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insert-cat-meme · 2 months ago

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Followed

First fic here. Hope this isn’t one of those things I will scold myself later for being “cringy” or something like that.

Warnings: stalking, paranoia, break ins, manipulation, overall unhealthy behaviour

Yandere! Chrollo x Reader

Word count: 2215

Reading below this point means you agree to the above mentioned warnings.

At this point, you wondered if your stalker wanted you to notice them.

Things had been like this for about a month now. It started with a shadow peeking into your room through your window. Thankfully, you had not been in a state of undress, but the fact alone made you clutch your blanket a bit tighter for many nights to come.

There had been flowers delivered to your door without any indication about who could have sent them. When you asked the nice lady living in the apartment across the hall, she could only tell you that some postal service had delivered them.

She gave you cake that evening, a gesture at least somewhat comforting for you.

Other incidents started to pile up as well. Your mailbox slightly ajar even though you were sure you had closed it properly the day before.

What finally broke the last straw was the note on your fridge. Walking one day into your kitchen, you learned how much terror could be conveyed through a small piece of paper.

The dreadful sinking of a stone in your stomach at the supposedly nice message, “Make sure you eat something healthy. You have been ordering a lot of take out the last few days.” had almost been a completely new feeling at its intensity.

Immediately you had filed the number of the police but after the two officers could not find anything other than the note, they informed you that they could not do anything. There were no broken locks, all windows closed neatly and not a single thing of your possessions had been stolen.

On that day you ordered a locksmith to instal a new lock in your door and additional ones to your windows.

It was understandable, really. The police could only help you in the boundaries of the law but it almost felt like you had been cheated out of your security.

For a moment you contemplated moving out of Yorknew again, back to the place you had grown up but you had no financial means for that. This city was expensive and where were you supposed to find work?

So you just had to bite your tongue and hope to stumble upon a solution somewhere along the way.

Clutching your bag a bit closer to your chest, you stepped out of the train into the dirty station of your neighbourhood. One of the three walls of the small house meant to offer protection from the elements was covered in plastic. Apparently someone had broken the glass, leaving a gaping space behind.

Keeping one hand in the pocket of your jacket, you made your way down the street. You envied the people who could afford to live in the central area. By no means was your flat a bad one. At worst it’s environment was caked in dirt, the city not caring to clean the areas most tourists wouldn’t stumble upon but the way to work and back home was a long one.

Feeling around, you felt th pepper spray bump against your hand. You were aware that it was more for reassurance than actual protection. If you were to ever confront whoever was watching you, you were to most likely freeze up in fear.

Reaching into your bag with your other hand, you started to search for your keys. The door of the place you had. once considered safe was now almost in sight. Only a few weeks ago you would have been jumping from joy mentally at the thought of being able to finally relax but now you couldn’t even do that anymore.

Just as you were finally able to pull out the jingling bundle of metal, you saw someone standing in front of the door to your apartment complex.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to continue to walk. There was no reason to assume that this was your stalker, your nightmares personified, one of the faces staring down on you in your darkest dreams.

Growing taller and taller in the horizon you took not of their black shirt, it clinging to their slim frame and the bandanna covering their forehead. Letting out a sigh of relief, you felt a slight sting as the hand that had curled around your keys started to relax, visible imprints left behind by them. Raising the hand holding onto them, you called out to him.

Chrollo had been a friend of yours for a while now. What had been a run in with someone looking for directions had blossomed into a friendship. He was almost too good to be friends with you. You usually imagined those incredibly book-smart type of people to look down on ordinary workers like you but instead, the ravenette had been nothing else but kind to you.

The only less than optimal thing about your friendship was that he was only in Yorknew for work but hey, that was what phones were made for, right?

Coming to a halt in front of him, you took in the slight disheveled look of his hair, his clothing seemingly comfortable yet still indicating that he had just arrived, small stains of barely visible liquid clinging to the hem of his shirt.

You knew it had been raining just this noon so he couldn’t have been here for too long considering that he also needed to settle in somewhere (or at least you hoped so).

The dim light of the sunset threw a soft glow across his black strands and for a moment you wanted to run your fingers along them. They had to be soft.

Thankfully, the other one of the two brain cells in your head shot that thought down immediately and instead decided to greet him.

After fighting with the lick for a few seconds, you opened up the door, leading him up the stairs to your flat whilst hoping and desperately praying to whatever higher power willing to hear you out, that you had cleaned up so that your home would look at least somewhat close to tidy.

When the two of you finally reached your door, you had to suppress a sigh. Another bundle of flowers sat in front of your door. The tranquil beauty and the fear they created within you was almost ironic.

No, it was ironic. Why were a pile of plant cells kept alive by photosynthesis capable of striking you with such terror?

Although, the first time was definitely more frightening but the more it happened, the more you started to just simply accept them. Humans, adaptability and all of that.

Picking them up whilst trying to hide your trembling hands, you tried to ignore the inquisitive look Chrollo was throwing at you. He must have noticed that something was wrong considering the slight look of worry ghosting over his face.

Finally opening the door to your destination, you ushered the male inside. Whatever you had begged just minutes ago must have heard you; there was barely and mess.

After sitting your guest down on your couch, you excused yourself into the kitchen under the pretense of preparing something to drink for him. The pile of greens you had disposed of continued to grow this evening as well.

Not wanting to leave Chrollo all alone in your living room, you hurried up and filled two glasses of water. If you had more time you would have offered something more fancy but you didn’t want to test his patience any longer.

Returning back to him, you saw that he had lifted the cover of a book lying on the coffee table. You had grabbed it on one of your grocery trips, throwing it inside of your cart in hopes of getting some sort of entertainment from it.

If you had known that Corollo of all people would be visiting, you would have thrown the thing out immediately considering that it was some cheap romance cliché.

Clearing your throat, you hoped that he didn’t notice the heat travelling up your neck. Letting go of it, he turned his full attention on you. “Secret admirer?”

His tone was teasing, a small smile tugging at the sides of his mouth. Yet there was also something else. Instead of two teasing orbs laughing in unison with his facial expression, there were only two gaping holes filled with the endlessness of an abyss.

Laughing, you tried to ease the tension whilst sitting down on the other end of the couch. You were thankful for the warm light filtering through the window. Otherwise, you might have mistaken your friend for being angry.

Perhaps he was angry? God, why were you so bad at figuring stuff like this out?

Starting to play with the loose thread of one of the cushions leaning against the backrest, you started to carefully approach the subject like someone might approach a snake hissing aggressively at them. “… I think, no I know, I am being followed.”

Looking up to him once more, you expected something like outrage. No, that was wrong. You didn’t know Chrollo that long but you knew that it took a lot more to make him act in any hasty way. Such an emotion like outrage was reserved for cases like someone murdering someone close to him.

That didn’t mean there was no response to your words though. Slowly, he turned his head sideways, his eyes drifting slightly to the left. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you elaborate?”

Taking a deep breath in, you tried to force yourself to stay calm at the memories emerging whenever you had to deal with your stalker. “Those flowers…”

Hearing your voice break, the black haired male nodded in understanding. “A stalker then… I see.”

His gaze continued to focus slightly left to your head. “That must have been frightening.”

This time, it was your turn to nod. You felt guilty for telling him this whole mess you had found yourself. Someone as kind as him shouldn’t be burdened with your problems.

“But, oh well, what else to do…” Laughing once more, you tried to change the subject. “How has work been?”

Snapping his head back into your direction, his eyes stared back into your own but unlike the last time, they didn’t feel like two nails hammering you into your seat but instead like a warm drink during a cold day. The comfort of returning home after a long day.

“Nothing new really. Like always we did what we came there to do.” At least he was doing well.

You really did have a knack for getting yourself into trouble. First you had attracted his and then the attention of someone else. Well, he couldn’t blame you for that last one. Not really.

The Hunter had been so blatantly obvious with his tailing that the leader of the Phantom Troupe had to keep himself from looking out of the window the entire time.

Not like ignoring someone so obnoxious was a challenge but whenever he thought back to the moment he had discovered the young man following you around about three weeks ago, he contemplated on using one of his nen abilities on him.

Although, perhaps he should have been thankful considering Chrollo had been watching you almost a year before approaching you under the excuse of asking for directions. When he found out that there was another one observing you, he had finally been able to give you small gifts. One of them being the flowers you had just thrown out so ungraciously. The note, a product of him being more often around than you would ever be able to guess.

If they messed up with such a simple thing like closing a mail box properly and being discovered from time to time, who was he to blame?

Perhaps the two of them weren’t that different considering that only the end objective was the difference between him and your little shadow.

Digging deeper, he had discovered that the Hunter was a new one, desperate to prove himself and had somehow found out that you were in contact with Chrollo.

He needed to tie that loose end. Fast.

But for now he would enjoy this. You had grown to trust him so nicely. It was the right choice to study which behaviours you liked the most in people.

Should he tell you that he was having a vacation and planing to spend it close to you? It was not like he was lying. Most of his life outside of heists could be considered vacation. You did seem to like the innocent facade he put up for you. Growing closer to you in more intimate ways shouldn’t be too hard.

You were a bit naive. Not stupid. No, you were like most ordinary citizens. If you were that he would have dropped you the second he came to that conclusion but for some reason he just couldn’t let you be.

Just as you were about to tell him about something that happened last week, leaning over to pick up one of the glasses, he saw the man shadowing you peek into the room, his gaze meeting his own.

Yes, perhaps it was time to get rid of him. It had been fun to play around but this was starting to get annoying.

#yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo #hxh x reader #yandere hxh

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sweatervest-obsessed · 1 year ago

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Second Chances Are For Winners - Part 2

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

WC: 2k

TW: Swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of kidnapping, imprisonment, Criminal Minds General list of triggers apply here.

A/N: Howdy babes! I'm back in action (and in therapy!) so the will to write is stronger than ever. I am so excited that this is becoming a mini series since I loved the whole premise I had come up with last year. Pls enjoy part 2!

Part One

Last Week

“We have a White Male in his late thirties, breaking and entering into single women’s homes.” Hotch started, he put his hands in his pockets and continued talking. “ We know he used to be homeless, or transient, because of the manner in which he is gaining access to home.”

Derek took over. “Pickpocketing. He snags the women’s keys, makes a copy for himself, and then breaks into their houses, condos, apartments.”

Emily gestured to the board in the front of the room. There were several images, along with a map in front of the officers. “We know this because he leaves the set of keys on the kitchen table, along with the polaroid of the woman he’s kidnapped.”

Derek spoke up. “He’s targeting women in their late twenties, with high paying jobs. We assume this is due to some kind of grievance where he believes he was wronged, and left him feeling powerless.”

Hotch nodded at Derek. “Think promotions of jobs, priorities, breakups, divorces—something that would make this man feel as if he is no longer fulfilling the role of the head of the household.”

Derek leaned against the desk. “He takes his time with them. We know this because there’s been a body a week for the past three. We are assuming that he has a new victim considering the newest body was found yesterday. And we know that he picks up a body on Monday nights, and dumps them early Friday Mornings.”

“Look through reports from tonight and this morning about anyone missing. Even if it’s just a concerned call about someone not showing up to work, we need to know about it.” Emily held her hands in front of her as she spoke to the group. She gave a brief smile to the officers looking up at her. “Thank you.”

As the room started to clear out, Derek looked over at Spencer, who was just staring at the board, deep in thought. “Earth to Reid. Hey.”

Reid snapped out of whatever depths of his mind he was in, and looked up at Morgan. “Sorry, sorry. What.”

“What? That’s it? Reid you just blanked out of that entire session. What is goin’ on with you man?”

Spencer shook his head. “Sorry I-I, I’m not really…Sorry. It’s just..”

“Just what.”

Emily nudged Derek with her elbow. “Be nice.”

Derek rolled his eyes, and trudged away.

“I know he didn’t mean anything by it, but I can’t stop thinking about the security cameras. How has he not been seen, anywhere. L-Like, for example, when he goes and makes the copies of the keys, all of the locksmiths in town have cameras everywhere because of safety reasons, right? And-and-and, even if he didn’t go there, and went to a Walmart outside of the city, or something, they all absolutely have cameras that work. So how has this guy not been seen by anyone?”

Emily nodded while Spencer continued to rant. “And I can’t quite figure out how—” Spencer pushed out of his chair by the window and went up to the board.

Across the center of one of the whiteboards was a timeline..

“It’s such a specific timeline—A-As if he can only operate on those certain days, like he’s limited to Mondays and Fridays, because part of his week is blocked off.”

“Or.” Emily chimed in, following his train of thought. “Something triggers him every weekend, like he sees her…whoever she is, every weekend. Maybe he works in a restaurant, or something.”

“But why would she go into a restaurant where she knows he is?”

“To taunt him?” Derek pipes up. “Bring a new man in, once a week, on a first date. Show him how much better she’s doing?”

“And risk her safety? I don’t think so.” Emily scoffed and turned back to the board.

Headaches have always been your least favorite part of waking up from being knocked out by chloroform. You had never been knocked out via towel and drug before, but whenever you would watch your favorite crime-related shows, you would think about how god awful that headache must be when you wake up.

And you were right. It was a fucking bitch.

Your vision had spots dancing across it as you let out a groan from being conscious for the first time in god knows how long. You were still in your pajamas and weren’t shivering, which meant that wherever you were, was warm enough to keep you alive.

You tried to move your hands but found that that was over your head, chained to the wall. The chain connecting both of your wrists was pegged into the wall like you were in some old castle during the Medieval Ages. If you weren’t dying of thirst and hunger, you would have found the situation almost comical.

Once you got used to the complete lack of sunlight, you were able to make out the rest of the room, which was decorated with splatter across the walls and floor. It was obviously not a choice in decor, and more of a mess someone wasn’t willing to clean up. There was an outline of what seemed like bars at the far end of the room, directly across from a small wooden staircase that had been built up against the wall.

It was a cell.

You had been stuck in a cell like one of those prisoners in Pirates of the Caribbean, and it was not as silly and fun as Disney World had made it out to be.

You went to speak, with only a sharp intake of air, and only a cough could come out. Luckily for you, the cough had alerted whoever was upstairs that you were awake, meaning that the silhouette of a man appeared at the top of the stairs when the door opened.

You were just hop[ping this was one of those stupid melatonin induced dreams where something bad would happen but then you would wake up and suddenly you were safe in bed. As the man’s footsteps echoed louder and louder as they trudged down the stairs, you realized you couldn’t wake up.

“You’re up. Good.”

Your back pressed against the wall as you recognized the voice from the man standing at the bars of the cell.

“What. Y/n hasn’t texted you today?” JJ elbowed Reid lightly as the two of them were sitting next to each other in the bullpen.

Reid blinked and looked up at her. “How did you…”

“You’ve been reading the same page for fifteen minutes. Either you’re really trying to analyze…something, or you haven’t actually read the page and something was bugging you.”

Spencer scoffed but put the file down.

JJ gave his shoulder a little squeeze. She was about to say something when Garcia walked into the room, eyes wide, carrying a file. “New—we have to…”

That was all the two agents could pick out of her sentences before Garcia was in Hotch’s office.

“No rest for the wicked.” Emily called out to the two of them as all three made their way towards the meeting room.

Eventually the team had all gathered in the conference room and Garcia was setting up the screen.

“There’s been another body.”

The team sighed and nodded. This killer in DC has been evading them for a whole month now, that they knew of. It was becoming increasingly frustrating since the killer wasn’t rushing, wasn’t speeding up. They were still as meticulous as before. And right on schedule, a new body was discovered. Same markings as before, handcuffs on the wrists, and a quite gruesome death.

“Still no fingerprints?”

Garcia sighed and nodded. “Nothing.”

“I just don’t get how someone can be so meticulous, and stick to a schedule, and then….do something like that to a person.”

Spencer sighed and looked at the map Garcia had updated for him. “At least we have a slight geological profile. He’s picking houses all over DC, but then dumping the bodies in West End and Kalorama.”

Spencer pointed to the map. “He’s literally forming a route. Look. The bodies are placed almost like a trail. This newest body just connects the rest.”

“He’s gearing up to someone. And whoever it is probably lives and works….” Spencer looked over at Garcia.

Garcia’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh no. No no no no.”

“What?” Emily looked between the two before looking over at Derek.

“Spit it out baby girl, what’s going on.”

“Uh…Y/n’s firm is in the West End, and she lives like a ten minute walk away in Kalorama…” She whispered.

The whole team shifted their gaze to Spencer, who was frantically looking at all of the information over and over on the board, trying to find anything.

“Just because she hasn’t texted you doesn;’t mean that she is the next victim of our killer guys, I mean come on. What are the odds of that.” Derek tried to talk Spencer out of whatever he had just induced for himself.

Spencer shook his head and turned towards the team. “Who always has a strict schedule that they have to follow, even if it’s against their wishes. Court-mandated.”

Derek was stunned into silence at the fact that Reid didn’t even bother giving him a pity statistic.

Hotch spoke up. “She’s a lawyer right?”

Spencer nodded. The team was not following where they were going with this.

“Have any of her clients, or opposing councils given her grief recently? That you know of?”

Spencer was about to shake his head but then remembered what you had told him last night. “S-She has this, uh, client, that doesn’t like the schedule he was ordered to by the court. And hasn’t left her alone now...for weeks…blowing up her phone…she told me about him last night, complaining that he hasn’t stopped calling her work phone and somehow even got her personal number…”

“So you talked to her last night.” Derek crossed his arms.

“She texted me saying she made it home b-because she fell asleep at her office and walked home…at two in the morning...”

Hotch nodded and stood up. “We’re going to head down to the main station, and bring all new information with us. Clear?”

“I already sent it over to them electronically sir.” Garcia piped up.

Hotch nodded. Everyone exited the room, but Hotch and Reid stayed back. When the last person had left, Hotch closed the door and looked at Reid.

“I’m not going to tell you to sit this out. I know you, and I’d rather have you focused on the task at hand with us than trying to do your own investigating.You have emotional stakes in this Reid. And you know how that clouds judgment. Every single decision you make, you run by me. Clear?”

Reid set his jaw and exhaled, but agreed to Hotch’s request. There would be more room for arguing when you were found safe and sound.

Reid’s silence continued throughout the next twenty minutes and then in the car on the way to the station as well. Every single one of the agents could tell this case was going to be a lot more painful than initially believed.

And Spencer was freaking the fuck out. All he could do was sit and stare out the window as the building passed, a sinking feeling in his gut that wherever you were, it wasn’t pretty. He just didn’t understand how he failed to miss the literal trail of bodies the killer had been leaving for you. Literal warning signs in front of you. And he let you walk home alone last night.

It was his fault. He should have known better.

Spencer had just found you again—he couldn’t stand to lose you a second time.

_____________________________________________________________

Next Part

Also! Tags! It's so crazy to me that y'all actually want to be tagged in my work so I am seriously so grateful. <3

@sadroses98 @teddy-275 @teddy-275 @donttrustlove @donttrustlove

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alicechess · 3 months ago

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Yandere unknown x reader (part 2)

Note: Please ignore how long it took me to update, I have very valid excuses I promise. (I don't)

Second note: Will be editing this as there's some plot issues, will make another edit when it has been fixed :)

Third edit: I fixed and edited some things, if there's any issues please let me know! I hope you enjoy it.

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It was difficult for you, the next afternoon. The freezing air in the bedroom made it more uncomfortable, the thought of having to go back once again caused bile to rise in your throat. At this point the sensation was becoming less uncomfortable. You were sick of feeling anxious, whether it be because of that.... Thing or the weird happenings of this town.

The air felt like it was slowly freezing every cell in your body. It was difficult attempting to gain the motivation to get out of bed. But you knew you had to look after the wounds, otherwise they'd get infected.

You forced yourself out of bed, knowing you had to get money somehow. You got into the shower, cleaned the wounds on your body, the burning forced out a hiss. You didn't bother to cover it, to you it was good enough. None of them were deep enough for stitches, so they should be fine. You grabbed a switchblade from on top of your drawers, so you could prepare for tonight. Although you hoped you wouldn't need to use it.

You pulled the chairs away from the door, then went outside. You had to take public transport to get to your work. You didn't look forward to it, not at all, you felt nauseous, but knew you had to push it aside. You started walking to the bus stop, then pulled out your phone and decided to first dial the car dealer, and how to get new keys for your car. They'd need to get some paperwork from you and then it should be done in a few days. Then, after a few minutes, you called a locksmith to change the locks. The soonest they could do was tomorrow.

Once the bus arrived, you hopped on. You smiled at the bus driver, then used your card to pay for the ride. You sat down, there were only a few people on the bus. You put some music on, watching as the bus started to move. You continued looking out, thoughts raging through your mind. If something happened tonight, you’d leave. You knew you couldn't risk your life over money. You knew you had to change your outlook on things. Was it all worth it when there were other ways to deal with the situation?

After 10 minutes, the bus slowly stopped near the theatre. You stood up then hopping out, thanking the driver. You walked over to the front of the building, staring at the handle. Your hand shook slightly as you rested your hand on the handle, then slowly twisted it. The smell of popcorn immediately made you hungry.

Your co-worker greeted you, "You look like a train wreck, you good?"

You rolled your eyes, "Aren't you lovely?"

"I know," They chuckled, however genuine concern quickly replaced their previous demeanour. "Seriously though, you okay?"

You shrugged, "I think the night shifts are really fucking with me, I need to switch hours."

"Yeah, well long shifts that last late at night aren't exactly great. It makes sense that it's taking a toll on you. Maybe talk to our boss?"

"Maybe, I'll see how I feel after this shift."

---

You stood there for hours, giving people their snacks, drinks and tickets. It wasn’t too awful, your legs got sore, and the wounds burned, but thankfully none reopened. You were wearing a black top, so even if they did at least no one would notice

Once the place closed, and everyone left you emailed your bus, then did your work again. You went to the closet and picked out the mop bucket, then filled it with hot water. You remembered you had to vacuum too, so you pulled that out in plugged it into the wall. As you stepped into the movie room, you groaned. Unfortunately, people weren’t as respectful today, leaving popcorn on the floor and occasional spilt drinks. You shook your head, agitated. With all the disappearances, surely people would think that maybe the cleaner wouldn’t want to stay overtime? Actually, they probably just didn’t care. That seems more likely. Or their stupid brains didn’t make the connection. Whatever, if you didn’t die tonight at least you’d get decent pay.

This place was so eerie, the stereotypical creaking of the wood panels, the trees creating monstrous shadows. You chuckled, thinking of the multiple horror movies and stories that this reminded you of. A grim smile formed on your face, ‘maybe I could watch some of those cheesy movies when I have time.’ Although finding it amusing, you didn’t want to think about it too much. You placed your headphones on, then played some music. You sang some of the lyrics lowly, as not wanting any passers-by to think you were insane, although, who would be out this late anyway?

You knelt down with a cloth and scrubbed the floor since the mop wasn’t doing good enough. You had a feeling you’d have to scrub a large chunk of this big room. After 10 minutes, you took your gloves off, then leaned against one of the chairs, placing your hands on them, you wiped the sweat that built up on your forehead. You were afraid, but you had to do your job. Money was everything in society. To eat, to sleep safely, to have shelter.

You knew it was here. You tried to ignore the feeling, the knowing.

You gritted your teeth and went back down and continued scrubbing. Occasionally, you felt as though it was behind you. The cold, it felt so cold. The hair on your back and neck stuck up, but you continued. You’ve checked multiple times before, and yet nothing was there.

You weren’t overthinking, you were just being cautious. You were confident in that fact.

A stench filled the room, a sour mud-like smell. You glanced around, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. “What the fuck...?” You muttered, trying to think of how that came through. You took your headphones off, hearing rain pounding against the roof. “Maybe I left one of the windows open?”

You stood up, and walked out of the theatre room, grabbing the switchblade from your boot. You opened it, then went into entrance, and sore the window was open, but the screen was still there. I should’ve closed that earlier, why didn’t I check the weather. You thought, irritated at yourself.

You closed the window and locked it, then checked upstairs. Gripping the blade in your hand, you opened the door. Your eyes water from the stench. You coughed, trying not to heave at the putrid smell. You walked over towards the bathroom window, noticing the screen was cut open. "What..." You stuttered out, gripping the blade harder. You shook your head, then pushed open each stall. They were all empty.

You stood there, thinking for a moment on what to do. It's in here with me. You shuddered, goosebumps forming. You thought over everything you've done here, vacuumed, mopped most of the theatre, scrubbed most of the stains.... What else do I need to do? I need to mop in here, but surely it can wait till tomorrow, right?

A loud thud came from downstairs, causing you to jump, hitting the stall behind you. Your stomach lurched, that sick feeling pulling at your throat. Shit

You knew it heard you, you didn't know how well it can hear, but you knew it did, as you heard scuttering from bellow. Pat pat pat pat pat.

Your hands were sweaty, making it difficult to open the blade. Once you did, you sprinted out of the room, into the office. You knew your boss would be mad if he knew, but you didn't care. You attempted to open the door, of which would lead to stairs outside. But the door wouldn't budge. You attempted to be quiet while pulling at the door. Your heart thudded in your chest, pools of sweat forming on your face. "please please please please..." You whispered, becoming more antsy.

Pit pat pit pat pit pat

You heard its footsteps coming up the stairs, you ran behind the desk, ducking underneath. You curled up, hugging your knees. You wish you could've stopped your heart from beating so heavily, it felt so loud in the silent office. The only other thing which was heard were the droplets of rain hitting the window and roof. You could hear the blood pumping throughout your body. You covered your mouth, trying to breath quietly.

Pit pat pit pat

It's body crackled as it came closer, "You don't need to hide from me."

It sounded the same as the night before, the two voices combining as one. It was so distorted and.... just wrong.

I don't trust you, I don't even know what the fuck you are!

You gritted your teeth, the handle from the blade dug into your hand as you held it too tight, preparing for it to come closer.

The silence lasted a few moments, till you heard the pit pat once more

Once its step became quieter, you slowly crawled out from under the desk. You took a few steps out of the room, planning to bolt out.

You, however, noticed a purple gas forming in the building. The stench became so prominent, so invasive, you covered your mouth, attempting to stop yourself from vomiting. One, because you couldn't risk your boss thinking you didn't clean, the other, you didn't want to alert that thing. Although you covered your nose and mouth with the sleeve of your jacket, you still smelt the purple gas. You went to step down the stairs, but weakness overcame you. Oh shit, oh shit!

You needed to cough so bad, but you knew you couldn't. Your throat was so itchy, your eyes watered as the gas burned them. The air was thickening as the gas made things blurry. You forced yourself to stand up, then slowly made your way down. You held onto the wooden railing, making sure not to give in, although your legs felt as though it was becoming jelly once again.

You took a deep breathe then headed down, paying attention to that awful, bone crackling sound a few rooms away. You finally gave into the urge to sprint. You burst the front door open, running to your car. However, just as you were about to reach it, you felt something gripping your legs, pulling you down onto the ground. Your body making a loud thud, forcing all the air out of your lungs. You yelped, trying to yank your leg out of its grip. You looked over your shoulder, looking into it's monstrous face.

As it spoke, it almost sounded human. It's voice was masculine, but almost like it had a second, feminine one flowing with it. "Tsk tsk." It said, as its neck snapped back in an inhuman manner, "Attempting so hard to avoid me... For such a supposedly smart being, you acted quite impulsively and... recklessly."

You were too mortified to speak, your eyes frantically analysing its horrifying and monstrous figure. You could smell the fresh and dried blood off the figure.

"Amused, horrified. Your heart is beating rapidly in your chest... Your lungs are inflating and deflating at a fast rate. Frightening, aren't I?" It drawled on, it's neck crackling and twitching as it moved towards you. The two voices sounding oddly smooth compared to the night before.

Its face... You could feel it's empty eye-sockets staring through you. It could read every emotion, every feeling from you. You felt violated from it's stare, only because it knew you. It felt as though it knew more about you then... you. The feeling couldn't be truly put into words. All you knew, is that it was a being beyond your comprehension.

That it shouldn't exist.

It talked, once more, as it flipped you over, forcing you to look into it's face. It held down your arms before you could use your knife. You hissed from the pressure. It got closer to you, and then it spoke.

"No one will hurt you, no one but me." In that moment, you saw slimy, purple tentacles rising from behind it. The slime fell onto the ground next to you.

As a last resort, you threw your head back as much as you could, hitting the asphalt, then smashed your forehead against his. It stopped for a moment, hissing and it's tentacles retreated slightly for a moment. It's grip lightened slightly, just enough for you to be able to pull your arm out of his hand, then you raised the knife and stabbed it in the head.

"Don't fucking touch me again."

The creature cracked as it moved around. It didn't scream... Only groaned.

"Such an amusing thing you are..." It muttered. It then yanked out the knife. No blood came out from the wound.

Before anything else could happen, you heard a car drive slowly by. Seeing the commotion, it started to pull into the parking lot. "HELP! HELP ME PLEASE." You screamed out.

The creature looked between you and the car. "So... unfortunate."

It then stood up, taking one more glance at you, then ran into the trees. You shook rapidly, staring at it's horrifying form until it left your view. The police officer walked towards you, with their flashlight out pointing at your horrified form.

"Hey, hey, you okay?!" The woman asked, crouching towards you. "What happened? What did that man do to you!? Are you hurt?" She asked, looking over you for any visible wounds. You tried to muster something up in response, but all that came out was "That.... thing, isn't a man." You couldn't look her in the eye's while you spoke, your voice trembling. What else could you say?

The office stayed silent for a moment, trying to understand what you just said. "What do you mean by that? And you didn't answer if you were hurt."

You shook your head, hugging your knees, "It... it doesn't matter, I'm fine." You murmured, staring at the ground in front of you. You couldn't look her in the eyes. All you could think of was its soulless, empty eye sockets. The feeling of it knowing, reading you in ways that you didn't like.

"Look, I can't help you unless you talk to me. Please, what did he do to you?" She pleaded, wanting to reach out but stopping herself.

"I promise I'm okay. I mean, if you really want to help me get me a damn priest." You dryly chuckled, gaze sticking to the asphalt. Normally you wouldn't joke with an officer, but in that moment, you wanted to not break down, as a trip to the mental ward didn't sound pleasant

"Please take this seriously! What if he hurts someone else?" She begged, a look of confusion and worry written on her face.

"As if we can stop it, thank you for coming over, though. You saved me, genuinely." You said, finally looking her in the eyes, trying to give a small smile. You stood up then lent against your car from last night. "I really wanna go home, I just want to sleep."

"I think I should call an ambulance, you could be hurt. Did he hit your head at all?"

"No! No, don't worry about it. I'm fine, I think I'm just sleep deprived that's all." You shook your head, trying to politely wave her off.

The woman looked at you suspiciously, then sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Alright, fine. Look can I give you the number to the police station? In case you want to report it. Please?"

You thought for a few moments, then gave in. "Yeah.... sure."

She pulled out her notepad and pen, then wrote it down. "Here, I wrote my name down as well in case you want to talk to me there. Please, think about it."

"Okay, I will." She then passed you the piece of paper. You folded it and put it in your pocket. "I'm gonna go now, thank you."

The woman nodded, "Do you want me to follow you home? If it'd make you feel safer."

The thought didn't seem utterly awful, so you gave in. "Um, actually... I lost my keys last night. Could... you take me home?." you glanced at the floor with mild embarrassment.

She nodded, "Not a problem." She then walked towards the car, you followed behind.

She genuinely seemed to be worried, and it was... nice. The car smelt clean, no rubbish at all. There was a scented thing hanging on the mirror in the car. It reminded you of cotton candy. After a few minutes of going down some streets, you reached your house. You pulled into the driveway and hopped out. The woman rolled down her window, "Have a good night! Be careful and take care."

"Thank you so much, and you too." You said back, waving. Then unlocked your door and went inside. You put the chairs in front of the door, and made sure to lock it. You walked down the hallway and into your room, then went onto the bed.

You stared blankly in front of you, at the wall, the situation replaying over in your head. The feeling of it on top of you, being seconds away from a brutal death. You felt bile fill up in your throat, you quickly got out of bed, almost tripping from the sheets. You ran out of the room, down the hallway and pulled open the toilet door. You didn't bother closing it as you fell onto your knees and knelt over the toilet. Food from earlier tore at your throat and left your body. The acid burning, causing tears to prick at your eyes. But your body kept going, even when it was just stomach acid, then until your stomach felt almost empty. Vomit was on your chin, so you wiped it off with some toilet paper. You sat there on the cold tiles for a few minutes, trying to gain the motivation to get up and clean yourself. But you were frozen, stuck staring into the hallway, unable to move.

You knew it was nearby. You felt like it always was. You don't know what you did to deserve this. It didn't make sense.

After a few more minutes, you eventually snapped out of your thoughts. You begrudgingly stood up, using the wall to support you. You flushed the toilet, then slowly walked to the bathroom. You felt light headed and dizzy, but you didn't feel like going to bed with vomit on you. You turned the tap on, got undressed and went inside. You watched as the dirt washed off your body and down the drain. You felt calmer, enjoying the warmth. Then went to bed, savouring the few hours you have left till you have to get up.

--------

After she dropped you off, she went back to the station, something just didn't feel right. The way you talked about the man not being human, it stuck with her. She of course heard of the sightings of a 'creature', but she struggled to believe it. How could a thing like that exist? It defied all logic, to her. She wanted to recheck the footage of her dashcam. She had to know, were you simply mentally ill, telling the truth, or sleep deprived like you said? The only way she could know was to check the footage.

She downloaded the footage, then opened the file. She skipped through it, then found the incident. She zoomed in as she drove into the parking lot. She saw it. She understood now. What you meant.

What the fuck was that?!

She saw as purple things came out of the... creatures back. And when she got closer in the parking lot, she saw as it turned towards her, then stood up and run. She saw the horrified look on your face.

What was she meant to do with this footage? Would anyone believe her? She bit her nails, even though they were done only a couple days ago, she couldn't resist the urge. A coworker of hers noticed the look on her face and what she was doing. "Didn't you quit that habit a while ago? What's got you so stressed?" He asked, pulling his chair towards her, then sat down.

"Can you watch this?" She asked, not waiting for an answer. She went back on the footage, then pressed play. He scooted closer, turning the monitor slightly so he could see more. She stared at him, trying to see what he thought.

She paused and zoomed in on the footage. The man looked afraid, "What is that?!" He muttered under his breathe. She then continued the video, still zoomed in. He watched as the creature ran into the forest, leaving the woman - you, on the ground, mortified.

Although knowing the officer wasn't a prank type, he had to ask. "You're messing with me, right? Is the edited?-" She interrupted him, "No, it isn't, It's raw unedited footage. I downloaded it a few minutes ago. So you saw what I saw?"

"I did... yes." He answered, "What is it?"

"I don't know, but the woman right there said she saw a monster." She then took off the camera on her vest, then connected it to the PC. "I'm going to show you another recording, of what she said to me."

The man nodded, resting his chin on his hand, watching as it downloaded. "Are you sure it isn't a glitch or something?"

The woman shook her head, "Again, once you hear what she says, you might take it more seriously. Hold on." She then opened the file and skimmed through it. "Alright, watch." She turned the volume up.

"What the..." The woman said, driving into the parking lot.

She hurriedly got out of the car, the footage shaking as she did so.

"Hey, hey! You okay?!" She asked, running over to the woman on the ground. She crouched in front of her, then asked "What happened? What did that man do to you!? Are you hurt?"

"That.... thing, isn't a man." The woman said, staring at the ground in front of her. They stood there in silence for a few moments.

"What do you mean by that? And you didn't answer if you were hurt." The officer asked, the footage still being a bit shakey.

The woman hugged her knees, "It... it doesn't matter, I'm fine."

"Look, I can't help you unless you talk to me. Please, what did he do to you?"

The woman then responded, "I promise I'm okay. I mean, if you really want to help me get me a damn priest."

"Please take this seriously! What if he hurts someone else?" The officer begged.

The man continued to watch the footage, stopping as soon as the officer went back into her car.

"Get it now?" She asked, crossing her arms over.

The main stayed silent for a couple seconds, then spoke "I... don't know. This is some weird shit."

The officer rolled her eyes, "You're stating the obvious."

"Well aware, smartass." He sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. "Well, can you talk to the woman again? Maybe if you say you saw the same thing, she'll say more."

"I might do that tomorrow morning, she seemed extremely worn out and I don't want to bother her."

"I mean, if you're okay with waiting that long go ahead."

The officer glared, "Fine you go talk to her instead."

"Okay okay, that's not what I meant. I mean it seems serious, could this be connected to the other missing people? Like maybe she could go missing in the middle of the night!"

"I'm sure she'll be fine over night, and I'm going to have to put all the videos onto the laptop. I also need sleep, you know? And I don't want to bother her too much, I want her to hopefully have a few hours of sleep before I explain this whole thing to her."

"Okay, well can you let me know how it goes after?"

"Yeah I will, can you keep this between us for now? I don't know how the others will react if they see this. I also don't want them to probably think I'm crazy."

"Fair enough, alright I'm gonna head off." He said. standing up, "You rest up too, yeah?"

The officer nodded, "I will, probably only 6 hours but it's something."

"Isn't that what you get most days?"

"Shut up." She said jokingly hitting his arm, "Alright, catch you tomorrow." She said, also packing her stuff.

--------

#yandere x reader #yandere #dbd x reader #unknown x reader #unknown dbd #unknown #dead by daylight x reader #yandere dbd

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yuneu · 1 year ago

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i always have a fucking double of my keys in case i lock myself out but guess what! i just HAD to leave my other keys in the lock on the other side so a double is useless now!

im stupid as fuck man

#no locksmith appointment is available so i have to take a train home 🫠

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kakairu-bigbang-2024 · 6 months ago

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🗝️TEAM LOCKSMITH NO JUTSU 🗝️

Artist: @lildraws, Writer: @tucuxi

Title: Meet Me At The Intersection Word count: 25,688 Rating: Teen Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags: Disability, Physical Disability, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pre-CanonChronic Pain, chronic disability after traumatic injury, Stubborn Umino Iruka, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, civilian shinobi relations, Shinobi Politics (Naruto), Shinobi Culture (Naruto), Anbu Root (Naruto), Anbu Hatake Kakashi, Trauma, medical bias, systemic bias, Denial of care, Ableism, Medical Gatekeeping, Canon-Typical Violence, Medical Jutsu, Original Jutsu (Naruto), Mobility Aids, Past Child Neglect, Minor Character Death, Canonical Character Death

Summary: Umino Iruka regarded the man standing before his shop counter with what was probably poorly-veiled irritation. "Yes, thank you," he said. "I know how a triple-layered chakra lock works." Long years of experience kept Iruka's tone even: losing his temper meant losing customers, even if there weren't very many people in Konoha who did what he did. * * * The canon-divergent au in which Iruka graduates the academy, does 3 D-rank missions, and then retires, because his leg was badly crushed in the kyuubi attack—so he re-trains as a locksmith and makes chakra-manipulated locks. A story about systemic structural power imbalances between shinobi and civilians and the various ways in which expectations of physical strength and implicit ableism are detrimental to community trust. In which Iruka finds himself stuck between worlds, all because Sharingan Kakashi demanded the impossible, and Iruka made him a quadruple-layered chakra lock.

🗝️Read this Kakairu Big Bang Collaboration on Ao3! 🗝️

#kakairu #kakairu big bang 2024 #naruto #hatake kakashi #iruka umino #naruto events #lildraws #tucuxi #kakairu events

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emmg · 4 months ago

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Aftertaste

Chapter 2: Rats in the Walls

She is a rat—an enchanting little beggar, draped in the rags of some tragic poetry only she can hear. And he, a fool of the highest order, fingers the cold edge of his credit card, wondering if the universe might accept a transaction in exchange for the ghost of her cheek against his skin.

Read below or on Ao3. Hehe.

Is it more appropriate to return a young woman’s car keys the following day, or to personally deliver her vehicle to her residence? Which option is least likely to suggest predatory intent, particularly when one is several decades her senior?

He hits enter, the steam from his coffee curling around his face like an ironic halo, and watches Google sputter out results about designated drivers and locksmiths. It strikes him, not for the first time, that the internet is woefully unprepared for nuanced questions of morality, especially when phrased by an idiot as gloriously long-winded as himself.

Google might as well have responded with a condescending sigh and a flashing banner that read: "Oh, sure, let’s solve your existential crises for you, Professor. Maybe try ‘Don’t be creepy’ and call it a day?" Or perhaps it would simply send him a link to a DIY guide on digging one’s own grave, captioned: "You’ll need this soon enough."

Finally, he resigns himself to the only logical option: going straight to the source. Rook.

Good morning, Rook. This is Emmrich. Where would you like me to deliver your car keys? Take care.

The message is sent, painfully polite, carefully worded. And then the waiting begins. Two hours of excruciating silence during which he oscillates between pacing the room and contemplating whether clawing at the wallpaper would be an effective use of his time. Surely, this is the moment she decides it’s all been a colossal mistake. She’ll call Bellara in disgust, declare this the most catastrophic setup of her life, and promptly vomit out a window at the mere memory of his existence.

Perhaps she’ll even hire a falconer to dispatch a well-trained hawk to retrieve the keys from his pocket—anything to avoid providing him with so much as a postal code.

But lo and behold, the miracle occurs: Rook responds.

y r u up so early?? drive it. thx xxxxxx

He stares at the trailing row of kisses, dissecting them as though they were a cryptic manuscript. Does she mean it? Could this possibly be intentional? Or is this just the accidental poetry of a girl who sat on her phone, and this is the unfortunate result of her backside pressing random keys? A mystery indeed.

****

He prides himself on his attention to detail. Or, more precisely, his attention to people—their little inconsistencies, their telltale cracks. Judging from her reply, he must have woken her up, so he detours to a café so quaint it practically curtsies when you enter. He orders a latte to go, then, seized by a bout of overthinking, adds a mocha and an Americano. Lactonic, bitter, or sweet—let her decode his intentions from that trifecta.

Into a dainty box go a pain au chocolat and a cinnamon-apple babka, the kind of gesture that tiptoes the line between charming thoughtfulness and embarrassing overcompensation.

When he arrives at her car, it is, of course, exactly as described: ugly, silver, scratched, a two-seater that looks like it’s been cursed by a vengeful valet. A library bag slumps on the passenger seat, an insult to the word “placed.” He hesitates, torn between decorum and the kind of nosy curiosity that makes the elderly peer through lace curtains. Then, naturally, he peeks. Just a little. There they are—books. Actual books. Proof that she possesses not just a mouth but a mind, however buried.

And then he notices the fuel gauge. It’s not just on empty—it’s somewhere below it, in the realm of last gasps and whispered prayers. The fact that the engine starts at all feels like an act of divine intervention.

He exhales, a martyr to his own compulsions, and pulls into a gas station. As he fills the tank to the brim, he pictures the car sighing too, smug and sanctimonious, its imaginary lashes batting in shameless gratitude. Oh, thank you, kind sir, it coos, she never feeds me, you know. Neglectful creature, isn’t she? Meanwhile, he calculates whether this—along with the coffee and pastries—might earn him so much as a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. Or perhaps, knowing Rook, an insincere "thx" text with a typo thrown in for good measure.

****

He’s seen buildings like this before. He’s lived in them; during his undergrad days and, embarrassingly, well into graduate school. The kind of place where the rent is cheap enough to attract students but still overpriced for what you get: walls so thin they might as well be spun from dreams or discarded cereal boxes, and windows that rattle ominously in the gentlest breeze.

It stirs a certain grim nostalgia in him, though he’s not entirely sure why. Perhaps it’s the knowledge that if he wandered two blocks south after dark, he’d almost certainly be mugged or shanked. But even that, somehow, feels quaint, a sentimental nod to his younger, poorer, stupider self.

He briefly wonders about Gustave, the unofficial fourth roommate from a similar apartment in his past. Gustave never made it onto the lease—being a rat who lived, quite literally, in the wall. His wall, precisely. Hopefully, Gustave moved on to bigger and better things. Perhaps a restaurant dumpster, or the seedy underbelly of pest control fame.

"Oh gods," says Rook when she finally opens the door to him.

Her apartment is a sauna, the air thick and cloying, and there’s a line of sweat tracing her throat—a small, shimmering trail he, embarrassingly, cannot stop staring at. She’s wearing shorts so short they're practically theoretical, her sharp hipbone protruding like a cruel little accent mark.

He stares, horrified at himself, and immediately envisions shoving the pain au chocolat and babka into her mouth, muffling whatever inevitable complaint she’d utter, and dragging her out to find the greasiest, most cholesterol-laden burger in the city. Anything, really, to erase the absurd eroticism of this sweltering, sticky scene and put some meat on those bones.

"Good morning," he says, because the clock hasn’t quite betrayed him yet, and hands her the drink carrier and the absurdly elegant box of pastries—an offering so pristine it looks like it belongs in a museum, not in her battered doorway.

"Are these for me?"

No, Rook, they’re for Gustave. The pesky freeloader is your new tenant, congratulations. I thought I’d drop by to reminisce about our shared history. "Of course," he replies instead, his smile a polished shield of civility. "A small apology for disturbing you earlier. Your car is parked directly across the street; you should have no difficulty locating it." And, of course, the full tank of gas, a silent ode to his own sense of decency. "Allow me to retrieve your keys, and I shall leave you to enjoy the rest of your morning."

"You’re not coming in?" she asks, setting the coffees on the floor. She rifles through the pastry box, her finger stabbing into the babka, collapsing its tender surface in a sugary implosion. Sweet bread weeps, and she glances up at him, licking cinnamon from her fingertip.

"Come on," she says, not bothering to wait for a response.

She takes the pastries, leaving him crouched like a penitent to gather the drink carrier and push the door closed. Heaven forbid someone should slip in while it’s ajar to steal… what, precisely? The peeling wallpaper? The tragic humidity? The distinct aroma of youthful neglect? There’s nothing here worth the trouble of theft, save perhaps the raw comedy of its existence.

"Did you sleep well?" Rook asks, lounging on an offensively green settee that seems to defy all principles of taste. She pats the cushion beside her like someone coaxing a dog onto furniture it has no business occupying. He raises an eyebrow, but the patting only grows more emphatic until, with the reluctant precision of a wooden soldier, he lowers himself beside her. His posture is unnervingly straight, as if the settee might collapse beneath anything less rigid.

"I did," he answers.

"Hm. Good," she says, already distracted, looking through the lineup of drinks he foolishly overthought. He feels his cheeks heat, a blush of shame at his own ridiculousness. How he—a man of supposed intellect—managed to embarrass himself with coffee is beyond comprehension.

"You know," she continues, "I even got out the good instant coffee for you. Being a decent host and all that. But here you are, outdoing me, bringing breakfast."

"The good instant coffee?" he echoes.

"Mm-hm," she murmurs, not even glancing up. "The one without the clumps."

For a moment, there is silence, broken only by the faint shuffle of her taking the mocha and handing him the latte. He glances around her apartment, and there, in the peeling paint and mismatched furniture, he sees a ghost of himself. A younger man, not yet grey, not yet creaking, back when staying up all night wasn’t just possible but a point of pride. When energy came in the form of a sharp, powdery line, questionable in origin, certain in effect, snorted off some equally questionable surface before stumbling into the university labs at sunrise.

The sink catches his eye—cheap, dented, and familiar, as if resurrected from his second year of graduate school. He’s almost sure it’s the same model Johanna used to brew her kaleidoscopic, mind-altering concoctions. She’d turned their shared apartment into a mad chemist’s lair, dosing their friends with drinks that looked like party favors and hit like freight trains. He doubts Rook’s sink has witnessed quite the same level of chaos, but, then again, he wouldn’t bet on it.

He wonders, idly, why he never married Johanna—or, more to the point, why Johanna never married him. And then, as if summoned by the memory, her voice returns, sharp and amused, calling him a "sentimental twat." Ah, yes. That. That might have had something to do with it.

"How does a professor get rich?"

He considers dragging a hand down his face, perhaps peeling it off entirely in the process, leaving behind nothing but gleaming bone and raw sinew—far easier than answering.

He exhales slowly, as though summoning air from the depths of his being. "I beg your pardon?"

"How did you get rich?" she repeats, her voice maddeningly even, infuriatingly direct. "I know what faculty earn. Well, Leliana knows, and she tells me. Nobody in academia is rich. So, how?"

He sighs again, deeper and longer. "Happy circumstances," he says at last. "Commercializing research. Licensing patents to biotech and pharmaceutical companies. Dry, tedious work, I assure you. A footnote in the annals of capitalism."

"I’d rather be bored and rich than intellectually stimulated and eating ramen every night."

To his great horror, he barks out a laugh—loud, inelegant, entirely unplanned—because, damn it, she’s right. Whatever self-congratulatory narrative he might spin about his own brilliance, wealth is far more tolerable than the romance of poverty.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her set the now-empty pastry box aside and slide to her knees with the casual grace of someone entirely unaware—or perfectly aware—of the effect such movements can have. She sits before him, her hand resting lightly on his thigh, and he feels his spine stiffen in response—defensive, awkward, as if he were preparing to be knighted or executed.

"You’re such a pretty, pretty man, Emmrich," she says, her tone a languid sigh. "Bellara was right. You do smell good. And look at you—here you are, sitting with me, when I’m sure there are far more important things demanding your attention."

"There are not," he blurts, far too quickly, the words escaping before his dignity can intervene. The moment they’re spoken, he wishes for an immediate and painless death. Here he is indeed, reduced to this—a puddle of nerves and idiocy, heart thudding far too loudly, all because a young, pretty girl has deigned to offer him a handful of meaningless compliments.

He can practically hear the tragic violin score accompanying his descent into lunacy.

He should reward her graciousness. Maybe with a marriage proposal and a very shiny ring. A joint credit card, embossed with her name in gold. Champagne served every morning, the flute garnished with a delicate rim of his own pitiful tears—tears of rapture, of gratitude, of sheer disbelief at being noticed, indulged, condescended to by someone so exquisite, so radiant, so preposterously, infuriatingly young.

"Do you want to see me again?" she asks, her hand on his thigh beginning a slow ascent.

"Yes," he replies far too eagerly, watching helplessly as her uneven nails snag a thread from his trousers and tease it free.

"I want to see you again too," she says cheerfully. There’s no vanilla clinging to her today, yet he smells it anyway, a phantom scent mocking his self-control. "What happened to the oysters?"

"The oysters?" he repeats, blinking, as her hand reaches his belt, casually dismantling him one buckle at a time.

"Yes, the oysters. I didn’t eat them. You didn’t eat them. What happened to them? Were they just… thrown away?"

"Oh," he says, fumbling for coherence. "No, I—I do not eat meat. I assume they were discarded."

Or, quite possibly, consumed by Xavier, who he distinctly recalls once eating salmon off the kitchen floor with an abandon that would render the oysters’ fate positively dignified by comparison.

She tugs his belt loose and it’s only when her hand slips inside that he, embarrassingly late, understands exactly what she’s about to do. His body reacts with humiliating predictability—his cock twitches eagerly, his hips offering a mindless little jerk, as if they’ve made the decision for him.

"Oh, Rook, Rook, no, no, no," he stammers, his voice rising and falling like a badly tuned instrument. "You don’t—oh, oh—Rook, no, you do not—" The protests disintegrate entirely as her hand wraps around him.

"You don’t like this?" she asks, and for the first time, her voice carries a note of something almost shy, almost hesitant.

"Like is not the word," he whispers, a pathetic mixture of panic and pleasure. "I simply—oh, you do not have to—"

"Yes," she agrees, withdrawing her hand and licking her palm in a motion so drawn-out it could belong to a cat grooming itself, smug and self-satisfied. He half expects her to stretch luxuriously and yawn. Then, with that same calm, she wraps her hand around him again, resuming her rhythm. "I don’t need to do anything. So glad we’re on the same page."

He lets his head loll back against the settee, his chest heaving as she strokes. Just as he dares to believe his heart might settle, her mouth closes over the head of his cock. She lingers, her tongue swirling just enough to drive him mad, before releasing with a slick, depraved little pop. The added saliva gleams as she smears it down his shaft, her little hand so very diligent in its efforts. His hips buck forward, thrusting into the tight heat of her fist like he’s already forgotten what dignity feels like.

"I was very good at these," she remarks. "We called it hand of glory in camp. As a joke." Her own hand doesn’t falter, her rhythm infuriatingly consistent. "Not so much with the other part, though. I think I tried it once. Well, one and a half times. It sucked. No pun intended."

She hums thoughtfully, her mouth hovering close, warm and parted, without making contact.

"I could try it with you, though," she says, her tone breezy, as if she’s offering him dessert. "If you'd like. You’re an educator, after all. Could... educate me through it."

And just like that, his approaching orgasm tips its hat, mutters a polite farewell, and strolls out the door, leaving him stranded in awkward lucidity. He catches her hand, presses it briefly to his lips, then releases her and begins restoring himself to decency with the haste of a man escaping a crime scene. When she moves to stop him, he almost bats her hand away, the rising tide of mortification making him clumsier than usual.

"Well, fuck," Rook mutters in sardonic disbelief. "That’s one hell of a way to say no to getting your dick sucked. I’m not that bad, and I don’t exactly have anything else to offer you."

"You do not have to offer me anything," he whispers, appalled.

He’s a sentimentalist. A romantic. The sort of man who still believes in flowers and candlelit dinners. Let him be old-fashioned. Let him take her out, hold her hand, meet her parents, and have her wave awkwardly over the graves of his long-gone ancestors—long before his cock ever finds its way into her mouth again.

This is who he is. A "sentimental twat." He holds doors open, writes to ensure someone got home safely, and even if he does wander down the dark alley of a casual fuck, he always provides coffee and a thoughtfully curated set of toiletries the next morning.

"Let me take you out again," he pleads.

Rook rests her chin on his knee, her face tilted upward, her long hair brushing the floor. "I don’t have anything nice to wear."

"Then we will find you something," he says, already constructing the image in his mind. Blue—of course, blue. The color would suit her eyes, her not-quite-blonde-not-quite-brown hair, the color of noble blood, though the nobility it evokes is long since impoverished, reduced to faded titles and empty accounts. Just like her. Perhaps he could wear purple beside her—a royal contrast to her threadbare charm, the two of them a mismatched tableau of aspiration and ruin.

"I just said it to see what you’d say."

"And I meant every word of my reply."

"Oh. So if I see a pair of shoes to match whatever dress you’re buying me—you’ll get those too?"

"Naturally. A proper ensemble demands completeness."

She buries her face against his thigh, giggling into it. "You know what would really suit me, Emmrich? What would make me look, like, so good?" She pauses, forcing him to lean closer, her breath brushing his lips like the prelude to a secret. "My tuition being paid."

And with that she snorts, leaving him to wonder if she’s laughing at the joke or at the certainty that he just might say yes.

#this stupid AU is so fun #modern sugar daddy emmrook au lol #my stupid writing #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #emmrook #dragon age the veilguard #datv #da4 emmrich #emmrich smut

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sacramentolocksmith1 · 4 months ago

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Sacramento Locksmith

https://locksmithofsacramento.com With our state-of-the-art equipment and with our friendly and professional trained drivers, we assure you fast and reliable service for you Automotive Locksmith needs. Within 20-30 minutes of hanging up the phone after you call us, we will dispatch the closest Locksmith to you so you don't have to wait for you car to be unlocked, lock repair, key repair or lost key replacement call Sacramento Locksmith on (916) 306-8084. ---------- Discount: 15% off services Sacramento Locksmith ----------- payment : Visa American express Mastercard Cash Discover ----------- Working Hours : All Days : From 8 AM : 11 PM ------------- ADDRESS:-1399 R St, Sacramento, CA 95811

#Sacramento Locksmith #Residential Locksmith

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years ago

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I need to see Selene having a sweet morning w her neighbor(wife) so bad. She's so cute?? I just wanna see her be happy and making breakfast for/with them while the vibes are good and sleepy. Let this woman get to sleep in and cuddle her lovely neighbor after brutally murdering her husband just the other night

Selene always wanted of a spring wedding.

Beyond being a child of the season, in her eyes it was to be the most romantic - symbolic of the growth between young lovers to lifelong partners. Furthermore, both mother and grandmother had spring weddings - passing their knowledge and the gift of their wedding gown onto the next generation. Its soft emerald hue matched her eyes and the season 0beautifully. She dreamed of walking down the aisle surrounded by love, the cool spring air, and blooming roses.

So why was she here now - cold and without an ounce of love to her name. The artifical bouquet in her hands scratched at the delicate parts of her skin and hair, autumn winds biting her exposed neck and arms. Spring was too much of an inconvenience for her soon to be husband. He hated the outdoors and insects that roamed freely, and so their wedding was set for October in the confines of an old church.

Selene told herself she could be happy. This was meant to be the happiest day of her life and the start of her days as a doting, loving wife, but as she entered the chapel she'd find someone else taking her place. A beautiful soul with a smile that encapsulated everything she loved about spring. Warm and inviting - impossible to forget or ever let go. Dressed in her best, she could never dream be to as angelic as the creature standing up there with her lover. She falls to her knees, begging to be taken instead. To be loved by that angel. To be chains to that demon so he can never hurt them like he's broken her.

"Selene......"

She screams. Take me instead. Take me....

"Ms. Selene!"

Her eyes flutter open. No longer is she crying on the church floor. A gentle hand rubbing her back draws her from slumber, and the remaining tears from her eyes. The stiffness in her spine reminds her of the most uncomfortably comfort night she's had on someone else's couch.

"Ms. Selene, are you okay? You were crying in your sleep when I came to check on you."

Color darkens her pale face as she sits up, deepened by the hand that aids her. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I.... I'm normally not one to dream, and I believe that was the first nightmare I've had in... years.. "

"It's alright, Ms. Selene. You've had a rough night."

Recollection of the night prior barrel through her like a speeding train as she looks up at the face of her savior. She bawled her eyes out at your doorstep, pleading to stay just one night and be gone before down. Her husband had allegedly changed the locks before leaving town and it was too late for her to call anyone else. You offered your home and bed to her as any would do, but she settled for the couch not wanting to be more of a burden than she was.

You give her hand an affirming squeeze - unknowingly kickstarting the beat of her heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, and you can stay here as long as you need. We'll call a locksmith later so you can get some of your belongings."

It's hard to believe someone that was a stranger only a few short months ago had shown her more kindness than her husband had in all of their years together. Your arm returns to her shoulder as more tears leak from her tired eyes, pulling her into embrace that wash decades of self loathing off her mind. All that lingers in its wake is how she'd kill to spend every morning in your arms - just like this. Even she had to relieve the pain of her past everyday, it would all be worth it to have you.

"Thank you, Y/n. I know we don't know each other well, but words can not describe how luck I am to have you. Without you I don't know where I'd be right now.."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I know you'd do the same for me. Are you hungry?"

She places a hand to her stomach, unsure when the last time she'd eaten. "Seems. Maybe i should make something for us. You've done enough for me already."

"Nah, don't think like that, we can do it together. I have some pancake mix and some fruit in the fridg if that sounds good."

Selene smiles. "That sounds wonderful, dear."

"Cool." Sporting a smile of your own, you lead Selene into the kitchen. You grab a cutting board and knife, placing both on the table as you digging around for the produce in your fridge. Cutting the fruit, Selene has never known more bliss from slicing anything than her husband's throat.

This truly was her new happiest day.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere imagines #female yandere #yandere drabble #yandere fluff #Selene my oc

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disneytva · 11 months ago

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Disney Branded Television Sets PRIMOS Premiere For July 25th As Part Of Disney Channel Epic Mid-Summer

Oigan Primos! from the talented people who brought you Big City Greens comes a new meaning for BEST SUMMER EVER. ☀️🌈🖍️📔

Disney Branded Television has set the series premiere for Primos with a two-episode premiere July 25 at 8:00 p.m. Pacific on Disney Channel (with two new episodes airing every Saturday starting July 27). An initial batch of episodes will be available to stream on Disney+ starting July 26.

“Primos” follows Tater Ramirez Humphrey, an imaginative free spirit bursting with creative energy who is ready to spend the summer of her 10th birthday sorting out her goals and dreams. But her plans are derailed when she learns that her mother has invited all 12 of her primos — cousins — to spend the summer at their home and share her room.

Joining the talented Primos guest cast includes

Gabriel Iglesias (Jorge R. Gutierrez "I-Chihuahua") as Tio Gustavo, Sarah Sherman (Anaapurna Animation's "Nimona) as Carmela, Cheech Marin (Pixar Animation Studios "Coco") as Abuelo Pop, Sherry Cola (Pixar Animation Studios "Turning Red") as Ms. Mahoney, Bill as Kyle MacLachlan, Jaime Jarrín (Los Angeles Dodgers) as Día de la Cultura Announcer and Xolo Maridueña (DC Studios "Blue Beetle" Marvel "Moon Girl And Devil Dinosaur").

Primos songs are GRAMMY nominated composers Alana Da Fonseca and Bobby Studley (Tim Burton's "Wednesday", Disney Channel Original Movies "Teen Beach Movie" franchise). Jim Lang (Nickelodeon Animation Studios "Hey Arnold" franchise) serves as score composer, Hey Arnold! creator Craig Barlett does additional guest clay animation.

Karla Sakas Shropshire (Nickelodeon Animation Studios "The Loud House", Disney Television Animation "Katz Café") serves as story editor.

Inspired by growing up in Fontana and Riverside with the chicano culture Primos has gotten praise by fellow industry members such as Jorge R. Gutierrez (Nickelodeon "El Tigre: The Adventures of Manny Rivera", 20th Century Animation "The Book of Life", Netflix Animation "Maya And The Three"), Phil Lord (MTV Animation "Clone High", Sony Pictures Animation "Cloudy For A Change Of Meatballs" franchise,"Spiderman In To The Spiderverse" franchise), Sofiá Alexander (Crunchyroll Originals "Onyx Equinox", Disney "Phineas And Ferb"), Guillermo Del Toro (Dreamworks Animation "Rise of The Guardians", "How To Train Your Dragon 2" "Tales of Arcadia" ,20th Century Animation "The Book Of Life", Netflix Animation "Guillermo del Toro's Pinnochio"), Miguel Puga (Nickelodeon Animation Studios "The Casagrandes", DC Studios & Warner Bros Animation "Blue Beetle The Series" ), Megan Nicole Dong (Netflix Animation "Centaurworld", Locksmith Animation "Bad Fairies" ) and more.

PRIMOS will be used by Disney TVA Multiplatform with their short series "CHIBI TINY TALES", "THEME SONG TAKEOVER", "BROKEN KARAOKE" & "HOW NOT TO DRAW" , Tater and The Ramirez Family will set to appear on CHIBIVERSE Season 2.

Additionaly a Primos soundtrack by Walt Disney Records is set to debut July 26th on digital music platforms

PRIMOS joins Moon Girl And Devil Dinosaur,Kiff, Big City Greens,Amphibia,The Ghost and Molly McGee, Hamster & Gretel and Hailey's On It! on getting official albums.

#Primos #Disney Primos #Natasha Kline #Disney Channel

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trashpandawithangerissues · 8 months ago

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BULLY HEADCANONS

FOR CONTEXT I HAVE LIKE A LITTLE AU WHERE ITS THE NEXT YEAR AT BULLWORTH AFTER THE EVENTS OF THE GAME SO SOMETHINGS ARE DIFFERENT:

Derby, Ted and Johnny are all 18 (we at least know they’d be 17 in the main story)

And Edgar is 19, same age as the Prefects (who are around 18 in the main story)

Also all the Townies that we’re still old enough to attend school got reenrolled thanks to Jimmy boy (he gets Zoe back into school in the game so he could probably get the others)

Derby Harrington

- Not SUPER inbred (like Tad nearly is), but he still does have some issues. His immune system is AWFUL like the flu season is like the purge for him and if - god forbid - he gets sick he looks like he’s about to right his will. Like this is him:

- He’s the one who introduced Bif and the Preps to Boxing and also Botany (in a deleted dialogue when you kill the crapula maximus Chad says: “Derby’s going to KILL you!”) He and Parker are the most invested in Botany and Derby has a couple nice orchids on his balcony. He also trains Bif and also the others and I like to think that before Bif took the boxing spotlight, Derby was the champion, but his parents thought he’d be better suited for modelling

- Doesn’t particularly like modelling all that much, it bores him more than his father’s lectures do

- Sometimes disobeys his parents out of spite, but nothing overly serious, because he doesn’t really feel like getting beaten everyday

- He and Pinky put up the dating/betrothed act for their parents, they really kinda just hang out on their dates as besties/cousins rather than actual partners

- He has a drinking problem, like BAD (in the prep hide outs there’s almost always a bar in game) He’s also the complete opposite when he’s drunk, sometimes he’s sad af, sometimes he’s angry, sometimes he’s telling you your his best friend and he loves you and sometimes he’s white girl levels of crazy. He can do shots like it’s NOTHING or scull a whole bottle of expensive booze (shocks people when they first see this happening, damn near gave Johnny a heart attack)

- His way of saying “hey I don’t hate you and you’re my friend heheheh” is buying. So. Much. Stuff. Like oh you don’t have money for lunch? Here’s 3 cheeseburgers, oh you need money for your car to get towed? Take my money.

- Overdresses, to everything, like it could be fancy dress and he still looks way to fabulous.

- Has a guilty love of old corny movies and horror movies like slasher movies, he and Johnny watch them together either at one of their houses or at the movies/drive in movies

- Fairly decent at academics, especially math from him having to help his father with accounts

Johnny Vincent

- Of course, has a smoking addiction who would have guessed. Also he definitely could use an inhaler he STRUGGLES sometimes

- He’s AGGRESSIVELY Italian/American, like he’s the fucking poster boy for them. Angry Italian, the Italian hand and everything. He talks with his hands quite a bit. Like he’s yelling at you in loud Italian while doing this

- He has a sweet tooth especially for home made desserts, just home made food in general he’ll devour it if you look away for one second

- you think he’d be good at flirting but no, he’s a nervous wreck actually. Like if the person he asked out said yes he’d be the type of guy who’d pump his fist as he walked away.

- His uncle - one of many lol - owns a locksmith business and from this, Johnny can crack open damn near anything. Want to get into the staff room? Consider it done.

- Also, his love of cars, motorbikes and mechanic work is from the family business, he knows EVERYTHING about it, how to Hotwire cars, how to fix the pistons cheaply and effectively. His version of Derby’s “I’ll buy you anything you could ever want” love language, his is “I’ll fix you car for free give me some WD 40 and some cigarettes” He will NOT let you go to the mechanic as long as he’s alive

- Like Derby, adores old corny movies and especially the drive in. His favourite type of date is taking them to the movies to watch a horror movie. Is that because he wants his scared date to cling on to him at the jump scares? Maybe. Does he also just really like bad horror movies? Yes. Derby and him could binge the whole of the slasher type movies in one night easy.

- He wins an old broken down Harley Davidson from the auto shop class for having the best grades in school in that class. He fixed it up and he treats it better than he would his first born child

- Although he’s not that good at school, if he can relate it to mechanics, he’s amazingly good at it. Like math, if it’s something he’s had to use before fixing cars he’s great.

- Despite that, he has had to ask Derby for help in math or, reluctantly, Earnest

- He can speak Italian and also English, sometimes he messes up here and there but overall he’s pretty fluent in both. His Grandma and Grandpa on his mum’s side came from Italy and in his Fathers side his Great Grandparents came from Italy

- His sense of style came from his family lmao so did the smoking tbh

- His mum makes so. Much. Food. Like to the point she’ll cook for his friends. He has to tell her when people come over, last time he brought over the boys and he didn’t tell her she yelled at him in Italian and immediately whipped up a whole pot of pasta for them. His friends love her

Ted Thompson

- Golden Retriever boy

- He was going to get braces again (he had them when he was younger FOR SURE) but didn’t want to get bullied again/be a NERD

- If someone’s flirting with him, he won’t get it until you YELL IT at him. I feel so bad for Damon and Justin

- He uses bro and dudes unironically. He’s such a loser I love him

- Like overly competitive in EVERYTHING even board games and video games. Like this would be him

- Sheldon is his step brother. He hates him. Like these two would that sibling duo where Ted just -throws- him away when he’s pissing him off, which is everyday. He’d be that sibling to put Sheldon up somewhere high or tape him to a pole and leave him there. He wouldn’t admit it but he’ll kill someone if they do the same to Sheldon, that’s his job.

- He’s one of those gym bros who could eat a whole cow and still not get “fat” he’s like a black hole he’ll inhale a whole foot long in 5 seconds. He loves Johnny’s mum because of this, she’ll just feed them so much food. He also loves pestering Derby for food, tbh so do Johnny and Edgar.

- He’d totally just, pick up smaller kids like Kirby with one arm. All the big Jocks do tbh

- He’s one of those loveable idiot guys when he’s drunk.

- He BLASTS white girl music like you can hear it from down the road, he also treats it as if it’s karaoke and it’s that karaoke is a competitive sport rivalling AFL and Rugby on footy final day. Like for song like “Talk Dirty” he sings the trumpet part as well.

- He has a Wii and he’s broken at least like 2 remotes, he has to have the strap, lest someone gets a concussion

- The type of guy that if he found out you’re a lesbian he’d be like “Wow you like girls? I do too! We have so much in common”

- I feel like he’d be aggressively supportive of people, like someone calls his friends a slur and he’d just barge them Tf over and throw them in a bin

Edgar Munsen

- I like to think he does his own tattoos, the one on his arm is his first one he ever got. he wants to get more soon. He did that one right as he turned 16, Gurney probably did it for him.

- I feel like he’s also surprisingly good at drawing because of it, like oh btw you said you liked flowers? Here’s a tattoo design. And it’s just like a really good sketch and he down plays it constantly.

- One time he drew one of Derby’s orchids and he nearly got it tattooed right then and there, then remembered his dad would actually kill him

- He’d also get piercing later on, Johnny suggested the place he got his.

- He and Gurney are the booze smugglers of Bullworth, any alcohol you could name, they’ll steal it/buy and smuggle it in for you

- Like he’d stuff booze under his shirt even he’s probably pulled this before

- He smokes the devils bush if you know what I mean. Plus other stuff (in game a couple townies mention making bongs)

- He for reason always has a knife on him. Like he just pulls out a switchblade at school. The prefects have tried taking it off him, but he always gets it back somehow.

- He keeps forgetting he’s technically the same year as the Prefects and he hates it

- Like Johnny, he’s pretty good at breaking into stuff, even more so actually

- He’s definitely hot wired a car before

- I personally think he’s multi-racial with some Asian, African American and Hispanic in him (I like to think he’s Vietnamese/Jamaican-American/Puerto Rican/Mexican)

- He’s more Hispanic though, he’ll cuss you out in Spanish in a heartbeat and maybe some other languages

- Like he’d stub his toe and you just hear loud cussing in 5 different languages

- Like Johnny, he sometimes messes up some words of any of his many languages, but more so

- He also loves horror movies but unlike Derby and Johnny he likes the more psychological horrors that are FUCKED like those French Extremity movies

#bully scholarship edition #canis canem edit #my posts #edgar munsen #ted thompson #johnny vincent #derby harrington

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dearausten · 3 months ago

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i love watching different productions of sweeney todd because it’s literally canon in all of them that mrs. lovett is the funny one in the relationship and he actually finds her hilarious (if only when she’s joking about eating people but nvm)!! and even when he tries to match her wit, either she retorts with something 100x funnier (‘then blow on it first!’) or he straight up loses his train of thought (‘locksmith?’) and i know they belong in a mental institution (affectionate) but i just find that one aspect really cute lmao

#not jane austen #sweeney todd #mrs. lovett #anyway #2001 concert specifically... so so special to me

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ashleyazuno · 9 days ago

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Something for My Sonic MetalSwap AU where Sonic and Metal Sonic swap roles. Inspired by @big-robot-fan's Andy and Steel AU

Neo, going over Cobalt's resume: Okay, so right here, it states that you’re creative. Cobalt: Yes Neo: Okay... may I know what you create? Neo: Problems.

Neo: I’m going to take you out Cobalt: great, it’s a date! Neo: I meant that as a threat. Cobalt: See you at five!

Cobalt: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait. Neo: You and me!!! Cobalt, tearing up: Okay.

Neo: Nothing feels better than winning Monopoly. Not love, not sex, not free pizza, nothing! Eggman: I’m sorry, have you tried pizza? Neo: Yes, and it doesn’t compare to owning half the board and watching the light die from your friend’s eyes as you take their money and feel your friendship slowly deteriorate. Cobalt: I like you.

Neo: Eggman won’t come out of their room! Cobalt: Just tell them I said something. Neo: Like what? Cobalt: Anything factually incorrect. Neo, shrugging: If you say so. Eggman, arriving moments later: Did you just say the sun is a PLANET?

Shadow: That's ridiculous, Cobalt doesn't have a crush on me. Neo: Yes they do. Amy: Yes they do. Cobalt: Yes I do.

Shadow: Why do you look like that? Neo, laying face-first on the floor: Like what? Shadow: Like you’re dead. Neo: It’s because I’m dying. Leave me here to perish. Cobalt: Neo accidentally called Amy “babe” in front of everyone today. Neo: sobs into the floor

Amy: I'm so happy, I could kiss you! Cobalt: Um…Neat. later Cobalt, lying face down on their bed: I said "Neat," Neo. Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid. Neo, reading a book: Don't beat yourself up too much, Cobalt. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Shadow confessed their love for me? Cobalt: Didn't you thank them? Neo: closes the book and looks at the ceiling I fucking thanked them.

Amy, driving and singing to the Little Einsteins theme song: We’re going on a trip- Shadow: In our favorite piece of shit! Cobalt: Doing 95! Neo: We’re gonna fucking die!

Amy: LOWERCASE LETTERS ARE FOR THE LOWER CLASS! Cobalt: And here we have a capitalist. Neo: Did you just- Shadow: Let us all take a moment to appreciate that all of human history, human language, and the universe itself aligned to make this joke possible.

Cobalt: about Shadow and Amy They make a cute couple, huh? Neo: They certainly are standing next to each other.

Cobalt: A pessimist sees a dark tunnel. Shadow: An optimist sees light at the end of the tunnel. Neo: A realist sees a freight train. Amy: The train driver sees three idiots standing on the tracks.

Shadow: I never said I was gonna get back together with them. But I was thinking, they're in town, would it be the worst thing in the world if I gave them a call? Cobalt: No. No, Shadow, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It would be the fourth worst thing. Number one: a super volcano. Number two: an asteroid hits the Earth. Number three: All the Evel Knievel movies are lost. Number four: Shadow calls Neo. Number five: Amy gets eaten by a shark. Amy: I’m Amy, and I approve the order of that list.

Neo: My stomach growled super loud in French. Neo: I would like to clarify, my stomach did not speak in French. It growled during French class. Cobalt: Bonjour. Amy: Le growl. Shadow: Hon hon hon, feed me a baguette.

Neo: Oh gosh I wish I got more sleep I only got six hours! Amy: Six? I only got three! Shadow: You guys got sleep? Cobalt, comes stumbling out of their room and grabs a jug of coffee before saying: What year is it??

Neo: Bad news—Cobalt locked themself outside of their own house. Neo: Good news—we didn’t have to wait around for a locksmith. Neo: Bad news—Amy finds it very concerning that I know how to pick locks, and tried to unlock my Tragic Backstory(TM). I was too embarrassed to admit that the reason I learned it was because, at thirteen, I figured that was the kind of skill that would impress cute guys/girls/enbies. Neo: Good news—a cute guy/girl/enby saw me do it. Neo: Bad news—it was Shadow, and since they’ve already seen me fall out of several trees, cry because I saw a fawn that was just too damn small, and knows I can ride a unicycle, they’ll never think I’m cool no matter what I do. It’s too late. They know.

Amy: Do you love Cobalt? Neo: Yeah, I do. Amy: Shadow! I told you I knew it! You owe me 100 bucks! Shadow: We all love Cobalt. You should've asked if they were IN love with them. Neo: I thought that was implied. Shadow: … Amy: … Neo, looking straight at Shadow: Congrats Amy, you just won 100 bucks.

Neo: Who would you swipe right for? Shadow or Cobalt? Amy: I would delete the app.

Cobalt: How would you guys deal with a toxic friend? Neo: Tell them how you really feel. Amy: Slowly distance yourself from them. Shadow: Engage in a 1v1 sword battle and if they lose they have to stop being toxic or pay the price. Cobalt, being handed a sword: …well heck.

Police: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle. Amy, with Neo and Cobalt behind them: Wait, what do you mean THREE?! Police: Yes…three. Amy: Oh, my God— What the fuck!? Police: Wha- Amy: Shadow FUCKING FELL OFF!

Neo: Oh god, they texted you ‘hi.’’ punctuation only means one thing, Amy. They're mad at you. Amy: No, it's Shadow. They're just being gramatically correct! meanwhile Shadow: And then I used a period so they'd know that I'm mad at them. Cobalt: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'. Shadow: I stand by my choice.

Cobalt: I haven't slept in seventy-three hours. Neo: Eighty. Democratically elected leader of insomnia. Shadow: Bitch, it's been ninety for me. I'm going for an even one hundred. Amy: You guys are fucking terrifying.

Shadow: Truth or dare? Neo: Dare. Shadow: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room. Neo: Hey Amy? Amy, blushing: Yeah? Neo: Can you move? I'm trying to get to Cobalt.

Neo: My life is a little too much panic and not enough disco. Amy: My life is a little too much fall and not enough boy. Shadow: My life is a little too much chemical and not enough romance. Cobalt: My life is a little too much imagination and not nearly enough dragons.

Cobalt: Why do you look like that? Amy, laying face-first on the floor: Like what? Cobalt: Like you’re dead. Amy: It’s because I’m dying. Leave me here to perish. Neo: Amy accidentally called Shadow “babe” in front of everyone today. Amy: sobs into the floor

Cobalt: Shadow, I have a great idea. Shadow: Let’s hear it. Cobalt: We trick Neo and Amy to go out on a date together. Shadow: YES! Shadow: And hey, if that doesn’t work out, maybe you and me could go out, get some drinks— Cobalt, hitting them with a book: THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU.

Cobalt: You were stabbed. Do you remember anything? Neo: Only the ambulance ride to the hospital. Cobalt: That wasn't an ambulance, I drove you. Neo: But I heard a siren. Amy: That was Shadow. Shadow: Sorry, I got nervous.

The gang responding to being stabbed by a sword Cobalt: Rude. Neo: That's fair. Shadow: Not again. Amy: Are you gonna want this back or can I keep it?

Neo: Which country has the most birds? Neo: Portu-geese! Cobalt: That's a language. Neo: Portu-gull? Cobalt: Good recovery. Shadow: I think you mean good re-dovery. Amy: TURKEY. HOW DID WE MISS TURKEY?

Amy: Time sensitive question how flirt boy. Shadow: Throw rocks at he. Cobalt: Hot Dogs. Neo: Kill him. Amy: Thanks guys.

Cobalt, pointing to the wall: What color is this? Shadow: Gray. Amy: Grey. Cobalt, turning to Neo: Now tell them what color you think it is. Neo: Dark white.

Cobalt: falls down the stairs Shadow: Are you okay? Amy: Stop falling down the stairs! Neo: How’d the ground taste?

Shadow: Go on, give Cobalt a compliment. Neo: How do you expect me to do that? Amy: Just say something that you wish someone would say to you. Neo: Uhh… You are now unbanned from Free Ham Sandwich Day! Cobalt, sobbing: Nobody’s ever said that to me before!

Amy: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no idea what to put in them. Any suggestions? Cobalt: Put spaghetti in it. Amy: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you. Neo: Put spaghetti in it. Amy: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you two. Shadow: Put spaghetti in it. Amy: I am no longer taking suggestions.

Cobalt: Where’s my chair? Shadow: Neo broke it over Amy’s back while they were wrestling. Amy: Correction, Neo was wrestling. I was eating soup.

Cobalt: Alright, what pizza toppings should we order? Shadow: Anchovies and pineapple. Amy: I like beets! Neo: Have you guys ever had a cheese-less pizza? Cobalt: I’m disowning all of you.

Neo: What does “baka” mean? Amy: Moron. Shadow: Idiot. Cobalt: Stupid. Neo: The fuck did I do?!

Amy: tapping fingers on table Cobalt: taps fingers back furiously Neo: …What’s going on? Shadow: Morse code. They’re talking. Amy: -.-- ..- .-. / - …. . / -.-. ..- - . … - Cobalt: slams hands on table YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Shadow: How is the most beautiful person in the world? Neo: blushing I— Cobalt, butting into the conversation: Amy is perfect, thanks for asking.

Cobalt, spraying a melted cutting board with a tiny water gun: We gotta cool this bitch down. Cool it down. Neo: I actually just put the cutting board in the oven… Amy, visibly confused: Okay, so they decided to put the cutting board in the oven? Cobalt, spraying Neo: You FUCKING DUMBASS! Neo: Dude, I forgot- Cobalt: OH MY FUCKING GOD! We're trying to make Chicken Alfredo right now, and you fucking MELT the cutting board in the oven at 400 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT!? Shadow: Watching in complete confusion while trying to process this whole situation.

The squad is visiting a store late at night to return a DVD for Amy Cobalt: I forget—what happens if we don’t return the DVD before midnight? Neo: Then Amy gets charged extra. It’s called a “late fee”. Shadow: Or was it zombie apocalypse? Eh, I don’t remember, but we can’t afford either.

Neo: I love you. Amy: I love you too. I've waited so long to hear you say that. Neo and Amy kiss passionately Cobalt, to Shadow: You owe me 20 dollars.

Shadow: Neo, keep an eye on Amy today. They're going to say something to the wrong person and get punched. Neo: Sure, I'd love to see Amy getting punched. Cobalt: Try again. Neo, sighing: I will try to stop Amy from getting punched.

Cobalt: Neo, I have a couple of words to say to you. Shadow: Please let those two words be “I’m sorry.” Amy: I’m ready with the bleep button if not.

Neo: sees Amy and Cobalt together Neo: They're cute. I would put them on a boat. Shadow: You mean… you ship them?

Cobalt: Isn’t it weird how we pay money to see other people? Amy: You mean movies? Neo: Concerts? Shadow: Prostitutes? Cobalt: Wha…N-no, I mean glasses, what the fuck-

Amy: Whose turn is it to give the pep-talk? Neo: sighing Shadow. Shadow: Fuck shit up out there, but don’t die. Cobalt: wiping away a tear So inspirational.

Amy: What the hell was that? Cobalt: picks up a flashlight Only one way to find out! Neo: Wait a minute! You don’t go TOWARDS the spooky scary banging! Shadow: Yes we do, Neo. We always do.

Cobalt: I truly believe that water can solve all your problems. Neo: Weight loss? Drink water. Amy: Clear skin? Drink water. Shadow: Want to get rid of someone? Drown them.

In a horror movie situation Cobalt: I've got no service in my phone here. Shadow: Shoot, my battery just died. Amy: Sorry guys, I just broke my phone with a hammer. Neo: Guys, my phone is a book.

Neo: is hugging Shadow Amy: Hey! It's my turn to hug Shadow! Amy: grabs Shadow Cobalt: kicking down the door What do you mean, "yOuR tUrN"? We agreed now is my time slot! Neo: No, It's still my turn! Shadow: suffocating Guys, I love you, but just because I'm the smallest doesn't mean you can be hugging me constantly! Amy: But we need the moral support! Neo: And you're small! Which is cute! Cobalt: If I don't hug you right now I think the depression will kick in and my body will stop functioning. Shadow: close to tears Well- I, I guess.

Neo: ARE YOU- Cobalt: Fucking. Neo: KIDDING ME?! YOU- Cobalt: Fucking. Neo: IDIOT! Amy: …What was that? Cobalt: Shadow banned Neo from swearing, so I’m helping them out.

Note: Other characters swap roles in this AU as well e.g: Shadow and Amy Swap because I said so. I'll work on the designs and basic plot later

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