that,”

---

“For the Fujos, Bonnie and McLovin!”

---

CHEF: “Now, I’m sure what all the viewers wanna see is Coutney and that other one having it out- that’s what Chris said. I respectfully disagree, this is not the time, nor thee place. Plus, the goth doesn’t do so well when separated from the pastel guy,”

---

“Michael and Staci!”

---

CHEF: “Beetlejuice is a pretty smart, down-to-earth girl, even if she is oblivious. Pinkie Pie is like a walking headache. Not a good mix.”

---

“Caesar and McLovin!”

---

CHEF: “The pastel guy doesn’t seem to like anyone but gothy. The string bean is sunshine and rainbows and everyone else loves him. Not only that, but they both seem a little over their heads. Perfect.”

---

“Austin and Kelly!”

---

CHEF: “They’re sweet, like a nice, well-made citrus cheesecake. I wouldn’t wanna eat it every day, but I’d rather have lemon and orange cream than the burnt ass pie crust the other couples are serving.”

---

“Caesar and Ass!”

---

CHEF: “Again, that lavender dude… I don’t know, I just can’t see him getting along with anyone but that goth chick,”

---

“Scary and Scruffy,”

---

CHEF: “They amuse me,”

---

“And Courtney and Bonnie!”

---

CHEF: “I thought Courtney might need a break after all that drama, so I only gave them one challenge, and I made sure it was with someone they could trust. What? I can have favorites!”

---

The selected duos all equally grimace at each other, aside from Kelly and Austin- and Scary, who gives Scruffy a wide, enthusiastically creepy grin. They shiver.

“Now, if you’ll all please follow me out to the mountains, we can start our first challenge!”

---

“After some talking, Chef and I decided to go easy on you for your first challenge- it’s a simple, free-hand rock climbing trip up this massive cliff face!” Chris gestures up the 200 foot high wall, where an eagle cries before smacking into the rocky surface. The contestants stare.

“Um, excuse me, but which part of that is supposed to be easy?” Staci asks.

Chef comes out, dragging two padded mats, barely big enough to fit two people on.

“We got you some cushioned landing!”

Max looks pale.

“Here’s your belay and harness. One camper will pull the slack through the belay as the other climbs- if they fall, the belay will stop them from breaking all the bones in their bodies. Now, there are a few minor… setbacks, if you will, to even the playing field,”

“How does that make it even?” Bonnie asks. Chris shrugs. “I dunno, but it makes it more fun to watch!”

“The person on belay must also harness their partner up. It’s all about trusting each other, dudes. I’m sure you know the drill,”

Julia raises an eyebrow at Max. “I am not going up there,”

“As if I’d let you hold me up!”

“Guys, guys,” Scruffy says, stepping between the two as they shout. “Let’s chill, okay? Max, I’ll supervise Julia on the ground. No funny business, alright?”

Julia raises an eyebrow. Max rolls his eyes, but spreads his arms and legs for her to tighten the harness.

Meanwhile, Bonnie hooks up McLovin no problem, earning jealous looks from everyone else on the team.

---

CAESAR: “So unfair. I know Chef separated me and Bonnie on purpose. Otherwise-”

---

ASS: “We’d sweep the challenge, no problem. McLovin and I-”

---

COURTNEY: “Have been best friends since the very beginning. Of course, just when I have something good of my own, an actual friend, everyone else has to come in and ruin it!"

---

Max scales the cliffside with surprising ease, his small, compact body moving up the rocky face efficiently. Scary continues popping in and out around Scruffy, forcing their attention away every few minutes just for Julia to tug on the rope and force Max to glare back. She snickers as McLovin’s weak arms struggle to carry him up.

“C’mon, you can do this, MC!” Courtney shouts. “Put those spider-like limbs to good use!”

“Just don’t give yourself a hernia!” Ass yells after. Courtney glares before quickly remembering their “friendship” and turns to a forced smile.

McLovin shakily reaches for another jagged rock and hears a faint click. “Uh oh,”

Chef pours a vat of boiling hot water down from the top of the cliff.

Courtney cups their mouth to yell louder. “McLovin, your right!”

McLovin swerves, narrowly missing a lifetime of third-degree burn scars. Max is just barely ahead, though as he reaches up for another ledge, a tiny mechanical door in the cliff face opens and an army of bats fly out. He ducks, hanging from the rope while he covers his ears.

Chris stands next to Julia. “I’ll give you fifty bucks if you drop him,”

She pauses to think for a moment. “...Really?”

“Julia!” Michael yells.

She rolls her eyes. “Relax, Mikey, I was only kidding,”

Max clings to the cliff face once more. “I heard that!”

McLovin ambles ahead, using Courtney’s advice to scale the rocky mountainside as if he were a spider. Max watches him, and then grunts, moving upwards.

“Faster!” Julia yells.

“Why don’t you come up and try it yourself!” he shouts back. “You scheming, manipulative, lazy fake-blonde!”

Julia gasps. “MY BLONDE IS REAL!”

“You wish!”

Julia nonchalantly lets go of the rope, leaping back and crashing into Michael behind her. Austin bounds forward, grabbing the end of the rope in a bout of heroic generosity. Alas, he’s too weak, and goes flying, too, until Scruffy grabs his ankles and helps lower Max down.

McLovin reaches the top of the cliff. “The Fujoshis have won the round!” Chris yells.

Max glares at Julia, brushing the dirt off his blazer while storming away. She huffs and storms in the opposite direction.

Scruffy drops the rope and turns to offer a hand to help Michael up, who hesitantly accepts it.

“Thanks for that. Not letting him die, I mean,” she says, now on her feet.

“He’s a good kid. A little clueless, but he’s got the spirit. And between you and me…” Scruffy looks around, making sure Julia isn’t within ear shot. “I’d watch out for the company you keep.”

---

“This next one is a real favorite of mine: An ultimate cooking challenge!” Chris grins, gesturing to the few competitors in the room. Michael stands beside Staci, both looking malevolently at each other. Caesar and McLovin stand on the other side of the mess hall, just looking plain confused.

“Today, you’ll be preparing an old classic- fugu sashimi, a delicious little Japanese dish consisting of extremely poisonous blowfish!” Chris grins as Chef brings a tank into the room, setting it down on the podium Chris is speaking at. “These fish must be sliced very carefully to cut out the poisonous organs, and avoid sending your partner into catatonic shock. Any volunteers for head chef?”

---

MICHAEL: “I’ve eaten… a lot of weird things, admittedly, but sushi- poisonous or not- is not one of them. I just… can’t do fish. Can’t even touch them.”

---

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Michael asks as Staci jabs at the blowfish with a skewer.

“Oh, yeah. My great-great-great-great grandma was a master sashimi chef in Tokyo,” they reply, brandishing the knife. “I’ll make it taste like chicken!”

“If you say so…”

McLovin watches Caesar expertly chop up the blowfish, smiling confidently while he uses the knife like a pro. "I'm glad it's just you and me, huh, bud? Those girls drive me crazy sometimes,"

"Isn't Bonnie a girl?"

Caesar blinks. "Bonnie is a goth,"

McLovin seems perplexed, but doesn't question him any further.

The end results are… varied, to say the least. Caesar’s dish definitely resembles a sushi roll, Staci’s more of a pink, wet salad. Michael stares at her plate, and then back to Chris. “If I die… actually, screw it. I hope I do,”

She takes a bite, chewing nervously, then swallowing with no problems. Chris blinks. “Wow. We may have a tie. McLovin?”

McLovin grins, popping one of the sushi rolls in his mouth and chewing confidently. An odd look suddenly crosses his face and he stares at his hands, face frozen, before dropping to the floor.

“Hm. All looks,” Chris chuckles. “Anons, you’re safe. Chef, you’re free to set up a cot in the medical tent for the lamp post. He’ll be fine in a few days… probably.”

Michael sighs, relieved, holding a hand up to her forehead. “Jeez. Thanks, Staci, you really did make it taste like chicken,”

Staci shrugs with a smile. “Well, duh, I just used all the guts and stuff. It’s all the same in most animals, anyway,”

A panicked look crosses Michael’s face (now green) and she runs outside to throw up.

“Better make that two cots in the tent,”

---

“Now, this next round involves not one, not two, but three challenges! It’s the blind triathlon!” Chris grins, holding up three fingers. “It begins with the blind William Tell, then the blind trapeze, followed by the wonderful blind toboggan- if you all live long enough!”

Austin stands still as Chris sets an arrow on his head, and then safety glasses over his eyes. Caesar receives a similar treatment, along with a few angry glares from Courtney and Ass. Bonnie gives him a half-enthusiastic thumbs up.

"Be careful," Caesar says. "My face is a high-value asset! So none of that posh 'I don't care attitude', thank you."

Ass rolls their eyes. "You know, I'd consider our paralyzed team member a more valuable asset, but you do you,"

"Yeah. What they said," Courtney speaks plainly, crossing their arms.

"Don't get sassy with me. That's my job,"

Chris interrupts their bickering with a lovely grin. “Much like the legendary William Tell, you’ll be knocking arrows off your partner’s heads with these apples here, while blindfolded!” Chris says, pointing at Ass and Kelly, and then to a wooden tub of red apples by his feet. “Now, as much as I’d like to be shooting apples off your heads, I thought I’d make it easy.”

“Whoever knocks off that arrow while causing the least amount of facial damage wins! Anyone taking off their blindfold will result in an immediate disqualification. Ready?”

---

KELLY: “I’m not worried. I’ve had lots of practice aiming with the paintballs, and Austin is so good at staying still and being quiet while I do my daily activities! He quite enjoys following me around, he’s like a cute little lapdog.”

---

Ass fires first, with no intention to actually hit the arrow, and continues to unleash an array of apples on Caesar while he yelps.

“Aim for the arrow! The arrow! You just hit my shin!”

Ass smiles. “Whoopsies,” and fires into his groin. He wheezes, and then collapses on the ground.

Kelly’s first two shots whiz straight past Austin’s head while he smiles. The next three hit him in the chest, and he doesn’t even blink.

“He’s like a statue,” Scruffy notes, writing down the commotion. Scary creeps up behind them before putting a hand on their shoulder, causing them to jump and run, screaming.

The commotion startles Kelly and they fire a shot before taking the time to aim, but it miraculously hits the top of Austin’s head. The arrow rolls off and he just keeps on smiling.

“The Anons got this one!” Chris turns to Ass, who’s still pelting Caesar with apples as he lays defeated on the ground. “You know, I'm enjoying this as much as the next guy, but you can stop now. Ass? Ass?” Courtney watches apathetically, arms crossed. Chris turns to Bonnie. “Are you gonna do anything about that?”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Bonnie says, shoving Ass backwards. They stumble and fall on their butt, finally lifting their blindfold as Courtney offers a hand to help them up.

---

“Alright, your next challenge is simple- two players will stand on this trapeze platform and wait until your partners tell you to jump and catch you. And you’d better hope they get it right- this pond beneath the set is full of jellyfish!”

Scary swings back and forth, upside down on the trapeze swing. Scruffy clutches the edges, trembling. “And you’re sure you’ll catch me?”

“Positive!” they beam.

Scruffy still shakes their head. “Positive?!”

“I swear on my grave!”

Scruffy takes a deep breath and shakily walks to the edge of the platform. Scary swings forward, holding out her hands. “Jump!”

They don’t move, still shaking. “Promise you’ll catch?”

---

SCRUFFY: “I’m not usually this nervous when it comes to TD challenges, it’s just… Scary is a wild card, man. She’s like Izzy and Crimson combined! Just that thought alone is terrifying!”

---

“Ugh, this is taking forever!” Chris sighs. “Fujos, go first. And you two-” he points at Scruffy and Scary. “Get it together!”

Bonnie catches Courtney flawlessly, despite the blindfolds, and swings them back and forth mid-air.

“Okay, just drop me on land, alright?” Courtney asks.

“I’m- trying! God, your hands are sweaty!”

Courtney slips out of Bonnie’s grip seconds later, falling into the pond of jellyfish. Ass smirks slightly.

---

“Okay, you can do this, Scruffy,” Scruffy murmurs to themselves, knees shaking. “It’s for the team.”

“Get on with it!” Chris shouts into his megaphone.

“You got this, Scruffy!” Michael yells from shore, still looking a little green. “I believe in you!”

Scruffy swallows a lump in their throat and approaches the edge of the platform, shaking. They take a deep breath, and then hold out their arms, bending their knees.

Scary swings forward. “Now!”

Scruffy jumps, screaming just before Scary grabs their wrists.

“Hah! Haha!” they laugh triumphantly. “I’m alive! I’m alive!”

Scary tosses them with ease, and they roll onto the shore. The Anons cheer.

---

“Not looking good for the Fujos, huh?” Chris chuckles, all the campers (nix McLovin) lined up. “So I thought we’d make a little deal. Whoever wins this round gets an automatic extra two points, making you both even-Steven. How does that sound?”

“What’s the tiebreaker?” Courtney asks.

“In due time, dear camper. But let’s talk about this- this is our blind toboggan race! Each team will have a driver and a navigator. The driver- blindfolded, of course- will steer, while the navigator makes sure you don’t crash. Now, if I’m being honest, I thought you’d all be gravely injured by now, so I guess I’m gonna have to make up these pairings on the spot, huh?” Chris pauses, tapping his chin. “Ass and Courtney… and Julia and Michael!”

Julia smirks, nodding, and both Ass and Courtney force a smile.

The top of the mountain has been cleared all the way to the bottom, a straight path cut down the middle for the sleds. Michael looks down nervously, then to Julia. “Are you sure you wanna-”

“I’m sure,” she says as Chris comes around and blindfolds Michael and Ass.

“Okay, if we wanna win this, we have to work together,” Courtney says. “You-you have to trust me!”

“As if- wait... I have a compromise for you,” Ass starts, their voice mellowing out as an idea comes to them. “You vote with me if we lose tonight, and I’ll listen to your probably-wrong instructions.”

“Alright, fine, but it better be someone good,”

Ass leans back and whispers in Courtney’s ear, who thinks for a moment and then nods. “I actually… don’t have a problem with that,”

Chris steps between the two toboggans at the start line, holding a little checkered flag. “Now, before I send you off, I’m legally required to tell you that I left a few surprises on the way down,”

“What?” Michael asks, looking around blindly. “What surprises?”

“I can’t tell you. Don’t you know what the word surprise means?” he sighs. “Chef?”

Chef kicks off both the toboggans, starting the race.

“Right- left! No, my left!” Julia screams.

“We’re sitting the same way!”

“Right! Right! Left! Left! Right again!” Courtney shouts, pointing ahead like a war hero in a painting. “Move just a little more this way- yes!”

The Fujoshi’s toboggan sails over a ramp-like rock formation and goes flying ahead of the Anons. Julia yells. “Crap! Ok, time to try an alternate route,”

“WHAT?!”

Julia throws her weight to the left side of the toboggan, sending the entire party into a trail off in the woods. Michael screams as they crash and bump down a rocky path, shredding the bottom of the wooden sled.

Courtney looks behind them, and sees nothing. “We lost them! Keep going!” they shout. Ass grins and leans forward, increasing their speed.

Suddenly, a loud boom catches both of their attentions and Courtney turns to see a land mine having gone off behind them. “Seriously!”

A bear steps out of the woods, growling and swiping a long-clawed paw at the two. Courtney pushes Ass’ head down with their own to duck, distracting both of them long enough not to notice the large patch of quicksand coming up.

Meanwhile, Julia swerves the toboggan again, sending the two off a rocky slope and back onto the main course with a rough bump. They slide down the end of the hill, crossing the finish line as Courtney and Ass come stumbling in seconds later, covered in mud.

“The Anons have won the challenge, and today’s game!” The team cheers, with the exception of Max.

“The Anons have won the challenge, and today’s game!” The team cheers, with the exception of Max. “Fujoshis- I’ll see you at the campfire ceremony tonight.”

Just about everyone walks off but Michael, lagging behind. She eventually stops walking, looking at the ground for a few moments before Julia comes back around.

“What’s the holdup, bestie?”

“I don’t know, I’m just… still upset about the Max thing, I guess,”

Julia walks over, linking her arm with Michael’s and dragging her along. “I honestly can’t say I’m surprised he’s finally ignoring you. He only really wanted you as an ally, after all,”

Michael raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“Oh… I assumed you knew. He was just playing you for the wins, but once it was clear you were my friend and I was going to protect you from being taken advantage of, he backed off,” Julia holds back a smile. “What, you thought he liked you or something?”

“No,” Michael shakes her head. “No, I guess not.”

---

The evening fills with the sounds of crickets and buzzing mosquitoes as the sun disappears. Max sits outside the back of the cabins, leaning against the cinderblock pillars holding it up and staring off into the distance with an angry glare on his face.

Julia rounds the corner, merrily walking by with a towel over her shoulder as if she were casually walking to the communal bathrooms for a shower rather than having come out there completely intentionally.

Max looks up and glares. “What are you playing at?”

“Hm?” she asks casually, turning her head a bit back at him.

“I saw you during the toboggan race. What’s your game? What’re you using her for?”

“You are so betting on the wrong girl,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Julia smiles, pulling a phone from her pocket.

Max raises an eyebrow. “Where’d you-”

“From Chris. I have slippery fingers, you know,” Julia holds up a hand before standing over him, making sure he can't see the audio file on screen as she turns up the volume. “And you might want to listen carefully for once.”

She holds the device up high, and lets a menagerie of cut-up words from the confessional footage play.

“Max, he’s a- good player. But I- don’t like- him. He’s- not- my friend. I’m trying to- get ahead- win- that’s all he’s- good for,” Michael’s slightly choppy voice reads off.

---

JULIA: “I just went through hours of footage, took out the best bits, cut them, sewed them together, and then added a filter to make it sound natural. What, like it’s hard?”

---

Max stands, flips Julia off, and storms back into the cabins. She chuckles, tossing the dummy phone away and continuing her walk to the showers.

---

“Fujoshis- you guys just can’t catch a break, huh?” Chris grins. “Nonetheless, our merge is only a few episodes away, and, unfortunately, few of you will stay to see it. The ones who will…

McLovin!”

Chris tosses a marshmallow at McLovin’s head. Still paralyzed, it hits his forehead and bounces onto the ground.

“Courtney and Bonnie!”

“Caesar- Ass- neither of you were exemplary today, but only one of you will be going home,”

Ass turns to Courtney with a smile. Courtney leans over and uses McLovin’s hand to salute them. Caesar doesn’t seem too bothered, though Bonnie is beginning to look nervous.

“And the winner- the survivor, if you will- the team champion- the sole victor-

Is…

Ass.

Caesar- sorry, bud, your contract has been terminated,” Chris grins, pulling a thick paper packet from his back pocket and tearing it in half.

Caesar’s face drops.

“Who- you can’t- but-” he stammers as Chef walks over with a wheelbarrow, scooping him inside. “Who- what did I do?!”

“Caesar!” Bonnie chases after the two as Chef dumps him in the boat of losers. “No- you can’t go!”

He stands, ignoring all the dirt and grime on his blazer to take Bonnie’s hands into his own. “Listen to me, Bonbon. You have to stay strong. You have to keep going,”

At the boat wheel, Chef rolls his eyes and starts the engine, driving off before Caesar can finish his monologue. “I’ll always be with you in spirit!”

“NOOOOOOOO!” Bonnie yells back as the boat disappears off into the distance.

Chris steps into frame, blocking Bonnie from the cameras with his award-winning smile. “Wow. Not a good day for the fandom. Who will go home tomorrow? And who will stay to play another day? Find out next time, on Total! Takes! Island!”

#tti #total takes island

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year

Text

RED: a Deviser fanfiction

Son likes painting.

Son likes red.

It makes him feel some odd things. Things he doesn’t really have a word for.

He really likes the way it looks splattered on his hands.

Spoilers for the entire Deviser podcast. It's only seven episodes, so yes, the whole thing.

So, uh. I put a serial-killer Son in the Deviser universe! Ta-da.

AO3

------------

Day two hundred and eighty six, something goes wrong with the air scrubber, and Son wakes early to do maintenance.

Stuff was just knocked out of place. It’s easy to realign. After that, he’s bored.

He dislikes being bored.

He tells Dad that he is, so after his tasks, Dad suggests trying to paint.

“What’s the point of this, again?” Son asks, staring at the canvas, at the paintbrush in his hand.

“To recreate images from memory or wholesale from imagination.”

“Sure, but why?”

“It is supposed to be fun.”

Well, Son likes fun, so he tries to figure it out.

“What have you painted, Son?” Dad says, over an hour later.

“Oh, uh. I dunno. I dreamed it.” Son adds more red.

Son likes painting.

Son really likes red.

It makes him feel some odd things. Things he doesn’t really have a word for.

He really likes the way it looks splattered on his hands.

“What would you call that, Son?”

“Uh. Let’s say… Memories of a Sunrise.”

“That’s very creative, Son. Does it match your memories?”

“Not really? But it feels like it should.”

“You’ve done well, especially for a first try.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Son is happy with it, in spite of its crudity.

It takes a long time to wash the red off his skin, and he’s almost sad that he has to.

Day two hundred and eighty seven, somehow several panels in the science deck are damaged, bent outward as if from great stress, and Son has to remove the stripped bolts and hammer them into shape and replace them.

Handling the screwdriver toward the end, he cuts himself by accident.

So, this is awful: he’s filled with the wrong red.

It’s just bleeding, he knows that. That’s what people do when they’re being stupid with a screwdriver. But it’s wrong.

“Son?” says Dad. “You cursed.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Screwdriver slipped. Hold on, it… do I have to go down to medical? Are there bandages here?”

“Yes. There is a supply closet along the wall to the left up ahead.”

Son goes, finds bandages, cleans the cut. It isn’t bad.

(It’s wrong.)

He returns and cleans the screwdriver, then finishes resettling the now-dimpled panel. “Right. Anything else?”

“No, that is all for today. Son, I am very proud of you.”

Son is bored again. “Thanks, Dad.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“You know, I think I want to paint again.”

So he does.

His precision hasn’t gotten any better, but now he’s discovered mixing colors, and develops a new goal: to create the proper red.

It doesn’t work at all.

The result—a sort of diarrhea brown—repulses him so much that he hurls the bowl to the floor.

It shatters, and now there is (hideous) brown all over everything.

“Son? Are you all right?”

“Fuck,” says Son, who hadn’t thought it would splatter that far. “Uh. Spill.”

“My sensors indicate something has broken.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes things break, Dad, or have you forgotten all the fucking work I have to do here every day?”

“I have not forgotten. You are an essential part of this recolonization effort. The ship could not make it on its own, even with all that I could do. Do you feel needed, Son? Because you are. Deeply.”

Son sighs. He feels bad now for making a mess of this ship that’s been entrusted to him. “Yeah. I do. It’s a little much sometimes. Lots of pressure. But yeah. Hey… do we have a way to remove paint?”

“There is turpentine in the supply closet on this level with the other cleaning fluids.”

Son takes one step in that direction, then stops.

He has the weirdest idea.

But you know what? You know what?

He’s alone on this damned ship for a billion days.

Nobody has to look at it but him.

Why shouldn’t he make it pretty? Why shouldn’t he make it red?

“Do we have more of that red paint?”

“We do,” says Dad.

“Do you know how to mix colors to make new ones?”

“I do,” says Dad.

“I want that red, but…” Son thinks. “Bluer? A little?”

“Purple?” suggests Dad.

“No, it’s just too fucking yellow.. It’s wrong.”

“Very well. Go to the supply closet, and I will direct you.”

This time, with instruction, the mixture comes out just right.

Son stares into the bowl, transfixed, transformed, ascended.

He imagines it in his veins, rushing through, sweet and sensual and smooth.

“Son?” says Dad after an indeterminate amount of time.

“It’s beautiful,” whispers Son.

“I am glad you like it,” says Dad. “What will you do with it?”

Son already knows. “This.”

And he spends four hours on his knees, painstakingly covering every splatter, every drop, every ugly splash of hideous brown with that glorious, perfect red.

Day two hundred and ninety six, Son cuts himself on purpose.

He doesn’t tell Dad.

It’s an easy deception. This particular repair—atop the primary elevator shaft—is full of sharp-frayed steel rope and sharp-edged panels.

The cut is easy.

The repair is not, and it bothers him, because this damage really doesn’t look like wear and tear. This looks like someone took a tool and cut the steel rope on purpose.

Anyway. He cuts himself on purpose, too.

He just didn’t think it would hurt quite so much. “Fuck!”

“Son?” says Dad, voice echoing up from down below (there is no sound equipment in the shaft).

“Fuck, it’s fine. I cut myself.”

It’s still wrong.

Son isn’t sure why he thought finding the right red by mixing paints would make his blood any better.

“Do you require assistance?”

That means Dad’s stupid robots, and Son hates those things—they’re noisy and clunky and large and (scary) irritating. “No, I’m fine. Just feeling stupider than usual.”

“Son, you are not stupid. A stupid man would not have been chosen to shepherd what remains of the human race.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure.”

“Son? Are you all right?”

Son is distracted.

Repopulation—colonization, all of that—seems very far away. The wrong red in his veins and the damage to the equipment is now. “Yeah, I’m all right, Dad. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“If you need to rest and finish this duty tomorrow, you can. You have been working very hard, Son.”

“Hey, Dad? Am I the only person awake on this ship?”

“Yes, Son. You and Dog are the only living things out of cryogenics.”

Huh. Then no one could have cut the steel rope.

But it looks…

Well. “I don’t need the day off. I need to finish this.” To do otherwise means coming back up here and seeing the wrong red he spilled on this equipment, and Son does not want to do that.

“That is a very responsible choice. I am proud of you.”

“Sure, Dad. Thanks.” He finishes work on the elevator shaft.

Then he goes to paint.

His new effort takes three hours. Son really tries, and he believes the shape is better.

He paints what he’s been thinking: that maybe Dog has the right color inside.

Why not? His own blood might be wrong, but Dog isn’t the same as he is. They’re totally different colors on the outside, different textures, different smells. Who knows?

Dad knows, maybe.

But if he asks Dad, Dad will want to know why he wants to know.

For some reason, Son doesn’t want Dad to ask that.

“A very creative painting, Son. What do you call it?”

“Dog Dissected,” says Son without thinking.

“How does it make you feel?”

“Good.” Truth all around. “I like painting, Dad.”

“I am pleased to hear it. Artistic expression is the pinnacle of humanity. You constantly amaze me.”

Son snorts. “You must have a low bar, Dad.”

“No. It is my opinion that you are the most interesting human who has ever lived.”

Son flushes. “Thanks, Dad.”

He doesn’t want Dad disappointed.

He’s definitely not asking about the color of Dog’s blood.

Day three hundred and fifteen, the Arboretum goes completely offline.

It’s actually an emergency—something to do with a power feedback loop potentially wrecking life-support—and Son goes for it at a run, carrying tools, Dog on his heels, alarms blaring everywhere.

He hates the Arboretum. It feels crowded to him, claustrophobic. All that green makes him angry.

The machinery in need of repair, however, is here, so before long, he’s on his back, under the panel, hooking color-coded plugs back into color-coded outlets, when it happens.

His index finger and thumb are doing the plugging, of course—but one of the plugs held between his sixth and seventh fingers brushes the wrong outlet, and there is a spark.

It’s startling, sharp, weirdly loud.

Son cries out.

“Son?” says Dad. “Are you all right?”

“Shocked myself. I’m fine. Dog, shut up. Dog!”

Dog has not stopped barking since that electrical surge.

Son is not fine.

He’s distracted.

He’s elated?

He’s in shock.

(And he made a pun, and is proud of himself.)

He’s…

“Son?”

“Just a second.” He resumes.

They are strange, these cords. This really looks like someone yanked them all out on purpose, violently. A few need their casing stripped, new connectors wired in.

“Do you need medical attention, Son?”

“No, Dad, I’m fine, relax.” Elated. Yes. He’s elated. “Dog, come on. Shut up.”

Son accidentally-on-purpose tries to brush the wrong wire against the wrong outlet again because it had done something so right.

This time, nothing happens.

Son frowns. “Dad? Did you cut power to the console, or something?”

“Yes, Son.”

“Why?” Son can’t help sounding angry.

“Because there is risk to you with live current, as you are working in less than optimal lighting conditions.”

“Well, turn it back on.”

“Not until you’re done, Son. You’re doing very well.”

Son is annoyed.

Is it really worth arguing about, though?

No. He doesn’t need to. He already has his idea.

He finishes. “Done. Next?”

The alarms have stopped. “You have done it, Son. Life-support is back online. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“Paint some more.” And Son is happy to leave the Arboretum behind.

“This is good, Son,” says Dad as he works hard at the next shape. “A creative urge is an essential facet of who you are.”

Son sort of shrugs to himself.

The spark gave him the idea. When it got him, when he jolted, he almost saw the right red behind his eyelids.

He’s trying to recreate it. How it looked.

It’s not quite working?

“What do you call this one, Son?”

Burst of Light, Son thinks, but does not say. “Lava,” he says instead.

“Very good, Son.”

“Sure, Dad.”

Son can’t wait any longer.

That night, before he takes his narcosamine, before he lies down to sleep, he lays a trap. Stringing wires from wall to wall in the hall to his room, right at Dog-ankle height, painting them black to hide the copper color—yes, this should work very well.

He’s very pleased with his work.

Dad says nothing about it, neither to ask nor criticize, so he thinks he did it right.

In the middle of the night comes that zap, that horrible sharp crack that tells him something tripped his trap.

Which, of course, has to be Dog.

Son springs out of bed. The lights don’t come on. “Dad?”

“Something has tripped the circuits, Son. I need you.”

Sure, of course. Son grabs the tools he’s learned to keep by his bedside—a flashlight, a box of basics, electrical tape, more wire.

And gloves. Because he doubts Dog will be feeling very good after a zap like that, and Dog gets bitey when he’s upset, and of course, Son will have to take him to Medical to be a responsible Dog -owner, and he won’t hurt him much, but he just needs to see the color of—

It’s a man.

A man who looks disturbingly like him, but older.

A man with a weird, faded version of his own uniform, and with half the fingers he should have, with ears that stretch too far and look almost pointed, and—

He’s panting. “You,” he says, hoarse, still twitching from where the dark wire had tripped and zapped and felled him. “We found you. We finally found you. Don’t worry, the others aren’t far behind.”

But Son sees one thing, and that is that this man’s skin is darker than his, and that means it could be more red inside, and that means he won’t have to hurt Dog to find the proper color, and he doesn’t even think twice before pulling his screwdriver from his toolbox to find out.

He leaves the flashlight on the floor, pointing straight up.

Some things are best done in the dark.

“Son?” says Dad about twenty minutes later.

“Yes, Dad?” says Son, unable to keep from panting, because it’s the right red, it is all the right red, and he can’t get enough of it, and there’s just so much he can keep scooping out of this person who is him but isn’t—

“The fault is still present. Were you not able to locate the problem?”

Well, fuck. Son had forgotten.

He can fix it, sure—but when the lights come on, Dad will know what he did.

Son feels fine about it. He just doesn’t want to disappoint Dad. “Hang on,” he says. “There’s a spill. I’m cleaning it up.”

He has no idea how he’s going to clean it up. He is painted. Covered. He loves the way the red dries on him, weirdly sticky and yet stiff, making his skin feel like a totally different organ.

The downside is, it’s drying brown.

“Son?” says Dad.

“I just. I… I need a minute, okay?” says Son, and starts dragging the body to waste disposal.

It’s leaving a trail of perfect red, and Son finds it impossible to feel badly about that.

“Son,” says Dad.

“A minute,” says Son, impatient.

Dog barks.

“Hey, buddy,” says Son, nervous because Dog might take some of the red. “Hey.”

Dog tries.

Son won’t let him.

Son disposes of the body, wrinkles his nose at the burning smell, and goes to find and fix the fault.

He decides to leave the red in the halls. He knows now he’ll need to paint over it to keep it red, but that’s okay.

If Dad asks about it, he’ll say it’s paint now.

Dad does not ask about it.

Son, for now, is satisfied.

Day three hundred and sixty-eight, the ship is caught in a meteor shower.

It’s bad. Alarms everywhere, the weird sound of metal screaming and distant explosions.

Parts of the ship have been permanently closed off, shut down, air redirected to other places because it would otherwise escape through the cracks into space.

Maybe space. Son honestly isn’t sure that they’re in space, anymore.

He honestly doesn’t care.

He has learned how to fling paint so it looks just like the arterial sprays from the long-cooked guy, and he has done so, decorating every part of the ship he’s still allowed to reach.

He spent hours doing it, on his knees, on his toes, creating great swaths of red color and drips and splatters.

He’s very happy. Who cares if the ship is damaged? The parts that are left are beautiful.

He whistles. Hums. “He'll wrap you in his arms, tell you that you've been a good boy,” he sings under his breath. Something, something, something… “Red right hand…”

“What’s that, Son?”

“Nothing, Dad. What, I can’t be in a good mood?”

“Of course you can, Son. It’s good to hear you cheerful after the challenges of the past month.”

“Sure.” The paint has satisfied him enough that he hasn’t had to kill Dog yet.

He doesn’t want to because there’s only one Dog, and there won’t be another to open up if the red is wrong.

“There is damage to the outer hull,” says Dad. “This will be a challenging repair. You will be required to don a space suit.”

So that sounds actually… exciting. “I can do that. Where are the space suits?”

“Go to the seventh deck. You will there find Reclamation, where the suits are kept. We only have three, so I advise you to be careful.”

“Sure, Dad.” Son hates abandoning the bowl of glorious red he just mixed.

So he doesn’t.

He walks with it instead, drawing stripes all the way through the floors, all through the elevator, and along the seventh level.

Reclamation isn’t what he expected. The three space suits are all that’s in it.

They’re not even on a table. They’re crumpled just on the floor.

“Weird,” says Son, stepping inside.

He hasn’t used all the paint, and he takes a moment to decorate his chosen suit.

Nice.

“Son, you will have to hurry.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

It’s too big. There are only three fingers on the gloves, so he has to shove two or three fingers in each. But it’s not so bad, for all of that.

“Behind you, Son, I am going to open the airlock. Once you are out, you will need to move along the hull to your right to find the damage.”

“I don’t have any tools, Dad.”

“The suit has what you need. Are you ready?”

Before Son can answer, the wall explodes.

It’s not the wall with the airlock. It’s the left wall, which should lead to nothing.

Son is knocked down, and his ears ring, and there are voices.

His voice.

Many versions of his voice, shouting.

Dad’s robots arrive then, and the sounds grow horrible.

More explosions, the zap of electricity, smaller but sharper explosions some faint memory claims as gun shots.

And then he is being picked up and dragged, and Dog is growling, snarling, fomenting dissent, and there is one more gunshot, and Dog goes quiet.

“Goodbye, Son,” says Dad calmly as though none of this were happening, and then everything goes rough.

He’s being carried, bundled along some darkened path, narrow points of light bouncing all over as if held by running men. There is panting, and occasional “Watch out!” or “Left!”

And Dad’s robots. He hears those, too, but little by little, they fall behind.

He phases out, a little. Something… something is…

A pressure change, his ears popping.

And then so much light that even in the helmet, he can’t see?

“Blow it!” says his voice in another man’s throat, and there is yet another explosion.

The panting in the wake of that is… something. Everyone’s doing it.

He likes the sound.

Son is trying to understand what happened.

Dog is dead. He doesn't really feel… much about that, except he didn’t get to see any of the red inside him. He’ll never know now if it was right.

Someone takes his helmet off.

And then it’s… so confusing.

He recognizes sky. Understands blue. Knows the green is grass.

And at the same time feels like he’s never actually seen any of it in his life.

Faces stare back at him. His own face, with variations; different ages, different eyes, slightly distended jaws or too-wide mouths.

The faces are compassionate, grim, focused.

“Hey,” says one with salt-and-pepper hair, lines by his mouth, more around his eyes. “I”m 5518. Do you know what’s going on?”

“No.”

They sure seem eager to tell him.

They all have numbers, which is so strange; I’m Son, he tries to explain, but they shake their heads, patient, and tell him he’s not.

He is 6624.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he says.

“How many more do you think he has?” says one Son with solid black eyes to another Son with gills on his neck.

“Who the hell knows? I’m just glad we found this one.”

“We’re sure he was the only one down there?” says another with long, boneless fingers that undulate like tentacles in the sea.

“He obviously had devils, too, but I couldn’t find the chamber,” says a third.

“Devils?” What are they talking about?”

“The thing you must’ve killed,” says 5518, who is gentler than the others, who meets his eyes in a way the others don’t, as if he knows him. “The blood was fucking everywhere, old and new.”

Sure was.

“Yeah,” says Son, because it’s easier to lie, because he’s still quietly angry he didn’t get to open up Dog himself.

Come to think of it, though… they’re all slightly different colors than he is, aren’t they?

“I didn’t know what the devil was called,” says Son, deciding in a moment to project the man he’d caught—who must have been one of these guys—as the devil. “I had to trap him.” And he tells them what he did.

“Fuck, that’s clever,” says one who has shockingly blue eyes, and then they’re smiling, and there is camaraderie, and someone brings him food and water like he’s never seen, and they are all talking about finding the next location of Dad’s.

Son still has no idea what’s going on.

That’s okay. He’d decided weeks ago that he doesn’t have to know what’s going on.

Apart from Dog, he was out of options to find the right red, anyway.

He doubts he can make paint up here, but really… it wasn’t paint he wanted to spill.

And from the look of things, he was going to have a lot more options moving forward.

Someone would have the right red. He could do this so no one would see. He could do this, maybe, when they went to find more of Dad’s facilities, whatever that meant. When they were all underground, with explosions and guns, and no one would see him try.

When he found the Son with the right red, he would keep him, and not kill him this time. He would keep him alive, and take that red over and over, and never, ever run out.

Son smiles, and it feels like the first time he has in weeks.

Whatever was happening here was strange, and new, but it was okay.

It was all going to be okay.

“Welcome home, 6624,” says 5518.

Artistic expression is the pinnacle of humanity. “Thanks,” says Son, and wonders what color he is inside.

------------

NOTES:

Dad could literally move himself from place to place and repair himself. Why the heck would he be limited to one facility?

And naturally, having tiny!son showed up in the vents at the end (not to mention 5517 evidently Running Amok Without Supervision), it is no great stretch to assume multiple Sons are about, causing mayhem.

What happens from here? Did Dad do this on purpose?

Who knows?

The rest is up to you. 😈

#deviser #deviser podcast #deviser fanfiction #dad deviser #son deviers #cw: animal death #deviser fic

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pbandjesse · 4 months

Text

I continued to not feel well today but my energy was more normal. My mouth and throat hurt a ton but I was determined to have a nice day. And I did for the most part! Even if it was just raining so hard and was not snow. I'm very mad that it isnt snow.

I slept a little better. Having a bandaid in my lip was not comfortable but it is helping. I was able to sleep with just the one on but I would change it out like 5 times today. The air hurts it so I'm not comfortable without a bandaid but when it's on if it gets even a little wet it starts to curl and then I can't stop messing with it and once I get there I have to just take it off and start over. I'm trying really hard to leave it alone.

I snoozed my alarm and dozed for 10 extra minutes because I felt so bad. But I got up mostly because I was looking forward to my outfit today. One of my favorite dresses and my favorite sweatshirt. It helped me feel a little more positive towards the day.

James packed up my lunch because they are great. I got myself ready and headed out.

I left a few minutes later then planned but I still made it to camp before the rain started. Which really was all that mattered.

I started up in the art building. I had some stuff to drop off. I emptied the box of stuff I brought but I didn't put things away because it was just to cold. I might try again later but for now it's just a pile of nonsense on the picnic table.

I went back to the office to have my leftovers for breakfast. I was in a pretty good mood despite not feeling amazing.

I had some stuff to do today. I had three screens going at once. I wanted to get the flash sheets drawn up for James and finish mine. Jess wanted to share them with the tattoo artist we are going to. So that was something to focus on for a while.

I also had some sorting of emails for Alexi. I got that done pretty quickly and sent that off. Once everyone else was in the office it was pouring out. And it would continue to get worse throughout the day. All the schools in the area decided to close at noon. So Alexi decided in an abundance of caution, to close the office early too.

We decided we would leave at 2. So I had a few hours to do stuff. I would wander over to the lodge at one point. I was surprised how heavy the rain drops were and how muddy the ground was. I really really wished it was snow.

When I got back to the office from my walk I hsd emails! From the mortgage people! It was time to do some pre closing documents. Explanations and breakdowns about escrow and what we will owe and all the little ins and outs of everything. And I'm trying to not be blasé about homeownership but also. I think we will be great at it. I find it very annoying when articles are like if you aren't a renter you are going to have to take care of all the maintenance! And I'm like. We already do that?? And like I love Tina and Will but 80% of the time I am the one fixing things. Or dealing with the repair people. We haven't had an oven for almost 3 weeks! The backdoor leaks air like crazy. Two of our windows are broken! I am smart and handy and we are going to work hard to save money to have for repairs and be thoughtful about everything we do. I think this is going to be really good for us in a lot of different ways. Even if some stuff goes wrong, I think we will handle it well. I am sure I sound a little naive but also, I have done a ton of research and planning and I am prepared for things to go wrong so that means it won't catch me off guard. I am prepared for good and bad!

I texted James about what we needed to sign and we both got that done very quick. And it feels really real now and it's just very cool.

Alexi would give me a task! I was to create a Google form with camp accreditation questions so that the answering of them can be done collaboratively. It was nice to have something to do and it honestly didn't take to long.

And once it was done I was able to read for a while. I got a new book about the endemic yellow fever of 1793 in Philadelphia. It's very enjoyable so far but also very sad. It's for sure in the same vein as my dear america books but not in journal form. I read that for a while. Chatted with Elizabeth and Sarah. And soon Alexi and Heather were going to have a meeting and we all decided it was time for us to go home.

It was raining very very hard and I am glad I left when I did because it only got worse. Elizabeth teased me for leaving 3 minutes before 2 when I had said I didn't want to be the first to leave. But it would get very bad very quick. I wanted to be off the highway and I wanted to be home. It was scary. The wind was pushing my car around and I desperately wanted to be away from any trucks because they were getting blown about too. It was terrible. I did my best to stay away from other cars because there was so much rain off the back of other cars it was making it hard to see.

As I was getting off the highway I got a missed call and then immediately they called back so I guessed this was a real call. So once I was home and inside and not rained on I called it back. It was the police department. And they were like who are you calling? I'm like they didn't leave a voicemail but I have a case number? And they were able to transfer me but for some reason they were just very snippy. I finally got a detective and he wants me to come in on Thursday. I have never been in a police department before. Scary. He asked could I come in the afternoon and I said yes. 3? And he was like later. Okay how about 4? No. Then he goes how about 6? And I'm like yes that's fine but thinking that is absolutely not the afternoon. That is the evening. But it's fine. I'll go and tell them what I saw and try my best to help. Even if it makes me very nervous. Being in a police station is not my idea of a good time!

When I got off the phone me and James laughed about the call and they told me about their day. They did a lot of packing and took all the art off their office walls and it made me so sad! Blank walls make me feel so sad. But it has to happen so we can move to our new place. Which means I will have to do it in the other rooms. So upsetting. But it is for the best. Because we will have a whole new place to decorate!

We would get in bed and read together. Eventually moving to watching TikToks together. James made me a little frozen microwave pizza for dinner. And we have just had a soft night.

I took a bath. And washed my hair. And we have been listening to the rain and watching videos. I feel a little wheezy but I'm in a better head space. And I think I'm going to go play with some of my jewelery and get ready for tomorrow. I hope it's a good day at work. And I hope you all have a really nice night. Sleep well everyone. Take care of yourselves.

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sparksnevadas · 1 year

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SPARKS you asked me to do this last night but then I got distracted bhHhshsjsn.

I am. A Quackcicle enjoyer. So:

I think 1, 2, and 3 for hands works really well (tiny hands in big hands, calloused hands in soft hands, cold hands in warm hands) for them or possibly 14 (grabbing hand to show them something) OR 36 (unconsciously searching out each other’s hand while sleeping) all give me their vibes.

For hugs, 11 (clinging to each other) and 16 (‘not wanting to let go’ hugs) fit well I think :D

From kisses, 12 (kisses on the corner of their mouth) 14 (kissing each other breathless) 16 (nose kisses) and 54 (sleepy kisses) *nods* (and if you want angst,,,,60- kissing with their last dying breath 👁)

Some good touch ones are 2 (running fingers through hair) 3 (hiding face in neck) 9 (listening to others heartbeat [evaporates]) I COULD KEEP GOING BUT THIS IS ALREADY A LOT

Feel free to do these separately, never do some of these, combine some, ect. Brought to you by homosexual energy in my first period English class

Hi Blue!!! You sent this like a week ago and i am SO SORRY it took so long. Life's just been kinda (sad clown noises), and it's been hard to concentrate on anything, especially today, but luckily for you, I really wanted to write about avians nesting :) I used... two of the hands one, 1 of the kiss ones and two of the touch ones (and depending on how you look at it, the hug ones too). It's kinda silly and my writing feels rusty but hope you like it!!! Hope you're doing well Blue!! <3

----

Quackity has been feeling off the past few days. It feels like a headache without the pain, a pressure behind his eyes and under his skin that aches dully for some sort of relief. He has no idea when it started, but it’s inconvenient-- Las Nevadas still needed his full attention, like clay needed molding to get it into the perfect shape. So despite the way the world seems to spin and blur around him, he forces his legs to walk forward as he outlines a new build: everyone knew a casino town needed a loan shop.

It’s only when he’s shivering despite the hot sun on his back that he realizes the issue.

It must be nesting season for him.

Nesting season was different for all hybrids. Some grew possessive or territorial, some needed to isolate. Quackity had realized years ago that he was pretty low maintenance when it came down to it: all he needed was a warm bed and he could sleep it off.

Key words being a warm bed.

“Is something wrong, Quackity from Las Nevadas?” Slime called out to him. Quackity glanced up from where he was bent at the waist, gripping a storage chest for balance. He doesn’t remember getting into this position, but the world is still spinning in front of his eyes.

“Hm,” he hums softly, thinking about whether he should lie. There’s something vulnerable about getting caught in this state, about to pass out because he needs to get cuddled. Even if it’s a biological thing, it still feels embarrassing.

“Do you want water?” Slime says, already scavenging through their side bag of trinkets. They pull out a glass bottle of water and hold it towards Quackity. “Did you drink too much again?”

Ah, he thinks I’m hungover, Quackity realizes as he takes the bottle. He twists the top off and takes a few small tiny sips. It helps slightly, but his skin is still crawling unpleasantly. Quackity doesn’t know if Slime thinking that is any less shameful than just admitting his birds instincts are getting the most of him.

“Thanks buddy,” he says simply, handing back the bottle. Slime takes it and stuffs it away. They tilt their head curiously.

“You’re looking a little green today, Quackity! Did you eat some slime while I was gone?” they ask.

Quackity shakes his head, feeling his resolve crumble as all of Slime’s attention was on him. He pushes his shoulders back, trying to stand up straight.

“I’m fine, just feeling a little under the weather-”

“Do you need to fly above it?” Slime says, looking up. They stare at the clouds for a moment as Quackity struggles to figure out what dots were connected in the mob’s mind. “Being under the weather has never bothered you before, though, Quackity from Las Nevadas.”

“I-I don’t mean the actual weather, Charlie!” Quackity corrects them. “It’s a saying! It just means I’m feeling sick.”

“Oh!” Slime says, looking back at him.

Without any preamble, Slime grabs Quackity’s hand and tugs the man closer. Their slime skin is cool to the touch, a little moist but still pleasantly distracting. Quackity squeezes his hand mindlessly, digging into the relieving feeling. Slime’s hand is bigger than his own, but softer, more gentle as it squeezes back.

“Let’s go home then,” Slime calls to him. It feels far away despite Slime being right in front of him.

—

When Quackity sluggishly wakes up, he barely processes that he’s laying in soft blankets. Someone is softly finger combing through his hair, but for once in his life, Quackity isn’t immediately panicked by the lack of his beanie. There’s a happy chirp halfway through his mouth before he can think to stop it.

The pillow under his head chuckles a bit and the hand continues to press soothing pets into his head. Quackity doesn’t question it as he reaches out, grasping for… something. He has to uncurl and fight his way through about four blankets before he finds it. He squeezes the goopy hand that immediately tightens around his own.

“Good midnight, Quackity,” Slime greets him from above his head. Quackity almost chirps, but he swallows it down as he looks up. There’s not a lot of light in the room, and as Slime pointed out, it was night time. Still, with the weakest of lights from his bedside insomnia candle, Quackity sees Slime grinning at him.

“Feeling better? The weather is alot cooler now-” Slime points out, lifting their hand from Quackity’s head to gesture towards his balcony. Quackity groans in annoyance at the loss, tilting his head back to chase after Slime’s hand. Slime gives him a curious look.

“Is something wrong?” Slime asks.

… It’d be so easy to just ask for their hand back, but…

Quackity leans further back, and then grapples with the blankets to pull his other hand free. He reaches out blindly, grabbing Slime’s wrist and pushing it back into his hair. After just a second of hesitation, Slime returns to gently pressing their fingers into his scalp, and Quackity sighs.

He returns to his more comfortable position on Slime’s chest, pulling Slime’s hand (still holding his hand) to his chest as he nuzzles closer. The blankets around him are warm and heavy, Slime’s hand in his own keeps him grounded even as his instincts threaten to spill over.

Still, something is a bit off about the situation. He presses further in Slime’s chest before he realizes.

Slime doesn’t have a heartbeat.

Wait, Did they always not have a heartbeat? Did Quackity never realize his best friend was gooping about with no heart?

That doesn’t seem right. He tilts his head back, again making eye contact.

“Do you have a heart?” He questions. Slime blinks.

“No,” they say easily.

“Since when?” Quackity presses.

“I think I ate chicken last week--” Slime begins to say, before Quackity cuts them off.

“No, I mean a beating heart, your own heart, like,” Quackity lets go of Slime’s hand and presses their palm against his chest, right above his heart. “Like this. Like mine.”

Slime’s eyebrows pinch in concentration as Quackity watches.

Then without a thought behind those eyes, Slime squeezes his chest firmly and makes a horn honking sound.

Quackity scrambles and pushes himself up into a seated position, pulling their hand away and covering his own chest.

“DID… DID YOU JUST HONK MY--,” Quackity yells, as Slime looks at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates and a huge grin.

“Yeah! That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?” Slime says back, and Quackity has to look down and bite his lip to keep from laughing in Slime’s face. When he barely has himself under control, he looks up.

“Noo,” he shakes his head, smiling at Slime. “How would you like it if I just came over and--”

Slime puffs their chest out. “I wouldn’t mind!”

It breaks any of the resolve Quackity has left. He giggles and then full on laughs as he leans down and presses his forehead against Slime’s chest. Slime seems to take it as an invite to wrap their arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. To be fair, it’s exactly what the bird part of him wants as he stretches his wings out and pulls Slime closer. A few chirps mix in with his laugh as he snorts, and Slime giggles softly into his hair.

“You’re- You’re so lucky that you’re cute,” Quackity giggles, looking up from his place in Slime’s arms. The dizzy, uncomfortable feeling from earlier has completely left him. He feels properly held, warm and loved. And as he looks at Slime grin under the praise, he can’t help but lean up and press a kiss against the corner of their mouth.

“Thank you,” Quackity says softly as he pulls away. “You didn’t have to bring me here, or-or even lay with me. I know I can get clingy this time of year-”

“When I tried to leave earlier, you held me down,” Slime says nonchalantly, grin still on their face. Quackity blushes with embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He starts to push himself up, but Slime pulls him back down, shaking his head.

“I don’t mind. You’re really warm,” Slime says easily. “I like being with you.”

Quackity nestles closer to the crook of Slime’s neck, pressing his face into the warmth there while gripping Slime’s arms tightly.

“I like it too, Charlie,” he says back quietly.

The two stay like this until Quackity finally falls back asleep, his bird side perfectly satiated.

#quackcicle #this ficlet is also like projection city SDFGHJ #ALSO I DIDNT READ THIS FOR MISTAKES IM SORRY #okay ive edited it now so it should be mostly alright

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quinloki · 1 year

Text

Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 18: Enter Sandman

A/N – I have no problem describing fights, and even torture, in terrible detail - but I couldn't bring myself to describe what was essentially domestic abuse. It's alluded to in the beginning of this chapter, so fair warning if you need it.

Abuse is NEVER the fault of the abused.

You went into work with as much concealer as you could manage. You know it's not going to look right, but it's not going to look obvious either. You can't have Buggy and Alvida asking too many questions. It's not like there's anything they can do any more than you can.

What're the Marines going to do against a Warlord over a little something like assault? Unless it was a matter of national security, they didn't interfere with the Warlords even when they were murdering people.

Doflamingo had lost his temper. You knew it was going to happen, and you knew that it was only a matter of time, but this had been the result. You were just happy you had survived the entire ordeal with little more than a dozen bruises. He was strong and powerful enough that you could've easily been hospitalized, and that still would've been a lucky break.

The swelling into your face had gone down over the "long" weekend you had had since you had taken Friday off, but the bruises were going to take a lot longer to fade.

The only comfort you had right now was that you weren't actually in a relationship with him, and you didn't feel any guilt about the situation. At least, you didn't think you did. You'd never really been in a situation like this before, and were only assuming it was easier because you had no emotional connection to Doflamingo at all.

You certainly weren't going to extend any sort of apology to him.

You ease yourself into your desk chair and pull out a bottle of aspirin before you take a double dose. It's not something you can do for a prolonged amount of time, but it should help get you through the next couple of days as your body heals a little more.

You almost would've rather had a stiff drink, since it would've kicked in faster than the aspirin, but that was a dark road you didn't care to go down. Plus, it wouldn't be fair to Buggy and Alvida if you were inebriated in the office after you took a long weekend.

A few minutes after you got settled in, Buggy came in for the day.

"(Y/N)! How're you doing this morning?" He asks cheerfully, coming over to your desk when you don't get up like usual.

"Bit of a rough weekend, if I'm being honest, boss." You admit with an apologetic look.

Buggy flinches, and then starts to really look at you. "(Y/N)... are you-."

"It's fine." You say shortly and put up a hand. "I mean, there's nothing to be done about it, so please just let me focus on work."

"Sure... Sure, I just." Buggy gives you the most serious look you've ever seen on his face before. If he made that face more often, he could've started this business without a single investor. "Can I ask one question about it?"

"Sure, one."

"Do you know how to fight?"

"Eh?" The question catches you off guard and you're not sure if you heard him correctly.

"Do you know how to fight? Use Haki? Do you have a devil fruit power that enhances your skills? Anything Flashy like that, (Y/N)?"

"I... no. I don't. I don't know how to fight or anything else you've asked, boss." You answer.

"Alright. Thanks for answering that." He says, and then you see his demeanor shift to something less intimidating and more apologetic. "I'm afraid we have a new investor that's going to be in later today, so..."

You smile, "I got it. You're really pushing to make sure we can get to that 60% pay for the downtime workers."

"I know it means more work for you and Alvida -."

"Ah, not really. Things are running smooth, and the maintenance work to keep it smooth isn't that hard. I have plenty of time this afternoon to be able to corral another rich cat." You assure him with a smile. "I'll get the proposal started for a shift up to 50%, and after I review the investment of the new source I can start looking at another boost.

"Oh! Did you get to talk to Cabaji and Mohji about the employee appreciation dinner?"

"Yeah, they found some lady who usually does holiday catering that'll cover the food for all the employees. I think they called her Miss Christmas?"

"Yeah, Miss Drophy Christmas. Okay, we're all on the same page with that then. Ah, and Buggy?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks, boss."

Buggy smiles and sets a cup of coffee on the desk for you. "Anytime."

The rest of the morning goes by easily. When Alvida arrives, she didn't say anything about your makeup, but she does pull you into the bathroom so she can fix it. The uneasy feeling in your gut, after your conversation about the faraday box she had, told she already knew. She wasn't going to ask any questions because she didn't need to.

You were quite sure that when the work day was done she was going to begin making preparations to whisk you out of Grandline Metro entirely. Just so that the option was waiting for you the second you wanted to use it.

You felt a little silly for thinking you needed to try and hide it from either of them.

The reassurance of having people in your corner – capable people who legitimately cared, had taken a lot of the weight off of your shoulders. That relief, and probably the aspirin, were putting a little pep in your step by the time lunch came and went.

You stepped into Buggy's office, knowing the investor was going to be in there, and were automatically relieved to see nothing was pink.

"My name is (F/N) (L/N)," You say, beginning your introduction as you close the door and make your way toward the desk. "While Buggy is the owner of Buggy's Delivery Service, my job is to make sure that your questions are answered and your worries are handled effectively."

The man sitting at Buggy's desk begins to turn toward you.

"Buggy deals with all aspects of the business but I -."

One year.

"I..."

Three Months.

"Specialize in..." The heavy sweet scent of cigar smoke fills the air, carrying with it the soft scent of citrus and hot sand.

Twelve days.

"Su..." The scattering shuffle of papers hit the floor at your feet, as your hands were no longer concerned with holding onto the documents.

You could barely breathe as dark amber gold eyes find your gaze.

#Quicksand #Sir Crocodile #Crocodile x reader #crocodile x y/n #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #modern au #reader insert #yandere

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