#oc: the technician | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

house-of-mirrors · 10 months

Text

I suppose this is the perfect time to introduce one of my favorite OCs: the IT guy that works for the Bazaar in modern era

The Dauntless Technician

Explains to Wines that even if you delete a drunk post, everyone still saw it and it exists forever. Pretends not to see the hundreds of files of porn when they tune up its PC (it is still in charge of the sex trade after all)

Explains to Spices that you can't delete other people's (Wines') posts but you can block them (Spices doesn't). Goes in and clandestinely blocks access to Wines' pages from Spices' browser to get 20 minutes of peace

Removes viruses from Pages' computer because it keeps clicking suspicious "love story" links. There's an infamous incident where Pages clicked an attachment and introduced ILOVEYOU to the Neath. Explains to Pages that you can't make people unblock you

Pages would probably have some claim over the social media trade. The Technician moonlights as a white hat hacker undermining Pages' censorship attempts

Works closely with Fires, considering Fires probably jumps on owning technology as it advances (electricity, invention are under its domain). Fires thinks the Technician is its best ally because the Technician stands there listening to it rant (as an IT person, they are blessed with godlike patience). The Technician couldn't care less.

Replaces Fires' hardware because it melted it for the third time this week after seeing ragebait posts or reading emails from Iron. Also has to deal with Fires demanding the Technician help it install the latest tech updates the moment they drop, even if the Technician can see they won't be good.

Stones is really into mining bitcoin. Our technician doesn't even try touching that

Helps Happles set up a huge PC setup so it has two separate devices/cameras to stream cooking videos as Mr Apples and more scandalous material as Mr Hearts

The technician's favorite master is Iron. It's never demanding, it quickly adjusts to learning how to use technology, and it never gets into trouble with its devices because it's too paranoid to open spam. Iron is happily rolling in a fortune on the metals used in producing computer chips (and intermittently biting Fires over negotiations)

Embattled in a personal, passionate rivalry with the ruthless and skilled "hacker" who tries attacking the Bazaar every seven weeks, DDOS attacks are themed around water imagery, ransomware demands flesh and reckoning (the Technician doesn't have patience for any of this melodrama). The hacker's screen name is allshallbewell.

The Technician sends out PSAs begging people to recognize this and other parabolan hackers' signatures in spam links, which due to the entwining of computing and parabola, can not only brick your device but have dangerous mental consequences

The Bazaar is a messenger so really would be like the source of wifi/central communications network of the Neath, wouldn't she? The Technician gains an intimate knowledge of her from working so closely into her systems. The Penstock of the seventh city.

If our Technician is revolutionary inclined: can they pull off the job of a lifetime? Push a software update through the Bazaar's network that makes her realize she doesn't have to do all this to impress someone who will never love her? Save the Seventh by writing a program that makes the Bazaar love herself?

#Irem spoilers #my ocs #I love this fun little dude (gender neutral)#the dauntless technician #fallen london

130 notes · View notes

auphelia · 2 months

Text

Restock day in Dottore's lab

A/N: Listen, I'm sorry but this idea has been rattling around in my mind for so long now and I'm afraid I will not know peace before it's been evicted in the form of writing. It was planned out as a chapter of the long fic I've started working on, but it'll be a long time before that catches up to where I want this. My english is bad and my writing skills are even worse so yeah, proceed at your own risk… Big mention to @/boundinparchment and @/surveyycorps whose amazing Dottore works have most certainly influenced my subconscious and this by extension. Warnings/tags: Alludes to mental breakdown, no comfort, very brief gore, fem!oc x dottore, reader x dottore but reader will get personality and backstory, isn't really an x anything since assistant oc doesn't show up until very last bit (and doesn't do much) but it's part of a long fic I've started writing which will be oc x dottore. Minors do not interact

It was by no means an imposing door. Made from worn fir planks it had an almost domestic feeling to it. The more he looked at it, the more out of place something felt. Although it was currently impossible to determine whether that 'something' was him or the door. It was ridiculous how much a simple piece of wood could annoy anyone, but compared to the otherwise sterile and metallic surroundings this stuck out like a sore thumb. His brow furrowed as he caught his mind slipping, it had been doing so more often as of late, and the mere thought of such ineffectiveness was enough to make his fingers twitch at his sides. This would be a quick in and out, simply grab what he needed urgently and get back to work.

He could still recall the conversations he'd had with Pantalone when the lower levels of the Palace had been refurbished to house his primary base of operations. The banker had been stingy, insisting that he would not pay a single mora for something so frivolous as the storage rooms being remodeled to fit the appearance of the laboratories. At the time, Dottore had written it off as some ridiculous principle and complied. After all, he'd been more than content to forego aesthetics and instead funnel his attention into making his workspace functionally perfect. But right now, accompanied by already frayed nerves and the dull thudding in his head, it felt like a blatant attempt at establishing control.

So that's what Pantalone had been trying to do all along, limit and influence him? Just as narrow-minded and afraid of change as the rest of those miserable fools Dottore had dealt with during his long life. Years of bitter resentment flared to life, cradling his body in it's warm embrace as bile rose in his throat. No doubt a scheming leech like the damned banker wouldn't be above weaponizing something as trivial as interior design to subtly nudge him. A willingness to make small sacrifices was the first step towards being manipulated. What else had he agreed to over the years? His thoughts were jumbled and disorganized, a consequence of Omega's little stunt no doubt, and just sorting through all the memories made him queasy. He felt his pulse pounding behind his eyes, the capillaries no doubt on the verge of bursting. His mind barely registered it as his body took two unsteady steps forward, a calloused hand instinctively reaching for the wall to steady his weight. The cool stone against his skin didn't serve to quell the embers of his anger even half as much as he'd hoped.

There were the constant squabbles for funding. Was he being spied on? The compromises on subject sourcing. One of his notebooks were missing. It had been too long since he'd had something sweet. He needed to get rid of the contamination in lab four. When had he last checked on Haeresys? Having to settle for parts and-

A faint laugh escaped his lips, the sound lost between the cracks in the walls. He'd done it again, forgotten his intentions and drifted into a string of preposterous thoughts. Being away from his work wasn't doing his mind any favors. A hand made its way towards the gleaming earring, the movement subconscious as he sought to disconnect from the network. For a moment placebo kicked in as he deposited the jewelry into his back pocket and all fell quiet around him. But ever the fast mind, it soon occurred that the voices, his voices dammit, weren't something that could simply be turned off anymore. They all- No, he just needed some time to assimilate and he would endure as he always had. With a renewed sense of determination, and a small shake of his head to clear his mind, he pushed open the door. Forcing himself not to wince as it creaked on its hinges, his jaw tensed. Another thing he'd need to get fixed. Not bothering to close the door behind him he stepped inside, hands clasped behind his back as he let his gaze scan across the shelves and stacks of equipment. Dust lingered atop the surfaces, a testament to how long it had been since he'd last had to restock he mused. The younger segments, not quite mature enough where he'd trust them, trust himself, to be in charge of any real research took care of such menial work as restocking the labs. Following the incident the laboratory had been stocked for a while, with material turnover naturally slowing down to match the available workforce.

He pushed down the intrusive thoughts reminding him that he'd been cutting corners and compromising on various things the past couple of days, actively avoiding having to leave his experiments to pick up new pipettes, tubes, plates, glassware, spare mechanic parts… He'd need some of the chemicals as well, unwieldy containers that took more time moving than what it was worth. He wanted to curse at himself, he should've written a note of what he needed. A glance over his shoulder and across the corridor was all it took to remind him how close his laboratory was, it would be easy to do a quick check. The thought had barely formed before a scowl settled on his face, going back and forth was hardly a necessity, he should know what he needed to bring over.

As his focus returned to the dimly lit room, a feeling of unease seeped into his bones. Nothing was placed as he remembered it. Granted, it had most likely been more than a century since this body had last been in here. The shelves were lined from floor to ceiling with various necessities, and he had to stop himself from swearing as he realized none of the boxes were labelled with anything save for some seemingly random assortment of letters and numbers. No doubt they had meaning, but the symbols refused to part with their secrets as his eyes roamed over them. He'd recognize his own handwriting anywhere, this version a little more legible than average. One of the youngsters had made the system then, that would only make figuring it harder. His hand ran through his hair, a small voice briefly reminding him how long it had been since he'd last washed it properly. Every box had a letter and between one to three numbers, the digits appearing random in their placement along the shelves. So they didn't indicate position in the room, meaning it must pertain to the content of the box. In that case, they were likely numbered so the things most often used had the lowest numbers, a simple yet relatively clever system. Perhaps the letters were some sort of category indicator, it could be based on the type of work it was required for? It wasn't a system without fault of course, the value having needed to be assigned based on subjective opinion. The youngest segments had likely never looked through any documents that could indicate how much or how often everything was ordered.

His headache was pushed back at the satisfaction of having cracked the code, now he'd just find the box with the lowest value and use that as a reference to grasp what things had been ranked as 'important'. A small smile tugged at the corner of his chapped lips as he perused the shelves, crimson eyes systematically skimming across the stocks. The heels of his boots clicked against the flooring with every step he took into the maze of shelves and loose containers lining the floor. Incredible how much had been shoved into the modest room. An accident in here could set his research months back, the thought in and of himself bringing some odd semblance of comfort which should by no means be there. A small hum of approval left him as his eyes found what they'd been looking for, bringing his scattered thoughts back to the present. Reaching out with gloved hands he grabbed a box, the container surprisingly light in his hold. Labelled as 'G-3' he'd expected it to contain something like glassware, but the feeling of it in his hands suggested it must then be largely empty. He set it down on the ground, kneeling to get a better look as he impatiently pried it open.

"Cotton?" The word had left his lips before he could stop it, the sound grating his ears. He could already hear the mocking laughter in his head, wanting nothing more than to rip whatever nerve cells were responsible for it out. Too distracted to put the crate back, he simply stood up and gave it a small push with the tip of his shoe, having already forgotten it as his mind ran rampant. If cotton was labeled so high, surely it couldn't be based on importance. What did he even use cotton for? Could it have been of use to one of the others in case a subject was bleeding? His stomach churned involuntarily, shoving aside memories of mangled bodies, picked apart for nothing in particular. It had been a disgusting endeavor, spearheaded by his worst perspective. But why should they have bothered with first aid when most of those subjects weren't even reused? An utter waste of materials.

He grasped another box, desperate to find what he needed and get out. The air weighed heavily on him as he kept pulling out crates and containers, all of them landing unceremoniously on the floor. Within just five minutes his movements had become erratic, almost desperate in the need to find something, anything he could use right now. This was his creation, fostered by his mind and realized by his hands. Another perspective, but ultimately him. The Doctor. A Fatui Harbinger. There was nothing he couldn't solve if given the tools and time, and he most certainly would not let something as inconsequential as… Glass crashed to the ground, the sound rattling his bones and pulling him back to the present as hundreds of delicate glass pipettes shattered. The fragments spilling from the crate he'd so carelessly tossed on the ground. He'd needed those. The realization made his movements falter, the jumbled voices in his head screaming for him to continue, stop, cry, anything and everything really. His finger tapped against his thigh in a quick rhythm, counting the taps in the back of his mind. A shaky hand reached up to unclasp the mask as he found himself desperate for anything to cool his burning skin. This was too much.

At least he didn't see any shattered or broken chemical containers meaning this was still only a disgraceful inconvenience, not a health hazard. Laughter erupted from his throat, the sound foreign and intrusive as he felt it worm its way inside his skull. His knees hit the hard stone before his mind could catch up. His head lowered, eyes widening as he saw a few unfamiliar droplets wetting the ground in front of him. The laughter died down to a faint chuckle as his throat constricted, only serving to make the sound of his gloved finger tapping more prominent in the ravaged room. His entire body stiffened as something not of his making reached his ears, the breathing pattern recognizable enough by now that it made him want to sink into the cracks beneath him. Instead, scarred hands moved by themselves to clip the mask back on before he straightened his back. "How. Long?" the words were by no means rude, a faint voice in the back of his mind praising him for not lashing out. If nothing else, he could cling to that small display of control to remind himself that all was well. "Long enough," she sounded like she'd wanted to say more but refrained, at least it seemed his technician was learning to control that damnable tongue of hers. The relief at her lack of further questioning had barely manifested when her next words washed over him like a bucket of cold water. "But pray tell, Doctor, how am I supposed to prepare the new solutes and buffers when you've seemingly decided to break all the clean glassware?" His fists tightened at the accusatory tone in her voice, making him feel like a scolded child. Making no effort to tread lightly, he got to his feet, hard heels slamming into the ground hard enough that the thought of looking for additional cracks in the ground briefly flashed through his mind. Within seconds he'd crossed the distance, no thoughts spared for the mess of items that cracked and broke beneath his feet. Towering over the young woman, he bit into the inside of his cheek to keep himself from doing anything rash. She had proven too useful for his research, especially with the segments gone. He only had to endure until they were rebuilt. He leaned forward, hands clasped behind his back as he brought the beak of his mask uncomfortably close. A thin smile stretched across his lips as he saw her resolve crumble just enough for her to take half a step back. "As resourceful as you are, surely you can think something up, hm?" His voice was laden with derision as he straightened back up, fingers itching to dig into her skin hard enough to draw blood. Once more he found himself grateful for the mask that covered half his face, letting him close his eyes unnoticed for a brief moment of respite before striding past her. He had half a mind to grasp the door handle and slam the door behind him as he stepped into the hallway. "Ah, one moment Doctor. There's no system to it really, Xi simply had it memorized. I made an overview of sorts for my own convenience, it's on the back of the door," he swore there was a smug sort of satisfaction to her words as she continued, "in case you need it in the future." His hands had tightened into fists while she spoke. Of course it had been nothing but wishful thinking that such a foolish child would've created anything as worthwhile as a storage system. Despite his wounded pride, curiosity plucked at the edges of his thoughts and spurred him on. He'd already sunk low enough for a subordinate to see him in such a disgraceful state, satisfying the question on his mind would hardly make matters worse. "The codes. What is their purpose?" The words came out more clipped than he'd have liked, but just the act of forming a coherent sentence proved troublesome. He wanted to roll his eyes as he heard her sigh softly, it was a bad habit on her part, six even breaths followed by a sigh. Another miserable tool to fix.

Her words were drowned out by the ringing in his ears, vision blurred at the edges as he marched across the hallway and into his laboratory. The lock clicked into place as he shut the door behind him before ripping the mask off and tossing it aside, gloves following soon after. Fingers swiftly tangled in his locks, massaging at his scalp in an attempt to ease the tension. If he was lucky, his technician would get the message. Even if she had a key this was no time to intrude. His body slumped onto the nearest chair, his forehead almost immediately making contact with the table. Raspy chuckles mixed with quiet sobs as his nails scraped off the bloody scabs that had recently made themselves at home on his skin. His thoughts raged, mute voices mocking him for not having predicted this outcome. 'The codes? Oh, they're for Pantalone's convenience. It's how he prefers the materials we order to appear in the expense reports. Something about product codes.'

#dottore x oc #dottore x reader #lab technician reader #il dottore #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #il dottore x reader #dottore x female reader #auph writes #memento mori #magspy look away lmao

33 notes · View notes

oceanofsinners · 7 months

Text

Mind reader yan x maladaptive day dreamer darling [with a twist:3]

[mdni, or do, i don't care enough to block y'all tbh. tw/cw: thoughts/ideas/daydreams of violence, manipulation, etc. lmk if i have to add smth else too! and uhh, sometimes text with go small to big, it's on purpose!! a bit shorter mainly cause I got tired lmao]

Ezra Martinez. He was a student council member, and a smart one at that. He never abused his abilities, nor was he cocky.

He was actually pretty, humble, quiet, and only used his abilities when absolutely needed. Ezra didn't speak unless he wanted to or needed to.

Little did anyone know, he had a secret. He could read people's minds. It wasn't 24/7 or he's sure he would've gone insane by now, but he has to be concentrated for it to work.

The first time you and Ezra met, it was due to a group project. You had lower grades while he had perfect grades, so the teacher paired you up.

You seemed distracted from the moment you two met. Or, more like the moment your eyes landed on him.

He was confused, but didn't question it.

“Hey—Hey! Are you even listening to me?” Ezra frowned at you, realizing that, no, you obviously weren't when you tilted your head in confusion.

Ezra sighs, and asks the question once again. “Can I come over to your house for the project? I'd prefer it to my house.”

You seemed to talk even less then Ezra, only responding with a nod, grabbing your backpack and walking off with the council member following you.

He didn't really use his secret ability for no reason, but he really wanted to understand and know what was going on in that pretty head of yours.

The entire way to your house, you had your headphones on and were ignoring him, although he doesn't think it was on purpose.

You even almost got ran over, had he not yanked you back as the car sped past the two of you.

“What are you thinking?! You almost just got yourself killed!” And...there you go again, nodding, before glancing up and walking across the street with that dazed look.

Once at your house, you fiddled with your keys and opened it. Ezra glanced at the driveway, noticing no cars.

Did you live with your parents? Did you live alone? If so, then why? Many questions filled his head, and he decided on one.

“Are your parents home?” Ezra questions with a tilt of his head, you actually glance over at him. You shake your head once again, before pausing, and opening your mouth.

“No. Live alone.” You don't offer any more information up, but you don't need to. Your voice alone sends pleasured chills down his spine, and he nods, glancing away with flushed cheeks.

You seem to watch him as the two of you walk inside, as if observing him closely like he's a newly found animal and your the scientist.

The two set their bags and such down in your room, and pull out what they'll need.

An hour passes, and the entire time, you're either in a daze or observing Ezra. It's slightly unsettling when he glances up and sees you staring at him, but he...doesn't mind. Not if it's you.

Another hour passes. You've written about four words, while Ezra's already finished most of the assignment. He frowns, glancing at the words you had wrote absentmindedly.

“he looks so pretty.”

His eyebrows furrow, and he sucks in a breath, shaking his head as he glances up at you.

Eventually, Ezra stands up, stating that he'll be going home and he'll be back tomorrow. You don't even so much as acknowledge him as he leaves.

The next day at school is like every other day, you're not paying attention, instead glancing outside the window in that hazy state of yours.

Ezra’s nails scratch against his table, and he concentrates on using his ability. The first things he hears makes his blood churn.

“god, I should've killed that blonde bitch who hangs around Ezra all the time. I should've stabbed my pencil into that pretty little throat of hers, forcing her to choke on her own blood. Red is her favorite color, after all.”

Despite the gruesome words, and despite his best efforts, Ezra feels himself flush at your thoughts, his breath getting heavier.

You avert your gaze from the window, eyes tracing the class, your mind muttering things like “bastard” “liar” “bully” “slut” the entire time, til your eyes land on him.

The first thing that comes to your mind is unnerving, and slightly terrifying.

“I wonder how Ezra’d react if I slammed his pretty little head into his desk. Ezra would look so pretty with blood pouring from his head. Blood is definitely something I want to see on him...”

There's a certain emotion in your eyes that Ezra can't quite place. But he thinks he understands when he hears your next thoughts.

He understands far better then any therapist ever would, he understands the word far better then any assignment. Because he feels the same way.

“Mine.”

#┆︴THE TECHNICIAN ٭ XANDER #oc x reader #x reader #oc #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yan oc #yandere oc #reader insert #male reader #female reader #gn reader

61 notes · View notes

redybearsent · 2 months

Text

My take on the "Technician" Super Boss theory

This my take on the "Technician" secret boss theory proposed by @radiant-vulpine I found the theory very interesting and I thought I could try giving it a shot at designing something for it.

P.S: The dark glitchy thing on their face is suppose to be the darkness trying to absorb them... It´s kinda farfetched but that design choice was made to reference that weird blue chair on the Spamton Sweepstakes. And before you ask, no, idk what´s their suppose to be in the Light World.

#utdr #deltarune fanart #deltarune #au undertale #deltarune oc #deltarune secret boss #secret boss #technician #friend inside me #deltarune chapter 3 #spamton sweepstakes #deltarune theory #tenna deltarune #rv pine

23 notes · View notes

theangrycomet-art · 3 months

Text

Technology Officer Warner

finally got around to finishing this guys character sheet

Notes:

Technician/Technology Officer

technically works under Blukic and Driba, but ends up doing 95% of the departments work

the guy who keeps the Earth Plumber HQ running (he took a week off and the place nearly fell apart)

constantly being reassigned tasks outside of his division, which while he is technically qualified to do, aren't in his job description

not notorious is security detail and monitor duty

incredibly grumpy at this, especially since the Plumbers don't consider it over time due to his species cloning abilities

grumpy workaholic

though Max is in charge/higher ranking, Warner prefers to go to Magister Patelliday for reports as Magister Tennyson doesn't tend to take his concerns seriously

actually tries to avoid all of the Tennyson's on principle (he likes his work to remain in one piece)

went to Plumbers academy the same time as Rook, though the two didn't interact beyond a cursory hello in the hallway, they shared a few tech classes

completed his additional technician's course in record time due to taking multiple classes at once (he didn't get a full nights sleep as a whole unit for nearly 2 years straight)

highly intelligent, though limited in-field experience

a surprisingly good singer

does have a mischievous side, as he is known to readily help his fellow officers prank their higher ups or fellow agents (not that any of them can prove it)

#Ben 10 #Ben 10 OC #Warner Yax #Officer Warner #Technician Warner #Splixson #Splixson OC #My OCs #OC Lore #Character Sheet #TheAngryComet ART

32 notes · View notes

miniimoose · 2 months

Text

I tried my hand at writing something for my Irken OC, Min. (it's only 1k words, so it's a short read)

I wanted to work out a scenario for her without having to draw out a whole comic. Hope you enjoy!

Feedback/Thoughts would be appreciated, and the bulk of the writing is under the read-more.

~~~~~~~~

On the way to Scout her next assigned sector of space, a galaxy or two over, Mins downtime was suddenly interrupted by the loud alert of an Irken Pak's automatic Emergency Signal. She quickly straightened up, accepting the responsibility of responding and opened the informational window on her console.

Hm. She may be the closest Irken to the signal, but that doesn't mean it would be a quick trip to get over to them. She was already 2 days out from her next Scouting sector, and going out to this injured Irken would triple that travel time.

Min didn't have a choice either way, and would just have to deal with the annoyance. On the upside, she was looking forward to hands on experience with the internals of a Pak again. The simulations get a bit repetitive, and she knew her own Pak inside and out.

"Let me get this straight. A creature, native to this planet, got inside your pak and started messing with its internals?" Min asked, clarifying the rambling and nervous story that was just told to her over the past 15 minutes.

"Yes" the injured Irken in front of her replied, nodding his head. "That's exactly what happened."

"Squeeb's Pak hasn't functioned right since! The panels keep flashing red, and it's annoying" the remaining Irken, Floop, added in.

"And I have no energy. Can't even open my snack jar anymore!" Squeeb complained.

Min waited a beat for any more explanations, before finally trying to move things along.

"OK. Well, I'll need to get a look inside to figure out how bad the damage is. Do you have somewhere with better light?"

She could swear Squeeb's cheeks got a shade bluer as she spoke.

"Yes, yes! Of course. Just. Um. F-Follow me" stuttered Squeeb, getting up and leading Min towards their elevator, taking the pair deeper into the base, leaving Floop behind.

Was he giving her the Stink eye?

The elevator ride was a little awkward. Squeeb anxiously rubbing his arm as they descended. Maybe he was worried Min was going to break something and make things worse?

Before she could say anything to reassure her patient, they arrived to the right floor.

The two stepped out into a standard Irken medbay, Squeeb shuffling over and sitting on the swivel chair in the middle of the room. He did look a little more gaunt under the brighter lights.

Perhaps the Pak wasn't processing sugars correctly?

Only one way to find out.

"Hopefully this won't take long" Min reassured her patient, pulling up her own chair and adjusting the heights for optimal positioning.

Squeeb was tense, but he stiffened up even more as Min reached forward and opened up the panels of his Pak to get a look inside, letting out a nervous squeek.

"You don't have to worry, I know what I'm doing" Min told him, adjusting the magnification of her goggles and reaching into the Pak.

"I trained for a few years before my Assignment was changed to Scout, you know. I even worked under Spor--"

She cut herself off, too confused to continue her humble brag.

"You said a creature did this to you?"

"Yes, a creature. Why? Is something wrong? Is it bad? Oh God, it's bad isn't it?" her patient stressed.

"If a creature caused this" Min started, as she pulled something out of the confines of his Pak, "then how did a glove get back here?"

"He left his GLOVE in my PAK?" Squeeb exclaimed, shifting around in his chair and snatching it from Mins grasp. "How-- How stupid can he be!? How do you leave your GLOVE?!"

The quick shift had rotated her patient around fully, stopping Min from further access to her work.

He seemed to have forgotten she was in the room as he spoke to himself. That was, until Min wheeled closer, reaching to turn his chair back around. The moment he snapped back to reality, his face went bright blue. No question he was fully blushing now.

Squeeb clammed up again, quickly spinning back into position and hiding his embarrisment in one motion. "I-- I don't know how that got back there."

An obvious lie, but Min didn't want to challenge that right now.

"I just need to check the damage" she told him carefully, going back to poking around the complex machinary. "and look for anything else... Out of place."

...

"It's Floops glove, ok?" the anxious irken explained, breaking the silence and shifting in his chair.

"He- He was being gentle, and didn't mean to break anything. I know messing with Pak's without any training is outlawed by the Control Brains but-"

Min had to remove her hands and stop what she was doing, lest she knock into something important as the chatty irken started talking with his hands.

"We're so far from Irk! We thought it would be fine, and if we were careful enough, nothing would go wrong! But nooo, of course it's not that easy. It started BEEPING and scared us both. Floop must have jolted and broken something in there." Squeeb continued, gripping and twisting the lone glove in his hand.

Min couldn't get a word in edgewise, even if she wanted to -- which she did. She wanted nothing more than to fix this guys Pak and flex her technician muscles. But it was impossible with the paks owner so worked up.

"And of course he swore it was fine, but I knew, I knew something must have happened. His glove probably got stuck between something and he just took it off instead of wiggling it fr--- AAAH!"

The endless complaining was finally stopped by Min as she put both hands in his Pak and clicked the release, detaching it from the Irkens back.

"What are you doing?" he gasped, his 10 minute life clock flashing across his vision.

Min wordlessly wheeled her chair over to the closest wall, pulling down a thick pipe and plugging it into the open holes in Squeebs back. The life clock disappeared as quickly as it arrived.

"You'll be fine, I just need to work on this in peace" Min told him dryly, getting up and carrying the pak carefully into the attached room. She probably needed to work on her bedside manner.

#Oc: Min #Fanfic #Fic #Writing #Drabble #Invader zim #Iz #Iz oc #Irken oc #Irken #Pak Technician #Irken pak #Pak #Iz oc fic #Iz oc fanfic #iz fic #moose writing

24 notes · View notes