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unknown-bugsnax-lover · 1 year

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Here is the second part to the story “What if Distiny’s dad washed up on Snaktooth? (WIP)”

Floofty was staying up late, as always, scanning over their notes. After checking up on the others, they had nothing else to do other than read and re-read their notes.

That was until someone knocked on the door of their hut.

They glanced a look at the door trying to think who would be up at this time and what they would want. They stood up from their seat and walked towards the door. But they froze.

They’re not sure why, but they got a feeling of dread. They decided to grab a weapon, or the closest thing to, just in case.

They grabbed one of their scalpels, and reached for the door. They swung it open and lifted the scalpel over their head with one paw.

But no one was there…

Floofty walked outside and looked around, confused. But suddenly they felt an arm wrap around their neck, making them drop the weapon, and pulled them back into their hut.

They kept kicking and trying to claw at the arm, gasping for air.

“You know, I would’ve let you live if you just gave him to me. But now…”

A pause…

“I have to get rid of ya…”

Floofty’s vision began getting dark as their eyes started closing slowly.

They felt themself being dropped to the floor and they were gasping for air. Someone layed a paw on their shoulder and helped them up.

“Floofty! Are you alright!?”

Through their shallow breaths, Floofty said “Triffany?… what-?”

“Get off of me you stupid hillbilly!” Floofty turned and looked at the attacker.

Bernley was being held back by Wambus who had wrapped his arm around his neck in same way Bernley did to Floofty, but it was not enough to stop his breathing.

“We saw your door left open and we came over to see why when we found the scalpel on the ground. When we looked inside we saw him attacking you so Wambus stopped him.”

Floofty hummed, rubbing at their sore throat.

“We should probably-“

“AHH!” Triffany was cut off by Wambus’ agonising scream. Bernley looked to have been able to scratch his arm and then his injured shoulder.

Floofty ran outside of the hut, grabbed the scalpel off of the ground and ran back inside.

Bernley had raised a stool over his head and was about to attack Wambus when Floofty stabbed the small tool into his back, making Bentley drop the stool and turn around at full speed and try to punch them. But Floofty was quick and ducked before he could hurt them.

Triffany ran up from behind Floofty, and as they ducked she hit him over the head with a wooden board, knocking him to the floor.

Triffany ran passed Bernley and to Wambus where he was clutching his bleeding shoulder.

“What is going on!?” Snorpy’s panicked voice caught Floofty’s attention.

Ah. Everyone was awake. Floofty took a breath before going to explain the situation. But was cut off by someone wrapping their arm around their neck, again, and pressing the scalpel against their throat.

“No one move!” Bernley’s voice yelled from behind them “Or I’ll slit their throat and let them bleed out!”

“Let them go!” Snorpy yelled back at him in anger.

“If you let me take Wakely back to the mainland, I’ll let ‘em go.” He explained “And if you try and stop me, I’ll kill Wakely instead.”

“BERNLEY!” Someone yelled out from the middle of town “IF YOU WANT ME, THEN COME AND GET ME!” Bernley scowled at Distiny’s screaming. But he pushed Floofty away and barged passed everyone else.

Distiny stood, waiting by the campfire, ready for anything Bernley would throw at her.

Said grumpus was approaching, holding a sharp tool. Distiny held a paw behind her back, holding the knife Bernley had used before.

Bernley stopped on one side of the unlit campfire whilst Distiny stood on the other.

“So. You’ve finally come to your senses.” Bernley said, smiling sinisterly.

Distiny didn’t say anything and just nodded.

“Well then, explain to me” Bernley’s smile dropped into an angry frown “what are you hiding behind your back?”

Distiny’s brave facade dropped for just a second before glaring at Bernley again.

“It’s not important..” she replies. She then took a breath, getting ready for what she was about to say next.

“…you were right.”

Bernley was taken aback “…right about what?”

“About me saying that… that I’m a girl when I’m… not. You were right about my mental health being made up… you were right about me attacking people on purpose… you were right about everything.” It pained Distiny to say all of this, but she needed to.

Bernley’s wicked smile returned “I’m glad you came to your senses. Now let’s go.” He walked up to Distiny and lay his paw on her shoulder.

Acting quickly, Distiny swung her arm into Bernley’s face, leaving a huge gash across his cheek with the knife, making him scream in pain and double over as Distiny backed up a few steps.

He snapped his head up and looked in pure anger at her.

“You’re fucking stupid, did you know that?” Distiny uttered bitterly.

Bernley just growled and lunged at her, knocking them both to the ground with Bernley’s paws holding Distiny’s paw, that held the knife, over her chest, Distiny trying to Stop Bernley from impaling her with the knife, lest she want to bleed out.

“You’ve always been a disappointment! I’m ashamed to call you my son!” Bernley gritted out through his clenched teeth, trying to crumble Distiny’s spirit.

Instead, Distiny head butted Bernley and knocked him off of her “I… am not… your son!” She panted.

Distiny lunged at Bernley but he was able to roll out of the way and get back on his feet.

Distiny landed on her paws and knees and she looked to the side and was about to stand, but she was too slow and Bernley kicked her in her stomach, knocking her on her side.

He then turned her onto her back with his foot and began stomping on her stomach, making the girl scream in pain, coughing up blood in the process.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” Chandlo yelled as he ran at Bernley at full speed. But he expected this and moved out of the way, tripping Chandlo and kicking him in the face, knocking him to the ground with a bloody nose.

Bernley spat on the ground and mumbled “Pathetic.” He then turned to everyone else “You’re all pathetic!” He bellowed “You try to protect each other! But it only gets you hurt!” He laughed bitterly “You!-“ he was interrupted by something grabbing his leg.

He looks down and spies Distiny grabbing his leg. He laughs again “Seriously? You expect to defeat me by clinging to my leg?” He asked, amused.

Distiny just looked at him, smirking. Only then did he notice in the corner of his eye the blue farmer charging at him with a hoe in his grasp.

As he looked over at Wambus, he was wacked in the side of the head by the sharp tool and collapsed to ground.

Wambus kneeled down to check on Distiny as Snorpy ran over and checked on Chandlo.

She was able to sit up, albeit with a lot of difficulty, and wipe the blood from her mouth. Although it didn’t help much because of the blood on her chest.

“Sorry Chandlo…” she began apologising “I kinda ruined your shirt.” She joked.

Chandlo held a handkerchief to his bloody nose and replied “No problem bro… I have more.”

They then heard groaning and looked over to Bernley who was slowly getting back up. Wambus and Snorpy immediately stood up and protected the two injured.

Bernley held his head as he turned around.

A huge gash went from the top of his head, across his eye and down to his jaw.

“Grumping Christ…” Distiny muttered.

“I’m… gonna…” he gritted out as he unsheathed his claws, looking furious before screaming “KILL YOU!”

Bernley charged at Wambus and he blocked his blows with his hoe.

The frenzied slashing of Bernley’s claws made indents into Wambus’ hoe as he kept backing up.

The raging grumpus then got the upper paw and slashed at the larger grumps arm, making him groan in pain and falter a little.

Then he slashed at his leg, forcing him to fall on one knee. Triffany ran at the attacker and tried to stop him, but Bernley just twisted around and scratched at her, making her stop in her tracks before she got hurt.

He then twisted his body back around and scratched Wambus across his eye, making him scream and stumbled backwards a few steps, holding his bleeding eye.

“WAMBY!” Triffany screamed in alarm before getting attacked herself, getting struck in her arm, making her fall backwards holding the bleeding wound.

“TRIFFY!” Wambus yelled and lunged at Bernley, hoe in paw. But he was unable to land a hit on the man. Bernley grabbed the hoe in both paws and both grumps began pushing the hoe against each other, trying to regain control.

Bernley suddenly ducked and dogged pass Wambus as he stumbled forward. He then noticed the knife on the ground and he picked it up.

“LOOK OUT!” Wambus was pushed out of the way by Distiny and Bernley slashed at her side with the knife, making her scream in pain and fall to the ground, clutching her side.

Bernley turned back to Distiny and walked up to her.

He grabbed her by her throat and lifted her up, choking her.

Distiny tried kicking him and hitting his arm.

But it was no use.

She tried calling out for help but it only came out as a desperate breath.

‘I can’t breathe!’ She kept saying in her head.

“SO! ARE YOU GOING TO LET US GO!?” Bernley yelled to the others who could only watch in fear because of the knife to Distiny’s throat.

“Just put her down!” Lizbert yelled “We’ll let you go if you put her down!”

Bernley smiled wider and dropped Distiny to the ground. She lay on her side and gasped for air.

He then grabbed Distiny by the shirt and hoisted her up onto her feet and pushed her in the direction of simmering springs.

But she couldn’t even gain her balance, after being pushed, and fell onto her paws and knees.

Bernley rolled his eyes “Get up.” He gritted out.

Distiny slowly stood up and began walking to simmering springs with Bernley close behind.

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kinsbin · 4 years

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Beach Days

Title: Beach Days Word Count: 2010 Pairing: Alexys/Katriona [si/oc]

Summary: Kat loved the beach, and Alexys loved Kat. Naturally, one has to learn to love the water when they’re dating a Selkie. Still, Alexys could feel doubt creeping in her mind, but Kat knows just how to get rid of it

A/N: Commission for @space-sweetheart of her and one of my fave ocs, Kat! These two are so cute and i’m so happy they have one another ;w;

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Alexys was never quite sure about going to the ocean.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the ocean, oh no the opposite really! The ocean and the beaches around it were, in themselves, something of true beauty. Something that held her gaze into their fierce horizon lines and made her heart jump with awe at the way the light glimmered off of the reflective surface like the facade of a well cut sapphire. The sunsets, especially, were always so beautiful off the coasts around her. They painted the skies all shades of pinks and oranges before fading into deep, purple blue hues that looked like an oil on canvas rather than the atmosphere lighting up with the rotation of the land. For a long time, she considered the concept that the mythos of monstrous wolves chasing one another around the world, pursuing each other in the name of night and day, might be true. It would explain the deep unreality that was always felt at the start of a beautiful sunset.

It was those things she loved about the ocean.

What Alexys didn’t quite LIKE about the ocean was the heat. The temperatures that clawed on her skin against the windy summer day, biting like mosquitos in her veins. She didn’t like the way the sand meandered its way nosily into the grooves of her toes to the point in which her flip flops couldn’t even protect her. Instead they sunk down into the uneven earth, the gravity more akin to the surface of the moon as the light breeze blew bits of grainy earth that spat unflatteringly on her ankles. It was the discomforts that made the beach so hard to go to constantly. So hard to maintain a stready relationship with its pulling oceans and unknown depths of beauty.

Most of all she disliked wearing swimsuits.

Her body had never been ‘nice’ to her. Indeed it was more of a stubborn acceptance that it was simply the skin she inhabited. The mortal coil of her form that bound her to the physical plains of the earth around her that she was forced to stay in for at least seventy more years if she was lucky. That was what a body was to Alexys. No one ever said she had to like it, so she mostly did not. Everything felt too tall on her. Too lanky or too chubby in places models were not. Even the once piece bathing suit she was wearing, a brilliant shade of blue with freckles of white that looked like stars across her body, did little to sooth the worry of her body’s shape in her mind. The large hoodie she wore over most of the fabric protected her from both the wind and the prying eyes of no one as she looked around the empty space of beach.

Well, almost no one. A pair of green eyes that had lingered on her the entire walk from their shared Seattle apartment to the bayside they lived so close to. They shone like emeralds in the wake of the water as they followed at her side, pinky fingers gently entwined together in the loose form of hand holding that they managed as they walked casually across the shoreline. She remembered, then, why she even bothered to do this. Why she even ever considered coming to the beach more than once a year out of some sort of party and social obligation that would drag her from her home:

Because Katriona loved the ocean.

It was her instinct as a Selkie, Alexys supposed, that drew her endlessly to the water. She would be a fool to deny her girlfriend her nature, for it was what she had always fallen in love with. Kat’s excited smile, buck toothed and sharp, excited her whenever she stared on at the ocean as she was now. Her mess of long, curly brown hair covered her face in the perfect set of angles. It framed her like a cloud of copper. An angeled head of brilliant metal cascading down her sun kissed skin as she moved ahead of Alexys out of instinctual obligation. The seal skin she wore tight around her waist, like a sort of flowing skirt, fluttered eagerly behind her as she moved her legs to run towards the water. To touch the very surface that she had been born into all of her life. To become one with nature in a way Alexys could never truly understand.

Kat stopped as she got to the edge of the water, brushing some of her blowing hair back before turning around to face Alexys and, oh god, her heart stopped at the sight.

The sun sparkled so perfectly off of Kat’s body, her entire frame angled with a golden glow that emphasized the dimples in her cheeks as she smiled. Her eyes, burning emeralds amongst her body, shone with a type of love that Alexys could still scarcely believe was meant for her and her alone. Even the sharp, seal like quality of her ragged teeth only served to emphasize the feral beauty that surrounded the ethereal form of her girlfriend as she stood just before the water’s edge, the waves lapping lightly at her bare feet (she never wore shoes unless necessary. Alexys had watched her family try to put them on her only once for a formal event and even then it went poorly) as she shifted slightly to face Alexys fully.

Her hand fell out, fingers extending in a reach for her own as she tilted her head.

“Well, silly fish,” Kat teased in that sweet Scottish lilt that Alexys loved so much, “Are ya’ comin in with me or whut?”

Alexys couldn’t help but smile in return. She couldn’t help but hesitantly reach out to Kat’s hand for a moment, only to pull back and look down at her own body with a frown of thought. Kat looked gorgeous in her swimsuit of greens and greys. Not that it would last for very long, considering Kat would sooner swim naked than dare wear anything in the ocean, but the comparison was still striking. She felt so small in comparison to the presence of the other. So light in a way that half convinced her that maybe she should not have come.

Kat’s hand suddenly touched her cheek, startling Alexys out of her thoughtful reverie.

When she looked up, Kat’s face was close to hers. Her eyebrows were knit together in a gaze of soft care. Of endearment as she searched Alexys’ face for something that she wasn’t sure she would fine. Grey eyes watched green ones and Alexys bit a smile back at the fact that Kat was, literally, on the tips of her toes to reach as close as she was to her. Half of her wanted to stoop down to help the other each her better, but she knew it would just make Kat huffy. So she stayed still as she spoke, thumb rubbing circles on Alexys’ cheek as she sighed through her arched brow and patient smile.

“Oh, I know that look on you, m'eudail.” She hummed as her gaelic slipped lovingly from her tongue, “Now what part of ya do I have to kiss to make it go away~?”

The joke made Alexys snort, her smile spreading on her lips as she tried to breathe through her giggling to no avail. The laughter made Kat’s own echo of amusement chortle from her throat, her smile wide and bright as she giggled in return and pressed her forehead to Alexy’s shoulder, hiding her smiling face into the other’s flesh as they laughed in unison over the roar of the ocean.

It was these silly moments Alexys cherished. These moments that let her laugh and smile as she spent the day with the woman she loved the most. It made her forget about the insecurities that had plagued her not moments before. Katriona pushed those insecurities away like a gust of wind moving clouds. Like the sun’s bright rays burning into the earth and revealing itself to be sunny and beautiful against the once existing fog. That was, in essence, what she was. What she always would be to Alexys in one way or another.

Alexys gasped and shuddered when she felt Kat’s lips on her shoulder, a gentle kiss placed to the bare skin to inspire confidence before the shorter girl pulled away with a quirk of her lips and a blush on her tanned cheeks that made them look so much more full and pinchable that Alexys couldn’t help reach up and squeeze one of them. Kat crooned much like a seal would, surprise filling her tone as she blushed harder and reached out to bat playfully at the hand grabbing her face.

“Ya cheeky-!” Kat laughed as she walked forward, pulling at Alexy’s hand in process, leading her slowly towards the water again.

Alexys, confident now with their interaction, shed her sweater carefully until she was simply in her bathing suit. The water hit her feet, cold and icy in its wake, and goosebumps danced along her bare skin. They plunged deeper and deeper still, the feeling of the waves tickling her ankles and then her knees helping her to register just where they were in the water. Kat smiled as she continued to walk backwards, paying no mind to the water and waves behind her as she focused on her lover. Kat, after all, knew the water better than anyone Alexys had known.

Soon they were waist deep and Kat had let go, her instincts in the water overpowering her beyond the point of remembering to control her urges. With one last bright, toothy smile she dove into the water, submerging herself fully in the salty ocean waves that came crashing around them. Alexys gasped as she waited patiently for her lover to come up, giggling as the spray of the ocean surrounded her and bit into her skin like kisses from nature itself. She was aware how long Kat could hold her breath, much like a true seal was able to. When she had first disappeared for over 15 minutes, Alexys nearly had a panick attack thinking she had drowned. She had come up, though, as she always did.

Sure enough after a few more moments the surface was broken to reveal a blur of seal-skin and messy hair that tackled into her. The force of Kat’s entire being upon her in the water made her lose her footing, and Alexys took one last surprised gulp of air before being pushed into the water with her lover.

Beneath the ocean was surprisingly warm. The initial shock of the water had faded and now it was a clear, crystalline sort of experience. Dots of sunlight filtered through the water’s surface, decorating both girls in its speckled glory. Kat smiled under the water, her cheeks bright and her body easygoing. The way her hair floated around her made her look nearly ethereal. Alexys understood the myths of sirens now, so beautiful that they lured men to their deaths with just their looks and voices alone.

As Kat smiled, she smiled back.

Kat swam forward to take Alexys into her arms, their hands entwining as they held one another as a sort of crutch against the ocean waves. So that they might not float far away from one another. It didn’t matter much how far they were in the water, honestly. Kat would take them back to home as she always seemed to do. For once, Alexys felt no anxiety about being where she was. Being who she was. In that moment it was all she wanted to be.

Especially as Kat leaned forward, her lips finding the others in a careful deep sea kiss. Alexys couldn’t taste much above the salt of the ocean but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the girl in front of her who held her so close and so lovingly that she felt she might explode with care. Might fall apart with love.

In that moment, it was perfect.

#self insert #self ship #oc self ship #kinley writes #self insert commission #writing commission

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insane-control-room · 5 years

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The Concept, Chapter Three

Lobotomy

To lose a section of one’s brain via an outdated and inhumane, and clearly murderous surgery for mental illnesses.

Several warnings, dear reader; depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, murder, death, loss of limbs, blood, graphic description of a corpse, drowning, child loss, another attempted rape, and painful words.

Chapter One - Chapter two

He could not hold the ink vial steady.

Jittery, oh so shaky. His hands shook and trembled, and he constantly had to adjust his grip on the pen as he drew the cartoons. He tried not to scream. Every moment, every day, he tried to hold back the aching cry in his chest, clawing at his lungs.

He tried for so hard for so long, and he was so tired… so so tired… he could sleep forever… and ever… and never wake up….

He wanted to see Aramis again… he wanted to see his father again… he wanted to join them, wherever they were, he wanted to be with his family, his family that was torn away from him so quickly, so young… he was so young, and he felt so old, so tired, his bones creaking, his muscles failing, his head aching, his hands stiff and shaky, everything so ruinous and decimated. So corrupted, so disgusting.

What a waste of space.

Johan stayed as far away from the binary computer as possible, hiding in the corner of his bed as the bright, toxic, addictive green beckoned him, he hating every time he gave in to the temptation, giggling the night away as numerical dopamine filled his brain and limbs.

He would never amount to anything, only ones and zeros.

Henry filled his dreams, his, unreal, ghostlike, lips pressed to his, and Joey regretted ever allowing him to kiss him, now trapped by this reminder that they could never be together.

He drank often, now not only using the invisible drug but also the alcohol to drain away his emotions. Bertrum tried to get him to talk, Shawn tried to cheer him up (he accidentally snapped at the Irishman, guilt flooding his system, apologizing a day later), Susie offered to take him to a nice coffee shop (when was the last time he left the studio?), Grant asked if he wanted help with his math, everyone spoke quietly about him behind his back, discussing if anyone should go out and find Henry and get him to visit them, as Joey was clearly losing his grip on reality, if he ever even had one.

He was lost, confused, and more alone than ever, the loneliness of being surrounded by people you do not dare tell your problems to.

So many names flooded the desk with the computer on it, the ink machine always hungry for more souls to chip away at.

Black, black ink, swallowing him up, drowning him.

He drowned himself in his work, creating more formulas on his computer to help him do more work in less time, like the insomnia code, the two times speed code, all little bits and pieces to create the toons faster.

He hated Alice Angel.

Not really.

Hatred is when one destests something, as an eye color or a sickness, hatred is a severe aversion to something, as to the sight of blood or the mentioning of higher beings, hatred is a passionate desire to see something utterly removed, like competition or step siblings.

He did not hate Alice Angel. He felt melancholic toward her, feeling saddened and hurt.

She did nothing wrong, afterall, she could do nothing aside from what she was made to do.

It hurt to draw her.

Such a lovely character, such flow, such grace, so beautiful. Everything Henry made was so beautiful, so wonderful, such a stunning creation.

Johan knew he was losing touch with reality.

He put on a bigger and better act.

Be Joey Drew.

Be the man that would be better than you in every possible way.

Be confident, be intelligent, be suave, be smart, be cunning, and smile!

Smile.

Keep grinning, even though your smile is the most disgusting thing to darken the earth, such a pitiful and stretched smile.

Pathetic. Useless, unnecessary piece of scrapable coding.

The abuse he hissed within his own mind kept him smiling.

At least someone could tell how much of a burden he was.

Even if it was just himself.

People noticed his change in attitude, but quickly learned not to mention it.

A quiet, “Really now?” seemed more dangerous than any threat.

Were there not more workers here before?

Were there?

No one remembered that there were more workers.

Joey did not erase them.

He did not.

Please….

He did not.

He stared at the computer and the list of fired workers, fired for incompetence and lack of productivity, and he was terrified that he would delete them.

He did not want to, and he forced himself back from the thought of ever doing it.

Never. He could not give in to the addiction.

Then he realized what happened.

He no longer needed the computer to erase someone, he found that out much to his horror and abhorrence. He had been watching a worker, after doing nothing for a week, getting drunk in the public room. Johan was about to go over and fire, him, wishing to delete him instead, but not wanting to fall to the temptation, when the man was gone. Erased.

Without the computer.

Johan ran to his room, hiding from himself, shaking with disgust and terror.

He vomited. Blood, ink, and numbers spilled from his insides.

What had he done to himself?

What was he?

He shakily grabbed a knife, preparing to dig into his skin to find out what sort of demon was hiding in the body of a human, but threw away the knife as soon as the blade reached his skin.

It embedded with a crack in his mirror.

He stared at his reflection, nonchalantly noting that the knife was directly on his throat, cutting his head from his body.

It made him giggle.

Oh, what fun!

Lose one’s head?!

Fun! Magical, airy, freeing!

His giggle turned into laughter, and the laughter erupted into howls, the howls into sobs.

He dropped his head between his knees as he cried.

He felt the buzz of the drug being slipped into his system, and he jolted up violently, stumbling to the computer, trying to stop himself. He collapsed in front of the glowing device, removing the narcotic from his body.

He grounded himself.

He tangled his hair in his hands, screaming, screaming louder than he ever had, louder than when his father and later his son were killed, putting all his pain and frustrations into releasing through his mouth, screaming to say that yes, he was here, yes, he was hurting, yes, he needed help, god, please, help him! Someone, anyone, for the love of anything good, help him!

Help!

Please… help…

H-help….

Hel-

A knock on his door.

He leapt to his feet.

Who the hell?

“Mista Drew?” Wallace, Wally Franks, asked, his voice muffled and uneasy. “Are ya alright?”

Joey stumbled to the door, dropping the facade, pulling it open and miserably collapsing onto the janitor.

“Oof!” Wally staggered under his height, not his weight, as the man hardly weighed a feather, and stood, stunned, as Joey shook on him. “Well, uh… alright? You okay? Something happen?”

“Wally, you’re such a good boy,” Joey sobbed, his mind registering the fact the man he was crying on was older than him by a year. But he felt so old… so so old… so tired…. “You’re always positive, you always make everyone around so happy, especially your boyfriends, and it’s so wonderful, you’re such a good person….”

“Ya not so bad either, Mista Drew,” Wally questioningly offered, awkwardly patting his boss’ back. Joey laughed a moment before breaking down into another wave of sobs.

“Oh, shit, what are the comfort words,” Wally muttered, scrambling in his brain to look for the right thing to say. “There there?”

Another strangled laugh escaped Johan.

Wally’s eyes wandered into Johan’s apartment, and he gasped.

“Your place is a mess!”

“S’not that bad,” Joey wheezed, gripping the darker man tightly. Wally shoved him carefully back into his home, settling Joey on the couch. Joey grabbed his wrist, looking at him with an almost intoxicated expression, breathing hard. “Please… please don’t leave me alone….”

Wally pulled his hand away, eyeing the cane on the floor. He set it beside the chicano, and got to tidying the room. He was startled at the lack of food in the fridge, he was uneasy at the amount of bottles lining the shelves, but worst of all were the sticky notes of just ones and zeros. The numbers clearly meant something to Drew, whose head was currently in his hands as he trembled with silent sobs.

The room was clean after an hour. Joey sat him down, and mumbled a, “Wait here.”

He came out of his room with two hundred dollars, giving them to Wally.

“Thank you,” he quietly told the janitor, and Wally’s chest constricted as he saw the absolute sincerity in Joey’s eyes. “For everything. You’re a great worker, and such a nice person. All my wishes for you are for the best.”

“Mista Drew, ya don’t need to gi-”

Joey cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t be silly, Wally,” he huffed with a light smile. He looked so tired. “Keep the money. I don’t have anything to spend it on, anyways.”

Wally reluctantly pocketed the bills.

He tipped his cap and walked out.

“I’m outta here,” he said, shrugging and smiling, “See ya tomorrow, Mista Drew.”

Johan came to wish he never did.

The next day started normal enough, with disgusting coffee (nothing he put in it seemed to make it taste any better, so he went to his computer with a huff and reset his energy from twenty five to one hundred percent), going down to his office, and reviewing the meetings he had planned for the day.

He met with the doctor, who frowned and informed him that he lost more weight and his polio was worsening. Joey had nothing to say in response, merely hanging his head in shame at such a pathetic body. The doctor smiled and tapped him, telling him to keep his chin up.

He said he would try.

He was informed of a mecha leak in the spider ride, followed by an ink spill in the same location, and how they would have to wait a day for the ink and oil to seperate to drain it.

He had another two meetings before the one he dreaded approached.

Jonathan Derekson.

Johnny the organist.

He tried animating to calm his nerves, tried drinking some tea, tried to breathe, but nervousness clouded all his actions. He was terrified. So he straightened his jacket, adjusted his pin, and sat down, stopping his pacing.

Johnny appeared in the doorway, leaning in it. Joey’s vision blurred, his memories meshing with the present.

“Hello, Mr. Drew,” Johnny smiled, looking down at the tall man seated and pale in his office chair. “My concerns are on the organ. So if you please, I’ll join you upstairs as you are bound to use the…” his eyes landed on Joey’s cane, and his smirk grew as Joey flushed, “elevator. I’ll take the stairs.”

“Alright.” Johan forced his voice to be clear and not meek. Not unassertive. He had to be strong, no matter how much he wanted to lash out and avoid this man. He made his way out the door, waiting for Johnny to leave first. “I’ll meet you there.”

He got up achingly, pushing himself up with his cane. So slowly, little steps, his eyes drifting shut with exhaustion. How did he run out of energy so quickly? Why was he so tired? So… very… tired….

“Joey, wake up,” a hand on his arm shook him out of his stupor. Grant was gazing at him with worry. Not concern, but worry. He was already on the elevator, when had that happened? “Joey, are you alright? You look… well, putting it frankly, really unhealthy. Are you sick or something?”

Grant reached up to feel the sides of his neck, checking for a fever. Nothing.

Johan looked at him blearily.

“I’m okay, just tired,” Joey sighed, and smiled (SMILE SMILE SMILE) at Grant. “I’ll see you in a few hours Mr. Cohen. As a quick go over, things are well, I assume?”

“Yes, Mr. Drew,” Grant smiled back and nodded. His smile was so much nicer, so much more real, so much purer and cleaner than Joey’s could ever be. “Far better than if anyone else ran this business. I’m honestly shocked by how much you alone make a week! Two animations for each one of the animators’, and running this whole place on top of it! It’s rather unbelievable.”

“Anything can happen with a little belief,” Joey remarked, forcing his smile wider. Just keep believing it will all be over soon. Grant nodded. Joey wanted to ask him for help, for comfort, for something, anything to ground him. Instead, he got off the elevator, and said, “See you soon.”

He drummed his knees, his useless knees, as he waited for Johnny in the organ room.

Being slammed to the wall, a hand on his che-

Stop.

Choking on something that absolutely should not be in his mo-

STOP.

Chuckles and grunts and wood in his hands, gripping his pants in silent ple-

S T O P.

His hands slammed on the organ’s keys, panting heavily as he leaned over it, his vision pulsing. Breathe. Breathe. It was over. It would not happen again.

It would not.

There was nothing to worry about.

Nothing. At. All.

He looked at the stark white keys against his black hands.

He was not a mexican of a proper, royal, spanish descent.

No.

He always was from the lower class, his ancestors being whatever slaves were left of Mayans, one of his predecessors was a wife to a conquistador, who fell in love with her as they established an encomienda. The wars and fights!

He hated them.

He set his fingers to the keys.

His father moved them to Night Vale when Johan was two, and he loved it. The town was so warm and inviting, even though quite frightening at first.

He loved Night Vale, and hated, absolutely detested, when he had to leave.

He was seventeen.

His son was killed in his arms not two months before.

He had to get out.

He had to.

Running away was so easy. He only got shot once!

The scar on his arm from it hardly bothered him anymore, most of the bullet fragments dissolved by the toxic ink flowing in his system.

It was picking himself up that was difficult.

Other people would not have such difficulty.

Something was so wrong with him.

So very wrong.

Wrong can mean so many wonderful things! Like something inside out, like a skin that did not fit, blistering and infectious. It can also define something avvering from the truth, a liar, a facade, a faker. Being improper, out of the norm, an outlier, queer, those are all wrong things. Wrong is when one is out of order, a mess, broken down, falling apart, lost. When your morals are turned on their head. When you no longer can control yourself. That is wrong.

Johan knew he was so wrong.

Such a blight.

A curse. A ruin. Broken. Queer. Wrong. Wrong wrong wro-

An off key note drew him back to the right reality, not the one in his mangled and twisted brain.

He swallowed, replacing his long, bony, macilent hands on the keys.

He trembled.

He needed help.

He needed someone, anyone, to help him.

He was terrified to ask.

He let out a sob.

“Let me introduce you to the voices in my head….”

He did not even realize he was singing.

He could not stop.

Tears splashed from his eyes.

He yelled the verses that just came to him, lines he was certain would be written in the future.

He sobbed, hoping someone would hear him as he played and sang.

“So won't you save me from myself right now,” he asked the universes, hoping one of them would have one being that could hear his cry, how wrong he knew he was, hoping something could fix him, repair his coding, make him feel better, not feel like he was in someone else’s spot. “'Cause I feel like someone else, somehow….”

His plea died down as the last key faded.

His shoulders shook, so lost, so conflicted, hurting and aching internally and externally, mentally and physically.

Arms wrapped over his shoulders.

“It’s alright, Mr. Drew,” Johnny hummed in his ear, his voice sending horror and pain shooting through his body. Please, never call him that again, that was not who he was. Please, leave him alone, there were only two people that he would rather not have around more than Johnny. Johnny slipped on the piano bench behind him, his legs on either side of Johan’s hips. His hand pressed onto Johan’s mouth. No no no not again, please…. Johan’s vision doubled over, Johnny was in front of him but he felt him behind him, and reality was phasing into memory and memory was smudging into reality, and he could not tell which was which. He suddenly felt like a wronged animal. He had to get away. He had to escape. He jolted in an attempt, but his legs gave out. Damn polio! Damn it, damn it, damn him! Johnny chuckled, flipping their positions, pressing Joey to the piano bench. Joey whimpered, unable to fight back or scream. “Come on, it’s not like you didn’t enjoy last time.”

Johan saw red, yellow error signs swarming everything.

“I DO NOT WANT THIS!” he screamed, his voice shaking the very core of the studio. Johnny looked shocked, then angered, but Joey was too far lost, to fed up, too fatigued and ill. He tried to escape again, but Johnny was so much stronger and held him down with an enraged ease, so all Johan could do was scream. “I DID NOT ENJOY WHAT YOU DID TO ME! YOU FORCED ME TO MY KNEES, YOU MADE ME GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANTED, I DID NOT WANT IT! I DID NOT LIKE IT! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! GET OFF O-”

Johnny’s hand pushed back onto his mouth. He cried out against it, writhing and struggling.

“I’ll make you like it, this time,” Johnny snarled with a feral grin, his free hand undoing Johan’s belt, making him scream again, muffled once more. Johnny’s hand felt him up, smirking at Joey’s discomfort and clearly hated unwilling pleasure as he struggled beneath him, tears blazing out of his eyes. “You can let yourself enjoy it, or I’ll force you.”

Johan struggled against him, a banging barely audible on the door.

He tried to call for help, but Johnny hit him, grabbing him by his lapel and slamming him onto the piano bench repeatedly, knocking the wind out of him, making him gasp and writhe. Johnny covered his mouth again, hooking a hand into his pants and trying to pull them down.

Johan saw hate.

Joey forced Johnny’s hand off his mouth, punching him as hard as he could.

“Get….” he felt pain and anger and hate hate hate hate hate hate HATE welling up within him, and power burst out of every pore, “OFF!”

There was a flashing, bright light, a miniature atomic bomb, rattling the walls of every building in the city. Johan could feel the ink pulsing out of him, he could feel his code rearranging and snapping into place, he could feel hate and PAIN.

He knew it was his own pain.

It was all wrong.

He whited out.

When he came too, there was the taste of blood on his lips. It was not his blood.

He dizzily got up, his ears ringing.

He saw the feet dangling in his pulsing vision.

Oh no… oh no no no….

He looked up.

Johnny’s body dangled before him.

Johnny was pressed into the organ, nearly flattened to it, his hands splayed with his fingers hanging limply in the skin, the joints dislocated, the metal of the piping warping around each visceral limb, as though an explosion forced him into the essence of the organ. His skull was crushed, his eyes forced out of and swaying from their sockets, his jaw slack and unhinged, his tongue slack and dripping red blood and clear saliva, a dark taunting pink. His blood splayed everywhere, his blood all over Joey, his black suit stained maroon. His blood was dripping in his hair and staining on his glasses, on his once white pants, and Joey? He turned over and retched. There was nothing in his system but ink and numbers mixed with acid, and blood.

Blood, the one liquid he hated most.

He vomited again, tears dripping onto the floor, coupling with the sound of Johnny’s blood doing the same.

He could hear pounding on the door through the ringing in his ears.

“Joey! Open this door! Johnny! Open up!” Jack’s voice barked, but he sounded so far away, like he was underwater. “Damnit, someone find Wally! Or his keys, at least!”

“Help,” Johan choked out. Silence suddenly took over the bable outside. “Help me… help… oh help… please… oh god, what did I do… help….”

“Joey, open the door,” Jack demanded, but in a softer tone. A strangled noise escaped the artist. Jack huffed in exasperation. “I’m getting Sammy.”

Johan pushed himself up, leaning against the wall, forcing himself not to look at Johnny’s mangled corpse.

He inched his way to the door.

“Joey, open the door,” Sammy’s soothing voice asked. “It’s just me.”

Johan gripped the handle.

“Sammy?” he whimpered, his voice cracking and high. A low hum of acknowledgement followed. “Please don’t get mad.”

“I won’t.”

Johan shut his eyes as tight as he could, pulling open the door, his head lowered in shame.

“What did you do?” Sammy gently asked him, Joey standing directly in front of the scene, blocking it from view. The blood glistened on his suit, and Sammy, suddenly sensing the urgency and (unfortunately, he did not notice) the delicacy of the situation, looked over Johan. His eyes widened as he beheld the gore on his employer’s clothing, how disheveled the articles were on his body from the molestation, and his head snapped up to look him in the eye, seeing the tears and the distress he was in. “What did you do, Joey?”

“I… I didn’t want to,” Johan whispered, and stepped back, moving to allow Sammy to see. Agonizing pain, guilt, anger, and loss drowned him as he tried to explain. “He… he was… he wanted… I couldn’t stop him… he wouldn’t get off… I… I….”

“What the goddamn fuck,” Sammy breathed, feeling disgust well within him. A fear of the unnatural joined it, and he spun to face Johan, gesturing at Johnny’s limp form. “What did you do?! What the fuck?! You murdered him, but how the hell?! What did you do?!”

“I-I don’t know, I’m sorry!” Joey stuttered, hunching over and gripping his head as it threatened to split. “I… he was… I couldn’t let him do it again, Sammy, I! He… ARGH! I don’t! KNOW! Please, please don’t tell anyone what he was going to do….”

“Everyone knows, Joey,” he informed him calmly. Joey stared at him in horror. Sammy pointed at the ‘Recording’ sign. The bright yellow ‘ON’ was lit up, making Johan’s stomach turn. “Everyone heard what was happening.”

“Sammy, please, then help me cover this up,” he begged. Sammy shook his head. “Then keep people away while I deal with it!”

“Joey… you need some help.” Sammy firmly stated, taking his wrist. Joey yanked it away violently, his eyes wide and fearful. “Come on. I’m turning you in to professionals.”

“Sammy, no!” Joey gasped, trying not to choke on his tears. Sammy scowled and took his wrist again, more staunchly. Johan, yanked on it as the music director began pulling him out of the hall, attempting to force him to the infirmary. “Don’t you know what they would do to me!? Sammy, haven’t you heard of how awful those places are?!”

“You need to go.” Sammy insisted, turning to him with a blank expression. Johan’s heart shattered again as he took in his mask. “You’ve gone too far.”

“I won’t even make it to the institutions… Sammy, they’ll take me to court,” he whimpered, even as Sammy dragged him further, no longer planning on the infirmary, but heading straight to the police. Allison and Susie stared at the two men, Thomas joining the women, exchanging a look, then the three of them collectively making their way to the pair. “Then they’ll kill me. I’ve got a low intelligence, I’m mexican, and I’m gay, Sammy, I’ve murdered someone in self defense, but they’ll kill me….”

“Take it as a mercy, then.”

Johan snapped, feeling… feeling… feeling….

He saw the coding flash before his eyes.

Just numbers.

Move some from here to there.

Do it.

Do it, everything will be better.

Everything will be okay.

You have no choice, move the numbers, NOW.

Johan gasped as reality sank back in. His hand was on Sammy’s shoulder, and the musician….

Sammy dropped to his knees, his jaw hanging open, and his eyes wide and dull.

Suddenly, shrilly, he shrieked, his hands tugging on his hair.

“BETRAYED! ABANDONED!” he shouted, anger and hurt simmering out of his enraged and distraught voice. “LEFT TO SUFFER, LED TO SLAUGHTER!”

Johan stared at the man he turned insane. He did this. He backed up as Sammy continued his screams of loss and forsakenness.

This was how Johan was feeling.

Sammy was merely out putting the data.

A hand slammed Johan’s head against the wall.

Thomas glared at him when the sparks died down.

“What the hell did you do, Drew?!” he snapped, gesturing an arm at Sammy. “What is this black magic bullshit!?”

“Hk… hhh….” was all Johan managed to choke out, tears and blood clotting his throat. Thomas smacked him again, letting him slide down the wall, and stormed over to Allison, taking his best friend by her arm. Sadness filled Johan at the sight of Susie reaching to her beloved, everything sounding so far away as his head spun from it’s abuse. Thomas was tearing them apart… stop. Stop! “Tom… you’re hurting th’m… stop….”

Thomas rushed at him, anger blazing in his eyes.

The kick landed on Johan’s skull before he could even register he was near.

Blood and numbers splattered out of his lips.

“Don’t you fucking dare start,” Thomas hissed as he coughed and wheezed. “I’ll be back for Sammy and Wally.”

Johan only was aware of the stress levels in the room rising higher and higher, Susie and Allison gesturing toward him in distress, Thomas adamantly shaking his head, and he grasped Allison’s wrist again, pulling her away.

Johan saw the stress rise.

He was hurting them.

Tom was hurting them.

All they wanted was to be together.

“St’p,” he slurred again. Thomas did not listen, and Johan felt anger build up in him. He pushed himself up to stand against the wall. He could only hear Allison and Susie’s upset voices. “Stop!”

There was another flash of all the numbers. Without thinking, Johan pushed the glowing ones and zeros into the blinking slot, shoving back the menacing, dripping ones, the ones that reminded him all too much of a fallen angel.

Another bang.

Allison was no longer in Thomas’ grip, as he slammed back into the wall, shattering something.

She looked at her hands.

With her, at the same time, Susie looked at hers.

There were only two hands.

The amalgamated being shrieked, stumbling back over a chair, slumping into in a faint.

Johan stared.

“Heh… haha… hehehehehesssssssskkk….”

What the hell was that?

“Ha! Hahaha! Heh, hehehe-HK!”

Johan slapped a hand to his mouth.

He shook with silenced laughter.

Thomas peeled himself off the ground. A shattered halo hovered above his head, holes cut into his hands, nubs of horns on his head. A fallen angel.

He charged at Johan with a cry of anger.

Johan no longer was where he stood, standing by the fuse.

Thomas whipped around to face him, dashing toward him, Johan vanishing one moment before impact, Thomas’ eyes widening as he realized the grave mistake he had made, skidding in an attempt to stop himself from slamming down the steps. He crashed into the door at the bottom.

Johan gripped the rail to the projection booth, panting heavily, breathing harder when he realized he did not feel the air entering his system, in fact, he choked on it, doubling over and coughing on the air.

He choked on a foreign object around his neck, dragging him back and up the stairs.

He was pushed down to the floor of the projection booth, Jack’s angered visage entering his vision, and Johan blearily realized the man was using his hat to force the air out of him. One of his hands moved to pin Johan’s wrists above his head, the other going and gripping his hair as the younger man thrashed to escape.

“Enough, Mr. Drew.” Norman’s voice thudded against his head, his large hands landing firmly on his throat. “We’re putting you down.”

If Johan had access to his windpipe, he would have laughed.

Putting down.

Like an animal.

Johan kicked and writhed to get out of the two enraged older mens’ grasps, but he could not, their combined strength out weighing his futile and weakened physical state. When was the last time he ate something? Air. Focus on air. Blackness swirled over his vision, pulsing and inky.

More glowing numbers.

He resisted the urge to use them, fearing the result, knowing only more pain and anger will follow the action.

Do not. Give in.

Can not give in.

Need air.

No no no.

Do not….

Please, no….

A rending sound filled the air as his hands moved of their own accord, moving the object on his right and swapping it with the one outlined in red before him.

He gasped in air, the pressure gone.

“Oh my god! Norman!”

Johan coughed and looked up, his blood freezing in his veins.

The projectionist’s head was now the very thing he dedicated his life to, his body slumping onto Johan’s, blood spurting where the projector met his neck. Joey scrambled back onto Jack, knowing full well he was moving out of danger back into it, but he needed to get away from the corpse. A dripping caught their attention, blood slowly seeping down the wall of the booth. Johan and Jack slowly both turned to look up.

Norman’s head, with wide, empty eyes, a clenched jaw, and look of shock, sat where the projector had been. His blood drained from his decapitated head, ever so slowly.

Jack stared for a moment before letting out an uncharacteristic wordless scream, having lost his two closest friends, one to insanity and the other to whatever madness this was, grabbing Johan by his collar, lifting him and slamming him down over the rail to the orchestra below. Johan let out a strangled sob, his hands scrambling against Jack’s chest in an attempt to stop him. Johan found no opening for mercy, and so, he pulled them both over the banister, the momentum pushing them apart. Johan landed on the piano, Jack on the floor. Without thinking, the taller man stumbled up and away, Jack getting up with a shout of anger. A shadow appeared over his head. Everyone in the room looked up.

And watched the piano fall.

The sound it made almost was funny, the keys all hitting at once with a dull thud, and the sound of multiple bones being snapped and crushed discordant beneath the tones.

All the musicians in the room at once turned to face the giggling Johan.

Why was he giggling, he had not even used the drug that kept him numb, this should not be funny, nothing in this situation was funny!

All of them charged, knowing this, this thing needed to be removed as quickly and in any manner possible.

Johan felt… lost, alone, cold, comfortless, searching for something.

Thus the first wave of searchers were borne of ink and pain.

He ran out of the orchestra room, feeling nauseated and sickening.

Thomas and Sammy were arguing, the once blonde director now with ink black, dripping hair. Wally stood between his two lovers, trying to appease them, but the man turned angel was hearing none of it.

Johan watched as the wrench came crashing down on the young janitor’s arm.

He slipped away, covering his ears and trying to blot out the cries of pain and torturous emotion ripping throughout the three.

Poor Wally.

He always was a good boy.

The lost ones began appearing as he sprinted away from the music department, the other floors becoming unstable and corrupted, ink leaking from walls as he passed, walls and floors ruined.

A hand shot out from a doorway, stopping him by his mouth, dragging him into the toy department. A pale Irish face looked at him with disdain, Shawn’s entire department behind him.

“Fuck ‘im up!” Shawn roared, and Johan lost count of how many times he had been kicked, struck, smacked, slammed, punched, hit, and otherwise beaten. He was shocked none of his bones had broken. He was on the floor, his arm twisted murderously behind him, leaving him gasping and shaking. A hissing Irish voice filled is ears. “Say it.”

“Say what?” he wheezed. His head was smacked to the floor.

“Say yer sorry, ye arse!”

“I’m sorry! I am! I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what is happening, I, I… I’m sorry….”

The man shook with sobs, every motion bringing more pain.

“I don’t believe ye.”

“Please, Shawn, I swear, I don’t know how to control this!”

“‘Nuff o’ it.” Shawn barked, making Johan cry out as he pushed his arm up higher.

Bang.

There no longer was a pressure on Johan’s back, and he scrambled away, crashing into a shelf, Bendy plushies collapsing over him. He shrieked and clammored away, so sick of smiles.

An entire room of lost ones, searchers, and bloated ones looked at and regarded him solemnly.

He backed out, running, and running, until his useless, lame, pathetic, weak legs sent him sprawling down to the ground.

He curled up and cried.

He wanted to cry, at least.

He wanted to feel something, anything.

Nothing.

He stared at his hands numbly.

He knew where he could find alcohol. Shawn had alcohol. But there was no way in hell that he would go back into that room.

Grant also always had some form of it in his desk.

Joey pushed himself up, slowly stumbling down more, shaky steps going down, down, down….

He paused by the accountant’s door, knocking in case he was within.

The bottle greeted him, smashing over his head.

Wrong shoes wrong shoes no no no no no no he was not gay please do not smash the bottle over his head again, please no, you were supposed to be a good person not a beast, stop st-

The insanity transferred to Grant.

Joey slammed shut the door as cackles and howls and garbled words slipped out.

“What… what would HE SAY?! WHAT WOULD HE SAY?!”

Joey vomited again.

His own words echoed back to him for the third time that day.

He crawled to the lift.

Lacie greeted him on the lower floors, she and all the workers of Bendy Land.

This time, Johan was not just surprised none of his bones were broken, he was shocked.

The pain was unbearable, he felt his limbs beaten and torn at, he felt his clothes rip and he felt his muscles burn, he felt pain and pain and pain and pain.

Lacie grabbed him by his hair, raising an arm to punch him.

“Wait,” he croaked. “Please….”

“No,” she growled, hir fist flying to his face, and energy burst from him moments before the hit landed, and the blast rattled everything, from the games to the rides. “What the fu-”

Lost ones surrounded him once more, and there was a hollow thud as Lacie’s body landed on the animatronic she had been working on, Bertrum and hir together.

Bertrum was the only being still standing, walking delicately through the crowd of inky monster turned beings.

Bertrum stared at him, shock and terror in his eyes, replaced with sadness and sorrow.

He extended a hand to the man he saw as his nephew.

Johan stumbled onto him, shaking and sobbing onto his shoulder.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Bertrum asked him. Johan shook his head. Bertrum sighed, taking him to another room. The filled spider ride loomed over them. “Johan… go to your machine, upstairs, and undo all this mess.”

He stared at him. No one should know abo-

“Yes, the computer, dammit!” Bertrum rubbed his forehead. “I know it must be hard, but you’ve flown too close to the sun, and it’s time to reset your wings and try again.”

“You don’t know what I’m going through!” Johan yelled, tears pouring down his face. “I killed everyone! I killed Jack and Johnny and Shawn and Norman, I made Grant and Sammy go insane, I don’t even know what I did to Susie and Allison, Wally is dying and Thomas is a toon, and I don’t know what to do, I miss Henry and I’m crazy! I killed Lacie, Bertrum, your fucking spouse, I fucking killed hir, don’t you understand, I don’t know what to do!”

“Calm dow-”

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me to calm down! You should!”

Both of them were suddenly by the open top of the spider ride. Bertrum’s terrified eyes met his as he plummeted down with a splash. Johan screamed, his arm reaching down and into the inky and oiled abyss.

He struggled, Bertrum’s arm grasping his.

The ink splashed onto Johan’s bloodstained clothing, both men struggling against the slippery substance. Bertrum was the closest thing to family had since Aramis had been killed, he had grounded and stabilized him, and now he was literally slipping out between his fingers. Johan could not let more pain in. He was alone and afraid, and could not be more alone than he was, he needed some support, and he loved Bertrum. Bertrum was good and kind and protective of him. And he was his Uncle Bertie.

He had to save him, together they could fix this, Bertrum could help him fix his mess.

“Hang on,” he gasped, pulling on the older man, both striving to get him out of the ink and oil. “I’ll get you out of there!”

The world flicked again, Johan no longer feeling solid.

Bertrum slipped out of his hands.

The last thing Johan saw was his face, choking on the ink, drowning in the oil.

The green glow of the computer kept him up that night, as he re wrote everything.

And again. And again. No pattern seemed to work. Nothing he did was good.

Failure. No wonder Henry left.

Disgusting freak.

Johan stared at the numbers, and merely rewrote one line of code.

Save.

He scribbled a note.

He went downstairs, ignoring the glowing pained eyes of the lost ones.

He limped into the organ room.

Johnny’s body was gone, his entire code replaced within the organ’s.

Johan sat and played a note.

A moan of pain welled from the instrument.

“We come full circle, don’t we,” Johan hollowly laughed, enunciating each word with a note. Another groan. “Johnny… I hate this. I don’t hate you, how could I, with what I had done to you? But you… you! You wanted to me to make you moan in pleasure, but what about the pain I would go through?! Why not moan in pain, like I have!? Nightmares and terror are all you gave me! I closed my eyes and saw you in my horrors, I could not sleep, I could not eat, I cannot and will not forgive you! I will not apologize! I can’t! I can’t! You stripped from me the last shred of humanity I had, and now you, you, take the lack of humanity on yourself! I… I hope… that you can forgive me. I’m not apologizing. But I hope you can.”

Johan returned upstairs to his computer.

He picked up the note, and hesitated, but searched for the file.

His heart pounded.

Undo everything, Bertrum?

No, he will one up that.

Delete himself.

The file finished loading.

He swallowed saliva he no longer needed, and pressed delete, and felt everything change.

He felt ones and zeros ebb off of him in waves, he felt his form break, he heard the whispers and the taunts louder than ever, he saw more shadowy shapes than before, and he felt…

Error.

Pain shot through his system and he scrambled through the code.

Where did it go wrong!?

All he wanted to do was sleep forever.

Error, duplicate code, unable to delete Joey Drew.

But… he did not try to… there was no….

There was no Joey Drew.

He deleted Joey Drew.

Error, corrupted coding, cannot make changes.

What is happening?

He searched for Joey Drew.

All his coding, at first. Then branching off. Strains of Johan’s coding appeared everywhere in all sorts of small interactions, anchoring him.

Joey Drew was not Johan Ramirez anymore.

But some parts of him, the glimmers of humanity, were, and so, since Johan was deleted, the coding refused to allow him to edit the world, but since some parts of him existed in the man the only existed from his fears, he remained.

Everything reset, going black, and Johan was alone, afraid, and nonexistent.

Joey Drew woke up in an upscale apartment in the heart of Brooklyn.

Johan Ramirez hated him, the deepest kind of self-loathing.

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sassysweetstories · 6 years

Text

Never Enough Part 8

Summary: Being part siren, Isaac as your anchor, and part angel, Stiles being that side of your anchor, things weren’t easy. But, then again, when were they ever easy. With the emotional help from your fuck-buddy, Devon, you enjoy life, kick ass and figure out where your heart really belongs. But things start to become complicated when Devon gets involved.

Ship: Isaac x Reader, Stiles x Reader, Devon x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, fighting, minor kissing, mentions of blood, etc.

Notes: none of these gifs are mine, credit to owners. (I’M AWARE THIS ISN’T ENTIRELY ACCURATE TO THE SHOW! IT WAS REALLY HARD TO MATCH THINGS UP SO BARE WITH ME AND ENJOY)

Tagged: @theoutlinez @flopmalum@thegirlwiththestories@morganschiebel@fabulous-dani@milkywaygalaxygirl@nathaliabakes@graceburnell@allana5100@bellamysterekblake@beingmadinwonderland@graceburnell@bellamysterekblake@fabulous-dani @archer-whovian-violinist@pure-blu @dean-the-danc3r@sailorchibimoonunicorn@findawaytofadeway@drkplum@milkywaygalaxygirl@hannahobrien-n@allana5100@favoriteserendipity@sillyrayofdarkness@angelicshinigami@zachmantle @laheyisaac@lucyqueenofthestars@hannahobrien-n @lucifersnipnips @fofo64004 @carryonmywaywarddemigodwitch @my-l0vely-th0ughts @lovelynerdytraveler @imnotweirdimjustapotato

Stiles P.O.V

It’s been two days since (Y/n) and I’s fight and it’s all I can think about. I haven’t tried to call her because in all honesty, I’m not entirely sure as to what I’d say. I’d start to dial the number but would end up hanging up no less than two numbers in. I have loved Lydia for as long as time itself, or, at least I think I do. And I want (Y/n) to find someone who cares about her just as much as I do. I just don’t think that person is Isaac. He doesn’t deserve her and it irks me to my bones when I see them together. But I hate to admit that she has a point. I suppose the more flirty I was with (Y/n), the more Isaac would stay away, but I guess by doing that, it lessons my already slim chance with Lydia. Running my fingers through my hair, I sigh and lean my head back in frustration. When I walk out of class that day, she won’t even look at me and I feel my heart break as she meets Isaac at his locker.

They’re not dating but there’s a connect there that I can’t ignore which makes me grind my teeth in disgust. Just when I think of something to say to her, she’s already on the opposite end of the hall with Isaac close to her shoulder. “What happened with you two?” A high pitched voice called from behind me. Turning over my shoulder to see Lydia, my heart should be thumping out of my chest as it did for the past few years but there’s nothing, a steady tone. “(Y/n) and I are kinda in a fight right now.. Well, she’s pissed at me, actually.. How are you and Jackson?” I ask. Usually I’d be pissed to even bring relationships up with her considering she never looked at me but at this point I’m too worried about (Y/n) to care about much of anything else. “Oh, we broke up. He moved to England and honestly, I feel more alive than ever. I’m on the prowl for some meat, don’t want a relationship. I just wanna live, ya know?” I nod along to her words, not paying attention much to her. “Yeah. Hey, I’ll catch you later, Lydia.”

I head to my next History class when Scott wacks the back of my head. I rub the pain away and cuss him out. “Dude! Ouch! Why’d you do that?!” He shook his head before rolling his eyes. “You idiot, Lydia was flirting with you. She wants to hook up with someone and you were her target before you blew it. Now she’s onto the next one, see!” I look around and, sure enough, she has a hunk wrapped around her small fingers. How she does that, absolutely baffles me. But for some reason, when I look at her, I don’t see the drop-dead, gorgeous girl I’ve been day-dreaming about for the past few years. I just see Lydia, a smart girl who hides behind a facade and is quite normal despite what everyone may think. “What’s gotten into you? You would have jumped at any opportunity to be with her and in that moment, she wanted to get in your pants but you just walked away? What’s up with you?” I rest my head against the cold locker, thinking more about how to fix things with (Y/n) than anything else.

“I don’t dude. I just, when I look at Lydia, I don’t see this angel I thought she was. I guess, now that I know her, like actually know her, I’m not sure she’s the person I want to be with..” Scott’s eyes go wider than they’ve ever done before. His eyes shifted from the ground and then back up to me before saying, “Why the sudden change?” He’s looking at me differently, I can tell, almost analyzing me. “I don’t know..” The rest of the day, I can’t focus on anything else and I want nothing more than to be consoled by my best friend but I’m then reminded that she’s pissed at me, has every right to be. But what I couldn’t understand was the why? Why was I so against Isaac and her potential relationship? Why was I flirting with her when he was around? Why was I looking at Lydia differently? None of this was making sense and before I can dive further into this hell hole, I’m forced to meet the pack in the library to talk about the recent murders.

Your P.O.V

I can’t bare to even look at him. It’s all too painful but when I glance up at Isaac, I know I’ll be alright. We’ve been talking more which is nice and he’s a lot funnier than you’d expect. And even though I’m trying to grow with him, I can’t cut away from Stiles completely. He’s my angel anchor, after-all. And one of my best friends. And if things don’t work out with Isaac, I can’t completely cut ties with him either. Later that day when I say bye to Isaac, I peck his cheek before heading to my car. With my abilities, I hone and focus in on his emotions. Happiness, flushed, giddy and . . . love. When I reach my car, I turn around and wave at him. He’s just as I predicted, his cheeks redder than tomato’s and his smile wide. When I look at him, he’s all I see anymore, like the rest of the world evaporates when his eyes meet mine. Only a few minutes after arriving home I get a text from Devon.

Hey! Did you follow through with prince charming like we planned? You better have given that tall, blonde and handsome boy a kiss cuz if not, we’re gonna have to talk!!

We stopped hooking up not long ago upon her new relationship with Jeremy, the guy from her L.G.B.T support group, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t gotten closer as being good friends. In fact, she’s like my first legit female identifying best friends. I shake my head with a faint laugh at the text and reply with the fact that I pecked his cheek before heading to my car. Her relationship was going and I finally got to meet Jeremy, who at first seemed to be nervous despite attempt at pushing out his chest. He was good for her, no doubt about it and after telling Devon all about Stiles and Isaac, she’s in full support of trying to get me with Isaac, especially considering the fact that Stiles never notice my existence as a potential romantic partner. I text her for a while, getting some more work done before I get a text from Scott, one that shakes me to my core.

Meet us at the hospital. We got Jennifer but the alpha pack is coming for her. We’ll need another set of hands.

The second I finish reading the text, I’m up and out to my car with some supplies. And even though Stiles and I are in a fight, I can only hope to god that he’s not there with them. And I hope Isaac isn’t there as well. And ever since I’ve grown with my powers, I’ve become more accustomed to them. They were much like Scott’s transition in the beginning, uncontrollable and a bit wild but now I have a much better handle on it. When I pull into the hospital parking lot, I swear I feel my heart stop and I can’t help but gasp. The souls of the dead wondering around, hopelessly. Their deaths are recent and the hospital, a place of light and hope itself is ominous and barely lit. Despite my very strong and reliable powers, my heart-beat thumps under my rib-cage. Quickly with shaky hands, I text Scott that I’ve arrived and prepare for battle. At first I don’t go in. It’s my duty to send these people back to where they belong and let them rest.

The transaction for the roughly fifteen people make my skin crawl and stomach nauseous. These people didn’t deserve to die the way they had. I walk each one of them to their after-life, whatever that may be. Some of these people are so young, too young. After sending the last one off, I’m no longer sad. Now, I’m pissed. How dare the alphas do this to such innocent people? All of a sudden, a low growl irrupts from inside the hospital, echoing throughout the town before an even louder scream followed. Stiles and Isaac. I run in without a care in the world, shifting into my strongest form. My muscles and wings shift under my body and irrupt from my back as light green scales for around my arms and hands, pulling and tugging at my skin. I groan and cuss under the pressure but it’s not as painful as it use to be. Turning the corner to see the twins formed together, Stiles, half their height whacks the back of his head.

The bat cracks with ease and doesn’t seem to injure the conjoined boys at all as Stiles runs to the opposite side of the room, towards Isaac, Scott, Jennifer and Derek, who’s apparently alive. The second the beast takes his first step, I let out a loud cry, so loud it shakes the entire building that catches his attention. I move quickly around his jerky movements and slip under him to stand in front of the boys, wings taking up the diameter of the room. I can feel the beasts fear from a mile away but they don’t back down, instead bolting toward me, roaring. I reply with a loud scream and bringing my claws out to play. Adrenaline kicks in like the best drug, burning my throat and making my blood pump fast. I dive head first towards his chest and push him into the walls which crack upon the pressure before he fell in the hallway, far enough away from the boys. Punching down on the twins, all I know is that I can’t let them get to my anchors.

But just as I have the upper hand, they send me flying back and I fall hard against the concrete floor before achingly pulling myself up from the dirty ground. I grunt at the new wound that’s taken shape upon my skin. But despite that pain, there’s no way in hell I’m going to give up, especially on my family. Standing up straighter, I widen my stance before bringing my arms our wide before clapping my hands together. My gargantuan wings mimic my fingers and the shock wave knocks the beast back into the other room, crashing through the two walls. While I have the chance, I look back at the group, my eyes meeting Stiles for the first time. Those honey eyes I once adored don’t give me the same satisfaction before glancing at Scott and Isaac. “GO! I’LL HOLD THEM OFF! GET TO SAFETY!-” Even though I look bigger than him because of my wing span, he still towers over me with his natural height before taking my face in his hands.

“(Y/N)! I’M NOT LEAVING YOU!” He screams over the wind that’s somehow made its way into the room, whipping my hair around wildly. “YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! GO! I’LL GIVE YOU GUYS SOME TIME! ISAAC PLEASE!” I push his arms away from me only for him to tighten his grip around my wrists before shaking his dirty blonde hair in detest. Derek has Jennifer close to him as they try to move some rubble away so that they can escape. Once it’s gone, they’re the first to jump through. Scott and Stiles look at me with sadness in their eyes. I’m Scott’s sister after-all and both their best friends. This could be my end for all I know. I look back at his gorgeous blue eyes that drive me bat shit crazy. “Isaac-” I say so softly it breaks my heart. This could be the moment I die and I don’t want anything to be left unsaid. But before I could do anything, a pair of moist lips meets mine. I kiss back with just as much passion and I feel my heart burning inside for some sort of sweet release.

Despite the fact that the kiss wasn’t long enough, I felt my heart swoon and time stop around us. “I-I love you, (Y/n).” Isaac says against my lips. I grin and nearly cry at his confirmation, heart in my throat. “I love you too, Isaac. I’m sorry. . .” But this happiness doesn’t last long as I push him into Scott and Stiles’ arms as they pull him in the opposite direction away from me, away from chaos. And even though Stiles is human, he forces Isaac’s weight back before back up at me. I send him one last message with my powers, lump in my throat. I’m sorry, Stiles. I forgive you and if worst comes to worst, look after Scott and Isaac for me. It was an honor to be your best friend and my first love before Isaac. I can’t tell what his facial expression implies but I’m too afraid to look deeper into it. Instead I turn over my shoulder and get down to my knees before shooting towards the beast, fist in the air. The twins catch my hand and send me flying into another room.

(Music Insert: Kill Everybody by Skrillex)

Crashing through the concrete wall, I land in the rubble with a loud thud. Pain wraps all the way around my body, in every crook and crevasse. My nerves and muscles scream for mercy as I force myself up. My body wants me to give up, to let the inevitable happen but I can’t. Standing up as straight as my body can allow, I roll my shoulders back and expand my wings out. The twins roar and charge and I repeat their action, barreling towards them. All I can think about right now is that I must hold them off at all costs. Scott, Isaac and Stiles’ lives are at stake. I push them to the floor and hit it over and over again before the beast took me by surprise and scratched my wing. In pain, I reflex and move back. But as I do so, the thing takes the opportunity to throw an upper-cut at me. I fall back, not prepared for the pain before he hits me at least five more times. I don’t remember when the pain stops but all I know is that I’m not fully conscious when it does. A voice screams from the opposite side of the room, faint to my awful hearing. “(Y/N)!!!”

Third P.O.V

When the damage is done, Isaac doesn’t hesitate to leave the pack behind and run after his love. Scott and Isaac are not far behind him, worried for their friend but not the way Isaac was. He was petrified that he’d lost his first and hopefully last love. Barreling down the hall, he doesn’t slow to a stop until he sees a small body lying atop the rubble. Oh my god. . . Isaac thought to himself, heart in his throat. Please don’t be her. . . But his wish was quite the opposite. There she lay, looking beautiful despite the damage the twins caused her body. Her scales and wings slowly retreat back to her skin as Isaac begged, “Ohmygodohmygod. . . (Y/n)! PLEASE! Please be okay. . .” He begun to weep openly, wrapping his one hand around the back of her neck while the other pulled her small frame close to his chest, listening closely. Thump thump. A heart beat, faint but there nonetheless. “Stay with me, love. . .” He says softly before taking some of her pain away.

Stiles kneel next to her, his inside twisting. When he looked at his best friend, the one who helped him with everything, almost dead, it finally hit Stiles, all of it. He was her first love. She had spent years doing anything just to make that boy smile and what had he done, ignored her and gone after another that wanted nothing to do with him. Stiles hadn’t even realized until now that this gorgeous woman had wanted him for so long only to be never enough. And now as she lays atop the rubble, barely breathing, his heart drops. She’s only breathing for Isaac now. She was never anyone’s to begin with, but now, Stiles would be nothing more than a permanent friend to her. He was once (Y/n)’s everything but now he’d be nothing. In just a few minutes, his mind wonders over all of the instances where she cheered him up, listened to him vent about another girl, held him when he cried for his mother, before realizing that he loved her. But he wasn’t hers anymore. It was too late. His heart broke in hopes of a second chance but that would be impossible as he looked up at Isaac’s puffy, red eyes.

He loved her, had his feelings together longer than Stiles and knew what he wanted, which was her. Isaac looked away from his love to glance at Stiles. His chemo-signals, both of theirs were off the chart. Isaac could read his emotions from a mile away they were so strong. The poor boy smelled strongly of heart break and endless sadness. And even though Isaac wanted to push him down further for what he did to (Y/n), he stopped himself. That’s not what she’d want him to do. Stiles swallows the lump in his throat before croaking through his tears, “Take care of her, okay? Don’t break her the way I did. . .” This statement shocks Isaac more than anything as Scott crouches down beside the two boys, waiting for backup to come. Another voice groans and it takes all of them a minute to realize that it comes from (Y/n). “What? I’m a lot stronger than I look boys. Don’t think two can take me down that easily.” She tries to laugh despite the situation but cusses in pain before Isaac looks down at her with loving eyes. “I never doubted. That’s my girl.”

Stiles looks between the couple with anger in his heart. How could he have not noticed such perfection staring right at him all of his life? But just as he realized it, it was too late. She was in another’s arms, one that she deserved, one that was much better than him. He watched as they held one another, talking and growing as a new couple. Scott came over to the boys side before wrapping his arm around his friend. “It’s for the best.” And even though he says those very true words, it doesn’t lesson Stiles’ pain. “Yeah, I know. . .” He doesn’t really agree with the statement but it’s too late. She was never enough for him and now, he’ll never be enough for her.

(I hope you guys liked it! Please comment below!)

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aticklishtem · 6 years

Text

Cat’s Out of the Bag

((Request for @mylittlemystery from this post + “Are you scared?”~ I hope you like it!! <3 ))

“Boys, boys! Get back here right – I said stay! Heel! Play dead…?”

Djimmi wished he could say it was an uncommon occurrence to be roused from his lamp by a flurry of rowdy barks, indignant yowls, frantic pleas and plastic palm trees crashing to the floor – and maybe once it had been. But, it was safe to say, those days had all been long before his life had had the – occasionally mixed – blessing of having Beppi in it.

He materialised in a puff of smoke to be met with a predictably chaotic picture: a bunch of Beppi’s balloon dogs all yapping and growling; his own sarcophagus cats, arched up, hissing and spitting back at them, and in the middle of it all, almost literally tying himself into knots trying to keep them from colliding, while several hot pups nipped at his heels and another tugged fiercely at his collar in an attempt to get at the kitten that had somehow gotten its claws stuck into the other side, his colourful chum.

“Djimbo! Hiya!” Beppi exclaimed, flashing him a slightly more frazzled smile than usual. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“In my own tent, yes, fancy that,” Djimmi answered dryly, wry amusement turning to concern as his cat dangled precariously from Beppi’s collar. Sensing an imminent fall, he hastily floated over to retrieve the little one, cradling it carefully in his arms while planting himself as a more effective wall between the dogs and the rest of the litter.

Beppi let out a sheepish chuckle, just about twisting himself back into shape as most of the dogs retreated behind his legs. “Sorry about that – didn’t mean to disturb your little catnap. We were just out for walkies when several somebodies…” he shot a glare towards the dogs, who paid him no heed, “decided to start playing chase instead. Say sorry, boys!” He got nothing but a lone, contrary growl in response, which Djimmi couldn’t help but smile at – he knew just how unruly sentient show props could be, after all. “Ignore them, they’re full of hot air. They’re just being grouchy ‘cause I haven’t fed them yet.”

He lifted his hat, somehow revealing a long string of balloon sausages – Djimmi was no slouch when it came to magic, but Beppi’s unique brand of absurdity mystified even him at times – and lobbed them over towards the tent flap, successfully diverting the dogs’ attention as they bounced eagerly over each other to get at the rubbery feast.

“Dogs will be dogs, I suppose.” Reassured that his pets had come to no harm, Djimmi yawned and stretched out in the space, bending and flexing his muscles with a satisfying pop – it was cosy in his lamp, but took its toll if he slacked off for too long. “It’s more traditional to rub the lamp, but that’s...certainly one way to wake me up.” The customers would be coming in soon wanting their fortunes told, so he arranged himself gracefully across the plush pile of cushions scattered across the sand; as he did so, a few of the more skittish cats that had been hiding from the dogs behind his chest of ancient artifacts scampered over, soothed by his presence.

“Oooh, do I get three wishes?” Beppi made himself equally at home, sinking into the cushions next to Djimmi while a few curious cats padded over to inspect the newcomer.

“If you were several thousand years earlier, maybe. But I’ll tell you your future for three coins.”

Beppi poked his tongue out playfully in retaliation. “Don’t need your hokey magic. Maybe I’ll just start my own act...Beppi the Brilliant! Has a ring to it, don’tcha think?” As Djimmi chuckled and rolled his eyes fondly, he leaned over to peer intently into the crystal ball on the table – it didn’t actually show anything until Djimmi channeled his own magic into it, but Beppi was nothing if not committed to his act, wiggling his fingers dramatically above it, “I predict...lots of laughter! After a bit of a ruff start.”

“Ruff!” one of the dogs barked, its ears perking up.

“That’s right, you tell ‘em, buddy.” One of the kittens that had made its way into his lap mewed softly, diverting Beppi’s attention as his eyes widened in tender concern. “Oh, hey, little guy! Don’t be scared – they’re good boys really. They just play a little ruff.”

Djimmi kept a watchful eye as they got acquainted; his little ones could be fussy, and he rarely saw them take to anyone easily. And when they did, he had to admit he never imagined it would be Beppi, who only seemed to have two settings: loud and louder. Yet here he was, lifting them up as soft and gentle as anything to babble nonsense baby talk, giggling delightedly when paws batted at his colourful buttons and occasionally meowing himself as though they were having an in-depth conversation. Like so many things he did, it was both bizarre and inexplicably adorable, and Djimmi felt something warm and fuzzy stirring somewhere deep in his own old soul.

His fleeting moment of tranquility was soon disturbed as a few balloon dogs, having finished their snack and apparently disgruntled at their owner having the nerve to pay attention to anything else, floated back over, prompting a couple of cats to scramble back into the safety of Djimmi’s arms. While Beppi was busy reassuring them that he had plenty of pets to go around for everyone, a soft, metallic tail brushed across Djimmi’s bare stomach and he jumped, inadvertently dislodging a few cushions and drawing Beppi’s gaze back to him in the process.

“Down, boy.” Beppi patted his most persistent companion as he glanced up into Djimmi’s eyes, expression somewhere between amused and and suspicious, with just a hint of concern. “Djimbo, you’re not scared of old Frankie, are you? He couldn’t do a pop of damage – look.” He booped the pooch on the nose and it growled playfully, nipping at his finger. “See? Not sharp at all.”

Djimmi smiled, grateful that his natural hue should hide any resulting reddening of his cheeks. “No, of course I’m not scared of you…!” His voice rose to a strangled yelp as he reached over to pet the pup; the cat was settling in by pawing at his lap, its fur rubbing relentlessly at the exposed skin there. He clenched his teeth, struggling to hold back the laughter threatening to bubble up while maintaining a facade of normalcy – if Beppi caught on, he knew, the cats would be the least of his problems.

His friend cocked a bright blue eyebrow, evidently not buying it. “You sure? ‘Cause you’re acting kinda kooky, and this is me saying – ohhh.” Too late, much too late – realisation dawned and his golden eyes lit up like he’d just hit the jackpot at a slot machine. “I see what you’re scared of now. It’s the monster, isn’t it?”

“Beppi…” Djimmi adopted his best warning tone, despite the slightest of nervous flutters in his stomach as he folded his arms protectively over it – he recognised that scheming smile all too well, and it meant whatever zany idea had popped into his head, Djimmi wasn’t going to like it. “Don’t be ridiculous – alright, more ridiculous. There’s no monster here.”

“Djimbo, I am utterly, completely, eleventy-hundred-per-cent sincere here,” Beppi insisted, fluttering his eyelashes and almost managing to look halfway innocent, despite the malicious mischief glittering underneath. “Tickle monsters are no laughing matter. In fact, I think I just saw one riiiight…” his fingers, which had been slowly walking their way across Djimmi’s back, dug into his side, “there!”

The laughter he’d been repressing immediately burst free as nimble fingers scrabbled their way up his sides; they tumbled sideways, Djimmi ending up on his back sprawled across the cushions with Beppi straddling him, bearing down on him with a maniacal grin that in no way resembled the face of mercy.

“Oh no, looks like they’re multiplying!” he mock-gasped, confirming this fact when Djimmi attempted to push him off without doing any lasting damage by wriggling his fingers under his biceps and into the hollows of his armpits, any protests or threats dissolving into a stream of uncharacteristic, embarrassingly high-pitched giggles. “Whatever will we do?! Who will come and save our poor, helpless hero?”

He barely heard the familiar soft tinkle of paws over his own laughter as several cat sarcophagi padded over to investigate the kerfuffle; to Djimmi‘s frustration, they chose to “help” by licking his neck with tiny, soft tongues, while a few others nuzzled at his waist, apparently trying to burrow inside his vest.

“Lihihhihittle ones!” he managed to gasp out, reduced to simply clenching and unclenching his fists uselessly – he didn’t dare squirm too much for fear of sending their fragile bodies flying across the room, but his fate was now truly sealed, with Beppi having switched to lightly tapping out a tune along his ribs, just enough to keep him laughing. “Gehehehet ohohohoff!”

In perhaps the cruellest twist of fate that day, he only succeeded in drawing a bundle of balloon dogs bouncing over to his other side instead – and Beppi was right, their blunt, rubbery teeth didn’t hurt at all when they started nibbling at Djimmi’s waist and hips as though he was another giant sausage: it was so much worse.

“Would ya look at that – we got a full house!” Their ringleader clapped his hands together in glee, briefly distracted by the gathering menagerie, but soon redoubled his efforts as his fingers dancing lower to trace the outline of Djimmi’s abs, slowly at first and then picking up the pace.

“Y’know, Djimbo, you really shouldn’t taunt the tickle monster like that – leaving this cute lil’ tum-tum all exposed!” He spoke with the same teasing coo he’d addressed the cats with moments ago – almost as if Djimmi was an equally tiny, helpless creature, and it somehow intensified every nuzzle of fur, nip of teeth and swirl of gloved finger against his skin to the point where he could hardly think of anything else. Djimmi might’ve even suspected some form of malevolent magic, had he not known that it was all Beppi. “Next thing you’ll be leaving weapons around willy-nilly…”

Djimmi’s eyes, previously screwed shut from the potent combination of mirth and embarrassment, flew open in horror as he realised what Beppi was reaching for.

“Beheheheppi – don’t you even think about –“

“Now don’t tell me you’re scared of this fluffy fella too.” Beppi plucked the feather from his turban and wielded it like a seasoned swordsman, fluttering under his vest, across his chest, over every bit of skin he could reach with the lightest yet simultaneously most unbearable touch, as though painting a mural of giggles that turned to louder snorts and guffaws while evading Djimmi’s attempts to grab it back.

“Gihihive that bahahahack!”

“Aw, don’t be such a party pooper – the fun’s only just gotten started!” Beppi reprimanded him by twirling the tip of the feather across his broad shoulders – blessedly, a less sensitive area, but he scrunched up his neck instinctively anyway. “Hey, are you blushing? Kinda hard to tell – we should probably keep going, just to be sure. Whaddaya think, fellas?” Djimmi felt, rather than heard, a few responding mews as if his traitorous pets were agreeing, the sly devils. “‘Cause I think the tickle monster’s getting hungry. And I heard...that ticklish little genies are his faaavourite snack!”

Before Djimmi had any hope of finding the necessary coherency to point out the absurdity of Beppi calling him ‘little’ – though with the ludicrous nom nom nom noises he was growling against his trembling belly, practically one with his pack, he probably wouldn’t have heard anyway – he inhaled deeply and blew the noisiest, longest raspberry he could muster, which, given the proportions he could inflate his head and lungs to, felt to Djimmi like an eternity.

The ticklish sensations vibrated ceaselessly through every inch of his being, finally undoing the last of Djimmi’s self-control; his deep, booming, unrestrained laughter reverberated through the room, shaking the walls of his tent as he pounded a fist desperately against the floor. Startled by the outburst, the cats and dogs scattered, leaving only a trail of tingles lingering on his oversensitive skin.

Whether out of mercy or satisfaction with his grand finale, Beppi hopped off of him too and let Djimmi float upright, gathering his breath and what remained of his dignity before flashing him an unrepentant grin.

“Alright, alright, good hustle, guys,” he told the cats and dogs that had clustered around his feet, petting one with each hand – at least they seemed to have reconciled, somewhere in the process of uniting to torment Djimmi instead. “I think the tickle monster’s had his fill – for today, anyway…”

That smug satisfaction wavered as soon as Djimmi narrowed his eyes, picking up that damned feather and affixing it back to his turban; before Beppi could make a dash for it, he swiftly sealed the tent entrance with a flick of one hand while effortlessly scooping up an armful of squirming clown with the other.

“Funny you should mention, about these tickle monsters,” he hummed, cradling Beppi on his back just as he would a misbehaving kitten – he even curled up like one, drawing his knees up to his chest as if that was going to protect him from the powerful, wiggling fingers advancing ever closer, “because I heard there’s only one way to truly defeat them...”

“Djimbo – wait, wait! Just listen – we can cut a deal, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t – dohohohohon’t…!”

It also wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for his tent to shake with hysterical squeals and shrieks and snorts, the kind that doubtless made passers-by wonder what in the world was going on in there – but, fortunately, it was one Djimmi wouldn’t have traded for the world.

#tickling #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #cuphead tickling #cuphead tickles #will i ever write about anyone other than these huge dorks #evidently Not This Day #tem writes #my fic

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ilovethings-somuch · 6 years

Text

Grey or Blue (8/8)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

College AU

A/N: ah I can’t believe this is it. I hope you all enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

(Part Seven)

"How was your date?" Madison calls as soon as the door closes behind me.

"It wasn't a date" I sigh while making my way to sit on the couch next her her. "How was your date?"

"It wasn't a date" She shrugs and smirks at me.

"Shut up" I give her shoulder a shove and slouch down into the cushions. "It was kind of a date wasn't it?"

"Well there wasn't any drinking involved this time, so yeah I think it's safe to say that this one was a date"

"But people can just hang out without it being a date"

"People can, sure, but you and Bucky can't."

"That's not a fair"

"Suit yourself then. It wasn't a date"

"Thank you" I nod at her triumphantly before slouching again. "but maybe I wanted it to be a date"

"Did he walk you home?"

"Well our building is on the way to his" I remind her.

"Did he walk you to the door?"

"Well, yes” I sigh in defeat, “but that's just because we were in the middle of a conversation"

"There's no reason you couldn't have finished that conversation down stairs. He wanted to spend as long as possible with you"

I roll my eyes at her reasoning but smile despite myself. "You think so?"

"I know so"

I go to sleep that night with a smile on my face and I wake the same way. I'm thankful for the weekend to study and bask in the happiness before the bad mood of test week consumes me. I procrastinate my studying for a little longer by picking up my phone and scrolling through so social media pages. Instagram bores me so I switch over to Facebook. I scroll for a while before I feel caught up on everyone's lives and I'm about to close out of the app when I see a picture of Bucky. I look over the picture, finding that Amber posted it. The caption "My favorite person" feels like a slap to the face as I look at the way she's hanging on him and unmistakably real smile that has taken over his features. I throw the phone down next to me, determined to ignore the clawing feeling in my stomach until I have time to fully assess the situation. I get up to take a shower, hoping it will help me refresh the good mood I woke up with.

I eventually make my way to the library. With only one more paper to write and 2 exams this week, I'm feeling pretty good. The music playing through my headphones does a good job at tuning out the everyday sounds of the library and I'm practically oblivious to everything going on around me. That is, until someone sits down across from me. I slowly look up from my computer and meet the bright blue eyes of Bucky. Butterflies swirl in my stomach before the memory of the pictures enters my mind and the butterflies are squashed by a raging fire.

"Hey" he smiles at me as I take my headphones off.

"Hi"

"I uh, I texted you to see if you wanted to study together but you didn't answer. I was hoping I'd find you here"

"Well you found me" I deadpan.

"Right, well can I study with you?"

"Sure" I agree before putting my headphones back on. I try to go back to my paper, but Bucky just stares, blinking at me over my computer. I sigh and take my headphones back off, "what?"

"Are you mad at me or something? Did I do something wrong, because I felt like we really connected last night and I thought we had fun, but now you're acting like you hate me"

"I don't hate you"

"Then what's going on?"

"Nothing" I shrug and get up to look for a book as a distraction from this conversation, but Bucky gets up and follows close behind me.

"I don't believe you" he states once we've stopped walking and I'm looking through titles.

"I don't know what to tell you, Bucky. Nothing's wrong" I say without looking up. I'm afraid my facade will crack if I look at him now. He sighs again and leans on the shelf I'm looking through. When I can't find the book I'm looking for in my section I take a hesitant step towards him, "I think the book I want is behind you"

"Just tell me what's wrong"

"Nothing is wrong"

He shrugs, "then I guess you don't really want that book"

"I need that book to finish my paper. Please, Bucky, just move"

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

I stare at the ceiling and groan before blurting out, "It's Amber"

"What about Amber? I told you we broke up."

"Well did you tell her that?"

He looks genuinely confused as he asks, "What are you talking about?"

I roll my eyes pull my phone out of my pocket to pull up the picture, "It sure looks like you're still together" he takes the phone out of my hand and holds it closer to his face for further inspection.

"(y/n)"

"What?"

"She posted this picture over a month ago, like when we were actually dating."

"What?"

"Look" he turns to I can see the picture and points to the time stamp at the bottom.

"Fuck" is all I can think to say and Bucky laughs. "I'm so sorry, I should've just asked you about it or looked at the time stamp instead of being an idiot" I whine and hide my face in my hands. Bucky continues to laugh and hugs me tightly before pulling my hands on my face.

"Relax, it's all figured out now, right?" I nod and he smiles, making me smile along with him. "You're pretty cute when you're jealous" He smirks and my smile turns to a scowl before I give him a punch in the arm. He laughs again and I can't help but laugh with him.

"SHHH" the librarian screeches at us, setting us into another fit of giggles.

"We should probably leave" I say between laughter and Bucky nods his agreement before taking my hand and pulling me back towards the table to grab our stuff. We leave the library semi-quietly, under the watchful glare from the librarian. Once we’re out the door we both burst with more laughter, holding onto each other so we don’t fall as we walk down the street.

“I can never go back there, she’s going to hate me forever” I manage to breathe out between giggles.

“Oh, she’ll be over it in a week” Bucky assures me. He takes me hand in his as we keep walking.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Do you not want to be my girlfriend? I thought that was the consensus we came to. I mean, I know I want to be your boyfriend but if that’s not what you want I understand. We can just be friends, I do want to at least be your friend” Bucky rambles on without looking at me. I stop walking, my eyes growing wide as he keeps on talking. He finally stops and turns to look at me. “What?”

“Bucky, I meant where are we going to right now. Ya know, because we got kicked out of the library” I softly explain to him, trying to hide the smile that’s growing on my face.

“Oh, right” his face turns a bright shade of red and he looks at the ground between us while pushing his hair back from his face. I take a deep breath before stepping closer to him and turning my face up under his to press our lips together in a soft kiss. He’s hesitant at first, but quickly wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer. It doesn’t last long, but when we pull apart I’m breathless.

“I do want to be your girlfriend” I tell him and the smile on his face becomes unbelievable bright, “It’s been a long ride, but I’m not missing out on you”

“I think it’s very dangerous if we don’t take what’s ours, and now, you’re mine” he squeezes his arms around my waist again and picks me off the ground in a hug before eventually setting me back down and kissing me again.

“So where are we going?” I ask again once we break apart.

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