#just gonna go run off into the woods and become a cryptid

[stickynotestoletters]

Yandere BNHA Boys pt 2

Okay, this is a continuation of the first yandere ones I did because I wrote that in basically a night and was too tired to do more, I'm probably gonna post some after for the pro heroes and villains if I have time, I might finish those on the weekend then post it.

This is just a bunch of headcanons I have about the boys in BNHA and what they’d be like as yanderes. Only the really fluffy or good things about them listed here. Neither of these works are a good depictions of a real yandere and make sure to be careful to identify yandere traits in real people around you. It’s a very dangerous world and stay safe!

sorry if you were waiting for me to come out with these and I literally took forever lol, link to the first one is here. It's basically just me comforting myself with the sweet things that I think they would do as yanderes.

Warnings: Brainwashing, blood, gore, death, trans headcanons, body dysmorphia, nonbinary they/he Sero, they/them pronouns + nonbinary headcanons for Tokoyami, he/they nonbinary headcanons with Shinsou, a little NSFW because if I don't specify then they are aged up (around 20-25 is where I imagine the timeline that they actually captured you and have a hero carrier going for them already), manipulation, regular yandere things, kinda just turns into dumbass horknee headcanons at some point after Shinsou (sorry lmfao), objectification

Sero Hanata

so basically the first time they saw you they immediately wanted to come up to you

they love to give you back hugs because once you stop trying to fight them he's gonna be so honored you finally trust him

Big time slut [non-derogetory] for you

Likes to have an apartment that's high up, probably a secured penthouse with lots of windows

If you're afraid of heights they will get a ground bed for you two, they would also vibe with a low hanging hammock if you allow it

they really really like just putting you on a custom made leash, not inherently in a sexual way just in general likes to have it look like that with their tape on you at all times

they really really like it when you come to them for hugs and comfort

If you're a trans reader, if you want a binder he will get you one as soon as you ask, cried when you told him about it.

they cried way more than you though...

Was very accepting as an nb person as well

they custom made you a tape binder of his

Kinda as a joke but high key felt like they were gonna combust at the thought of you wearing that for them

Takes you to pride but you cannot speak

only takes you to pride after they are 1000% sure that you're not gonna speak to anyone but them

Takes you to it as a part of their float because they'd been invited onto the Hero Float

You are in a costume that's exactly like his, helmet and everything, you aren't allowed to be looked at

After that though, it's gonna be your choice to go or not to go

they trust you a little more after you run away from some assholes though and after that sometimes lets you take your helmet off during pride, you have to give them a lot of kisses though

When/if you ever consider any type of surgery he is 110% on board

they demand that you have to have it performed by someone who has done this a million times before, trusts no one else

If there's a way for you to go through it without the surgery they're excited but he's more excited if there is surgery because they love the idea of you being so cuddly and clinging to them for their comfort

Tokoyami Fumikage

haha they're in love with you

like, intensely in love with you the moment they first meet you

Dark shadow thinks you're adorable but says nothing more about their obsession with you

when you met them before UA they absolutely cannot handle being around you in a 10-foot radius

Eventually, though they do try and become a friend of yours

After that, it's a hop on the manipulation train, my dude

they basically make you see them as your savior from a mean uncaring world

they love talking to you about things that make you happy and loving you in little ways

hugs, hand holding, a lot of time it's just a little peck (haha) on the cheek

they love living with you though, like really love it

they like baking and making dinner for you

but especially baking

like really, baking

the manipulation they use makes it seem like everything is okay when you only talk to them so that's what you do and to you, it seems so much better than anything you could do

they haven't come out to you by the time you come out to them so your trans journey really helps them figure things like that out as well

The first time you explain that gender is a made-up construct they're like "yeah......isn't that how everyone feels? Like, not a gender????" we love this for them

you both kind of heal each other through this process

they like seeing you when you're most comfortable so they get you as many binders as you need

also gets you a custom binder like Sero but with feather designs, not like stupid printable patterns but something that is soft and the softness isn't feathers it's regular fluffy cloth

idk I'm not a designer that's why I gave up and became a writer lmao

they also get you a compression corset because they're emo

if there is surgery it takes a lot of time to convince them

they don't ever want you to regret anything they helped you with so it takes a lot of long-winded conversations about it

there was a lot of nervousness on their part because (this is just my headcanon) they were almost convinced to get surgery to construct their face to look human-like

they had a lot of their family tell them that, because of the way they looked, they had less of a chance to become a hero, they were immensely traumatized by this and thus wants to make absolutely sure you were okay with this

but when they finally find themself comforted by you about it it happens quickly and in the safest way you could possibly imagine

Shinso Hitoshi

Shinsou didn't want to approach you at all, he was so scared you'd run away or tell him he's a villain

they always thought that they weren't good enough for you

he loved you but you needed to say hi first

and you did

so he whisked you away

they like to just brainwash you into tasting certain types of food when you're craving them instead of just getting you food

he likes to talk to you in a voice like he would talk to a kitten, not like husky or anything sexy, but something cute and adorable

especially when you're brainwashed and can't say anything to him

He likes to give you lots of soft stuff like I'm talking pillows upon pillows and squishmallows

once he gets his own house they get it in a place that's more comforting in the dark than in the light

they really like the dark and outdoorsy vibe anyway so if they choose a place somewhere in the forest to keep you what's the added bonus if no one can hear you scream?

a little bit of spice; he has this whole a/b/o fantasy (idk it's his vibes that he'd read that fanfic and stuff lmao) and kinda treats you like you were an omega

sometimes if you guys do have sex they'll brainwash you to act like an omega or once he's more experienced with bodily manipulation involving their quirk they'll make you do all of the......omega things

when you come out to them, if you're trans, they're definitely gonna not care

like if you need comfort and stuff about it they will not make a big deal about it

he legit is like "okay .....can I still fuck you or?????"

HE JUST GIVES OFF REALLY HORKNEE VIBES OKAY?????

definitely brainwashes you into not feeling dysphoric anymore though

like loves it when you come up all sad to him and uncomfy just to ask them to brainwash you

he melts over you cuddling them after those times though

if you want surgery they're gonna make sure that it's between him and the doctors that y'all are there

like no one knows you're there, completely off radius, in and out like nothing (he's basically a cryptid in the woods by the time you guys have the surgery, so they wanna make sure no one questions it)

Monoma Neito

bold of you to assume that man can express literally anything when he wants to just sit you on his lap and look at your pretty face

love at first sight taken literally but not in a shallow way

he loves just having you around him

kinda treats you as an accessory at times, talks like you're a purse or something and people don't really comment but it's really freaking them out sometimes when you don't speak up on it

likes to say he's the only one to understand you cause he's afraid you'd leave him

a hardcore fan of collars though

definitely has lots of jewelry that represents him even though you don't go out he still loves the idea of it

big time cook

loves providing for you, never lets you do a damn thing other than watching pre-approved cartoons and hobbies

absolute fucking disaster about hugging you

always has to be touching you

he thinks you're so fucking gorgeous and body worships you even out of the bedroom

if you're trans he will definitely be weird about it at first

he's just diet transphobic

he's not denying it but sometimes he's like "Are you sure???" and stuff

he clears this up with the help of you being pissed enough to not eat or talk to him until he apologizes

he then educates himself on it and comes to the conclusion that he was in fact being an asshole

talks to you about binders and stuff like that

doesn't really believe in surgery, he would never allow you to do that just because it would be too painful for him to see you go through

he instead literally searches the whole fucking globe for a person with a body-altering quirk to make sure you don't get hurt

he seeks out homophobes, transphobes, and other dumbasses on the regular just to kill them like literally it just started out for your approval but now it's just for fun

Anyway, the villain one (if I do it) will probably become just horknee brain rot cause I am a slut. Request some stuff and I'll try to put up some works if y'all want ig.

#yandere bnha #yandere #bnha #bnha fanfiction #BNha x gnreader #gn reader #nb tokoyami hc #nb sero hc #nb shinsou hc #sero hanata #hanata sero #Sero #tokoyami fumigake #fumikage tokoyami #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou #shinsou x reader #sero x reader #monoma neito #neito monoma #monoma #monoma x reader #bnha trans reader #x trans reader

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

Ya know, I truly hope Miss Renesmee Carlie Cullen fully dedicates herself to just....being as out there and iconic as possible

first things first- ANYTHING with the loch ness monster on it, she owns. Posters, shirts, jackets, shoes, folders, buttons, iron-ons, there is always at least 5 pieces of Nessie merch on her at all times

once she gets old enough to start high school, the cover story is her and Edward are siblings that Carlisle and Esme took in, and sometimes her classmates will ask her what her biological parents were like and she will flat out be like 'oh, they're vampires' and Edward and Bella are like. 5 feet away trying not to scream

every Halloween she'll show up to school in an elaborate Nosferatu costume

goes out of her way to photobomb people in increasingly ridiculous ways so there will Always be a photographic record of her and in like 100 years she can get a huge kick out of teens on the internet trying to make a conspiracy about her

joins as many school clubs as she can, even if she has no interest in them- she just Really wants a concrete record of herself to exist lmao

ICONIC at school theater though. One of those demon theater kids that come to rehearsal purely to cause chaos and nothing else, but her voice is incredible so she secures every lead. One time she somehow managed to star in a show while also playing in the school band for it- her classmates still have no idea how she pulled it off

Always brings blood out in public in a CLEAR THERMOS and it stresses her family out so much but everyone else thinks she's just like, weirdly into tomato juice so the Cullens can't stop her

to everyone's surprise...her biggest chaos enabler is Jasper lmao. everyone thought he'd be a logical, responsible uncle but they're just. A Problem together. He'll 100% assist her in any prank she wants to pull, he gets her fake id's when she wants to sneak into a club with friends, he bails her out of jail without telling her parents, they figured out if she gets high and he reads her feelings he'll get high too and it's. So fucking funny.

she's always carrying some random instrument around school- like for a while it's a guitar or a harmonica, fine, but then she'll start lugging a cello around, a tuba (she doesn't even play, she stole it off a guy who was annoying her) and it escalates until one day she's wheeling a piano around the building. no one's even sure how she got in in the doors of the school. She keeps running kids over in the hallway with it

You know the Catherine Tate Lauren Cooper skit with David Tennant? Where she's being a terrible student and then perfectly recites Shakespeare? 100% Nessie

when she starts getting dates Jacob keeps trying to wing man and be over supportive and give her a ton of girl advice and it's embarrassing as hell so one day when he was on a spiel about How To Woo A Lady she looks him in the eyes and goes 'oh really? did that work on my mom?' and the Cullens fucking LOSE IT. Jacob had to go live in the woods for a few days because he couldn't cope

Emmet and Jasper: arrive to school in their jeep. Rose and Alice: arrive in a convertible. Edward: arrives in his dumb volvo. Bella and Jake: arrive to school on motorcycles. Nessie: arrives to school on a unicycle while juggling

one year she ended up getting nominated for prom queen and Edward read the minds of the teachers tallying the votes so he knew she won and he and Bella were so excited!! they're like we're gonna take so many pictures of our baby looking like a princess! And then she emerges from her room, actually drenched in pigs blood. Like she just did it to herself and went to the dance and accepted her crown like that

she regularly commits crimes against fashion. If she comes out of her room and sees Alice contemplating turning herself over to the Volturi, she KNOWS she's picked a great look

somehow gets ahold of Aro's cell number and sends him selfies of her blatantly breaking vampire laws captioned 'whatcha gonna do'. he keeps blocking her but she keeps managing to get through to him somehow

she illegally sells soda out of her locker and does people's homework for cash, while also paying other people to do her homework for her. she organizes every single senior prank. she's never gotten a detention in her whole immortal life because every teacher just Adores her for some reason

had 100% used her powers for deserved evil before. Like, if someone's being a dick at school, she'll sneak into their room at night and give them nightmarea threatening them to be a better person lol

sometimes she'll show up at the hospital unannounced and ask Carlisle, in front of his coworkers, 'yo can I raid the blood bank?'

her bedroom looks like a library. every wall, floor to ceiling books.

she's been publishing trashy romance novels under a fake name for almost 40 years now and no one in her family knows

one birthday Jacob takes her on a trip to vegas and they get wasted, at some point they were laughing about how ridiculous their lives are and they're like 'wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if we had a baby'. they then black out, hangover style, and wake up like a week later with a payment on her card to a fertility clinic. Jacob's like 😱 and Ness is just like 'you get to be the one to explain this to my parents'

Their kid is absolutely hilarious, they were correct, and at some point they realized 'wait...drinks blood..doesn't sparkle...can shape shift...we've somehow created a classic pop culture vampire' lmao

Edward had to threaten them to get them to not name the kid Vladimir

Also to be clear: Nessie and Jacob have the EXACT same dynamic as Will and Grace. that's canon.

says its her goal to star in a live action all female production of mamma mia and Carlisle is like 'honey you know you can't do anything on broadway or in hollywood' and she's like, 'no, in real life. I'm gonna go to greece and attract a bunch of women with abba songs' and he's like,,,,,ah

she loves all music but she goes out of her way to Only play stuff she knows Edward hates lmao

one day she remembers she doesn't need to breathe and can see under water and just. books herself a ticket to scotland and Finds The Loch Ness Monster

she actually personally finds a lot of monsters and cryptids like her hybrid aura just attracts all kind of weird shit and she LOVES it. She stops writing trashy romance novels and starts writing autobiographies of her traveling and hanging out with paranormal beings and everyone just assumes its fiction so she becomes a best selling fantasy author lmao

100% she's very into witchy stuff and only like...half in a trendy way. She's like what if on top of everything I've got going on I can cast spells? Think I deserve that power

when she's a couple decades old she catches Edward looking grossed out one day and she asks him what's up and he's like 'I really dont need to hear what creepy teachers think about my daughter' and she's like. oh. Dad we are gonna get SO MANY pedophiles arrested shdndjdn she gets him to expose teachers and she baits them then calls the police. queen.

She finds out she can get tattoos but they fade completely out of her skin within 5 years so she's always getting crazy tats

posts selfies on social media of her just like. hanging out with mountain lions or chilling on top of the space needle. her classmates think they're all photoshopped obvi but it drives her family insane

imagine you're 15 and you're on a nice hike in the woods and you come across your one classmate half naked, sacrificing a bear in some ritual, blood dripping down her face, bigfoot chilling on the rocks behind her filming the ritual on her phone...like on one hand, what would you do, but on the other hand. you've known this girl for a bit and you aren't surprised at all

anyway. stan Nessie Cullen.

#twilight saga #renesmee cullen #nessie cullen #breaking dawn #twilight #molly mumbles

[emixion]

Creatures and Cryptids - Day 10 - Maribat March 2021

oh man, i really love this one. Here’s a HTTYD Au for today. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do. @maribatmarch-2k21 ao3 link

Marinette was worried about Damian.

She’d hardly seen him lately. The boy had increasingly become absent over the past few weeks, skipping out on meals, classes and even training.

It was so unlike Damian to skip training.

He was a dedicated warrior, more so than any other kid in their village, and the fact tat he even refused to show up for training was very troubling to her. And very suspicious.

Not only was he absent, but he was acting strange as well. He seemed very distracted. Never in the present on the rare occasion she did see him, which was incredibly unlike the ever vigilant boy.

Not to mention sneaking fish from the mess hall. What was that all about?

She’d tried asking his family about it, but they were just as clueless as she was. His older siblings had noticed his absence as well, but chalked it up to him going through his rebellious teenage years. She wasn’t so convinced.

Marinette had enough of all the mystery, so she decided to go investigate herself. She’d seen Damian scurry away during dinner, stuffing some food in his vest before taking off into the woods.

Marinette’s brows knit in confusion. What could he be doing in the woods?

Quietly, she began to follow him, grower more and more confused as they ventured further into the woods. It seemed as though he knew his way around this area. Like he’d been down this path many times.

Marinette had no idea what was so secretive that he couldn’t tell her or even his family about it.

Her mind flashed with hurt the more she thought about it. Wasn’t she his friend? Didn’t friends tell each other secrets?

She was pulled from her thoughts when they reached a clearing with a small pond. Marinette quickly hid behind a nearby tree and watched Damian intently as he took the fish from out of his vest and began calling into the empty clearing.

Wait, was that a..growl?

Dragon! her brain quickly alarmed her.

Marinette watched in shock and horror as a blood red Monstrous Nightmare flew into the clearing from nearby and parked itself in front of Damian.

Pushing herself away from the tree, she quickly ran into the clearing, pulling out her slingshot.

“Damian!” She yelled, making the boy whip around.

“Marinette?!” He yelled back in surprise.

“Run!” She exclaimed, loading up her slingshot. “Get away from it!” She was in a clear panic.

The Monstrous Nightmare immediately went into a defensive position and growled dangerously at her. Marinette gulped as she approached it, she knew Monstrous Nightmares were one of the most dangerous dragons around (besides Night Furies, of course.) They could light their skin on fire, for Odin’s sake! Still, Damian was her friend and she would be damned if she let a winged devil hurt him because she was afraid.

With a battle cry, she pulled back her slingshot-

-Only to be tackled to the side by Damian.

Marinette let out an “oof” as Damian pulled her down with his body. He then quickly stood up and faced the Nightmare, making Marinette panic more. She scrambled to her knees and looked around for her slingshot, only to groan in dismay as she saw it on the other side of the clearing.

She was about to attempt to sneak around the Nightmare to fetch it, but stopped dead in her tracks.

Damian had his arms out, and was…speaking to the dragon? Like he was trying to soothe it? What on Earth?!

“Damian..?” Marinette called, bewildered by the sight before her. Her jaw was practically on the floor.

“It’s alright, Goliath.” He murmured to the Nightmare. The dragon surprisingly stood down, but still eyed Marinette warily. Damian then turned to her.

“It’s okay.” He offered her his hand. She took it, letting him help her up. “You just scared him.”

“I scared him?!” She cried, looking at Damian like he’d grown a second head.

“Listen,” Damian began, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I can explain this.”

“Explain what?” Marinette asked. “That the reason you haven’t been around lately is because you have a secret dragon pet? That you’ve skipped out on training so you can hang out with a Monstrous Nightmare?!” She grew more and more panicked as she ranted, pacing in a line.

“Angel, please, you’re hyperventilating-“ Damian attempted to calm her down. All the while the Monstrous Nightmare munched at the fish Damian had left for it.

“Of course I’m hyperventilating! This is- this is crazy! You’re crazy!”

“Marinette, please, do you trust me?”

She stopped her pacing to face him.

“Of course I trust you. But this-“

“If you trust me, you trust him.”

“Trust him?! He was about to attack me! Who is “him’ anyway?”

“His name is Goliath and the only reason he got like that was because he thought you were going to attack first. He acted in self defense.”

Marinette faltered. She had run in armed and tried to shoot him. She couldn’t deny that.

“Listen to me.” Damian continued, gently taking her hands in his. “I know this sounds crazy, but just let me show you.” He walked her over to Goliath slowly. Marinette shook slightly as they grew closer and closer to the massive dragon.

“Watch.” He said, and before Marinette could protest, her hand was being held out to the dragon, Damian’s hand on top of hers. She tried to shrink away but Damian held her steady, whispering reassurance in her ear.

Goliath perked up and slowly sniffed the two humans’ hands. He paused for a moment before gently leaning into Marinette’s palm, Damian’s hand still placed over hers.

Marinette looked on in awe. She couldn’t believe her eyes, she was actually touching a dragon!

“He-he’s not going to attack me?” She stuttered in disbelief. Damian shook his head with a small laugh.

“No.” he said. “He won’t attack you.”

Marinette’s eyes were still glued to the dragon who she was now tentatively petting.  “I don’t understand…how did this happen?”

Damian stroked Goliath’s horn. “I found him here injured one day and nursed him back to health.” he explained. “I don’t know why, but I just..couldn’t kill him, Marinette. I looked at him and saw another living creature that didn’t want to die.”

“That’s…that’s amazing Damian.” She whispered, tearing her gaze away from Goliath back to him.

Damian looked almost bashful for a second, but quickly shook himself off. Typical Damian.

“I want to show you something else.” he said.

“Oh no, is there another one?” Marinette asked, panic starting to fill her voice again.

“No, no.” Damian laughed. “Come here.” He waved Marinette over to Goliath’s side.

“What are we doing?” She asked before yelping as Damian picked her up and boosted her onto the dragon.

“You’ll see.” He said as he hopped on in front of her. “Goliath, let’s go, pal.”

The Monstrous Nightmare stretched its wings and stood up.

“Damian..” Marinette began, her arms winding around his waist to secure herself. “Are we..?”

“Yep.” Damian replied just as Goliath took off into the sky.

Marinette screeched as they left the ground, watching the grass get further and further away. She buried her face against Damian’s shoulder, afraid to look.

He looked back at her fondly as they gained more altitude soaring into the clouds.

“Angel,” he called once they gained enough height. “You can look now.”

Marinette shook as she hesitantly pulled her head back and looked around. She gasped.

“Wow!” She exclaimed breathlessly, making Damian smile. The view was absolutely breathtaking. She could see the clouds within reaching distance, the pinks and oranges of the setting sun, the horizon as it sat dividing sky and sea. She’s never seen anything like it.

Goliath flew down closer to the ocean and let her graze the water’s surface with her fingertips while Damian kept a secure hold of her waist.

“This is…amazing.” She sighed, sitting back up and placing her chin on Damian’s shoulder. “He’s amazing.”

“He is.” Damian agreed, giving Goliath’s head a pat. The dragon cooed in response.

“I’m sorry.” Marinette said meekly. “I shouldn’t have tried to attack him. I was just-“

“Scared.” Damian finished for her. “It’s okay, Angel. I understand.” he reassured her.

“I’m glad I listened though. I’ve never thought about dragons like this, but…” she trailed off, hugging  Damian tighter. “You’re an odd kid, Damian.”

Damian laughed, lightly nuzzling his head against hers. “That’s fine with me, Angel. Just as long as you’re on my side. -

After the night grew dark and Goliath grew tired, he flew back to the clearing and returned to the ground. Marinette and Damian hopped off his back.

“I can’t believe we did that!” Marinette chattered excitedly. “We actually rode a dragon! How many people get to say they’ve done that?”

Damian listened on fondly as she expressed her excitement.

“Did you see how high we were?” She continued. “And when the stars started to come out, oh my Odin, it was incredible!”

In her giddiness, she moved in close to Damian and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Thank you, Damian. I had a lot of fun.” her voice went soft and almost a bit shy.

Damian thanked the moonlight for concealing his red cheeks. “You’re welcome, Angel. Would you-“ his voice faltered for a moment. “Would you want to do this again sometime?”

Marinette beamed at him and Goliath.

“I’d love to.” -

The two bid farewell to Goliath and walked back to the village hand in hand.

“My parents are going to kill me.” Marinette groaned. Damian chuckled.

“I don’t think Father will be too happy with me either.”

“Does anyone else know about Goliath?”

“You’re the first one I’ve told.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

Soon Marinette’s house came into view and she turned to say goodbye.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” She reassured .

“I can only hope.” Damian replied.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” she said, hesitating for a moment before swooping in to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight.” She whispered against his skin. And with that she scurried to her front door, pausing to wave at him before slipping into her house.

Damian waved back, face burning, before heading in the direction of his own house. His grin lasted the entire way home.

He would have to thank Goliath the next time he saw him.

#maribat #maribat march #maribat march 2021 #daminette #maridami #mlb x dc #marinette x damian

[carloswilliamcarlos]

Clyde Logan, Cryptid Hunter (Clyde Logan x Reader)

Warnings: Kissing, mothman mention, gratuitous roadtripping

Words: 1.4k

AN: Will this become a cryptid themed chapter fic? Who knows!!! But yes.

You went looking for Mothman on your first date. How could you not? This was West Virginia, after, all. It wasn’t no joke. 

“I seen him,” Clyde tells you as you sip your drink at dinner. You wait a beat for him to laugh, to elaborate, to backpedal. But all you see are honest eyes and a downturned, sincere pout.

“What?” you ask.

“My siblings and I took a trip through Point Pleasant out of curiosity, a few years ago. And we saw him. Up in a tree.” 

Clyde gestures upward as if to point him out, right there in the restaurant. You follow his hand up with your eyes. The gesture is pure muscle memory, nothing he could fake. You trace back down along his long, strong arm and catch his gaze. 

“Clyde,” you say a mischievous smile creeping up your lips.

His eyebrows raise. He’s sure you’re about to tell him he’s a fool. 

“We have to go. Now.”

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

It’s a two-hour drive, one you never would’ve taken on a first date if you hadn’t been friends with Clyde for years. The moon shines bright with an ancient glow as you pile into Clyde’s car, pull up Google maps and hit the road. 

Clyde’s prattling off instructions for you at first.

“We need to be as quiet as we can, cause he likes to make these chirping sounds we gotta listen for.”

You nod, amused smile still pulling at your lips. 

“And he’s got these red eyes that reflect. That’s what most people see of him.”

“What do we do if we find him?” you ask, turning to study the adventurous gleam in Clyde’s eye.

“Well... I don’t know,” he frowns. “I think most people just run away.”

“We could ask him to officiate our wedding,” you suggest. Clyde glances over at you for half a second, just to judge how serious you are, then turns back to the road with reddening cheeks and his mustache twitching up playfully.

“Alright.”

The rest of the drive, you run through urban legends and share whether or not you think they’re real. Clyde believes in just about all of them, you learn. Ghosts, yes. Jersey devil, yes. Aliens, yes. Bigfoot, no. (”That’s just a couple of yahoos with a video camera and a leftover gorilla costume from Halloween.”)

He definitely believes in luck. You’ve known about his Logan family curse theory for years, of course, but you never realized just how deep it ran for him until you’re barreling down the highway the radio twanging softly between you. 

“My mama gave me the ring,” he says, wiggling his fingers so the horseshoe glimmers in the moonlight. “She said if I kept it angled up toward me, it would catch all the luck to keep me safe. She was the only one who took me seriously about it all.”

You’re quiet then, letting Clyde share something with you he’s only told few souls on this earth. 

“And supposedly when I find someone I want to share my luck with, I’m supposed to turn it around so it points it toward them, to protect them instead.”

You stare down at the ring, at Clyde’s fingers nervously gripping and releasing the steering wheel.

“So you haven’t found the right person yet?” you ask, tentatively planting a seed.

“I need all the luck I can get,” Clyde laughs nervously, then clears his throat. “But I can see loving someone so much I feel brave enough to share.” He shifts in his seat. “Someday.”

“Someday,” you smile. Clyde twists the ring back and forth with this thumb, loosening it ever so slightly.

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

Your car door shuts with a slam behind you as the early fall wind brushes your skirt. The forest before you stretches out, dark, dense, dangerous. Clyde’s massive frame walks up beside you, the car lock beeping with a thrilling sense of finality. 

“You ready?” you ask, looking up at Clyde’s serious pout. He nods, holding the crook of his arm up for you to hook yours into.

A twig snaps under you shoe only a couple steps in, and Clyde jumps to the high heavens. 

“Clyde,” you laugh, “are you scared? We don’t have to do this.”

“No, I ain’t scared,” he replies, straightening up, trying to convince himself more than you. “Now we gotta listen for chirps.”

“Chirps,” you echo in a whisper, eyes scanning all around you. You hear buzzing, croaking, light flaps of wings, rustling leaves, but no chirps. The atmosphere is ominous, neither of you speaking a word. The reality you’re alone, at night, in the wilderness, starts to set in. 

“OK now I’m scared,” you confess, curling into Clyde’s side.

“I got you,” he speaks confidently, voice deep and steady. He’d never admit he was scared out of his jeans just seconds before, but now that you’re trusting him, now that you’ve deemed him your protector, now that you’re counting on him to keep you safe from whatever’s lurking in the woods... Well. He’s sure feeling brave right about now. 

“Now what were you gonna ask him? Maybe he’ll answer a question,” Clyde prompts you. You clear your throat. 

“Mr. Mothman,” you call, voice shaking. “Well, Mr. Man. Man, comma, Moth,” you stumble. Clyde chuckles. “My fella and I were wondering if you maybe wanted to marry us, someday, if you’re not busy, and if you, speak English.”

Clyde’s grinning from ear to ear now, thoroughly amused by you. “We’d appreciate it kindly-” he goes to say, but he stops cold, looking off to his left. He says your name abruptly. You turn to look where he’s looking. 

An enormous pair of red eyes peers at you through the trees. 

You squeeze Clyde’s arm. 

Time stands still. 

You take a slow, deep breath. 

“We’re thinking a June wedding,” you yell, and suddenly a flurry of flapping wings surrounds you, branches beating against the wind, high-pitched wailing filling your ears. You’re not sure if it’s the mothman, you, or Clyde that’s screaming. All you know is you’re sprinting back to the car, yelling Clyde’s name over and over. 

You make it out of the trees before him, just in time to whirl around and catch his hair blowing in the wind as a huge, dark figure ascends above the forest and flies away into the darkened sky. 

You and Clyde stare at each other, frozen. 

“Was that...” you start. Clyde nods. 

You’re not sure what to say, do, think. 

“Get in the car,” Clyde finally commands.

It’s not until you’re both sitting in the car that you burst into roaring laughter. 

“Holy shit!” you yell. “Holy shit Clyde we just saw mothman!”

“God damn,” Clyde mumbles as you laughter finally subsides. “We really did.”

You turn to look at him, leaning your head against the headrest, admiring the goofy smile on his face. He turns to look at you. You suddenly can’t breathe. 

“I’ll never tell anyone if you don’t,” you whisper. The air is electric, moonlight outilning Clyde’s every feature in silver. 

He reaches up to gently stroke your cheek, leaning in closer and closer until all you can do is close your eyes and feel him. 

“Secret’s safe with me,” Clyde breathes. “Until he shows up at our wedding, of course.”

And then he kisses you. 

He kisses you so softly it feels like a dream. But then it’s deeper, and deeper, his lips growing more confident and hungry. He slides his tongue against yours and you taste how much he wants you, likes you, can’t get enough of you. 

He finally pulls back and looks deep into your eyes, turning every cell in your body into a puddle.

“It’s a long drive home...” you say hesitantly. “And it’s late. What if we just... got a room here tonight?”

Clyde gulps, nods, coughs out a quick “yes” and is starting up the car faster than you can even giggle at his reaction.

Hours ago, you’d been swiping on eyeshadow, picturing all the ways the night would end. You’d wondered if he would kiss you when he dropped you off at home. Wondered if you’d both have realized you had no chemistry at all. Wondered which face mask you’d indulge in before you tucked yourself into your bed alone.

Never did you imagine you’d end in Point Pleasant, doing what you were about to do, sharing a hotel room hours away from home, having an encounter of mythic proportions with a massive legend you had to see to believe. And then there was mothman. 

But that was the thing with Clyde, you realized. You never knew what to expect. And you had a feeling that, no matter how many adventures you’d be lucky enough to share with him, he’d never stop surprising you.

#clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x you #clyde logan fluff #clyde logan x reader fluff #clyde #logan lucky #mothman #lol

[nikxation]

If You Give a Mothman a Loan

Huge thank you to @birdgirlamp for commissioning me to write a fic by donating to WHO (if you want more information, see this post). Sorry it took so long to get this out, but here it is! Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2359

Characters: Stanford Pines (pre- and post-portal), Fiddleford McGucket (pre-portal), Wendy Corduroy (post-portal... obviously)

~ ~ ~

It’s three months into Fiddleford’s stay in Gravity Falls, and the skeleton in the closet (or the portal in the basement) is slowly looking less and less like just a bundle of messy wires and half-finished structural supports and more like the behemoth of a machine it’s meant to be. The raw stock for the exterior plating should be here any day now, the first of the two power transfer beams is online, and every day is another day closer to their end-goal.

He’ll hand it to Stanford Pines, this is some of their best work yet.

He still remembers the day he arrived and Ford showed him the initial drafts. He’d thought the size was overkill, that the hollowed-out basement beneath the house would just become a room with decent acoustics for him to practice his banjo playing away from his old college roommate while the real machine was built somewhere less cold and damp.

Boy howdy was he wrong.

Now, every time he walks in the room, he feels the thing like the presence it is, towering stories tall, looming over him in a way that he would almost consider menacing if it weren’t for the fact that it’s just a machine.

He’s got blueprints and prototyped miniatures of literal death bots.

So why would the interdimensional portal in the basement put him on edge?

It shouldn’t.

So he shakes the thought away and gets back to work.

An unsuccessful system test led to the time-shift circuit on motherboard seven incinerating again. If he were the kind of man to actually keep count (which he certainly is), he’d know it’s the fourth time in the past week this same part has crapped out on them.

It’s also the reason he’s gonna finally stop out-sourcing these parts and just start making them in-house from now on. He’s about sick of replacing them every five minutes.

That’s what brings Fiddleford to where he is now, with his upper body shoved halfway inside the portal’s support structure and crammed between God knows how many electrical components. His arms have just started to cramp in their rather unnatural position as he pries at the burnt-out part to replace it with a newer one that will hopefully hold out against the power output better than its predecessor.

Ford’s sitting in the control room, supposedly running through some of the math again to double-check that they didn’t miss anything.

The “supposedly” is only because, for the past twenty minutes, the man has been prattling on like Fiddleford’s grandma at Sunday family brunch. He can only hear the occasional snippet from his position (quite literally) inside the portal, and as far as he can tell, he thinks he’s talking about either his most recent research outing, or something about preacher scouting. He wants to lean towards the former, but with the new stories he’s found about a so-called “velocipastor”, he can’t rule out the latter. Either way, the man hasn’t stopped talking long enough to breathe, let alone re-run equations that use relative space-time physics with integrated fourth dimensional calculus.

Fiddleford just doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he really can’t hear him.

He snaps the ribbon cable off the still-smoking component (after the first time it blew, he learned to bring heat-resistant gloves in here with him) and is rather glad to see it’s still intact. Rewiring is a day-long project he’s glad to not have to do again. He maneuvers his hand back out into open air and tosses the old piece somewhere into the room before getting to work mounting the new one.

Ford’s voice echoes from the next room over.

“… extra funds… exploring… investing for…”

Bolting the circuit down turns out to be easier the fifth time he has to do it, and he’s about to start running a simple, probably non-exploding test to make sure the new part is integrated correctly when he hears—

“… so I gave Mothman a thousand dollars…”

And that, of all things, stops Fiddleford in his tracks.

“Come again?” he yells. He had to have misheard because he swears he just heard the man say—

“I ran into Mothman in the woods yesterday,” Ford says, all too nonchalantly, “and they told me they were starting up a small business and needed an investment, so I gave them a thousand dollars from my excess funds with a verbal agreement that they would pay me back within the year.”

… So he didn’t mishear him, that’s for darn sure.

The fact that the Mothman is real is surely weird enough. But he’s lived in Gravity Falls (and known Stanford Pines) for long enough that it doesn’t really surprise him too much. No, that’s not the part that brings him to wiggle himself out of his position inside the portal’s underbelly just enough so that he can meet Ford’s eyes in the other room.

“You gave Mothman… a thousand dollars…” Fiddleford says slowly.

“To help kickstart their new business, yes.” It’s so casual, like he doesn’t even register the inherent absurdity in what he’s saying.

“And that business is?”

“Mothballs.”

“Stanford!”

“What?”

“That’s the stupidest scam I’ve ever heard.”

Ford sputters, his face aghast for a moment. “I did not get scammed by Mothman!”

“You did.”

“Did not.”

“Do you even know what mothballs are for?”

He pauses, his mouth snapping shut, his face turning the slightest shade of red. Fiddleford can see it from the next room over. “No. I always assumed they were some biproduct created by moths during reproduction or something.” Fiddleford lets his head fall back, bonking on a bar of the steel framework behind him.

“Stanford, they repel moths,” he says. “You just let a bunch of moths convince you they’re starting a business making the thing they hate. That’s stupider than the time my neighbor tried to convince me his cat could see God. And you have three PhDs!”

“Four now,” he says quietly, and Fiddleford levels him with a single raised eyebrow.

“You’re gonna go back, find that over-glorified insect, and get our money back. Or so help me, I will never do another grocery run for as long as I live here.”

“Oh come now, that’s hardly fair. You know I hate going into town.”

“Then you better hurry along and find him.”

“You honestly believe the actual Mothman is pulling a con.”

“People lie, Stanford,” he says, finally ducking himself back into the machine to finally run the diagnostic on the new circuit. “Even cryptids and aliens probably from another dimension.”

There’s a moment of silence, but it’s broken a few moments later by the sound of a chair scuffing on the floor and footsteps ascending the wooden stairs out of the basement.

Fiddleford snorts, shaking his head and getting back to work.

~ ~ ~

“So, like, the Mothman,” Wendy says, keeping pace next to him as they make their way back into the woods, the sun’s last rays just starting to slip behind the trees. “The actual Mothman. He’s real?”

“As real as any of the other anomalies in this town,” Ford says, adjusting the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. He’d heard the cryptid had come back into town again shortly after Wierdmageddon, and after his first attempt at getting his money back a few weeks back (second if you count that time over three decades ago) went sour, he decided to bring back-up this time. But with Stan still out of commission and the kids rightly wanting to stay with him, he was hard-pressed for options. That is until the cashier girl piped up and said she’d do it for ten percent of whatever they recovered.

Ford negotiated her down to eight and a half. She drives a hard bargain; he can see why Stan hired her.

“Dude, that’s sick,” she says.

“I mean, I hardly think they’re ill or anything,” Ford says. “As fast as their moths die off, they re-introduce new ones to the population through some sort of reproductive mitosis—”

“Nah dude, it’s a phrase,” she cuts him off. “Means, like, ‘that’s awesome’.”

“Ah, alright.” Ford pauses to check the anomaly scanner on his watch, the little white blip flashing on the screen. “I’ve never been exceptionally ‘with it’ when it comes to slang, so you’ll have to pardon my misunderstanding.”

“You’re fine, Dr. Pines,” she says. She kicks a loose rock off into the brush. “I’m pretty sure Stan doesn’t understand half of what I say either.” Ford hums an affirmative, intently watching the small blip on his watch, confirming that it is, in fact, slowly moving in their direction. After a few seconds, he drops the bag he’s been carrying with a thwump, a bit of dust swirling up from the dirt.

“We’re going to set up the trap right here,” he says. “We have probably ten minutes until the Mothman comes through here, so we’ll need to act quickly.”

“You got it boss-man.”

It’s a fairly simple net trap, one that they make short work of assembling. Ford had already built the majority of it to bring out here, including a magic-imbued mosquito net that should contain the Mothman’s consciousness so long as they catch the majority of their moths.

He made that mistake last time, the Mothman managing to escape in the couple moths that his trap missed.

“So, you really were in, like, a different dimension for a bunch of years, right?” Wendy asks as she spreads some leaves and twigs over the net.

“Multiple dimensions,” he says as he carefully sets the trap’s trigger pole. “I travelled through thousands of them in my thirty years away from this one.”

“Dude, that’s nuts.”

“It was… pretty sick,” he says, shooting her a wry grin. Wendy groans.

“Well,” she says, “you just confirmed for me that I was right to never teach Stan slang, so thanks for that I guess.”

“Glad to help.” With the trap finally set and ready to go, he pulls the last item out of the bag: the bait, which he flicks on and gently sets down against the trigger.

“That’s a flashlight,” Wendy says, the statement almost a question.

“Indeed, it is.”

“Is it, like,” she says, waving her hands slightly, “I don’t know, magic or something?”

“Nope,” he says, backing off and giving the trap one last look-over. He has to hand it to the girl, she knew what she was doing.

“You’re serious?”

“Entirely,” he says. “It doesn’t take much to attract them. Back in the eighties, they used to hang around streetlamps and windows all the time. It’s a wonder they’re still considered a cryptid considering how blatantly out in the open they—”

He hears the tell-tale sound of fluttering insect wings, not too far off, but loud enough to make him pause. He glances in the direction and then down at his watch, the blip on the screen almost on top of them. Quickly, he motions to Wendy to hide and then does the same himself, crouching behind the nearest tree and peering around the side to watch.

It’s rather quiet for a few moments, the darkness starting to settle into the pines, the lit flashlight a lone beacon, just the sound of the pine needles whistling in the breeze and the far-off humming of the approaching cryptid. But that low hum gradually gets louder, turning to a white drone of hundreds of small wings beating in tandem.

A familiar dark shape emerges from the underbrush. Humanoid, but just barely. Ten-feet tall with two enormous wings sprouting from its back, two large yellow eyes reflecting the scattered light of the flashlight in the clearing. Their entire shape feels blurred at the edges, like someone drew a line of charcoal and smudged it, the hundreds of moths that make up their body shifting and moving amongst each other in a din of small beating wings.

The Mothman.

Ford hates to admit that the thought still sends an excited shiver up his spine.

They emerge into the clearing, glancing around and taking an immediate interest in the flashlight lying on the ground. They approach it slowly, cautiously, glancing around as if waiting for the ambush, eventually making it onto the net before moving to bend down to pick up the flashlight.

They stop.

Ford holds his breath.

“Stanford Pines,” a voice says, the sound a high whine broken up and mixed with soft clicking. The Mothman stands back upright, snapping its eyes right in his direction. Immediately, Ford’s mind starts swirling with potential fallback options to try to turn this in their favor. “Surprised you’re still alive after last week. Really think we’re stupid enough to fall for—”

“Suck mothballs, lamp licker!” Wendy screams from across the clearing, the Mothman whipping around just as a projectile of some sort (is that an axe?) flies out of the underbrush and hits the trap’s trigger dead-on, sending the net shooting upwards and capturing almost all of the moths above it. A shrill screech fills the air from the now-dangling mass of moths, but Ford is too busy gaping at the cashier girl as she emerges from her hiding spot.

“Nice shot, Wendy!” he beams, shaking off the shock and coming out to join her on either side of the now-enraged Mothman. She shrugs, retrieving the axe from off the ground and sliding it back into her belt loop behind her back.

“No biggie. My dad enters me into the annual axe-throwing competition every year. I’ve won the last 5 in a row.” Ford, having not known anything about this girl before today, is rather stunned. He certainly was not expecting that from the teen, let alone the nonchalance over it. “But anywho,” she says, turning her attention to the writhing mass in front of them. “About that money…”

~ ~ ~

About two hours after they left, Ford and Wendy arrive back at the Mystery Shack, Ford heading to the back of the house to find Stan and the kids, Wendy collecting her things and heading back out to go home, a crisp one-hundred dollar bill tucked into her pocket.

#pinesbrosfallswrites #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #wendy corduroy #gravity falls #comms are still open! #might take me a while to get your fic out #but i'm still taking them! #certainly was interesting to break out my fiddleford voice again #he's such a character #was also interesting to try out wendy's voice #let alone how she interacts with ford #enjoyed writing this a lot!

[sharada-n]

prompt: papyrus dealing with quarantine by deciding he can NOT stay in his house for six months so he moves into the forest to become a cryptid covered in flower.

This gave me a good ol’ chuckle and made my own quarantine mood a bit better so thank you Anon! Have a thing:

The search lasted for three days.

Three days that didn’t feel like three days, more like three months or three years, or three hours. Time was beginning to blur for Sans in a way that was uncomfortable and way too reminiscent of something else entirely he rather not think about. His human therapist had told him this was not an uncommon experience during a period like this and he hadn’t corrected them.

How long had Papyrus even been gone? Sans wasn’t about to admit he didn’t know, because he rather suspected Undyne would break every single bone that made up his body if he did, and he really needed those bones. But the truth was he hadn’t even noticed his brother was gone at first. Things were crazy - had been crazy for weeks now - and there was no sign of it letting up anytime soon. Sans didn’t leave the house unless he had a good reason to and more than anything he had a good reason not to now. He mostly spent time in his room, read books, scrolled the vast internet and slept. There wasn’t much else to do really.

And Papyrus did... Sans didn’t know what Papyrus did during this time, but he thought it would just be the same things Papyrus did any other time when Sans wasn’t looking. But then the dishes in the sink kept piling up and the heap of socks on the living room floor started to reassemble the pyramids of Egypt and Sans had thought, ‘I sure do wonder when Papyrus is gonna pick those up’, before ordering take-out from Grillby’s for dinner.

The next morning their electricity got cut because the bill hadn’t been paid and Sans realized that maybe the dishes and the socks were a bad sign.

Panic didn’t set in immediately. Papyrus had taken his violin and the pet rock, so Sans was pretty sure he had not been kidnapped. Unless the kidnappers were looking for a concert and a dissertation on proper pet care, at least. But he called Papyrus about a gazillion times and his brother did not pick up. Sans texted, and Papyrus did not respond.

The search lasted for three days, during which Sans had exaggerated his original assessment that “this must be Papyrus’ idea of teen rebellion” into “this must be Papyrus’ idea of a midlife crisis” until he arrived at the final and most logical conclusion that Papyrus must be absolutely, most certainly dead.

Papyrus was not absolutely, most certainly dead. He was quite fine, as he assured Sans multiple times, while Sans tried to not channel his inner Undyne (not a phrase he would often use) and break Papyrus in half. Mostly since that was a fight he was not prepared to have, and was definitely not going to win. But it simmered beneath the surface as Papyrus stared at him, a wreath of baby’s breath and wild ginger on his head, blinking at him with the innocence of a fawn.

For all Sans knew of his brother, this was quite the opposite.

“You scared me half to dead,” Sans said, solemnly, seriously.

“I see you are being hyperbolic for dramatic purposes,” Papyrus answered, then went back to braiding another flower crown of red and blue blossoms.

There had been no reception in the forest, was a much more simple and less gruesome conclusion.

Sans sat down, and pulled up his legs before he lost one of his slippers into the stream running through the meadow. “Well, not me maybe. But plenty of people.”

Papyrus scoffed. “Hardly my fault they made me a being of myth, Sans.” He plucked some blades of long grass to tie his creation together. “Humans are fanciful.”

“Tell me about it...” Sans groaned.

The only reason they had found Papyrus, the only way they had any idea of where he had disappeared to, was because Alphys had shown them an internet forum full of bizarre sightings humans had made in this area. Rumors spread like wildfire that something strange was living in the woods, something that wandered away from the paths and could only be caught by glimpses through the branches. Something tall and dangerous that abducted children and made them its dinner.

That last one was probably just a remnant of the superstitious humans had built around monsters over the year, but seeing a walking skeleton in the middle of the forest on your evening quarantine stroll was sure to upset folks. And the distant sounds of violin in the night did not help.

Sans shook his head. “Are you coming home?”

The question was considered for a moment, then Papyrus shrugged. “Am I?”

“Hey, I asked first.”

“I rather like being a creature of myth, Sans.”

Well, that was one way to put it. Sans was pretty sure it wouldn’t be long before humans with cameras and popular youtube channels would be trampling through these woods in search of the cryptid rumored to live here. Papyrus would probably appreciate such a thing. “I think they’re gonna build you a gift shop, Pap,” he said.

“They better sell T-shirts.” Papyrus turned to Sans and put the flower crown on his head, adjusting it so it wouldn’t fall off easily. “I’m sorry, Sans.”

“For what?”

“For leaving without warning. For getting tired of sitting at home and not being able to go anywhere or do anything. It feels like...”

Papyrus didn’t finish his sentence, but Sans could do it for him. “Like the world is ending?”

“How come people think I’m the dramatic one,” Papyrus shot back, but then followed it up with, “maybe not ending but it certainly feels like nothing will ever be normal again. And that can be scary too.”

Sans knew what that felt like and Papyrus knew it too.

“And living in the forest like some horrifying bedtime story for human children is not scary?”

Papyrus pushed him aside playfully and one of his slippers slid loose, falling into the stream with a little splash. Sans cursed but for once Papyrus ignored him.

“I’m just saying it’s fun. It’s not normal, and so the not-normal turns into not-not-normal, and feels a little more normal.”

Sans watched his slipper float on its merry way, a lost cause. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Of course it does,” Papyrus declared, “I should know, I’m an urban legend and have probably been around for centuries.”

Sans scoffed but didn’t disagree.

"Are you going to stay?” Papyrus asked, like he didn’t really care. The pet rock was sitting in the moss in front of them, dainty little flower crown on its head. Papyrus had his violin in one hand, like he was waiting for an answer to decide to play or not.

Sans knew he would play anyway.

“I think I have to, bro,” he answered, putting both hands behind his skull so he could lie down in the moss. “My slipper is probably gone all the way to the ocean by now. No way I’m getting that back.”

“You can teleport.”

“Too tired.”

Papyrus started to play a tune, his favorite, one that was easy to fall asleep to. And Sans could sleep anywhere, so that worked out perfectly.

#Undertale #Sans #Papyrus #my writing #an amazing anon #thank you for a fun prompt #this is just my quarantine mood distilled into a fic #I wish I could go live in the woods #and become a cryptid

[spoooky-bee]

Hey bee!!! Could you tell me about your OCs? I've always thought the idea of OCs was really cool but a lot of the time the info about people's OCs isn't organized very well (or at least not that I know of) so I tend to get confused when people talk about them which makes me hesitant to ask questions, but I'm curious about yours so please tell me about them!!

This got really really longs sorry. Ummm oh shoot okay so the general background/story(?) I have is this.

When Zaiyn was a toddler he got into some trouble (haven't figured out what yet) and probably should have been injured real bad but instead a giant cryptid thing came running out the forest and saved him (yay). Zaiyn mistook the cryptid for an actual angle (which he might be but shh) and brought him home cause mom look I have an angle! That's nice honey. She can't see him though cause idk I said so and she's boring. Anywho Zaiyn brings this cryptid (which he named Friend but later gets shortened to Fri) everywhere and naturally he brought him to school because no adults can see him apparently but the kids can and that means no bullying yay! Fri keeps Zaiyn out of trouble and Zaiyn teaches Fri things about humans and is generally really nice so Fri stays.

Sometime around 3rd grade Zaiyn becomes friends with a girl named Madison (Zaiyn calls her Maddie or Mella though) and Fri is weary at first but grows to care about her and shoot now he has another kid to keep out of trouble and it's surprising how much they run into.

Timeskip to highschool cause I can!! The crew are going about their business as usual and keeping Fri busy keeping them safe (these two are bright kids but also wow please don't do that very dangerous thing). They're out in the forest exploring one day as they do and they find a little cave house where someone clearly lives. Fri very much wants to leave. It's not safe. Every part of him is yelling to leave and even though he doesn't have a nose he can smell the danger. but the two humans (who are very fragile and have loads more to lose compared to Fri) won't leave and insist that they have to help whomever is living in this cave! So they wait. All day. And now it's starting to get dark and Fri tries his best to get them to leave now but then they hear rustling in leaves and a person steps out and Fri would be screaming if he could because this person is bad and dangerous and the two humans need to leave now. Of course they don't and Zaiyn steps towards the person and says something vey respond to Zaiyn and oh my gosh this person is not human. Vey are a vampire. Look it's my story and I say vampires can exist so there vey are. Fri once again tries to get his humans to leave but they don't so now he either has to a) fight the bad vampire or b) pick up both the humans and run or fly away. Idk if you know exactly how much a highschool boy and girl way together but Fri can tell you it's not light but here he is flying away (or at least trying to) with two struggling teenagers in his arms and he makes it back to Zaiyn's house barely but he did it and Zaiyn is angry (which doesn't happen very often) and he yells (which never happens ever) and he tells Madison to go home cause he doesn't want to tell at her and it's late and he tells Fri he's angry and he was gonna help vem and he had no right to make them leave. Fri can't speak to defend himself so he just watches as Zaiyn yells and slams his front door and leaves him outside and so Fri walks back to the forest cause maybe he can fix this or maybe Zaiyn doesn't need his guardian angel anymore and he outgrew him or who really knows exactly how a cryptid angle thinks about things.

It had been three days since Zaiyn fought- (well he was the only one yelling so) yelled at Fri and he was worried so he went to the forest to find the friend that started this mess. Okay maybe he didn't quite realize how much Fri helps him because once he reached the cave the was muddy and wet from falling in the mud so much and there were sticks in his hair and his hand hurt from where he scraped it on a rock but that's not the point rn. The point is that maybe the person they found could help him find Fri. So he waits. And waits. And waits. And then just as the sun was setting vey showed up! In hindsight he should've come here later but it's fine. So he talks to the vampire and vir name is actually Alek and vir really cool and they agree to help him find Fri and so Zaiyn calls Madison (the more the merrier and also another set of eyes would help) and soon they're all walking around the woods at night trying to find a ten to eleven-ish foot tall monster who may or may not be an actual angle with wings and probably doesn't want to be found (Also during this time Alek realizes how clumsy the two humans are and really struggles to keep the in one piece).

Yay they found him! Oh no he's not happy. That was expected tbh but still. Through the magic of sign language (not really though cause his sing language is very different from human sign language and it turns out language barriers are a thing) and general gesturing Fri does his best to describe what happened and how Alek scares him and is dangerous to the two (of course Alek laughs at the thought of purposely harming these two) and eventually it get sorted out to where Alek is aloud to be around but can't be left unattended with them until Fri knows he can trust vem and Alek is okay because yeah vir a vampire and that's fair.

Months later Fri is okay with Alek. Heck Alek has helped keep them out of danger so Alek is good. And now vir convincing them to get on the roof no we can't do that that's a horrible idea yes ik you can see the stars really well no idc it's dangerous and icy and your going to fall off... Fri now has three children to look after...dang it.

In hindsight you asked about the Ocs and not the story...sorry... I hope the story was okay though? If you want to know about the characters just tell me and ill.. actually do that and not write out the whole plot

#long post #Fri's idiots #asks #Oz!! #i might post the drawings i made of Madison and Alek later but idk #also i got an ask about my ocs!!!!! #this makes me very happy ty Oz

[starlight-ascension]

PreCures and If They Would Survive A Horror Movie

Nagisa: would survive. She’s the most competent pink cure both on and off the battlefield, she will destroy the villain and look badass doing it. 

Honoka: Her science stuff probably created the bad guy in the first place when it went haywire. And since she would know how to defeat the villain, she would have to die early on for there to be a horror movie at all. 

Hikari: Absolutely would not survive. All she does is stand there and sometimes freeze the enemy in place for two seconds. She only transforms when reminded to. Also she’s a blonde and horror villains always go for blondes. There’s no way she’d live. Hikari would stand there frozen in place and scream until she dies gruesomely. 

Saki: I don’t know but nagisa survives so i’m gonna say saki does too. 

Mai: also don’t know. i’mma say no. 

Nozomi: Would not survive. There is no way nozomi would make it out. 

Rin: Would survive. After watching Nozomi die, Rin would go full-on enraged feral jock, transform, and set the villain on fire. 

Urara: Would not survive. She’d probably go right into the dark place and do the thing where you spot the villain with your flashlight and dismiss it before doing a major double take but now it’s right behind you. 

Komachi: Would survive, all the way. She reads a lot so she knows her way around how to survive these things. She writes a lot so she knows shady topics and would think of or know things that if she didn’t know, the whole team would be screwed. And she’s a walking weapon of mass destruction on top of all that. 

Karen: She’s hiding in a secret fortified bunker right now with bodyguards and lots of entertainment. She would survive. 

Kurumi: Would not survive. When she reverts to fairy form against her own will, the bad guy would pick her up and throw her into some mechanical thing that grinds her up alive and is the main reason for the R rating. 

Love: Would last 5 minutes. Seriously, in the first episode she got lost and saw a creepy house in the woods that wasn’t there before and what does she do? SHE GOES IN. If that were a horror movie, she’d be a redshirt designed to be killed off in the first few minutes for the purpose of introducing us to the bad guy and showing how dangerous it is. 

Miki: Would survive. Miki has gone up against a villain who came straight out of the horror genre (Northa) and survived. Another horror villain would be no problem. Unless it’s hide time and she can’t hide properly because she’s so tall. 

Inori: Might survive. Might end up dying so that the cat in the movie doesn’t. 

Setsuna: Setsuna has lived through a horror movie (episode 40 of fresh precure). She’s dealt with some serious heck. She will absolutely survive a horror movie. 

Tsubomi: All Tsubomi would do is run. Thankfully, she’s not clumsy like some pinks, and would probably actually manage to make it out by running away. 

Erika: Would survive. Erika cannot be killed. 

Itsuki: This girl knows martial arts. She fought off a giant monster because it ripped a plushie she thought was cute. Horror villains should be scared of Itsuki. 

Yuri: ABSOLUTELY would survive. Did you see her take out an entire group of Sunackies in civilian form? She’s a genius, a badass, and would survive a horror movie hands-down. 

Hibiki: Would survive 

Kanade: Would survive, but only because Crescendo Tone can bring people back to life. 

Ellen: Would survive. Remember how she trolled some villains who were trying to scare her? She’d do the same thing. Except it’s also leading the bad guy into a death trap. 

Ako: She’s that little girl who befriends the ghosts or whatever and talks about them casually in a scary way and then either becomes possessed, helps the villain kill everyone else, or just skip ropes on the playground singing terrifying versions of nursery rhymes. She survives, obviously. Forming an alliance with the villains can help you with that. 

Miyuki: Would not survive. The reason for this is that by the time she realizes what genre she’s actually in, it would be too late for her already. 

Akane: Would survive. Arson queen with the makings of a genderflipped shonen protag and super strength even by precure standards? She will destroy the bad guys. 

Yayoi: Would survive. She watches enough anime and toku, reads enough manga and comic books, and plays enough video games to know everything about how to survive a horror movie. Also, she likes ghost stories. She ABSOLUTELY would catch on right away that she’s in a horror movie and maybe even fangirl over the villain a little. 

Nao: Would be the only one to realize THE MAGIC TELEPORTING BOOKSHELF and escape. 

Reika: Similar to Miki and Setsuna, Reika has gone up against a villain who’s scary enough to be in horror, in this case Joker. And she has won. Several times. Reika would absolutely survive. What’s another horror villain? 

Mana: Would sacrifice herself to save her team. 

Rikka: Would not survive. She’d obtain information and realize a way to defeat the villain that would 100% work, which means that while she’s explaining it, she’d be killed mid-sentence. 

Alice: Would ABSOLUTELY survive. She has a freaking SPACE SHUTTLE, her place is full of traps and secret tunnels, she’s one of the most badass and terrifying cures, AND both she and her butler are Batman. Alice is by far the most likely precure to survive a horror movie. 

Makoto: Did the sensible thing and hid out with Alice. Is currently hanging out in a secret room with protection, every light on, and her back to the wall so she can’t be ambushed from behind, watching willcraft monster school on her phone on silent. 

Aguri: Dies of overconfidence. 

Regina: Is the one to kill the villain. 

Megumi: She would transform and be like “AW YEAH I GET TO BATTLE SOMETHING” and then obliterate the villain, surviving the movie in the process. Unless she tried to form change. If she used her dance attacks, she’d be stabbed or dismembered or eaten while she’s charging up her attack. 

Hime: Survives the movie itself. Is killed after the credits to show that the villain isn’t really dead and set up a sequel. 

Yuko: First one on the team to die. 

Iona: Would definitely survive. She’s the only one on her team who’s 100% cool with doing what it takes to defeat the bad guys and she’s a badass. 

Maria: Did you see the time she took out 4 monsters at once? She would survive. 

Haruka: Like with most pinks, Haruka would probably not survive. 

Minami: Would stand there screaming until she gets stabbed. 

Kirara: Same deal as Erika. 

Towa: She’s a fire cure. Fire often works against these guys. But they have no compulsion about attacking someone while she’s preparing her drawn-out attack sequence, and the extreme impracticality of her outfit could end up killing her. It’s around 50/50 for Towa. 

Mirai: Would last 20 minutes if she’s lucky. She’s probably the one who read the creepy old book out loud and released the demon/monster/whatever. 

Riko: Has enough knowledge of the supernatural to know how to defeat the thing Mirai summoned. Is targeted as a result. Eventually dies directly after a jumpscare. Is brought back to life by Kotoha. 

Kotoha: She’s a literal goddess and she’s got the strongest magic of anyone ever. She will survive without question. 

Ichika: Hate to say this, but she would probably not survive. *begins sobbing at the thought of my precious daughter dying in a horror movie* 

Himari: Would also probably die. But would last for far longer than Ichika. 

Aoi: Would power through an otherwise fatal injury and somehow survive something that definitely should have killed her, because she needs to write a song about this. 

Yukari: Old enough to drive. Smart enough to check the back seat. 

Akira: Sits in the passenger seat as the two floor it. Checks under the car for villains while Yukari is watching her back. 

Ciel: Switches to fairy form and flies so high the villains can’t get her. 

Pikario: Gets run over by Yukari and Akira. 

Hana: Survives the first half of the movie. Dies when she runs upstairs instead of outside. 

Saaya: She spent an entire night just watching horror movies once and now she knows everything about how to survive them. Makes it out alive. 

Homare: Survives

Emiru: Is hiding in a security bunker

Ruru: Is hiding with Emiru

Hikaru: She’s really into cryptids and occult stuff, so she knows their weaknesses, and survives the whole movie as a result. Probably hits on the monster at least once. 

Lala: Runs right into her spaceship and gets TF out of there. 

Elena: Holds out for a good amount of time. Then her phone rings while she’s hiding. 

Madoka: Made it onto the spaceship with Lala. 

Yuni: Uses her shapeshifting perfume to disguise herself as a corpse version of herself. Successfully tricks the bad guy into thinking she’s dead. 

Nodoka: Passes out, dies first. 

Chiyu: Survives 

Hinata: Would not survive. She’s too much of a hot mess to last in a horror movie. 

Asumi: Would die if she remained untransformed. If she transformed, she would survive hands-down. 

[jpstandsforjustpatches]

😬 - I will write my muse in an uncomfortable situation/facing their fears.

Patches traveled a lot. Everywhere she went, she tended to gain notoriety as a local cryptid and boogeyman, and that was just how she liked it. Sometimes she’d make a repeat appearance in a place, just to remind them that she’s still around and they can never, ever let their guard down.

Her reputation spread like wildfire in modern times, with cameras in everyone’s pockets and a direct link to the world wide web, it was easier than ever to become a creepypasta. Hell, sometimes if she was menacing someone, she’d steal their own phone to snap a selfie. Far too many people had woken up to find a photo of her with claws inches from their sleeping forms awaiting on their phones. 

People feared her, but just as many people thought it was all some joke. Those were her favorite, she loved to prove them wrong. It was too bad they rarely lived to tell the tale, but then again, she couldn’t prove them wrong if she let them off easy now, could she? Whatever they said about her on the internet was fine by her. Sure, sometimes the rumor mill got it wrong, but sometimes that only gave her new ideas. New lows to sink to. She just couldn’t let her fans down.

But even for something as despicable and rancid as her, sometimes, once in a blue moon, she’d run into the opposite problem. Today was one of those rare days.

Walking down the sunny street she leered at anyone unfortunate enough to share the space with her. Most averted their eyes, hurried their families along, whether they knew her or not, it was clear she was bad news. Who walks around in a clown suit in the middle of August? Halloween was months away!

A sudden gentle tug on her tail stopped the clown in her tracks. Her neck twisted around backwards with an audible cracking to face the source of the offense. Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been this small child staring up at her with hopeful eyes.

“What.” She always hated children. There was no fun in trying to scare them, because they were already scared of everything. They weren’t even a good snack because they were so small. All they were good for was running them off so they could grow up into an adult sized snack. She preferred to cut things off at thirteen, kids were old enough to be real assholes by then and if one happened to cross her path, then so be it.

The child, who couldn’t have been more than nine or ten years old, flinched at the harshness of her voice, “I’m uh... I.. I need your help.”

Her help? Patches laughed, out loud. What kind of person in their right mind would ask her for help, “Don’t be stupid. Haven’t your parents told you not to talk to strangers? Go. Home.” It was a rare piece of genuine advice, coming from her.

The girl shook her head, “You’re not a stranger. I know who you are. You’re the monster everyone’s afraid of.. And.... I can’t get home right now.” She looked behind her, fearfully, but didn’t seem to spot anything yet.

Patches’ grin faded into something more judgmental. If this kid knew who she was, then that was all the more reason to stay far, far away from her. Had the local rumors shifted just because she wasn’t killing kids? Her claws twitched as she considered changing that, but curiosity was getting the better of her, “And just why would that be?”

Before the child could answer herself, a clamoring of shouting and whooping approached from around the corner. She immediately hid behind Patches, clinging tight around her waist and burying her face. A couple boys, a few years older than the girl rounded the bend. “Hey four-eyes, you dropped your glasses!” One of them sneered as he waved the crushed frames tauntingly. The other jeered along with him, unbothered by the sight of the clown, if anything he was spurred onward by Patches’ presence, “Aw look, she thinks that dumbshit bozo is gonna protect her!”

Patches was no stranger to the jeering name-calling flung her way. No, that was par for the course. What was throwing her off her game was the child hugging her tight for safety. The contact made her uncomfortable and she wanted it to Stop. She grimaced and placed a hand on the girl’s head to push her back and break the hug. The push sent the girl stumbling back and she fell to the ground, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. Patches stared down at her coldly, but there was some rising feeling she couldn’t quite place. She didn’t like that either and didn’t care to reflect on it. Hm. There were small cuts and bruises on the girl’s face and arms, she didn’t do that.

The boys excited shouting had only grown louder as they saw Patches seemingly side with them in their bullying. Emboldened, they ran forward, ready to throw more rocks and hurtful words. They were going to call her stupid for thinking some monster would protect her. They didn’t get the chance.

The taller one, the leader of the two, met her claws first. They clamped around his head with crushing force, a spray of blood and gore splattered her black and white wardrobe. The shouting instantly turned to screaming as the other boy tried to turn and run. He wouldn’t get more than a few feet before her long limbed strides caught up to him. A heavy hand braced his shoulder and yanked him back into awaiting jaws. At least it was quick, for both of them. The screaming was quickly silenced.

Patches had intended to sit and take her meal right there on the sidewalk, but even after brutally murdering two teenagers in broad daylight, she couldn’t catch a break. The girl, incredibly shaken by what she just witnessed, but perhaps not shaken enough, approached the clown once more, “I knew you weren’t evil...”

That statement nearly put Patches off her lunch entirely. She turned to level the child with a stare as blood and gore oozed from between her fangs, she made a point to look as awful and Bad as possible in the process, “Go. Home.”

The girl handled this scare just as readily as the others and approached the crouching Patches one last time. This time she flung her arms around her neck, despite the clown recoiling, “Thank you!”

At least this hug was shorter and the girl turned to collect her broken glasses and run off, waving back at Patches and looking far too content about everything  that just happened. Patches on the other hand looked disgusted, offended, and could not believe what had just happened. None of that had gone correctly and now she had lost her appetite. Disgusting. She growled and hauled the two corpses up under her arms to slink off into the nearest woods where she could be sure she wouldn’t run into any more young fans.

Kids these days...

#Anonymous #drabble #cw for blood gore and death #(( the feeling is called GUILT patches and you are too in denial to know that ))

[smile4imagines]

Hewwo! May I request HCs for Habit, Kamal and Questionette with a SO who just, really loves them cryptids and is an amateur cryptid hunter? The type to go running into the woods to find their boy, the Mothman. Thank you! You are doing (deity of choice)'s work here and I adore thine writing UwU

i LOVE cryptics!!! omg what if we went hunting 4 cryptids together 😏👀 and we kissed 😳💋 and held hands 😳😳😊 haha jk….. unless? (also i love how u picked 2 of the most cryptic characters in the game to go hunting for cryptics with) 

Boris Habit, Kamal Bora, and Questionette going cryptic hunting with their s/o! 

Boris Habit 

at first, he’s a bit skeptical, since he doesn’t exactly know what a cryptid is. “kriptid? krip-did?? what did krip do???” 

after a bit of explaining, he gets pretty excited about it! he totally loves weird things, and wants to find them and become their friend :-)

when you guys go running off into the woods, expect him to hold your hand and run in front of you to protect you every time he hears even the smallest rustle of leaves. its dark! and these cryptics can be scary! he doesn’t want anything to hurt you!! 

after you convince him that you’re prepared for anything, he’ll calm down a bit. he won’t let go of your hand though. 

makes you go or stay home if its really late (like 4 or 5 am) since hes too tired to be running around so late, and he cares a lot about your health so no all nighters in the woods for you! 

heck, even if he doesn’t get to make friends with the big scary monsters, he’s just happy that you’re happy. 

all in all, he’s just as excited about finding mothman or bigfoot as you are! in fact, he’ll even take you all around the world to where all of the best crytpics were found, just to see the smile on your face 

you may or may not spend months trying to find an unnamed cryptic that’s been spotted around your town, only to find out that it’s just habit, who sometimes likes to tend to the local gardens in the dead of the night

Kamal Bora 

when you bring up cryptics, he automatically says no. and don’t even TRY to get him to leave his house after 11. 

im sorry to tell you this, but Kamal isn’t exactly the best person to go cryptic hunting with. he worked for a big scary cryptic long enough, and he doesn’t ever wanna be face to face with something even remotely weird or creepy ever again (plus he’s had a huge fear of the Jersey Devil since he was like. 6.) 

probably accidentally gets really mad at you if you wake him up in the middle of the night. he even breaks out the sarcasm! don’t be too upset though, he’s just a little grumpy. let the man sleep!

he only goes out to the woods to hunt for them with you every once in awhile, but not because he wants to! he’s just making sure you’re safe!

don’t expect him to stay for too long though, the second he sees even the slightest hint of another living being hes gonna book it to the car and not move until you take him home and cuddle

on another note, he does like to help you research! he’ll never try to actively find anything, but that doesn’t mean he won’t look into it. tell him the cryptic you’re currently looking for and give him 2 days, and he’ll have a whole paper written up about how to catch it, where you might find it, what to be careful of, and what you’ll need to bring

he may not go with you to find them, but that doesn’t mean he won’t help! 

Questionette 

EXCITED EXCITED EXCITED!! SO EXCITED!!! 

you picked the right gal to go cryptic hunting with! she LOVES anything creepy or weird, and she also loves anything romantic, so whats better than spending a romantic night in the woods trying to find something creepy or weird with her s/o??

she already knows so much about all different kinds of cryptids, she’ll spend all night talking with you about her favorites

when you two actually go to the woods, she packs a picnic along with all of your cryptic hunting stuff, so that you guys can share a lovely little late night snack under the light of the moonlight, and hopefully with mothman right by your side! 

like Habit, she has also been mistaken for a local cryptic too many times to count. the funny thing is, she doesn’t even know about it! so she’ll be right along with you, trying to find herself 

it takes awhile before she realizes, “hey, isn’t this the park i usually sit in, at around this time? and who’s that guy with the camera?” 

instead of being mad about it, she fully embraces and accepts it. in fact, she now spends some of her free time showing up in weird places and doing creepy stuff, just to keep the legend going. all with your help, of course!

you two become know as “the cryptic couple that hunt for crytics” and honestly? thats fine with both of you!

#i've played enough poptropica to know my cryptics #smile for me #sfm #smile for me game #smile for me imagines #smile for me headcanons #smile 4 me #s4m #boris habit #dr boris habit #boris habit x reader #dr habit #dr boris habit x reader #dr habit x reader #habit x reader #kamal bora #kamal bora x reader #questionette #questionette x reader

[dyscrasia-eucrasia]

Part 7

<<Prev | Next>>

"Hey giiiirl," Lexi said when Angel answered the Facetime call. "It's been foreverrrr, how are you?" 

Lexi Christo was a micro-influencer from Richmond, Virginia. She was tan, blonde, and had the whitest teeth Angel had ever seen on a person. He'd become influencer buddies with her during a pole dancing expo he'd traveled to a year ago. She wasn't a dancer herself, but had been there to support another micro-influencer who danced as a hobby. Angel had met her in the hotel bar as she went around taking selfies with as many guys as she could, and they struck up a conversation, working out a deal to both post the selfie to their Instagram accounts and tag each other. 

She was alright, as far as he was concerned. She had two cute pomeranians and hustled fitness shakes in what he could only assume was a pyramid scheme. She was image obsessed, but who on Instagram wasn't? The only problem he had with her was that she came off as a super Jesus-freak online, but in person she was one of the hardest partiers he'd ever met. 

A call from her generally meant she was planning something big and fun and wanted as many influencers to show up as she could get. 

"Oh, y'know, wasting all of my talent on podunk Charleston, the usual," he replied. 

"Are you laying in bed? I'm not interrupting a dick appointment, am I?"

"God, I wish I was getting dick right now. No, I'm just resting my leg, I pulled it funny on the pole last night." 

"Oh, bummer. Is it serious?" 

"No, it happens sometimes. Just need to ice it and stay off of it for a day." 

"That's good… speaking of dancing, I've got a proposition for you." 

"Oh no, what are you planning?" 

"So my sister is getting married in a few months, and I'm putting together a bachelorette party for her. It's gonna be so lit, I've got so many local influencers coming. We're gonna stream it on Instagram Live and everything. And I want you to be our stripper." 

"Lexi, you know I'm gay, right? I don't do hen shows." 

"No no no, that's why you'd be perfect! That way none of the guests will end up trying to fuck you." 

"Well, jeez, take all the fun out of working…" Angel joked. He'd never fucked someone from a club. He'd thought about it sometimes - the money would be nice, of course - but it always came back to his online reputation. Had to keep it clean to attract those brand deals. 

"C'mon, pleeeeaaaase! I'll pay you and everything." 

"Bitch, you'd better pay your dancers!"

"Of course I would! But you'll get paid plus you'll get exposure from a ton of influencers. C'mon, it'll be so much fun."

"For you. I'll be working." 

"Work can be fun. C'mon, pleeeeeaaaase!"

"Okay, okay! I'll do it, jeez. Stop grovelling." 

"Omigod, thank you!" 

"Yeah, yeah, don't mention it." 

"Excellent. I'm so excited. So anyways, what's happening with you?"

"Oh, not much. Just thinking about boys, y'know how it is." 

"Speaking of boys, you should totally DM Clayton Howard. He's actually out in West Virginia right now." 

"Whaaat? What's he doing out of L.A.?" 

"He's doing some sort of cryptid hunting show with his crew. They were hunting Mothman, and then something called Flatland, or something like that? They almost got shot by hillbillies in the episode that went up today." 

"No way. How did that even happen?" 

"They were in the woods looking for the Goatman and I guess they got too close to some hillbilly shack or something because someone fired a shotgun at them."

"Wait, what's the Goatman?" 

"You know, from the creepypasta?" 

"Girl, you know I hate horror." 

"Well, there's this story about a Goatman who lives in the woods and smells like blood and it can shapeshift or whatever and sneaks into groups of teenagers."

"Ugh, creepy." 

"I know! But anyways, Clayton's in your state, you should totally DM him and try to hook up. Or at least shoot a collab." 

"I dunno, Clayton's got like 100k followers, I doubt he'd talk to someone with less than 10k…"

Angel didn't get to finish that thought when his phone started to buzz. The notification that popped up at the top of the screen showed an incoming call - not Facetime, just a regular phone call. And the caller ID was someone from his contacts: Demie. 

He sat up, suddenly flooded with energy. It had been two whole days since Demie had called him, and he'd figured that Demie just didn't want anything to do with him anymore. 

"Lexi, I gotta go, I'm getting a really important call," he said, words tumbling rapidly out of his mouth. 

"Ooooh, is it for a dick appointment?" 

"If I play my cards right, it is," he said with a grin. "Talk to you later, byeeeee!" 

He hung up the Facetime call before she could reply, smashing the answer button on the incoming call. 

"Hello?" He said. He instantly cringed. That 'hello' had sounded too excited. He was afraid of coming off too strong and scaring Demie away. 

"Uh… Angel?" Demie asked. 

"Yeah, yeah, this is Angel. What's up, man?" 

"Hey, uh, so Elaine said you called. Sorry I didn't call back, I was dealing with some shit." 

"Hey man, that's fine. Is everything okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine, there were just these punkass kids trespassing on my property and scaring my goats so I was putting up signs all day--"

"Wait, you have goats?" Angel interrupted. 

"Uh… yeah?" 

"What, do you live on a farm or something?"

"Huh? No. I grew up on a farm, but I moved away and shit. I just have some goats." 

"You really like goats, huh? I mean, you dress up like a goat, you have goats…" 

"Uh… I guess." 

"Have you ever heard of the Goatman?" 

There was some silence on the other end of the line. Angel was afraid the connection had dropped, so he asked: "Demie? You there?" 

"Yeah, I'm here. What about the Goatman?" 

"Oh, apparently there's this Youtuber who's in town and is doing a show about cryptids. I dunno, I thought that since you like goats, maybe you knew about the Goatman and had checked it out--" 

"Cryptids are fucking bullshit, you know that, right?" Demie said. His typically monotone voice had just an edge of anger to it. 

"Oh, yeah, I know--" 

"Like they're just stupid stories made up by drunk rednecks who don't know what a fucking owl looks like, and all the people who go hunting them are just running around trespassing on private property." 

There was silence for a little while. 

"Hey," Angel said gently, "are we cool? Did I say something wrong?"

He could hear Demie take a deep breath, and then let it out. "Yeah, no, it's fine." 

"'Cause I didn't mean to upset you. You know that, right?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Was that all you wanted to talk about or did you call about something else?" 

"Oh, no, I didn't actually call about that, I was just talking to someone about it. I was calling to check in, y'know? Wondering how the song writing was going and all that." 

"Um, it's going fine, I guess."

"I was reading the Wiki page for Orpheus, it said that he had the power to, like, make anything that heard his music do whatever he wanted. I can see why you'd like him as a musician, I bet that would be a cool superpower to have." 

"Um, yeah, look, about that--" 

Angel's phone vibrated with a notification for a text. He pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it. It was a text from Lexi, stating: 'I DMed Clayton ur number. Ur welcome. 🍆💦'

A second later, a number he didn't recognize with a California area code lit up his phone with an incoming call. 

"Oh, shit," he mumbled. He wanted to keep talking to Demie, especially since he could tell he'd offended him somehow and wanted to clear the air. But at the same time, Clayton Howard had been his internet mancrush for ages. 

"Hey, Demie, sorry, I'm gonna have to go, I have to take this call. Can I call you back later?" 

"Um, yeah, I guess--" 

"Okay, byeeee!" 

He fumbled with the phone, ending the call with Demie and hitting the answer button for the unknown number. 

"Hello?" He asked. 

"Hey, is this Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Hey dude, this is Clayton Howard…"

#writing #writers on tumblr #original fiction #gay fiction #lgbt fiction #wright's writing #w:demie and angel

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 8: Stab Wound

(But hold on a little while longer.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 8: Stab Wound

Word Count: 2054

Relationships: familial Creativitwins, platonic/familial dlamptr

Warnings: Stab wound (obviously), other minor injuries, blood, minor dissociation, lots and lots of cursing

A/N: yes, i know this is late! it’s only by 30 minutes though D: hopefully my characterization of the trash man is alright! this was fun to write hehe

Well. That wasn’t a very fun camping trip!

Remus has always been one for surprise. He likes the excitement, the variety, the fun! It’s healthy to keep a little bit of spice in your life. He’s not afraid to live by this sort of motto, because life is about the little things. Although, he isn’t sure that getting stabbed in the middle of the woods at three a.m. necessarily counts as little, but he’ll take what he can get.

So sue him! Maybe he likes to have a little fun sometimes. Routine is boring! Fuck patterns! Fuck authority! Cause anarchy!

And, uh, yeah. He’s pretty chill with living on the edge like that. But maybe… maybe just a bit further from the edge? He means, like, the edge of harmful societal expectations and complacency, or whatever dumb shit Dee and Lo-Lo rant about to each other at one in the morning. Remus loves his roommates, and would totally rip out a bitch’s spine for them, but they’re fucking nerds. Speak ENGLISH.

Yeah, the edge of “normal”. Not the edge of death.

He’s not gonna die out here, no siree. If he believes he’s immortal strongly enough, he will be. That’s what Barbie movies teach you, right? In any case, even though he refuses to die, getting stabbed hurts like a motherfucker, and it doesn’t help that it’s also storming. He just wanted a nice, fun camping trip, but nooo, some shitty-ass god out there decided “Oh! Time to turn Remus into a shitty cliche horror movie protagonist!”. Why can’t he be the antagonist? Or… wait, what’s the one in the middle of the two? The side character? He wants to be the one guy who is in the midst of all the action with the protag, but seemingly dies halfway through the movie, and then comes back at the end to be like, ”Haha, surprise, bitch! I’m not dead!”.

Huh. Maybe he shouldn’t make all of his life choices based on movie stereotypes.

Anyway, he wishes that at the very least it’d stop fucking raining, because it makes it seriously hard to crawl through the underbrush while slipping in mud and falling flat on his face every two seconds. The stab wound is painful, sure, but as long as he can keep pressure on it and not lose too much blood before he gets to the main road, he should be fine. But having to deal with the downpour hindering his movement and blinding most of his senses sucks ass. How the hell is he supposed to utilize his tracking skills and make sure he’s going the right way without being able to see, hear, or smell a single goddamn thing? He might like making other people wet, but that doesn’t mean he likes being wet himself.

So, he thinks he’s going the right direction. Trying to escape a batshit crazy murderer in the middle of the woods doesn’t leave you a lot of time to casually sit down at a table with a cup of tea and pull out your faded, burnt treasure map, but if he had a table and a cup of tea and a partially burnt map, he would totally do that. Maybe the killer would be so confused, he’d have time to run away.

The thought causes Remus to bark out a laugh into the white noise of the storm, which is a VBI (Very Bad Idea), because it goes straight to his stomach. The pain that radiates out from the wound is like, actually excruciating, hahaha! But... Remus is supposed to be the one who actually survives to the end. He-- he has to be. Who else is gonna fill Roman’s socks with wet concrete?

Oh, Roman. His brother would probably be crying like a little bitch if he were here. Now he’d be the protagonist, the one who’d make so many stupid decisions and somehow come out of it alive anyway. He’s like those teenage girls in horror movies who make you scream at the screen “Don’t go in the dark scary basement, you fucking idiot!” but for some reason, never have a single repercussion for any of their terrible choices. (Remus would be the one who would sacrifice himself for the main character near the end of the movie at the dramatic climax, but Roman can never know that.)

Maybe he wishes Roman was here so that he didn’t have to crawl all this way on his own, but whatever. His brother would probably be too busy whining about his ruined hair to help much, anyway. Not-- Not that Remus needs help! He is having a blast slipping and sliding through the sticks and mud and bushes, thank you very much!

“C’mon out, dude! Don’t draw out the inevitable!” a voice echoes from the trees, a yell that’s far too familiar for Remus’ liking. God, can this guy just give it up already? Go find some other helpless damsel to terrorize! He does not wanna try Remus right now. This may all be fun and games, but Remus is starting to get pissed off, and he is unafraid to take out the stress on this crazy dumbfuck.

Somehow, Remus is able to hear the guy’s footsteps come closer through the sound of the rain splashing all around him, and he speeds up. Probably better to just avoid the guy. Although Remus’d totally win in a fight, the dude does have a knife, and Remus would really prefer to not get stabbed a second time. There’s a drop ahead, a place where it looks like the floor disappears, so Remus shuffles over to it and peers over. It’s a small cliff, with maybe fifteen or so feet to the bottom, and Remus curses under his breath. Fuck, he’s gonna have to do it, isn’t he? And now that he’s looking, he can just barely make out some headlights flit through the trees and disappear, so he knows that he’s close to the main road.

With a grimace, Remus steels himself, then slides off the edge feet-first, trying to use his shoes as a brace against the incline. Of course, because his life fucking sucks, he somehow manages to hit a rock embedded in the side in the wrong crevice, and it pitches him forward off the wall to tumble to the ground below. He smacks into the wet dirt, is just barely able to bite his tongue hard enough to stop the scream from ripping from his throat, and he lands at the bottom harshly. 

His stomach is on fire. It fucking hurts, feels like he’s being stabbed all over again a thousand times over. Bruises are definitely going to start forming all over his body from that fall, and coupled with the fact that his leg hit the ground at a weird angle, walking is going to be even worse than before. Fuck! Why can’t he just catch a fucking break?!

Remus pants hard, trying to work himself up to resuming his trek, when he hears his attacker’s voice calling out from above again. It sounds like he’s coming to the edge, so Remus just swallows hard and scoots himself over through the agonizing aches in his body to lay flat against the cliff wall. He just has to hope the dude doesn’t see him. He can’t really see very well through the storm, but Remus thinks he sees the guy look over the edge. Silence is key, and that’s pretty damn hard considering the absolute torture that is his wounds, but he has to. To survive.

He can’t die today.

And then the guy’s yelling for him again, and his voice is getting further away, and Remus waits in the mud until he can’t hear his footsteps anymore. Vigour and adrenaline now fully renewed, Remus bolts into the trees again, crawl morphing into a crouched run when he’s finally in cover. He clutches at his stomach to try to lessen the pain, which of course doesn’t help, but maybe it’ll keep some blood inside of him or something. Probably not best to bleed out right before he can get help. That’d be a shitty movie ending, if he’s being honest. Absolutely uncreative and unsatisfying. -11/10. 0% on Rotten Tomatoes. Is Remus delirious right now?

Despite all that, the sight of the road through a break in the trees is like a blissful breath of fresh air, a shining light of hope in the darkness. He’ll get to see Roman again, and prank Patton with bugs, and absolutely destroy Virge at video games, and listen to Dee and Lo-Lo’s stupid philosophy talks, and give his adoptive uncle Thomas a heart attack every time he does something stupid, and holy fuck maybe Remus is dying because when did he become sentimental? Ew.

A car finally comes along right as Remus manages to drag himself up onto the shoulder, and he waves frantically from where he’s kneeled on the ground in an effort to flag it down. Thank fuck, the car actually slows to a stop, and the window rolls down almost immediately. The face that pokes out is cute, and innocent-looking, and Remus prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that this person will actually help.

“Oh, jeez, are you okay? Why are you out on the road like this? Is-- Is that blood?!” the driver asks, horrified, and Remus tries to stumble closer. He doesn’t know what he looks like right now, but it’s probably horrifying, and he wouldn’t really blame this stranger if he drove away immediately. Maybe Remus will become like those ghost stories, the spooky legends about ghost hitchhikers. Ooh, maybe he’ll become a local cryptid! They can tell stories about him, and sell merch with his face on it, and he’ll be famous, and he can rub all of his sweet, sweet royalties in Roman’s face.

“Got-- I got stabbed. Crazy fucker got me while I was asleep. Help,” Remus manages to force out through his grit teeth, voice hoarse under the weight of the pain he’s in, and the driver looks extremely worried. For whose well-being, Remus has no clue.

“Alright, I’m taking you to the hospital. I couldn’t live with a guilty conscience if I left you out here. I’m Emile, by the way-- please don’t murder me, okay?” the stranger, Emile, says, and Remus chokes out a laugh despite himself. Emile gets out of his car and rushes through the drizzle without any hesitation, and Remus can already see that this is a genuinely good person. Anyone else would leave him here to die. He knows that. Even he’d leave himself here. But here this guy is, the kindest anyone has ever been to Remus, and it makes him wonder if he’ll still be as nice when he realizes that Remus’ personality is awful and the polar opposite of good and kind. (He knows he’ll never be good enough. He knows. He’s heard it enough, and he doesn’t need to be told again.)

“Not g’nna murder you. I can’t-- can’t even walk on my own, so,” Remus mumbles once he’s sure Emile is close enough to hear, and the latter just clicks his tongue with hands that frantically wave all around as if they don’t know where to go. Luckily enough for Remus, Emile pulls himself together quickly, slings an arm underneath his shoulder to help support his weight, and they limp back to the guy’s car together. As they do, Remus realizes the rain has stopped outright, and, well, isn’t that poetic?

Once he’s inside, dripping all over this stranger’s seats (okay, maybe he feels a little bad about that. When he’s a famous cryptid, he can pay for Emile to get his upholstery fixed), Remus starts to fade in and out. Not like the dying kind of “fading”, because he knows from multiple personal experiences what dying feels like, but more like he’s losing time as an effect of a literal stab wound. Oh, what did Lo-Lo call it? Desecrating? Dissipating? No, dissociating. Yeah, that’s the bitch. Yeah. Yeah...

He gets flashes now and again. Streetlamps outside, a tall building, hands underneath him, bright lights, rapid conversation. It smells like an E.R. It feels like home. He’s not gonna die today. Not yet.

#whumptober2019 #no.8 #stab wound #ts sides #sanders sides #ts remus #remus sanders #ts emile #emile picani #ts roman #creativitwins #ts virgil #ts patton #ts deceit #ts logan #thomas sanders #tw injury #tw blood #tw dissociation #tw cursing #platonic dlamptr #dlamptr #+ emile #uwu #jasper's writing

[dolphin-bouillabaisse]

GO-ctober Prompts, 15

Inktober except without the ink, and with drabbles instead.

Prompt #15 - Legend

(previous | next | beginning)

(find it all on Ao3)

“You know, there's a story in my Mami's hometown.” Anathema sounds absent-minded, which is rare, but more understandable once you notice the empty glass of wine in her hand. “Been passed down for generations.” “How utterly fascinating.” Crowley mocks, but Aziraphale's tut stops him. The evening had been so nice, and they'd gotten to such a quiet, comfortable state back in his shop, he really doesn't need the demon to break it all with a few sharp comments.

“Do go on, dear.”

“S'just a story, about... this giant snake living in the woods nearby. Eating young girls. She told me to keep me from running off to far, I think.”

“Again: how fascinating.”

“Made me think of you. You know.”

“Listen, not every giant snake story from somewhere in the jungle has to do something with me-”

“There are a lot of them, though.” Anathema grins as Aziraphale refills her wine, sharing the wicked gleam in her eye. Their regular meet-ups have done nothing but help the inner bastard of the angel come out to play, especially with Crowley. He's not quite sure he likes it.

“I couldn't even have been in all of the places people claim to have seen snakes or demons.”

“Stories like that travel, though.” Newt, up until now the quietest of the dinner quartet, speaks up in an almost rambling voice, staring at his half-empty glass (it doesn't take much for him, Anathema has learned quickly. It took much longer to convince Aziraphale not to constantly be a good host and refill his glass. She's not yet gotten it through to Crowley, who's already topping him off, no matter how much she stares him down.) “Especially in older times, like, pre-media. Word of mouth, and fear of monsters, and such. Maybe you just showed up in a few places and then they told all the neighbours.”

“Maybe dragons is your fault, too.” Anathema throws in, grinning, thinking back to their last discussion.

Crowley opens his mouth once, twice. He wants to protest, but neither of the humans are in a state to give him a proper fight instead of continuing the taunt, he decides (or convinces himself). He shrugs and throws himself back on the couch next to them.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, alright. It was all me. Every bad evil monster in fairytales, every devil legend, all me. Happy?”

Anathema giggles quite happily, but Newt's face turns into one of regret – he might not be sober anymore, but he's definitely clear enough to realise that maybe, making an actual demon angry was not a very wise after-dinner partytrick (one which Anathema had perfected by now).

“Sorry, I didn't mean to accuse- I mean-” he stammers, but Crowley waves him off.

“Whatever. Probably would've gotten me more commendations from Downstairs if it was all true.”

“Oh, I'm not sure about that.” Aziraphale interrupts and earns the surprised stare of all three of them, even as glass-eyed as they are by now. “Do you really think Hell would've been happy with you being constantly discovered? We were supposed to lay low, after all.”

“Oh, really?” Crowley hisses, and Newt, who hasn't spent as much time with them as Anathema has – hasn't seen this dance and play as often as she – shrinks down in his seat. “Oh, really? You gonna tell me how to do my job, angel? Gonna say I fucked that up, too?”

“I didn't say that.” Aziraphale wipes non-existent crumbs off his waistcoat. “Especially not with that wording, thank you very much. All I'm saying is”, and that bastardly gleam is back, as Anathema tries to stiffle her giggle and Newt's eyes worryingly dart back and forth between them, “that there are rather a lot of times where even I heard about your workings from locals before I found you.”

Crowley is silent again for a minute – not, like with the humans, because he knows there won't be a fair fight – rather exactly because he knows he will lose.

Unless he turns.

“Assss if”, he hisses yet again, and Newt sinks a little lower, “as if you weren't just as bad!”

“Well, I wasn't.”

“Oh please!”

“I was always a bit more careful than you, dearest.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely, no legends about miracles or angel sightings or helpful glowing strangers anywhere-”

“But you can't pin them on me.” Aziraphale's face is triumphant, his smile a tad too bright. “I could name several angels who've come down for messages. And miracles aren't exactly connected to a person, are they? Not like a snake-shaped monster or, say, a handsome lurker with slit pupils.”

Crowley sputters, his mouth faster than his brain, which is not able to come up with any comebacks. He blames the wine, inwardly. (He's only had half a bottle. If he blamed it outwardly, Aziraphale would set him straight once again, knowing just how much the demon can handle before becoming unbearable.)

The silence hangs over them, a string pulled taught, waiting to snap and either make or break the evening. Anathema loves the suspense. Newt is terrified by the tension.

“There is a story my dad told me.” He breaks the silence, and earns three stares at himself now. Anathema expected a lot, but not for her boyfriend to start off the penultimate argument of the evening. (She feels quite proud.) “About a local Soho cryptid.”

“A Soho cryptid.” Crowley echoes, his eyes darting to Aziraphale, who is very uncomfortably trying not to look at him. A grin grows on the edge of his mouth.

“Yes.” Newt is either too inebriated to notice what he is doing, or too spurned on by the sudden rush of adrenaline of daring to talk. “He's told me when I moved to London, about this shop that's been open for like two hundred years. Which isn't much in London, I guess. But also about how the clerk never seems to change.”

Crowley's grin grows unbearable. Anathema is stifling her giggles again.

“Told me how he visited the place once and there was a picture on the wall of the opening on, like, 18-something, and it was the same dude standing behind the counter.”

Crowley barks out a laugh. He remembers that picture. He can see it before his inner eye, clearly – mostly because it's now hanging in the small flat upstairs, after a customer had made a comment that left Aziraphale stammering and sputtering to find an excuse.

“I thought my dad was just having me on, you know, wanting to scare me when I moved to a bigger city, but then-” Newt takes a sip of the wine, some liquid courage, “I went to some shops around the area, and they all said the same, or something similar. Or they had a story about the same person helping them and their great-grandpa. Or about the strange- ...the going-ons in the bookshop on the corner. There was a lady who called it a liminal space, but back then I didn't know what that was, so I thought she was just a bit crazy.” He throws an apologetic look to Anathema, who's not even noticed the implied insult, far too busy with both being proud of him and excitedly watching Crowley rise (quite shakily) from his spot on the couch and point an accusing finger at Aziraphale, who has sunk down in his armchair almost as much as Newt on the sofa.

“Aha!” Crowley hollers, and the finger keeps pointing. “I might be in medieval legends, angel, but at least I didn't brand my liminal space with my own goddamn name! At least I don't go around in a century old costume to have people gossip about me being some kind of ghost shopkeep!”

“At least my legends are nice stories.” Aziraphale tries to counter. It doesn't do much, as Crowley is already laughing with absolute victory as he falls back on the couch.

Anathema leans over to Newt to place a kiss on his cheek – he is pretty unaware what for, but he enjoys it nonetheless.

The evening's entertainment has been sorted.

(Crowley will not let it rest with the evening, though. The following weeks, not a day goes by during which Aziraphale doesn't hear a new story about himself the demon's found out from local residents. Crowley will recite them with utter glee, about how the bakery on the corner has kept to a certain recipe for generations now only because they fear it will anger whatever-Aziraphale-is-in-their-minds if they change it, how the old lady living in number 86 down the street remembers him being ever so helpful when her mother moved in as a shunned single mother 80 years ago, how he hasn't aged a day since he showed up in that ancient newspaper clipping about peculiar shops of the area.)

(He stops one day, Aziraphale notices, and it takes quite a lot of pushing and prodding to find out why – how the stories soon switched to the equally puzzling car parked outside the shops for decades now. To the string of handsome, well-dressed, stylish gentlemen that the Soho cryptid seemed to entertain – a cryptid with a type, they all agreed, a certain taste for red hair and good cheekbones and far too long limbs.)

(The argument is at an impassé. They decide to lay it to rest. Aziraphale, as a last act of bastard-ness, hangs up an old daguerrotype of the two of them next to the shop's till. Anathema spots it on her next visit and breaks down in a fight of laughter.)

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #my writing #prompts #october prompts #anathema device #newt pulsifer #a bit shorter than usual #I'm having a really hard time writing at the moment but I can't lag behind SO many days

[honestsycrets]

Locked In II: Your New Beginning

↳ prison au

Author’s Notes | heed warnings

❛ pairing | hvitserk/reader

❛ word count | 3993 

❛ genre | angst & smut

❛ summary | hvitserk is excited to bring his newest toy to their hideaway. hope it lasts.

❛ warnings | violence, dub/non-con, angst, convict!hvitty, exhibitionism, mention of breeding rings, drug use, criminal behaviour, kidnapping, abo dynamics, humiliation, masochism, guilt tripping etc.

The bite must have hurt.

On the after thought of the escape, Rollo tends to wiping his wet fingers over his chest and jerks off his button-up shirt from his chest, flinging it on the floorboard of Ragnar’s car. As his father pulls off, you realize that around the main entrance there an influx of police filter in. None of them realize that such a threat has escaped, nor that medical staff lay in the medical wing deceased.

“Your plaything is a cobra.” Harald says, victim to an onslaught of your sneakers shoving against him his torso while he changes into a t-shirt. Hvitserk too changes quickly, unable to help the disgust that runs through his skin from wearing a uniform of a what might as well have been a dirty fucking cop.

“You’re telling me.” Rollo responds from the front seat.

Hvitserk laughs, “Yeah but she smells amazing and I need a fucking hole that don’t feel like STD Russian Roulette. You got my lollipops, uncle?”

Rollo tosses a bag of brilliant red lollipops over his shoulder, landing in your lap. “Let’s hurry up and change out the license plates.” He reaches around you to grab his lollipop, unraveling it from its wrapping and popping it into his mouth with a long, pleased groan.

You shift uncomfortably on top of him-- unsure which to wiggle close to. Did you wiggle closer to the insane Ragnarsson you briefly knew or this strange, older man with tattoos reflecting a lifelong world of crime on his face? Either he was an idiot-- or he just didn’t care who knew who he was.

So instead you make the mistake of scooting back over Hvitserk’s lap where he kept you. He can’t help his long, jagged moan behind his lollipop, loosening the tie in your hair and turning his nose in your silky hair.

“You already trying to scent me?” He laughs. “Fuck you smell good as fuck.” Hvitserk’s hand slides from the lollipops in your lap to the stringy bow ties of your pants, tugging them loose. Rollo hands Harald something in a warm cup. At first you think, booze. Not the case. The car is filled with a nutty smell of coffee beans.

“I’m no, I’m not!” You all but shout as his large, slender fingers slide over your dry folds. He’d have to try a hell of a lot more than that to make you bend!

“We got shit to do, Hvit.” Harald rumbles beside him.

“Not for a good ten minutes.” Hvitserk shrugs, making nothing out of the fact that he’s petting you right in front of the other men. Harald seems more concerned with nursing his headache and coffee-- but you know those blue eyes linger upon you as much as Rollo’s were. Even this strange ‘Dad’ snuck a look in the mirror above at least once.

“Let’s see that pretty pussy.” Hvitserk ignores your complaints, looking to Harald for assistance. He provides Hvitserk with a knife-- and the older man looks to you to stop wiggling with a hard raise of his forehead. Bunches of wrinkles strain his forehead. The hard side of this new knife prods the crotch of your scrubs causes you to jump, outright sobbing this time.

“Please don’t…” You sob inhale a breath, full of the thick odor of three potent Alphas. Fear soars up your veins, sending shockwaves of hard palpitations when Hvitserk affectionately sliced through the fabric. He chuckles, soft and conceited.

“Keep still.” His voice deepens, ordering you to do as he willed. The knife slits a long line from ass all the way up to the waistband, stopping a inch or two short. Perfect, he thinks. He flicks the blade to the side, smoothing over your pussy that slowly-- but oh, oh so surely, becomes wet for him. In a test, he dug his digits in between your slick.

“Please don’t…! “ You sob, losing yourself when his digits come back out connected by a long string of thick lubricant. He slips the fingers into your mouth to shut you up, flicking you in the cheek when you bite down on his fingertips. In place of his wiggle fingers, you feel the hard stickiness of something all too man made.

“Knock it off.” His father says from the front seat, glancing over his shoulder to his son. His knuckles twist the candy he was once eating with a spin, glancing up with trifling green eyes to him.

“Leave it to you to not let me play.” He pouts, spinning the lollipop once, then twice before pulling it out again. You flinch when he brings the soiled candy back up to his lips, knocking the candy around his full cheeks contently. “We almost at the stop?”

“We’re here.” He throws the car into park. Hvitserk shoves you off of his lap towards Harald-- who looks down upon you with a small, smug smile. The doors to the car open and thrash closed once again. Two of the men have left. Did you make the wrong choice? You fear asking anyone anything, flailing to sit back up on your ass. There was a good reason for your fears too…

“Do I… get to go home?” You ask. At the wheel, the man has his short and thick fingers at his lip. He glances to the rearview mirror where Hvitserk is, flicking his stick in another direction as he replaces the plates on the car with the help of Rollo.

“You’re an omega.” Harald says beside you. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

It couldn’t have been worse. You bury your hands into your face with an outright sob when Hvitserk comes back into the car, it’s with his lit cigarette and a cheesy smile, flicking the plates onto the ground.

“Hey.” He takes another long drag of the cigarette, nudging you. When you don’t respond, he pokes you with the hot end of his cigarette. The sear is immediate, raising the hairs of your arm that haven’t been singed by your new, raw wound. Ragnar starts the car for their new hide away.

“Sup, princess?”

Oh god, help you.

You should have been looking out the window.

In the stress of your seizure, you had lost it. No longer were you awake looking at the many trees whizzing by. Not until the blackness you were shaken out of your empty, black dreams.

“We’re here.” The voice, deep ease you awake. It took a few moments to snap awake-- and when you did, it was by the crack and squeak of old wood under feet. The Ragnarsson Hvitserk had you yet still in his tattooed arms. Moments later, he creeps into another room. You know that the entire house was peculiar. It’s aged walls peel with a dull yellowing wallpaper, sure. There is also thin, dusty curtains that would scarcely hide any sun.

“You smell better by the minute.” Hvitserk turns the corner, kicking open a cramped bathroom. It elongates just so to fit a bath, a toilet and sink all in the room. It could have been nauseatingly small all on its own. Hvitserk sets you down on the edge of the bath, grabbing a plastic pack from underneath the sink.

They must have owned this house.

“But, there’s some modifications I could live with.” Hvitserk shrugs, turning one green eye to you. He flicks his fingers at you to get into the bath. It’s… stained. You fear with more than just day to day grime. He stops what he’s doing to throw you an almost irritated look.

“Think I’m gonna shoot you? You have a pussy, don’t worry.” Hvitserk laughs. “You’re safe.”

That was consoling. Still you do as he pleases and strip off the grimey-- ruined scrubs, setting them just outside of the bath with your bra and panties. It was almost neat. Hvitserk swipes them up, tossing the into a large trash bag.

“Trust me, where you’re going, you won’t need them.” He says.

“Where I’m going?” You respond with thick concern. Hvitserk sits upon the toilet, flicking the handle of the bath. Scalding hot water fills the bath causing you to flinch back, folding your feet against your breasts to hide your body fro him. He tilts his head, gazing to your folds that are unprotected from his gluttonous eyes.

“Yeeaaah, shouldn’t’ve worn tight clothes to work. Why would you do that working with a bunch of alphas?”

Now this was your fault? You huff heatedly.

“C’mon, tell me. You like the attention, don’t you?”

You admit to nothing-- even if you did! It wasn’t for the attention of a bunch of pussy starved inmates. It was for the hope of what all the other women wanted. Male or female or somewhere in between, most to everyone wanted a special somebody.

“But don’t worry.” He laughs, flicking out a razor to hand to you. “We’ll take care of you. Now shave it pretty for me.”

It’s all cryptid. Hvitserk then turns to an carribean blue ice chest sitting upon the floor. He plucks it up by the grey strap, pulling out a glass vial. Your stomach clenches hard upon an empty stomach, feeling the anxiety bubbling with every sweep of your blade over your smooth skin. Hvitserk pops the cap off, plunging it into the white permeable membrane of the vile.

“What is that?” You shudder, shaking now.

“A suppressant, if you can call it that. Has a poison to destroy those stupid receptors you omegas got. Arm.” Hvitserk sweeps his eyes over you, drawing on the orange plunger to pull the strangely clear liquid out. You’ve heard of those very suppressants-- a pricey drug not cleared by the Omega Drug Association.

“No.” You wiggle through the hot, burning water to keep your distance. If he came close, you could always use the razor! A deep sigh bounces off his lips, flipping up his t-shirt to pull out the handgun that was tucked in the rim of his joggers. He turns the gun on you next, crouching down beside you.

“Don’t fuck with me.” You drop what you were doing enough to give him your arm. He smiles, winding the black tie he uses for his hair around your upper arm. He eases the needle in without falter and so you know he’s definitely experienced in such things.

“See babe.” Hvitserk laughs, pulling out the plug to the water before drawing another bath. “It’s not so bad if you just listen, right?”

Your heart was telling you that you knew far better than that.

The light streaming in from dust littered, sheer buttercup curtains should have woken you up that morning. After an arrival like that you should have been knocked out upon the thin, craggy stained mattress pad. Instead you sprawl over the stained covering with a bursting heat within your tingling inner walls of your pulsing cunt. Yet you couldn’t touch it, tied like a dog and told to sleep it off. The drugs coursing through your system were filtering out. You curse yourself at that very moment for not taking suppressants. Despite the pulse of your cunt, you know what will happen.

He should scare you.

They all should scare you.

Yet the demon that brewed in these alphas were unlike the ones in normal alpha males. They were disposed to be what they were: greedy, lusty, gluttonous. Oh, a great many things. The difference between these convicts and normal men was the ability to keep the demon inside of them at bay. In days of your heat, you were just the same; spilling needy little cries of an omega through the house until the alphas were at war among one another.

“She can’t go on like this.”

The alphas had been awake for a great few hours. His chest stung as he flexed, bloody with pink at the edge of the black wings of Hvitserk’s tattoo. Hvitserk had been in a fight with Rollo as the hours raged on. They sat arranging their flight out of Denmark into sweet, innocent little Sweden. Or at least, that was the original intention before your scent trickled down to where the other alphas were bickering that Hvitserk wasn’t tending to you carefully enough.

“She’ll be fine, uncle.” Hvitserk chides, thrusting his towel over his shoulder and lazily walking over to drop a plate in front of his father. Ragnar’s trademark braid was done away with in favour of a short crop on the top of his head.

“You have… intention to breed her?” Ragnar twiddles a bit of floppy, chewy bacon. Hvitserk listens to your soft sobs above-- slipping into the ragged, natural desires of the flesh.

“Of course I do. She’s an omega! When her heat soars, she will be screaming for release.” Hvitserk says. “Then you can take her for your ring.”

That was no sort of life and all four of them damn well knew it. The highest bidder would lay down their coin for a night with the most delicious of dolls. Each slamming their fat palms down on their red buttons, thrusting up cards to dib coin upon their fixations. The winner walked away with the toy. Then the same would happen… night after night until Ragnar thought them fit to be given to Rollo. From Rollo-- there was no coming back.

“But she’s educated.” Harald says gruffly. “Can’t we use her for better means?”

Ah Harald, always making half-baked plans. Hvitserk turns to set his plate of crunchy bacon and medium done eggs before him.

“No.” Hvitserk snears. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You’ve been around Ivar for too long.”

“I was stationed with him.”

Ragnar’s hand hovers lazily by his lips. His blue eyes flicker down to his plate, then back up again to look at the stairs just behind the meager two floor home. They had to airlift out of this hellhole as soon as your heat settled. Ragnar slips out of his chair as son and uncle bicker tirelessly together. Before either notice, up Ragnar goes up the stairs.

Each step brings him closer to the princess’s den so to speak. He can already tell that your soft mewls of desperation are stringing out longer and longer. Ragnar knocks the door open with a rippling creek that swells down the steps. It creaks apart. The yellow wallpaper on the walls matches the drab brown wood coming half way up the wall, dull. Your eyes lock onto him through the wildness of your hair. A thin rim of colour surrounds the deep black of your eyes.

Ragnar does not find this something new or unique. He’s seen that very eye in a willowy, alpha female-- his wife, before she attacked and bred him for his seed once upon a time. Ragnars’ lips twitch and so he moves closer.

“(Y/N), that is your name?”

“Fuh… fuck you.” Comes the hiss. Ragnar closes his eyes, motioning his head downwards tiredly. He’s surely heard this one before and yet he carries on, moving closer. Like an animal she sits there, rubbing her legs together and massaging herself through heated frustration.

“You’ll have the chance.” Ragnar hums, reaching forward to moved your hair from the messy manner it was displayed. He could feel your heat burning through his skin, attempting to get under his own, to implore him to breed.

“What do you… mean?” You make out between deep, harsh breaths. Your thighs press tightly together. Despite the heat between your legs, you can rub them together for some friction. But it’s not enough… it’s never enough. Ragnar’s eyes course over your freshly shaved mound up to your breasts before relenting his gaze.

Then he makes a face of indecipherable emotion. It’s short lived-- because shortly after, Hvitserk resurfaces through the door. Ragnar slides back up and within a brief few steps, disappeared back from the way he came. The scents mingling overpower any humanistic qualities you may have had previously.

“Guess omegas are kinda indiscriminate, right?” Hvitserk muses, rolling you onto your back. His touch sends a shock wave of tingles through your walls. Damn your body. Damn whatever he gave you too. Hvitserk senses the hitch in your breath and it brings a stupid smile to his lips, palming your breasts while you squirm. “As long as it can pop a knot, right?”

No, you want to say, it wasn’t write. Yet as your walls moisten and your cunt burns with a hot, eager need you know that he is right. In this state you would give it up for anything-- convict, or no convict.

“You ask stupid questions.” You huff out, moaning outright when he pinches both nipples between his fingers. Instead of the fear he was so damn sure you would exhibit, you writhe under his fingertips.

“You like it?” His tone shames. He twists again-- and pleasantly your legs kick out, betraying your mind screaming everything that Dagny committed to your knowledge. Hvitserk Ragnarsson was a murderer. A breeder. The last alpha male that crossed him had shown up to your clinic with great tears to his jaw up to his cheekbones. Fibrous strands of connective tissue attempted to string his cheek and jaw back together, a testament to the quick wound healing of an alpha.

“Of course you like it. I bet you're into all types of kinky things, aren’t you? Don’t you got someone special at home?” Hvitserk rustles within his own pants, drawing his cock out into the cold air. Your curious eyes can’t help but sneak a glance. He’s of what you think might a comfortable size. Or at least it would have been if not for those barbells along his shaft.

“Just shut up.” You answer between painful huffs; even if you did, it wasn’t like you would tell an insane alpha male that. Men like him were regularly euthanized. Who would tell him anything? Your eyes keep attended to his cock in his small strokes along the shaft. It only serves to build his huge ego-- and it’s nothing that you would admit to freely. Hvitserk slips onto the soiled mattress before you, taking your hand in his gloved one to force you to look at him.

“No? Then let me guess.” Hvitserk chuckles, fisting the root of his cock to lead the tip to your unprotected pussy. He shoves himself forward unceremoniously, forcing you to roll from your side onto your back.

“You’re one of those li’l sluts that binges xvideo porn all day and daydreams all about a certain little someone, right?” He chides, pinning your shoulders down. A long groan escapes his lips, hissing. “Fuck, no one been in this pussy for a while.”

Oh you hate him. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him!

“Those are the kinda pussy princesses I love, ya know?” He slurs, moving his hands down your back to your waist. He pins you there, enjoying the bounce of your ass against his hips with every bouncing thrust. The balls of his piercings pop into your hole, gliding in cool. They’re quickly warmed by your juices coating down his cock.

“The ones that just can’t get enough. Just like me.”

“I’m not like you!” You hiss and despite his dick just smoothing over the right bundle of nerves, you fight him tooth and nail through the long, bruising thrusts that relieve your swollen need. He’s so thick-- and when he fills you, it’s as if you could never be more full.

“Aw that’s cute pretty baby.” He leans in above you, placing his palms down flatly against your head. You glare at the black lines on his right forearm, wanting nothing to do with him. But in the end of it all, you knew he was right. “But it ain’t true. Omegas are meant to be bred like this. This is what you were always meant to do.”

His balls slap against your ass-- hard, then harder when your hips defy you. You lean into his thrusts, taking them like only an omega could. Hvitserk’s lips churn into a wide, bright smile. The more he warmed you in your heat, the more attention you craved. And Hvitserk-- was far too gladdened to give you everything you craved. As a true alpha, It wouldn’t be complete if you weren’t gasping for it first. And so you were, oozing your excitement over his dick before he even came! Hvitserk gives you a long, deep stroke of his cock to fill you properly. Your vaginal walls respond by squeezing him perfectly, milking him while he strains to hold himself out above your with a few forced pants.

“Nnn- nooo.” You sob, this wasn’t it-- this wasn’t… wasn’t you. And yet all the same, yesss.

At the end of your week long heat, your legs were wiggly like the jello and thin, light foods that Hvitserk had been feeding you so often. Never again did you want to see breads, brothy soups and crackers that made it so easy for Hvitserk to breed you and breed you all week. You felt the heat subsiding little by little through your cunt until finally, it was little more than daily annoyance of breeding and sex.

Hvitserk woke up before you that day, preparing everything that had previously been used in the house for the fireplace. Your wrists were bound when he finally came back to gather you onto two feet with a short, white flowing dress.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask-- stupidly so.

Hvitserk keeps his head level, hair smoothed out into a neat bun on the top of his head. He takes a drag of his cigarette, losing the smoke in your face yet again. You were getting used to his asinine actions over the week that you knew this Ragnarsson.

“You’re flying back with Dad.” He answers.

“Back… home?”

Hvitserk stops around the area where a jeweled pair of flip flops are. Whoever picked these pretty things-- it definitely wasn’t any of the four idiots you came to know over the week. Though Rollo did have a soft spot for prettty things, so maybe it could be him.

“You’re not going home.” Hvitserk explains. Ragnar comes to stop beside him, and so suddenly, the dread pits in your stomach. “You’re going to his breeding rings.”

Breeding rings?

“You’re not serious.” You state the question as a blank statement. Ragnar grasps your upper arms, tugging you away from the only man that you knew up to this point to stand closely against his toned chest. The young man stuffs his hands into his pocket.

He’s deadly serious.

“You can’t do this to me!” Your voice cracks at the end of the statement, beginning to panic as to what exactly a breeding ring might be. It was a running joke that Omegas were only good for breeding rings but like any things, you never gave it any credence until now. Almost like a lead weight you drop in Ragnar’s grip, refusing to go anywhere. Much less tot the sight where you would be airlifted in a separate direction with the Sigurdssons Ragnar and Rollo.

“No, no I’m not going!”

Instead of giving your fit any weight, uncle Rollo coes to the other side of you. He lifts you up onto two feet. Hvitserk lifts his hand and like magic, Rollo pauses.

“C’mon princess. Don’t make this painful. I like you, but I don’t like you like you. Besides, you’ll be nice and cared for by my brother Ubbe. Don’t that sound nice?”

It didn’t sound nice, it didn’t sound nice at all!

“It sounds awful!” You shrill out, jerking in the two brothers’ arms. At long last, Hvitserk digs his hands into his pocket. You shrill all the way to your next mode of transport until Hvitserk is nothing but a small speck. He shakes his head, rejoining Harald, still in his thoughts.

“You’ll thank me later.” He chuckles. “When you can’t get enough.”

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @concretewaywardangel, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @Kirah34, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @titty-teetee, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @piebytheocean, @strangunddurm, @atequila, @rekdreams247, @justacrush, @ivarswonderlust, @peachesnpisces, @elenawrit, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck, @dylanowhyyien, @ilvebeenabad, @vikingsmania, @huntingbears, @My-Little-Wolfe, @seize-the-droid, @Certifiedpoison, @hotshotstar, @deans–chevy–baby, @moondustmemories, @colourmeinblue, @ilvebeenabad, @squirtleandeeveearethebest, @rubyquartzshades, @queenmissfit, @calaena-banrion, @hallowed-heathen, @Kirah34, @lulura, @looneytunes20033, @Imamom-makingadifference, @sunlightdaniel, @neeadinghugs, @Funmadnessbadassvikings, @mblaqgi, @Natmors, @triumphantreturnofpies, @dmv49, @imavulcanatheart, @attorneyl, @nina2697, @iconicvaleria, @lovelynerdytraveler, @tierneygonzalez, @zabee113, @meganjudee, @nininstinct, @sdcyumyum, @ms-allenbrown, @pancake-blonde, @ivarswickedqueen, @starkiddreamer, @Orange Darko @austenkingmylady, @thisisparadisemylove, @pinkrockstar19, @jeowjungkook, @threewintersoldiers, @end-of-night, @yaminax-kuss-a , @gruffle1, @arses21434@natalie-rdr, @tempt-ress, @Sirena-wesker, @thevikingsheaux, @poisonedjoinery, @smokealone, @chewythecatus, @glopsifum, @laughinglikenialler, @lefrenchfrye, @she-walks-in-the-moonlight, @mybarnesmyhero, @vengefulflange, @imcreepininyourheartbabe, @therealmrshale, @that-goodgirl, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @athroatfullofglass justrepostandlove

#Hvitserk #Hvitty #Hvitserk x Reader #Hvitty x Reader #hvitserk's heathen feast #Dark!Hvitserk #Vikings imagines #vikings/reader #vikings imagine #implied!ragnar x reader #dark!hvitty

[aranciafiamma]

The Demon Wears Neon

My Holiday Gift for @teatimeunicorpia​ for @mp100ficrec gift exchange!

Prompt:  High Fashion AU starring designer Teru

Ship: None, Kageyama Mob & Hanazawa Teruki

Summary:  Mob has been set a challenge by his parents. He needs to learn how to live on his own. Which means find a place, find a job, and then keep the job. That sounds easy enough. (No Powers AU) -Inspired by the Devil Wears Prada and Princess Jellyfish

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MORNING

Stylish. Chic. Desperately trying to be bougie. Looks like the backstage of a runway, with employees that just stepped away from a photoshoot.

SHIGEO KAGEYAMA, 22, stradles the line between homely and homeless. He appears so unremarkable that he goes by a second name, MOB.

Mob loiters in front of the entrance. He looks up at the big, lit up sign and then at the job opening flyer posted on the door. He peers inside for the nth time.

The contrast between the sharply-heeled, precise-cut outfitted clerks and himself is apparent. Comparable to the way a multi-million, downtown condo contrasts an abandoned cottage in the woods. He sighs.

MOB There's no way...

He shifts his gaze down.

A shot of his scuffed-up sneakers on the concrete sidewalk.

INT. KAGEYAMA HOUSE - EVENING

Two weeks ago.

A shot of the same scuffed-up sneakers but on the laminated floor of a genkan. Shot pans up.

MRS. KAGEYAMA, middle-aged with a no nonsense look that can only be cultivated by raising two boys. She stands in front of Mob, hands on her hips.

Mob just got home, looking like he went out for a run. He's in a pair of sweatpants with a white T-shirt damp from sweat.

MOB Oh. I'm ho-

MRS. KAGEYAMA Are you doing anything tomorrow?

MOB No? I don't-

MRS. KAGEYAMA What about the next week? Or the next month? Or the next year? Do you have any plans at all?

MOB Um...

Mrs. Kageyama drags a hand down her face.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Shige. You're a grown man now. It's time you learned how to live on your own. Just look at Ritsu! Gone off to college!

MOB But you agreed college wasn't for me.

MRS. KAGEYAMA I did. That doesn't mean I wanted you to just hang around the house. You're not even working! You know, your father and I won't be here forever. We can't keep waiting for you to get moving.

MOB What does that mean?

MRS. KAGEYAMA We agreed to provide you with one month's rent. Just to get you started. Find yourself a place. Find yourself a job. It doesn't have to be anything fancy. You could work at a 7/11. I just -

Mrs. Kageyama sighs. Every year of her age seems to catch up in a single second. She looks tired and worn out, like a beloved blanket washed too many times.

MRS. KAGEYAMA We just need to know that you're going to be okay...

Mob looks down at his feet. Silence for an extended pause.

MOB That's one month?

MRS. KAGEYAMA Yes. Plenty of time, don't you think?

A front shot of Mob's face, focus on his eyes - a flat, dead-fish looking stare.

MOB Yeah... Yeah, okay.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MORNING

Same shot of Mob's eyes.

MOB This is a bad idea.

TERU Blocking the door tends to be.

A full shot. Mob jumps and whips around to see TERUKI HANAZAWA, 23, the human personification of LMFAO's "Sexy and I Know It". His personal style is disco night meets black light parties - a lot of sequins, a lot of neon. 

He peers over his bedazzled, heart-shaped sunglasses, giving Mob a once over. He is not impressed with what he sees.

TERU Well?

Mob blinks at him.

TERU (clicks tongue) Get out of the way.

Mob scrambles off to the side. Teru flounces in, his many shopping bags hit Mob on the way. Stunned, Mob dazedly follows him inside.

There's an uproar as all the store clerks swarm Teru. They take his bags, asking rapid fire questions, presenting him with products. Mob watches, swept off to the side.

ARATAKA REIGEN, 36, like a car salesman but fashionable. He strides through the crowd, holding up two belts.

REIGEN There you are, Teruki. I'm planning to change the window display. Help me pick a belt.

Both belts are teal, wide, and flat but with different buckles and base materials. To the casual onlooker, the belts appear identical.

MOB Aren't those the same belts?

A pause. All the store clerks and Reigen look at him. Mob becomes a living statue - maybe not even living - a soon to expire statue.

Slowly, dramatically, Teru turns to face Mob.

TERU Oh. The boy masquerading as a door mat.

Mob draws up his shoulders, a turtle ducking into his shell.

MOB I... There was...

He points at the job opportunity flyer. Teru frowns.

TERU I knew that flyer was a bd idea. It invites all kinds of riff raff.

MOB Puh- Please. Two weeks. Rent due. I need - That is, I can... Please.

Reigen sighs and lightly nudges Teru.

REIGEN Listen kid. We need more help. I'm sure with the right training-

Teru glances at Reigen, glances back at Mob, then gives Reigen a look that could dry up the seas in second.

TERU We aren't running a charity here. Our job candidates should at least start from rock bottom, not the inner depths of the Earth's crust.

MOB I can work very hard! An - And I can follow orders! I'll do my best to learn!

REIGEN Oh give him a chance. He can work in the back, doing inventory. No one has to see him. We really need the extra help.

TERU I heard you the first time.

REIGEN Did you.

Reigen and Teru lock eyes. A tense moment.

TERU Alright! Fine. We can take him on. Temporarily. If he messes up my shop, it's on your head.

MOB ... Wait. This is your shop?

Teru and Reigen stare blankly at him. A beat. Teru turns to Reigen with a grin that could put a laughing Buddha to shame.

TERU Good luck, Arataka. You are going to need it.

Teru walks away with a dramatic spin on his heel. His staff follow after him like particularly noisy chickadees - chirping out new questions and suggestions.

Reigen and Mob both watch them go. A pause. Reigen looks over to find Mob preoccupied with a nearby sweater. His fingers run over the smooth cashmere in a repetitive rhythm.

REIGEN (clears throat) Alright, kid. I just stuck my neck out for you. Don't let me down.

Mob blinks. His eyes got that thousand yard stare. Reigen's brow twitches.

REIGEN Geez. You really make a guy feel confident about his choices. What's your name?

MOB Shigeo Kageyama. My friends call me Mob.

REIGEN Like a mob boss?

MOB Like a mob character.

REIGEN .... Right. I'm Arataka Reigen.

Mob nods. A long, stretched out pause. They stare at each other.

MOB Oh. Thank you. And please excuse me but, why did you do that?

REIGEN What? Help you out? Listen, a new stock of our famous Jellyfish couture just came in. It's a massive order. I could either go crazy doing it by myself OR we could hire you to give me a hand. Now come on.

Reigen walks away, beckons Mob to follow. Mob stays put.

MOB We're starting now?

Reigen doesn't even pause or glance back.

REIGEN Why? You got other stuff to do?

Mob stumbles after him, trying to catch up.

INT. CRYPTID APARTMENT - EVENING

Messy, cluttered, obviously occupied by more than one twenty something. Anime merch scattered on every surface. Sci-fi posters plastered on the walls. A roach sets out from the Take Out Box street and visits its cousin in Candy Wrapper lane.

TOME KURATA, 24, self-identifies as a cryptid but actually she's just a NEET. She's camped out on the living room floor, playing a console game.

Mob enters. He looks like the patient of a medieval doctor - as in someone stuck a bunch of leeches on him and now he's nothing more than a husk of a human being.

TOME Ossu! How'd the job hunting go?

MOB ... I got one.

Tome pauses her game and faces him.

TOME Nice! Did you - Woah! What happened to you?

Mob doesn't answer. He shuffles over to the couch and faceplants on it. He is dead now.

Fade to black.

TOME Mob? Oi, Mob! Mobbu-kun!

INT. CRYPTID APARTMENT - AFTERNOON

Two weeks ago.

Blackout.

TOME Mob?

Fade in. An unimpressed Tome stands with her arms crossed. She looks Mob up and down.

TOME What kind of name is that?

Full shot. MAMETA INUKAWA, 22, vaguely resembles a Shiba Inu. He's standing next to Mob, a hand clapped on his shoulder. They're both facing Tome.

INUKAWA Oh it's just something we liked to call him.

MOB My name is Shigeo Kageyama. It's pleasure to meet you.

TOME Huh. I'm Tome Kurata.

MOB Oh. That's my grandmother's name.

TOME Neat. So. Our last roommate fucked off without paying in advance. We're really in a bind here. I'm not even asking for the full payment just half.

MOB Yes. I can pay. But I need a room.

TOME Pfft! If you keep paying, you keep staying. Just don't murder us all in our sleep. And for the love of all things holy, wash your fucking dishes after you eat. That's all.

MOB I can manage that.

TOME Excellent. Welcome to the Cryptid Den, Mob-kun.

MOB Uh... Cryptid?

INUKAWA Because we're all hopeless shut-ins who barely scrape by on night-shift part-time work. So, seeing us is like sighting a cryptid - you know, Big Foot, Nessie...

TOME BZT! Wrong! We're cryptids because we all have a mysterious allure!

INUKAWA Oh. I thought that was just the smell from your unwashed bras.

Tome shrieks wordlessly and flails at him.

A torso shot of Mob, standing in front of the door.

INT. CRYPTID APARTMENT - EVENING

The same shot of Mob, sitting at the dining table. The rest of his roommates have trudged out of their self-imposed isolation. They're eating take-out sushi.

SARUTA SHIRIHIKO, 22, big, broad, and butt-chinned. He casually steals sushi from Inukawa's plate. HARUTO KIJIBAYASHI, 24, always looks stressed out but it's just his resting face. He laughs as Inukawa thumps Shirihiko.

Mob focuses on carefully dipping a roll into soy sauce.

Tome walks in, carrying a pack of beer. She thumps it on the table before taking a seat.

TOME Right, boys. I don't have to remind you. But I'm still gonna so don't you give me any excuses later. Rent is due in two weeks. That is 14 days. Got it? Mob, you listening?

Mob lifts his head. His roll slips from his chopsticks and splashes soy sauce on him. He flinches and reaches for a napkin. He pats himself down.

A pause. Everyone is waiting for him to respond. Distantly, the front door can be heard opening.

RITSU KAGEYAMA, 21, a Hot Mess pretending to be the Cool Guy. He walks in.

Tome clears her throat. Mob returns his attention to her.

MOB Ah. Yes. I heard. I can pay on time. I have a job now.

RITSU Really, Nii-san? Congratulations!

Ritsu grabs a beer and takes a seat next to Mob. Tome eyes him.

TOME Oi, Kageyama. If you keep coming around here, and I'll start charging you for rent.

RITSU Please, Kurata-san. I am a poor college student. I don't have a penny to my name.

INUKAWA What's the job? Where at?

MOB So far it's been managing inventory. At some place called Teru.

KIJIBAYASHI Whoa. Wait. Teru?

RITSU Do you like it?

MOB Mmmm... I have a lot to learn. It's very tiring.

TOME Yeah. You looked half-dead when you got in today.

Ritsu frowns, gripping his beer can hard enough to dent.

RITSU Well. Don't work too hard.

MOB I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me.

RITSU Just promise me if you get too stressed out-

KIJIBAYASHI I can't believe you're working at Teru!

INUKAWA Why is that such a big deal?

KIJIBAYASHI It's like super popular! The store owner is supposedly some kinda fashion prodigy.

SHIRIHIKO And how do you know this?

KIJIBAYASHI My girlfriend. She's all about this kinda stuff.

TOME Hold up! When the hell did you get a girlfriend?

The rest give Kijibayashi hell. Ritsu turns his attention to Mob.

RITSU If it gets too much, you can always quit.

MOB I know. But I really do need money.

RITSU I can talk to Mom. I can convince her to let you come home. You don't need to put yourself through this.

MOB Mom's busy taking care of Dad. He's still on medical leave, you know?

RITSU Still?

MOB ... I want to do my best.

Ritsu scowls and takes an angry sip of his beer.

Tome has moved to throwing pizza crusts at Kijibayashi and Shirihiko. Inukawa is in tears from laughing.

RITSU If you need anything-

MOB Ritsu. It's fine. (beat) And you need to stop checking up on me. I know you're busy with college.

RITSU (sighs) Okay, Nii-san. Okay.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MORNING

Mob enters. The boutique is in a frenzy. Store clerks run about blindly. Teru is at the center of all the mayhem. He's fixing up a mannequin, paying little attention to the panic.

TSUYOSHI EDANO, 24, stuck in his "high school punk" phase but now in a suit. He stands next to Teru, taking notes.

TERU Details of your incompetence do not interest me. Tell Simone I'm not going to approve that girl she sent me. I asked for clean, athletic, smiling. She sent me dirty, tired, and paunchy.

Reigen appears next to Mob. He grabs his arm. Mob jumps.

REIGEN You're late!

MOB I... But... You told me to come at 8am. It's 8am.

REIGEN Clearly I meant to come 15 minutes earlier. That's how it works around here.

Reigen pulls Mob through the store. Mob watches the store clerks rush around.

MOB Is it always like this?

REIGEN Just the Teru effect. But he's in fine form today. The shop isn't even open yet and he's already sent someone crying.

Mob blinks, slightly frowning.

REIGEN I wouldn't worry about it. Your job is out of his way. Unlike mines.

MOB If you don't mind me asking, what is your job?

REIGEN Mostly I handle the daily operations of the shop. But I'm also the event planner. Teruki puts on fashion shows, you see. It's what all those fancy brands - Gucci, Prada, Versace - they all do it. And that kid, well he believes himself on par with them. So of course whatever they do, he will too. Never mind that they've got more resources and reach. So he's just stressing himself out for not much pay off. And of course, us underlings get the brunt of his freak outs - I'm ranting, aren't I? Don't mind me, kid.

MOB I wasn't. I didn't get... any of that.

They enter the backroom. It looks like the kind of place where simple joys die slow, drawn out deaths. No windows. Buzzing, overhead lights. A small mountain of unopened boxes next to a second door. Rows and rows of shelves and racks, most empty. Not a lot of breathing room.

Reigen glances over at Mob.

REIGEN Mob, right? Just do as I say and we should get along fine.

Mob stares at Reigen.

REIGEN Think you can do that?

MOB Oh. Yes.

REIGEN Good. Now, where did I leave off yesterday...

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MONTAGE

Mob hard at work. He's carrying a huge box. He can't see where he's going. He bumps into a store clerk who stumbles back, knocking over a set of mannequins. There's a deafening crash. Reigen comes running over.

REIGEN Mob!

Reigen carefully jotting down the inventory. He double checks to make sure they received everything. Behind him, Mob unpacks a few boxes. He pauses for a moment, wiping his brow. He notices an electric fan in the corner - it's huge, industrial sized. He switches it open. The sudden breeze sends all of Reigen's files flying.

REIGEN Mob!!

Mob walks in, carrying a tray of tea. He trips over his feet and sends the drinks flying, headed right for the unwrapped stock of very expensive cashmere skirts. Reigen yells and makes a mad dash. In slow motion - like watching a hardened soldier take a bullet for a fallen comrade - Reigen steps in and shields the skirts from the tea splash.

MOB ... Oops.

Reigen now dripping wet.

REIGEN MOB!!!

EXT. BACK ALLEY - AFTERNOON

A cramped area behind the boutique. Largely bare. Only a recycling bin full of flattened boxes, a mostly empty trash bin, and Mob.

He squats next to the door. He picks at a store-bought bento.

MOB (sighs) Man. I suck at this.

Door swings violently open. It knocks into Mob, upturning his bento and spilling the food all over him.

Teru enters.

MOB ... Ow.

Teru glances over and sees him.

TERU You know, if I had wanted a doormat, I could have bought a perfectly serviceable one at a department store. It would have been better looking too.

Mob focuses on brushing the food off him.

TERU Hello? I'm talking to you.

Mob slowly lifts his head and turns to Teru.

TERU Are you deaf?

MOB No.

TERU Then why didn't you say anything?

MOB Was I supposed to?

TERU Sorry would be a good start.

MOB But... You're the one that hit me... With the door...

Teru turns away from him. He pulls out his phone and a cigarette. He starts a call, puffing out smoke.

Mob gets up, throws away his bento, and enters the boutique.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - AFTERNOON

Mob walks into the backroom. Reigen is using a box for a desk, scribbling fast. He sees Mob and turns to him.

REIGEN Whoa. Did you eat lunch or did lunch eat you?

MOB I-

REIGEN Yeah, yeah. Listen. Kid. This isn't gonna work.

MOB What won't?

REIGEN You are just constantly in the way. I can't believe you've stayed on. You're clearly not cut out for this. You should quit.

A pause. Mob shakes his head slowly. He scratches at his arm.

MOB ... No.

Another pause, drawn out. Reigen studies him.

REIGEN This is a fashion boutique. Employees should have an interest in fashion. Which you don't.

MOB I can learn.

REIGEN Who's going to teach you? Because I just don't have the time.

Mob scratches his arm faster.

MOB Give me - Give me one more chance. I need to work. I can't - Mom and Dad - tired of disappointing.

A pause.

Teru enters with his usual dramatic flair.

TERU Reigen, I need coffee.

REIGEN I'm busy, brat.

TERU Then get your little errand boy to do it. Isn't that why we hired him?

Mob stops scratching his arm. He balls his hands into fists.

MOB I can do it!

TERU You don't have a choice. I want a triple grande caramel macchiato in a venti cup, 1/2 whole milk, 1/2 almond milk, a splash of soy, double the amount of vanilla syrup, caramel wall in the cup, extra whip. Understood?

Mob did not understand.

MOB Y-Yes.

TERU Then what are you standing around for? Go!

INT. STARBUCKS - AFTERNOON

No place special. Just somewhere to get the usual caffeine fix.

Mob stands at the counter. A hand furiously scratches at his arm. He stares at the menu. Seen from his point of view, the menu starts to blur into an unreadable mess.

ICHI MEZATO, 22, the love child of Sherlock Holmes and Lois Lane. She mans the register, eyeing Mob. A line is forming behind him.

MEZATO Hey! I know you! Don't you work at Teru?

Mob jumps. He stops scratching.

MOB Ho-How did you know?

MEZATO I stopped by this morning and saw you knock a store clerk into those mannequins. Man, that was funny. Lemme guess. You're here for the bossman.

Mob nods.

MEZATO I gotchu. He always gets the same thing. I've memorized the order by now.

MOB That's... convenient.

MEZATO Hey, don't question your luck. It seems like a stressful place to work at. You're gonna need all the help.

MOB Thank you...

Mob squints at her name tag.

MOB Mezato-san?

MEZATO That will be 400 yen.

Mob freezes.

MEZATO ... He didn't give you money, did he?

Mob mournfully pulls out his wallet, sighing.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - EVENING

Mob enters. Teru dashes over. Reigen stays standing at the register. He watches them.

TERU Finally! What took you so long? I thought you died or something!

MOB Please excuse me.

Mob hands the coffee to Teru. He eyes the cup suspiciously before taking a sip.

TERU Hmph. I suppose that will do.

Teru turns around and flounces away. Reigen walks up to Mob.

REIGEN That brat always orders the most elaborate stuff. I'm surprised you managed it. So you can follow instructions, huh?

MOB Yes.

REIGEN Alright. I can give you one more shot at this. But if you mess up, that's it.

INT. CRYPTID APARTMENT - EVENING

Mob and Ritsu sit on the couch. Tome and Inukawa play some sort of dancing game. They are both obviously out of shape.

RITSU How's work?

MOB It's going okay.

RITSU Not too stressful?

A pause. Mob keeps his eyes on the game. Ritsu watches him.

MOB I'm handling it.

Ritsu says nothing.

A beat. Mob yawns. He stretches and the sleeves slip down. His arms have raw-red scratch marks. Ritsu grabs Mob.

RITSU What is this?

MOB Don't worry about it.

RITSU Nii-san! This job is obviously awful. Please quit. I can loan you some money. You don't need -

MOB I need to be treated like a grown up. I'm the older brother. I should be taking care of you not...

RITSU I don't need to be taken care of.

MOB Then at least let me take care of myself. I'm not quitting.

RITSU But-

MOB Drop it, Ritsu.

Tome and Inukawa finally collapse from overexertion.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - MORNING

A week later.

Mob and Reigen are in one of the dressing rooms. Reigen is carefully outfitting Mob with some of the store's best-sellers.

MOB Um... Reigen-san.

Reigen buttons up a smart-looking vest. It's very tight. Mob scratches at the seams. His posture has gotten very tense.

REIGEN What, Mob?

MOB Do you really think I'm ready to work at the front?

REIGEN Nope. But if you stay working in the back with me, I might just go completely insane.

Mob deflates.

REIGEN I'm just kidding. You've really gotten better.

Reigen winds a tie around his neck. Mob squirms, trying to loosen it. Reigen knocks his hand away.

REIGEN Stop that.

MOB Is all this stuff really necessary?

REIGEN Unfortunately. Teruki doesn't let anyone on the floor unless they're looking runway ready. It's part of the hashtag-aesthetic.

MOB I don't know what that means.

REIGEN Same, kid.

Reigen claps Mob on the shoulders. He spins him around to face the mirror.

A full shot of his reflection. It's still Mob, with his bland-looking face and his severe-looking haircut. But his clothes are well-fitted and the dark colors complement his skin tone. He looks... well, pretty nice actually. Mob puffs up, smiling a bit

REIGEN There, now. All you gotta do is keep the racks stocked and the shelves organized. We're not throwing you behind the register or anything. So don't worry. But you should be familiar with what we carry. Right?

MOB Um...

REIGEN Say yes.

MOB Yes.

REIGEN Good. Now get out there.

Reigen shoves Mob out of the dressing room. There's a cart full of stock waiting for him. He blinks and stares at it.

REIGEN Take that to the front. You can figure out where to put it all.

Mob jumps and jerks into action. His movements are stiff, almost robotic. He wheels the cart into the crowded sales floor. Store clerks are buzzing about, flitting from customer to customer.

Mob watches them all and idly tugs at his tie, scratching his neck. He nearly crashes into a customer.

CUSTOMER Hey! Watch it!

MOB Sorry - Excuse me!

Mob hastily drags the cart over to a corner, breathing fast and hard. Both hands reach up to his neck, digging his nails in and scratching hard - leaving the skin an angry red.

A pause. Mob inhales deeply and faces the sales floor again. He looks at the cart then at the racks and starts heading out.

The chatter of the customers and clerks steadily grow louder. Mob scratches at the seams of his vest. He rocks on his heels as he hangs up some of the stock.

A store clerk passes by, casually re-applying perfume. Mob doubles over, clapping a hand over his nose and mouth.

A pulse can be heard - it's Mob. At first, just a steady beat hidden under all the noise. But slowly deafens everything else. Close up on the customers lips - smiling and talking away. Close up on the display lights, blindingly bright and everywhere. Close up on the vest's material, the starchy woven fabric embroidered with gold thread.

A full shot of Mob. He appears completely frozen. The cart is off to the side, abandoned.

A customer approaches.

CUSTOMER Hey, excuse me. But I'm looking for a cashmere skirt. It's part of your fall line, I think. Could you help me?

A hand reaches out and gently nudges Mob's shoulder. Mob flinches away - as if electrocuted. He slaps away the hand and snarls at the customer. He looks ready to go apeshit.

A beat.

CUSTOMER Um. What the he-

Mob dashes away. He tugs off the tie, flinging it away. It hits Reigen, dealing with a customer nearby. He turns.

REIGEN Ow! Hey, who threw tha - Mob?

Mob exits the sales floor.

INT. EMERGENCY ROOM - NIGHT

Five weeks ago.

Whitewashed walls, sterile-tiled floors. Buzzing flourescent lights. A crossbreed between a lab and a holding cell.

Mob is curled up on a chair. He scratches his ears. Mrs. Kageyama paces, wringing her hands. Ritsu enters, dashing in.

RITSU How is he?

Mrs. Kageyama stops pacing.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Oh, Ritsu! You didn't need to come all this way!

RITSU Didn't?! Dad just had a stroke! How can you -

A pause. Ritsu breathes in deeply. He looks over at Mob. He approaches cautiously.

RITSU Hey, Nii-san. You okay?

Mob doesn't answer. He doesn't even glance at Ritsu.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Oh don't bother him. When your father collapsed, I thought to faint myself. Must've seemed worse for Shige.

RITSU And is Dad...?

A pause. Mrs. Kageyama slowly shakes her head. A sob bursts out. Ritsu rushes over and drapes an arm around her.

Close up on Mob. Mrs. Kageyama can be heard crying in the background. He squeezes his eyes shut, gripping his knees hard.

INT. KAGEYAMA HOUSE - EVENING

Three weeks ago.

Mob stands at the entry way. He's dressed in a pair of sweats and a white T-shirt.

MR. KAGEYAMA, middle aged, stooped over from years of hard work and a very recent hospitalization. He is escorted in by Ritsu. They pass by Mob.

MR. KAGEYAMA I can walk just fine. You're making me feel old, son.

RITSU You are old, Dad.

MR. KAGEYAMA Yes. But you shouldn't say it.

Mob watches them disappear into the kitchen. Mrs. Kageyama enters, stuffing her wallet into her purse.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Shige, if you've got time to be gawking, then you should be setting out the plates for dinner. You did order the take-out like I asked, did-

Mob pushes past her, kicking off his slippers and shoving on his sneakers.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Shige? What - You're going out? Now?

Mob remains silent. His expression is the most serious seen. He dashes out the door.

MRS. KAGEYAMA Shige!

EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS

Empty. Rows of unlit houses cage in the lane. The sky is a heartbreaking purple.

Mob runs. He runs and he runs and he runs. His face is a rictus of pain as he draws sharp, short breaths. He stumbles a little but quickly regains his footing. He keeps running.

A shot of a streetlight, flickering on.

EXT. BACK ALLEY - EVENING

Close up on a streetlight.

Pan out. Mob leans against the wall.

He's pulling off the vest, rocking on his heels. His breathing is fast and short. He frantically scratches everywhere.

Reigen enters. He's got the tie hooked around a finger. He watches Mob.

REIGEN I'm guessing you didn't like the fit?

Mob doesn't answer. He's crumpled up the vest in his hands, squeezing tightly. Reigen winces.

A long drawn out pause.

REIGEN So. How long are you gonna stay out here?

Mob stops scratching.

REIGEN Just ran out the door. Honestly. You scared a customer.

Mob slowly turns to Reigen.

REIGEN You're really bad at this. Dunno why you stick around. It's not a good fit for you.

Mob blinks.

REIGEN ... Just finish out the rest of this week. Then, you can get paid and go.

Mob shakes his head. He turns to face the wall, inhales deeply. A beat.

MOB I want to work. I can. I have to. I'm - I want to stop running.

REIGEN Okay... Why...?

MOB Be-Because I need to prove I can.

REIGEN To who?

MOB To myself. That I can grow. And I'm going to be fine. And if I - if I just work hard enough...

A pause. Reigen hisses out a breath.

REIGEN Right. Well you don't need to kill yourself in the process. Look, you've scratched your neck into bleeding.

MOB Happens. Been trying not to scratch so much.

REIGEN Okay. So how about this. Let's go back to managing the inventory for a bit. And then... Well, if you still really want to, we can ease you into the front.

MOB But wasn't this the easy job?

REIGEN Then I guess we'll have to make it easier.

A pause. Reigen studies Mob.

REIGEN Are you absolutely sure? You don't have to. You can get a job that isn't retail.

Mob doesn't answer. Again he faces the wall and holds his hands, trying not to scratch.

MOB My parents. They never... When they first found out I had autism, they never treated it like a big deal. They just went - "Ah, okay." They never stopped me from doing what I wanted to do. (beat) They honestly believe in me. That I can take care of myself. I want to - I want to believe it too.

Then Mob glances at Reigen and smiles.

MOB And. You know. Not a lot of options for part-timers with no work experience. I can do this.

Reigen barks out a laugh, shaking his head. He spins the tie around his finger.

REIGEN Then let's get started.

INT. DOWNTOWN BOUTIQUE - EVENING

Two days later.

The boutique is closed. The store clerks have fled. Reigen and Teru argue loudly. They stand by the registers. A cup of coffee on the counter.

Mob enters, carrying several shopping bags.

TERU I don't understand why it's so difficult to confirm an appointment!

REIGEN But I did confirm last night!

Teru notices Mob at the door.

TERU Who are you? The store is closed! Can't you see the sign?

MOB Oh but -

REIGEN He works with me, remember? Helps out in the stock room? I just sent him to pick up some scarves for your little fashion show.

TERU And it took him this long to come back? What happened? Did he get into an accident?

MOB I got lost.

TERU You got lost. He got lost. Okay you know what. Get out. I already sent everyone home but you - you won't be returning.

MOB ... What does that -

REIGEN Hey, don't pick on him! He's trying his best!

TERU His best clearly isn't good enough. I expect nothing short excellence.

Teru gifts Reigen with a sneer that threatened to melt the flesh from his face.

TERU And there's seems to be a shortage of that around here!

A pause. Reigen shakes his head.

REIGEN That's it. I'm done. Come find me when you're finished throwing your tantrum.

TERU Find you? I'm firing you!

REIGEN Is that right?

TERU I'm the boss around here! Seems like you forgot!

REIGEN Just never figured you to be an idiot. Stupid sometimes sure. But not an idiot. Have fun trying to figure everything without me!

TERU Fine!

REIGEN Fine!

Reigen storms out, exiting through the backroom.

A pause. Teru sees Mob watching.

TERU And what are you looking at? Huh? Yet another mistake of his. Didn't I tell you to leave? You're fired too.

MOB That was mean. He was only trying to help.

TERU Didn't you hear me? You're fired.

MOB I heard you. And... And I don't care. All Reigen-san has ever done is help you. He works overtime trying to put together your fashion show. But you just keep yelling at him. That's not right.

TERU Who are you to lecture me? Get out!

MOB You go around yelling at people and for what? Why do that? It doesn't actually help anything except maybe make you feel better. That's not - You can't just lash out.

TERU Watch me.

Teru picks up the coffee and flings it at Mob. He ducks. The coffee splashes across the front doors.

MOB Hey! That's dangerous! You'll ruin the clothes!

TERU Those are my clothes! And I'll ruin all of it if I please!

Teru pulls out a pair of scissors from the counter. He picks up a skirt and proceeds to cut it into pieces.

TERU You think you're better than me. Is that it? Is that why you keep lecturing me? As if I'm some poor, retarded child.

Mob balls his hands into fists.

MOB That's enough.

Teru picks up shirt and slices it into ribbons.

TERU When really, between the two of us, whose the real retard here? Hmm?

MOB Shut up.

TERU You think I didn't know? Please. I know everything that goes on inside my little shop. You almost lost me a customer.

MOB I said shut up.

TERU If I wasn't so busy, I would have fired you earlier.

Mob screams. He throws the shopping bags at Teru. Some fall halfway. Some miss. But one hits Teru right in the face.

A pause. Teru turns to Mob, a truly ugly grimace on his face.

TERU You!

Teru grips the scissors like a knife and lunges at Mob. He jerks back, hands catching Teru's. There's a struggle for dominance. Snip.

Snip?

Both freeze. They eye as a huge chunk of Teru's hair falls between them.

A long pause.

Teru lets out a heart-wrenching wail. He drops the scissors. Hands reach up, clutching at his now very uneven hair do.

MOB ... I'm sorry...

Teru falls to the floor. He curls up into a ball, shivering.

TERU It's over. I'm ruined. I'm done. Finished. A washed-up has-been.

MOB You can still fix it. Just even it out. Maybe.

Teru finally lifts his head. Tears and snot stream down his blotchy-red face.

TERU You don't get it! How could you? Living your dull, ugly life.

MOB You're not much better looking.

A pause. Teru blinks at him.

TERU Excuse me?

MOB You look the same as everyone else. To me, at least. It's good that you wear all those neon clothes. Or else I wouldn't know it was you.

A beat. Teru starts laughing. He laughs long and hard. The laughter turns into soft sobbing. Mob watches, unsure what to do.

TERU You're face blind? Of course you are. What is a god to a nonbeliever?

MOB ... Should I call an ambulance? Are you... okay?

TERU No, I am not. I've been arranging this stupid fashion show, when I don't have anything to show. I try and I try to design. But nothing comes. Hey, what do you think I'm doing wrong?

A pause.

TERU Look at me. Asking help from a -

MOB I can't wear any of your clothes. And I always thought it was a bit unfair... If only certain people can wear your clothes and others can't.

TERU That's just how the world works. It caters only to the special ones - those gifted with beauty and talent. Like moi.

MOB I don't know who moi is, but they can't be very special. And if you're just following what the world does... Then aren't you just like everyone else?

Another pause. Longer this time, softer. Teru looks at Mob, really looks at him.

TERU ... I'm sorry I called you... Well, you know what I called you.

MOB Yes. I'm still angry about that.

TERU Right. As you should be. I would like to... I don't mean to sound presumptive, but I'd like to earn your forgiveness - if I may!

MOB ... How?

TERU Well, first. You're definitely not fired.

MOB And Reigen-san?

TERU He isn't either. In fact, I'm giving you two some very important jobs.

Mob eyes Teru warily.

INT. CAFE - AFTERNOON

A popular hangout for college kids. Mismatched decor, worn out furniture, posters for open mic night. Currently crowded.

Teru and Ritsu sit together.

TERU Model for me, mon chéri.

RITSU I’m sorry. You want my brother to... what?

TERU Really. It's that simple.

RITSU ... And we are talking about my brother, right? Kageyama Shigeo?

TERU Do you have any more brothers?

RITSU Look... I... Can you just explain? Why him?

TERU Why is this so unbelievable? Do you not think he can be a model?

Ritsu flinches as if struck.

RITSU That’s-

TERU Well, if you really don’t understand.

RITSU Okay, you know what-

TERU I've worked with many top-class models. As I'm sure you know.

RITSU I didn't, actu-

TERU I'm used to certain standards of beauty. And your brother... failed to meet any.

RITSU So why -

TERU And I admit, upon first glance, I practically dozed off with how utterly dull he looks.

RITSU Hey now -

TERU But then! Oh but then! My eyes were opened! I was enlightened! Your brother has a certain... Mmmm... Je ne sais quoi...

Ritsu thumps his fist on the table.

RITSU Enough with the French! I get it! You're very cultured!

TERU Oh grazie.

Ritsu gifts him with a stare that could peel paint. Teru replies with a smile that could withstand a nuclear meltdown.

RITSU Alright, listen Hanazawa. I watch my brother very carefully. And ever since he started working with you, he's been more stressed out than ever. He's scratched himself hard enough to scar.

TERU I've been told that he's gotten better at that.

RITSU He shouldn't be working at your place. You need to fire him.

Teru studies Ritsu.

TERU ... You approached me to say this? Shouldn't you be convincing your brother to quit? Wouldn't that be easier?

RITSU Don't you think I've tried? He won't budge.

TERU Then why should I fire him? He's willing.

RITSU But he's not able! Surely you've noticed by now. My brother has... special needs.

A pause.

TERU I think your brother is perfectly capable of assessing his own limits.

RITSU And I think you just want to use him for your little scheme.

Teru's smile widens. He gets to his feet.

TERU Oh please, mon frére. None of my schemes have ever been little.

Teru exits.

Ritsu grits his teeth. Close up on his pained expression.

EXT. STREET - AFTERNOON

12 years ago.

Same shot of Ritsu's pained expression, now a 9 year old kid. He's got a cut on his head. It's bleeding profusely. He's watching a 10 year old Mob, currently in the middle of a meltdown.

RITSU Nii-san... Stop...

Mob is throwing rocks and beer bottles and whatever else he can get his hands on. He is screaming furiously and helplessly.

RITSU Please stop.

A bunch of older middle-school boys flee from him.

RITSU Stop!

Mob drags his hands down his arms. Scratching heavily. He curls into a ball.

A shot of Ritsu, squeezing his eyes shut.

INT. CAFE - AFTERNOON

Close up on Ritsu, eyes squeezed shut. He runs a hand down his face. He breathes out.

A pause.

He looks out the cafe window. He blinks. He sits up.

Pan over. Seen from Ritsu's point of view, Teru exits the cafe and dashes over to Mob, waiting across the street. They walk away together. Mob has his usual blank expression but he nods occassionally.

RITSU Nii-san... What are you up to?

INT. TERU'S WORKSHOP - MONTAGE

Mob and Teru bent over the drafting table. Teru presents some fabric swatches. Mob feels each one, giving feedback. Teru listens very carefully.

A dressform. A shirt mockup pinned to it. Mob attaches a sleeve. He looks back at Teru and gets a thumbs up.

Mob runs his fingers over a swatch of fabric. He takes in the dressform with its mostly assembled outfit. Teru approaches from behind, carrying two cups of tea. Mob accepts his. They both turn to look at the dressform.

Close up on the outfit. It's an elegant piece, made of soft material with no visible seams. It has a low-hemline, with long sleeves and a loose turtleneck collar. A blazer is draped on top and pair of loose, square cut pants. It looks appropriate for the office or a night out.

TERU I think we did a pretty good job.

Mob nods. A pleased smile.

INT. BACKSTAGE - EVENING

Chaos. Well-ordered chaos. Models are putting on their clothes, getting their make up done, being fussed over by Reigen. They all start lining up, ready for the runway.

Behind a dressing screen. Only Teru's and Mob's shadows can be seen. Teru is helping Mob put on the outfit they made.

TERU You can back out right now. I don't mind. I've treated you badly and I'd deserve it if you -

MOB I don't care about that. Not right now, at least.

TERU You're right. You're absolutely right. This is all about you. Mob, what do you want?

MOB I want to do this. I can.

TERU You can. You practiced. We did that dress rehearsal. This is your style. Own it.

A pause. Mob's shadow looks at Teru's.

MOB No more running.

TERU No more running. Now we strut.

Reigen rushes over. He's tapping at his watch.

REIGEN Teruki! Showtime!

INT. STAGE - EVENING

It's a packed room. People are seated on 3 sides of the catwalk. Bright lights render them all faceless. Lots of indistinct chatter.

Close up on the Cryptids. They're all seated together. Pan over to Mezato, seated off to the side.

Close up on Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama seated with Ritsu. They have a front row view. Mrs. Kageyama holds onto both her husband's and son's hands.

Teru walks on. Everyone hushes.

TERU Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming tonight. This collection gave me the hardest time. I had an artistic block. And then someone wise - much wiser than me - gave me a push in the right direction. I'd like to say this is my night. But it's not. My collaborator is the true heart and soul of this show. He focused on clothing for those with sensory issues. He forced me to think outside of my usual parameters. And if I am very lucky, I hope to continue working with him for a long, long time. (beat) Now you didn't come here for me to monologue at you. Let's start the show.

Teru steps off the stage. The models start walking out. The music is lively. The clothes are beautiful. Everyone murmurs appreciatively with each new piece. The music changes. The lights dim.

INT. BACKSTAGE - EVENING

REIGEN Alright, Mobbu. It's your turn.

Reigen turns around. Mob is out of the shot. But Reigen clearly likes what he sees.

REIGEN Go get 'em, kiddo.

INT. STAGE - EVENING

Mob walks on. He's wearing that elegant outfit. He looks confident. His shoulders are squared. His chin is lifted. He steps with grace and care and just that touch of attitude. At the catwalk's end, he strikes a simple pose - hands loose and free at his sides. His usual neutral expression shifts to allow a small smirk. Then he spins around and walks back down.

The Cryptids cheer wildly. The Kageyamas cheer wildly. The rest of the crowd follow their example. There's roaring applause.

The music quiets. The crowd slowly stops clapping. Teru retakes the stage.

TERU Please give it up for my excellent collaborator! Shigeo Kageyama!

A beat. The crowd claps. No one comes out. Teru glances over his shoulder.

Mob gets visibly pushed back on stage. He almost stumbles but manages to hide it by taking a wide step. He repeats his walk down to Teru, no less confident. A wide grin now obvious on his face.

The two face the crowd. They bow. Cheers fill the room.

THE END.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #terumob

[les8ean]

i would like to know about you r ocs ::::)

!!!!!!

ok well rn i’ve specifically been hyperfocusing on all of their pokemon teams so *cracks knuckles* get ready anon you’re about to very much regret messaging me about my OCs lol 

also HEADS UP uuhh CW for self-harm, abuse, blood. some of these OCs were made when i was in really bad mental places and i tend to use OCs to cope and i project onto them and stuff

also i’ve been working on cards of what pokemon they have and i only have 6 of them done so far so i’m just gonna post those ones for now

Trainer: Alliya Interests: gardening, plants, flowers, aliens, cryptids, ghostsMain Partner: FlygonTeam and how she met them:Flygon; Poppy;  ♂; dug into Alliya’s garden as a trapinchElygem; Iris; ♀; found while Alliya was UFO watchingGourgeist; Pumpkin; ♀; caught as a pumpkaboo while Alliya was trick or treatingInkay; Zinnia; ♂;  - haven’t figured out yet - Frillish; Primrose; ♀; Alliya heard the pokedex entry for frillish and was like “that’s the tightest shit i’ve ever heard” and immediately went out to catch oneSunflora; Sunflower; ♀; Alliya was checking the sunflowers she’d planted when suddenly one smiled at her

Trainer: AlyrenInterests: medicine, restoration magic (Alyren is one of my TES OCs, she’s an altmer), testing the limits of magic, reading, breaking down altmer societies cultural fuckiness and relentless purge of anything/anyone imperfect with her bare hands (She’s a hulkynd so she’s not exactly the biggest fan of….. most altmer)Main Partner: XatuTeam and how she met them:Xatu; Xerxes; ♂; Alyren found him as a natu with a broken wing when she was first learning restoration magic as a child, and she pushed herself to learn so she could heal himFroslass; Freda; ♀; - haven’t figured out yet -Grumpig; Galenos; ♂; - haven’t figured out yet -Lapras; Lorie;♀; - haven’t figured out yet -Morelull; Mercurio; ♂;  - haven’t figured out yet - Cincinno; Cadence; ♀; Alyren never really kept the tidiest study, and one day she went back to her room to find she’d left the window open and a wild mincinno had come in and was cleaning everything up

Trainer: AmariInterests: listen Amari is basically a feral wild wolf child who was raised by wolves so her main interest is probably “survive” and “protect the pack”Main Partner: MighteyenaTeam and how she met them: they’re not even really her team it’s just the group of pokemon she spends the most time with in the area she lives with her pack of pooch/mighteyena’s

Trainer: CorvoInterests: medicine, entomology, helping others, personally beating the shit out of homophobes and shitty abusive parents, puzzles, flowers (though she’s not a very good gardener)Main Partner: BibarelTeam and how she met them:Bibarel; Pudge (yes, that Pudge); ♀; Corvo had…….. a really bad childhood and would often run off into the woods behind her house to get away from her abusive mother. one day while she was in the woods, crying and scratching at her wrists, a bidoof came up to her with an oran berry for her.Golisopod; Princess; ♀; Corvo found her as a wimpod being chased by a flock of murkrowsTogetic; Angel; ♂; Given as an egg to Corvo from her cousin as a gift for getting into pokemon nursing schoolBreloom; Mush; ♂; - haven’t figured out yet -Leavanny; Fae; ♀; - haven’t figured out yet -

Trainer: E-K (a nickname, he prefers to use it over his real name)Interests: studying pokemon, travelling the world, making terrible jokes, playing guitar, helping those in need, boxing, making friends (it sounds corny but honestly that’s his favourite part of travelling, is all the people he gets to meet)Main Partner: CrobatTeam and how he met them: (*cracks knuckles* here we go boys, this is the one i have the most details on)Crobat; Clover; ♀; E-K was often left to his own devices as a child, both his parents being very busy with work, so he would spend a lot of his time exploring outside of town. just outside of town was a cave with a lot of zu/gol/crobats. E-K spent a lot of time in that cave, befriending the bats, to the point that they would snuggle up to him when he walked into the cave, and taking notes on their behaviour and what they ate and stuff. One day he went in to see all the bats worried and huddled around one spot, fussing over something. E-K wanted to know what was wrong, so he made his way into the middle, to find a newly hatched shiny zubat. It was smaller than most baby zubats, and couldn’t seem to get up, and was struggling to breath. E-K knew the poor thing was sick, and quickly bundled it into his arms and ran to the pokemon center, followed by the entire colony of concerned zu/gol/crobats (dw, it was nighttime). they got to the pokemon center and E-K desperately asked the nurses for help (the nurses meanwhile were freaking out about this kid running in with a fucking cloud of bats behind him). they took the sick zubat and E-K and the other wild bats waited outside. the next morning the nurses came out to find him sleeping, with the bats wrapping their wings around him to keep him warm, and E-Ks jacket put around the bats. the nurses gave E-K the healthy baby zubat and asked if he was a trainer. E-K wasn’t a trainer at the time, but decided to become a trainer and travel the world a few months later, taking his new best friend with himRaticate; Scraps; ♂; the first town E-K and Clover reached on their journey was Vermilion City (E-K grew up in Cerulean). While there, E-K saw a huge group of kids running around the docks, chasing something. when he asked, they said someone had spotted a shiny rattata running around, so they were all trying to catch it. E-K thought it sounded exciting, but didn’t have any pokeballs yet so he decided to leave the hunting to everyone else. Plus, he already had a shiny zubat and thought it would be unfair to have another shiny pokemon.Later that night, he set up camp in the abandoned construction site (you know the spot, that one fucking spot in vermilion where they’re always supposedly “preparing the area for building”. there’s a spot like that in the city i live in. it’s been empty and “Preparing” for over 15 years) and was having some dinner with Clover (sandwiches he bought from the pokemart). as he getting ready to go to bed, he heard some clattering from a nearby trash can, and he watched as a scruffy looking black and brown rattata climbed out of it, looking scared and gnawing on an old chip packet, obviously hungry. E-K grabbed some food Clover hadn’t eaten and chucked it towards the Rattata. The Rattata quickly ate the food, and nervously looked towards E-K for more. it was obviously scared of people, after being chased all day. E-K kept offering the Rattata food and coercing it over to him, until it finally came close enough for him to get a good look at. he saw that it had a wound on one of it’s legs, and after some time spent convincing the rattata he wasn’t going to hurt it, he picked it up and took it to the pokemon center. the nurses at the pokemon center fixed it up, and explained to him that it wasn’t a shiny, but an alolan Rattata. they theorized that it had gotten onto a ship that had come to Kanto from Alola. ok it’s been like 2 days since i got this ask now and it’s gotten way longer than i was expecting so i’m just gonna stop now

thank you for asking me aboutmy OCs anon 

#Anonymous #morgan talks #oc #E-K #alliya #alyren #amari #corvo #pokemon