#and him trying to snap you back to reality when its ur turn to order | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kookingtae · 4 years

Text

in character (m)

pornstar!yoongi

→ scenario: Yoongi is one of the best porn stars in the industry; everyone wants to work with him at least once in their career. But what you don’t expect to feel for your co-star is the desire for something more than what’s written on the script.

alternatively: actor au where yoongi plays a burglar who breaks into your house and has his way with you.

→ word count: 5.7k

→ warnings: dom yoongi, rough consensual noncon, breath play, dirty talk, degradation, a lot of slapping, language, face fucking, choking, size kink, cock warming, predator/prey, sadism, unknowing cuckhold, ur tied up, just pure filth tbh

→ a/n: this was previously posted on a side blog of mine, which i’ve since deactivated and reposted here! so if you’ve seen this before, no u havent ♡

“Take it.” Yoongi hovers over your kneeling form, his member held in his hand as he forces it between your closed lips. “Take my fat fucking cock in your mouth like the little slut that you are.”

“Mmm, can’t,” you mumble a muffled reply, turning your head side to side in an attempt to avoid him. You half heartedly tug at the rope restraining your wrists behind your back even though you know they won’t break loose. “It’s t-too big.”

He lets out a dark chuckle. “Come on. Be a good girl and make it fit.” He finally shoves his way into your mouth, his salty precum coating your taste buds as you welcome the warm, velvety soft flesh of his length against your tongue. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt deep within your throat and your face is pressed against his abdomen, the feeling of his happy trail tickling your skin.

“Swallow,” he demands and you do as you’re told. “I want to feel you choking and gagging around my cock.” He tilts his head back with a groan as your throat tightens around his length. “Ah fuck, atta girl.”

You struggle to pull away again before he finally relents this time. A big gulp of air fills your lungs when your mouth is empty, air freely filling your lungs before your windpipes are suddenly constricted again as he wraps his hand around your throat

“Did I say you could stop, bitch?” He hisses before grabbing the base of his shaft and slapping his dick against your cheeks multiple times. The flesh bounces against the supple skin of your lips, leaving a smear of saliva in its wake before his hand then finds your face for a light slap. He backhands the other side for good measure, eyes lighting up in sadistic pleasure when your slack lips give way as a hole for his dick again.

“Cut!”

You’re instantly brought back to reality. Set lights that were once dim now brighten and the sound of idle chatter from stage crew fill the background. Yoongi releases his fist’s firm hold on your hair to step away as if he hadn’t just been abusing your throat mere seconds ago.

“You alright?” He asks softly as he watches you take in a deep breath.

You nod and flash him a weak smile while you try to quell your racing heart. The urge to wipe your tears is overwhelming, though even if your hands were free you couldn’t give in because the mascara streaming down your face would smear. Instead you turn your attention to the director who stopped the scene.

“Yoongi, I’m going to need you to be a little more rough,” the director speaks from his seat behind the camera.

“More rough?” His brows shoot up to his hairline.

“You’re supposed to be a burglar who has broken into this house and taken Y/N hostage—of course more rough.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker down to you as if silently checking to make sure you‘re okay with this. When you manage to offer him a small smile and nod your head, that seems to be the confirmation he needs.

“Alright,” he replies.

You’re careful not to move so not to cause issues later on when they edit the shot. “Can I get some water?” You call out.

A crew member comes over with a bottle of water, holding the top to your lips and tipping it back so that you’re still able to drink with your hands bound behind your back. The cool liquid is soothing on your strained throat, and when you let out a hum the crew member removes the bottle and ducks back behind the camera.

“How is everything that I’m doing?” Yoongi turns to you once your mouth is free. “Any discomfort? Complaints?”

You gently shake your head. The difference between Yoongi on and off camera is still astounding; this man is a great actor. “Everything’s fine. Please, don’t worry about me. I can take it.”

Yoongi arches his brow, an almost impressed expression adorning his features. “You must be pretty tough then if you can handle all of that.”

You shrug, your eyes finding his with a gleam as you reply, “I like it rough.”

Before he has time to respond, the director is calling for places again. You quickly clear your throat and mentally prepare yourself for the scene ahead while Yoongi gives his dick a few good pumps before an action! fills the room.

It’s fascinating watching him snap back into character; what was once concern in his eyes is now instantly replaced with predatory satisfaction as his hand finds its way back into your hair at the crown of your head, the tip of his still-leaking cock pressing against your slack lips.

“Now fucking take it,” he grits before roughly shoving it into your throat. “Take it like the whore you are.”

A loud gagging noise leaves you at the sudden intrusion, though the sound only seems to urge him forward as his fist tightens its grip to set the pace of your movements while he holds his hips still and roughly tugs your mouth up and down on his length. You let out another lewd noise whenever you feel his tip hit the back of your throat, though you still manage to hug your lips around his shaft with each motion.

“Ah, good girl. You like choking on my cock?” He slaps your hollowed cheek with his free hand and marvels at the way your skin turns red under his touch. “Yeah? Choke on it, slut.” His hand then finds your nose and squeezes so that he’s holding your breath and the only purchase you have is his member fucking your throat.

Your vision ebbs at the edges from the lack of oxygen filling your lungs, tears now fully streaming down your cheeks to purposefully smear the non-waterproof mascara you’re wearing. Your body starts to involuntarily panic as it struggles for air, and it’s only when your knee subtly nudges his ankle three times—the agreed upon number prior to filming which means you’re at your limit—that he finally releases his hold on your nose and lets you fall back with a staggering cough.

Relief floods you as you take in a deep breath of sweet, sweet air. The director hasn’t called cut so he must’ve liked the stunt, which means that Yoongi never leaves character as he watches your display with sadistic pleasure.

“So fucking pathetic. I bet that pretty little mouth of yours has never been fucked like this, hm?” He grips your chin between his fingers and drags his thumb across your bottom lip before forcing it between your lips. “Suck,” he orders.

You have no choice but to obey, wrapping your tongue around the digit and hollowing your cheeks.

Yoongi chuckles darkly. “Look at you. You’re so cock hungry that you’re willing to suck off any part of me. Desperate slut.” One of his hands snakes down to your breasts as he grabs the flesh in a tight grip, groping a couple times before giving them a few slaps and admiring the way they bounce beneath his touch. His thumb then finally slips from your mouth only to find its way around your throat and use the hold to pull you up on your knees again. “If you’re so desperate then you’re going to gag on my dick until I blow my load all over that pretty face of yours, yeah?”

You let out a whimper, playing the facade of a scared hostage as you shake your head pleadingly.

A resounding smack fills the air as his hand finds your cheek again in a harder slap this time, and you can feel the wetness pool between your legs as he manhandles you so that your back is flat against the floor and his hands are holding you down.

“That wasn’t a question. Be a good girl and take what I give to you,” he rasps as he angles his hips over your lifted head and begins fucking your face with quick, precise thrusts. Each assault makes another lewd gagging sound leave your mouth as you have no choice but to take the rough onslaught.

He throws his head back in unabashed pleasure as a loud moan leaves his lips, not even looking at you anymore as his hips continue to buck in chase of his high. He’s using you as a sex toy for his pleasure without a second thought, and you can’t deny the way arousal rolls within you at the sight.

After a few more moments of this your sore throat throbs and your wrists begin to ache as the rope digs into your back, and it’s only when your thigh nudges his three times that he seems to come to and pulls himself out of your mouth.

You cough while struggling a bit to sit up. Yoongi seems to notice this and helps you back to your knees before he’s suddenly picking you up entirely and throwing you on the bed as if you weigh nothing.

“Enough of your mouth. I’ve decided I wanna feel that tight fucking cunt around me instead.” His eyes are dark, dangerous as they watch you like a predator stalking its prey, and you find yourself gulping in equal parts fear and excitement.

“W-wait, please–“ you remember the script enough to whimper, though even you know the acting is a lie as your mouth grows dry when Yoongi crawls over you.

“Shut the fuck up!” He hisses before giving your bare pussy a punishing slap. It’s hard to miss the string of liquid arousal that chases his fingers, and he sneers down at you with a condescending tilt of his head. “I knew you were a fucking slut. Look how turned on you are from a stranger tying you up and having their way with you.” He spreads his fingers apart to show you your wetness before he’s reaching forward and shoving his fingers between your lips. “Taste yourself. Taste what I make your body feel.”

The heady flavor of your juices is peculiar on your tongue, though you take what you’re given with big eyes as you stare up at him, your gaze holding for longer than planned as you find yourself unable to look away.

And it’s after a few moments that he suddenly lurches forward and presses his lips to yours in a hard, passionate kiss. You let out a moan of surprise—you hadn’t been expecting that—before your lids are fluttering shut and you’re completely melting beneath him. His tongue is needy as it pushes past your lips to hungrily lap up the taste of both of your arousal mixed together in the caverns of your mouth.

The sensation has you seeing stars, and you let out another groan of pleasure before your back is involuntarily arching to press your chest against his, wanting to feel more of him.

“Cut!”

You hardly even register the director’s voice through the hazy fog of your mind, and it isn’t until Yoongi pulls away that you open your eyes to see the lights and cameras around you. You blink to adjust your eyesight and almost reluctantly turn your head on the mattress beneath you to look at the man in charge.

“There is no kissing in this script.” He holds up his phone to wave the downloaded file that contains this scene’s directions as if to reiterate his point. You were both emailed a copy of the script before you accepted this job. “It’s too intimate. And Y/N, you can’t act like you like what’s happening to you.”

Your cheeks heat up slightly at him calling out your obvious desire that you were trying but failing to contain. “I got it,” you call back half-heartedly. When you face forward again you‘re met with Yoongi’s eyes gazing down at you.

His expression is unreadable, a mix of emotions you can’t comprehend at the moment. “Sorry,” he mouths apologetically since he had been the one to kiss you in the first place.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset, regardless of the director’s criticism.

“Action!” He calls from his seat to start the scene where Yoongi left off removing his fingers from your mouth.

He gives your pussy another slap if only to get back into the rhythm of the scene’s tone, and your body quivers at the sudden sensation.

“No, don’t–“ you try to squirm away from his touch, though the fight only seems to make him angry as he suddenly grabs your body and throws you forward over his lap.

“I told you good girls take what they’re given!” He scolds before a hand slams down over your bare ass, the sting causing you to yelp in surprise. He continues this a few more times, each slap reverberating through the room and leaving a growing red mark on your skin. “Do you like being punished? Wanna be punished by my cock?”

“No–!” You try to shake your head when he’s suddenly shifting you down so that your face is hovering over his erect member.

“Shut the fuck up and put that mouth to good use,” he growls, gripping the base of his shaft and aligning it with your mouth. Because you’re lying on your stomach your head has nowhere to go but down, and he takes full advantage of that situation as he snaps his hips up so that his cock is being forced down your throat with each thrust.

“Such a good fuck doll. Instead of robbing this house I might just steal you and use you as my personal sex toy,” he groans with a toss of his head, his cock unable to leave your mouth due to the position.

You carefully breathe out of your nose for air as you curl your tongue around his length, inexplicably still wanting to pleasure him despite the situation. Each sound of satisfaction that falls from his lips adds to the growing ache of lust in your core, and when your lower half squirms in an attempt to relieve some of the tension this catches Yoongi’s attention.

His hand finds your ass again in a series of quick slaps, each motion cupping the lower cheek and causing your pussy to quiver in anticipation from his fingers being so close to where you want him most. His palm then smoothes over your reddened skin, admiring his blooming artwork before his touch finally settles between your legs.

“Ah, you put up such a fight but your body responds so well.” A curse escapes under his breath when his middle finger slides between your lower lips.

You let out a muffled whine around him, his hips ceasing their movement to instead explore your body so that you’re now warming his stiff cock with your throat.

“You’re such a good cock warmer,” he muses down at you, swiveling his hips for good measure so that his erection swirls inside you.

The action causes you to gag, a sensation that he likes if the involuntary groan is any tell, but the sore pain in your throat is quickly forgotten when he suddenly pushes two fingers inside you.

“Holy shit, you’re tight!” The words leave his lips in pure surprise that cannot be faked.

You wish you could see the genuine reaction on his facial expression, but instead your eyes squeeze shut at the sexual relief that fills your core from finally having some part of him inside you. Oh, how badly you want to beg him to keep fingering you, to cry for his cock and bask in the pleasure he’s giving your body.

But alas, you can’t. You have a part to play.

And so you rock your hips back and forth in what is meant to look like an effort to force his fingers out of you when really you’re just riding them for relief.

Yoongi seems to be in awe above you, and you don’t even have to nudge him three times to make him lift you up off his dick and onto the bed.

You pathetically gasp for breath once there’s nothing obstructing your airways, not realizing how badly you needed oxygen until you’re finally able to breathe properly.

“Enough of this. I’m fucking that tight little cunt right this second.” His tone is dark, determined as he stands on the floor and drags you to the edge of the bed. “On your knees,” he barks coldly.

You resist the urge to desperately obey him, instead fighting back fearfully until he finally manhandles your body into the position he wants you with your ass in the air and your face pressed into the mattress.

“Stop, y-you’re too big!” You start to protest once you feel his tip breaching your walls.

He instantly smacks your ass as punishment. “Sex dolls can’t talk. I’m gonna stretch you so much you rip in half on my dick if that’s what it fucking takes.” And with that he slams into you full force without a second warning.

Despite the scene at hand, Yoongi is a good, smart guy. He has a reputation in the porn industry for being the man every person wants to fuck at some point in their career. His resume is vast and his experience shows in his technique. You’re assuming that’s how he knows you don’t need anymore prepping when it comes to taking his full length and girth; thankfully he doesn’t comment on it out loud, but you’re embarrassingly wet. Like ‘it feels like you’ve already orgasmed twice’ kind of wet. Which is why there’s no hesitation on his part to bury into you to the hilt, and the fake cry of pain that leaves your lips is actually a very grateful cry of sheer, undeniable pleasure.

“Fuck!” He cries out immediately, his hips stalling as they press flush against the heated skin of your ass. “Shit, you’re squeezing around me like crazy. About to milk my cock dry if you don’t stop.”

His voice is breathless, strained; you can tell from your line of work that he’s trying to hold back from finishing too early. Not that you can blame him, what with the way you spent all of foreplay glued to his dick. Still, this being the wildly popular Min Yoongi and all, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell within you at his words.

“Cut!” The director suddenly calls, though neither you nor your co-star move. “Yoongi, do you need a minute? We can cut the footage later if you want to wait until you’re ready to start again.”

“U-uh, yeah, just a sec.” It’s interesting how much his voice wavers now that you have a break without the pressure of the camera filming a continuous take.

You glance at him over your shoulder as best as you can with the side of your face in the sheets and your wrists still restrained behind your back. “Anything I can do to help?” You ask.

“N-no, you—don’t move,” he quickly warns as if any motion whatsoever would cause him to blow his load right then and there.

For some reason it causes your heart to flutter with endearment.

So you simply nod your head and settle back down against the bed, the sensation of him essentially warming his erect cock within your walls not helping any as you can feel your slick arousal now dripping down your thighs.

“And... action. Take your time and whenever you’re ready you can start back up again,” the director calls out to him.

Yoongi briefly nods from behind you, and it’s after a few deep breaths from him that you start to feel movement inside the deepest parts of you. He rubs his hips experimentally against your ass to test the waters before finally rolling them in a slow, meticulous motion.

“Shit, I wouldn’t have wasted time on your mouth if I knew you had a pussy like this,” he curses softly as the repeated action starts to gain momentum.

Your skin is slick with precum and sweat where your bodies meet, though you’re unable to stop the moan that tumbles from your lips as his thrusts speed up and the sound of slapping flesh fills the room.

It isn’t long before what was once caution and hesitation transforms back into the rough tone of the script now that he’s not afraid of finishing early. He gives your ass a few loud, stinging slaps before his hand reaches down to grab a fistful of your hair and yank you up. You cry out, your torso now completely lifted in the air due to the strong grip he has on you.

“That’s right, I knew you could take my fat cock. You were just whining like the little bitch you are, huh?” He grits his teeth and slips his hand from your hair to the knotted rope that binds both of your hands together. Your scalp is thankful when he chooses to hold onto that instead while he steadies your body for his relentless pace.

“Ah! No, fuck, it’s too much–“ you barely remember to scream out your lines through the endless waves of pleasure he’s assaulting your body.

“Did I say you could speak?” He growls before dropping your hands so that your chest falls back against the mattress again. There’s only a beat of silence while he grabs your abandoned panties on the bed before he’s unceremoniously shoving them into your mouth. “Now shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna hear you unless you’re crying over my cock.”

And so loud endless sobs tear through your throat, the sound muffled from the soiled fabric in your mouth as he grips your hips so tightly you‘re sure his fingertips will leave bruises and he yanks your body up and down on his length.

“Fuck, gonna keep your messy cunt as my own personal pocket pussy.” Dirty words tumble from his mouth as he loses himself to the pleasure your walls are giving him. “Gonna fuck you every single day.”

You hear the sound of a door closing from somewhere within the house you’re using as a set, and you know that means the scene where your supposed boyfriend comes home is now happening.

“Mmmm!” Your eyes widen as you attempt to speak, in the middle of spitting the panties out when Yoongi suddenly leans forward against your back and shoves them back into your mouth before slamming a hand over your lips to keep them there.

“Oh, is someone home?” There’s a sadistic, devilish glint in his eye as he speaks against your ear, his hips continuing their rutting. “Let them see. Let them see how much of a pathetic whore you are creaming all over my cock.”

The new angle causes him to hit another spot within you that has you crying out in pure ecstasy, tears steadily streaming from the corners of your eyes as your vocal cords vibrate with every muffled groan against his palm.

You hear the sound of your fake boyfriend walking up the stairs, and that’s Yoongi’s cue to pull out and tug you to your feet by the knotted rope at the juncture of your wrists. He roughly shoves you against the closed door with his chest pressed against your back so that you have nowhere to move.

“Mmmm!” You moan frantically again when you feel his cock push back into you, and it’s all you can do to shake his palm from your mouth and spit out the panties between your lips before your boyfriend stops to knock on the door.

You spare a panicked glance back at Yoongi only to see him smirking sardonically at you. “Answer,” his twisted words curl around the tightening coil in your core.

You frantically shake your head. There’s no way you can do that without getting caught!

At your refusal he shoves you against the wall even harder this time, his free hand wrapping around your throat to hold your gaze on him. “I said, answer. Let him hear how I make you feel.” He pivots his hips up in a particularly heavy thrust that had a cry of pleasure falling from your lips—one that catches the ears of your waiting boyfriend.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay in there?” He calls out in concern before turning the handle.

Your eyes widen as Yoongi tugs on your wrists so that you’re stumbling back a couple steps and the door has enough room to open, though you quickly peek your head out so that your fake boyfriend can’t see that you’re naked or that Yoongi is currently ramming his cock into you from behind.

“H-hey babe,” your words stumble as Yoongi starts back up with a relentless pace, one hand holding onto your knotted wrists for leverage so that he can bounce you back and forth on his dick while the other hand smooths down the bare expanse of your back.

Your boyfriend’s eyes instantly widen in concern. “Are you crying? What happened, are you feeling okay?”

When he starts to step inside, you quickly shake your head. “N-no, no don’t worry. I was just uh—I was taking off my makeup. I feel good.” At that moment Yoongi uses his hand on your back to push down on your spine so that you’re leaning forward even more, the new angle causing him to hit a sweet spot deep within your walls. “I feel so good!” You involuntarily cry out.

There’s no way this stunt would ever look believable in real life. But that’s the beauty of porn.

Yoongi suddenly slaps your ass and you stumble, your hand instinctively trying to fly to your mouth to cover your whimper. Though because your wrists are bound, you’re unable to stop the sound of pleasure that hangs wantonly in the air once it falls from your lips.

Alarm springs to your boyfriend’s features. “What was that?”

“I-I just stubbed my toe,” you lamely fumble for the script’s poor excuse.

He nods and you listen to him ramble about his day, mostly stalling for time so the cameras can catch the glory of this unknowing-cuckold moment. You supply distracted hm’s and uh huh’s until he finally says he’s going to the kitchen.

“I’ll be there in a bit, babe,” you call out as he walks away, and the second the door shuts Yoongi shoves you against it again and holds you there with his body, never missing a beat as he continues to slam his hips into you from behind.

“What’s wrong, babe? Don’t want him to know what a little slut you are?” He snarls into your ear, the pet name falling sarcastically from his lips and making your stomach flutter. His skin is slick with sweat where your bodies meet and the heat from your heavy breathing clouds the air between you with lust. “It took everything in me not to open the door and show him whose cock has been stretching this fucking cunt of yours.”

Yoongi doesn’t waste a second tugging you back to the bed now that your interruption has left, though instead of throwing you face down like before, he positions you on your back this time with your ass at the edge of the bed while he towers over you.

There’s something about this position that feels more intimate—maybe it’s because you can stare straight into his eyes this time when he fucks you. But one slap of your tits as he suddenly thrusts his cock back into your heat and you know he’s still in character.

“Ah!” You cry out, the quick intrusion making you see stars.

He doesn’t waste time building his rhythm as he starts back up at the same frightening pace as before, and the hand that’s groping and abusing your breasts slides up your chest and clamps down around your throat, using his hold to yank you up and down on his length again.

“You finally ready to be a good girl? Done whining about taking my fat cock?” He chuckles darkly as you struggle to breathe, fresh tears starting to prick at the edges of your eyes over the black stains streaking down your cheeks.

Just when you’re about to nudge him three times, he releases his grip on your windpipe to instead travel up your jaw and hook his fingers inside your open mouth. His fingers curl behind the back of your bottom-row teeth, holding you there while he fucks into you and uses your holes as a means to get himself off.

“Look at you, so pathetic and submissive beneath me. The perfect sex doll.” His gaze never wavers from your big eyes while he speaks, and before you can register what’s happening he’s suddenly leaning down and spitting into your mouth that he’s forcing open. “Swallow,” he orders.

It’s embarrassing how quickly you obey. Every second that passes is spent reminding yourself that you need to remember your script rather than act on impulse.

But that’s proving harder and harder to do now that Yoongi’s face is so close to yours.

You resist the urge to lean up and kiss him. Your director already scolded you once today; you don’t need him calling you out again. Though you might not have to endure this facade that much longer, because soon your co-star’s hand is snaking down between your legs and finding the bundle of nerves that instantly sets your body aflame.

You have no choice but to take what he’s giving you, and the onslaught of pleasure mixed with the mental image of everything happening is too much for you to handle.

Which is why his growl of “cum,” in the shell of your ear is all it takes for you to lose it on his cock.

“Fuck,” the word falls from his lips with a low, throaty groan. He stands upright again and tosses his head back, both hands returning to your hips as he drags your pussy even faster on his length so you ride out your high while he desperately chases his. “I didn’t think it was even possible for you to feel any tighter—shit, your pretty pussy is gonna make me cum.”

The sounds of pleasure leaving his lips turn short, breathless, until finally you feel the sudden sensation of milky white cum flooding your insides. It’s warm and leaves your body feeling full, satisfied when he eventually pulls out to admire his seed dripping from your cunt.

He bends down to get a view up close, and without the haze of lust clouding your movements you actually feel embarrassed by his thorough inspection despite everything that just happened. If it wasn’t for the dizzying lethargy that’s starting to settle over your body and a need to end the scene, you might’ve tried to squirm away.

“Clench,” he suddenly orders, his thumb dragging up your inner thigh and entering your abused pussy again as he stuffs his seed back inside of you. “Don’t let it drip out. I want you to remember the feeling of my cum filling you up when you talk to your precious boyfriend.”

You shudder at his touch against your sensitive mound, though thankfully he doesn’t linger as the director calls cut! and the scene ends.

The hum of background chatter fills the room again, and it takes you a moment to blink from your daze and realize what’s happening. You can’t move from the bed even if you wanted to.

Yoongi is instantly at your side untying your wrists, his touch careful and gentle compared to the harsh way he was handling your body just moments prior. “Hey, you okay?” He sits down by your side and runs a soothing hand over your hair, your back. “I’m sorry if I went too far a couple times there. They said they wanted me to be more rough, so I–“

“It’s fine, really,” you hum in reassurance when you eventually find your voice. A sigh of relief leaves your lips once your wrists are finally free of the constricting rope, and you rub and roll them a few times to ease the stiff ache in your bones. “I never nudged you because I was uncomfortable. I just needed to breathe,” you chuckle amiably.

A soft smile finds Yoongi’s lips, and he slowly reaches out to give you enough time to pull away if you want to until the pad of his thumb is tenderly swiping the mascara-stained tears from your cheekbones.

The contrast makes you dizzy. It’s like night and day, his actions not even a minute ago compared to his actions now. His sexual range leaves your heart aflutter and you don’t know why.

“Shit, you have marks on your hips.” He runs a hand over the curvature of your side. A shiver shoots down your spine at his feathery touch. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get that into it.”

The tantalizing motion of his fingers seem to put you in a trance before you finally find the strength to sit upright, though the sudden movement makes you wobble a little off balance. He quickly wraps his arms around your back to steady you and then leans back against the bed frame.

You let out an exhale, your stomach rolling at the intimacy of the interaction. You’re now cuddling with Yoongi, and the cameras aren’t rolling anymore. Does he do this with all his co-stars after a shoot?

“You don’t have to apologize,” you murmur, swallowing before admitting your next words. “I got into it too. It was so difficult for me to act like I didn’t want it.”

Yoongi leans back in surprise at your words so he can get a good look at your face, though it‘s in that moment while the two of you are gazing at each other that his manager calls his name. You can’t help but notice the reluctance in his movements as he parts from you, eventually getting up and putting on his robe behind the camera.

You sigh, giving your legs a bit more time to rest until your manager calls you over as well. What’s happening? You’ve left a shoot satisfied before, but never yearning for more. Was the sex really just that good? Or is it something more, something that has to do with the boy with dark eyes and fluffy black hair staring back at you from across the room?

Whatever it is, you find yourself suddenly a little too excited to see Min Yoongi again.

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border-spam · 4 years

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Leech Lord - Nobody loves me like you

It was so late it felt like time itself had passed out, that void somewhere in the AM between being tired enough to fall asleep where you stand and feeling the nervous energy of dawn approaching.

The air in the Mechanicum was crisp with night chill when the E-Dev in her pocket vibrated, and Saint Ur-Machina's heart sunk in her chest as she grimaced under her welding mask. No need to check who it was, she'd known before he'd even sent the message.

The God-King was angry.

She sighed, rubbing oily hands into oilier overalls, and frowned at how pointless a gesture trying to clean them had been at all, picking bits of filth out from under her nails as she leaned against the rough wall of the hangar. Pointless maybe, but a distraction, and Seifa needed one of those right now.

The God-King was angry with himself, and that meant the people he cared about the most would take the rage.

The workfloor clock read 3:56AM where it hung from the rafter above her station, clunky ticking echoing across the empty bay. No one but her still working, and she shouldn't really have been there either considering the hour, but that had stopped feeling like it mattered a long time ago. She was always there now. Always working, like she haunted the place. Funny, she used to be so good about managing her time...

The welding mask threw a cloud of sawdust as it bounced across the floor towards the machine she'd kicked it at. She didn't even know what to call the horrible thing that loomed in front of her, some juggernaut of sleek metal she'd been ordered to run performance checks on, jagged lines illuminated by the sickly floor lamps she'd arranged around its skeleton.

Warmachines. Unnamed projects with stacks of paperwork marking them as highly classified, Troy's insignia and the same word she kept seeing over and over in confidential documentation - Uroboros. Tasted like a bad idea, reeked of poor decisions, and she'd always sniffed those out like a Skag.

What the hell did Seifa A'Rosk know about warmachines anyway? They used to build Technicals here, outriders. COV custom Cyclones for stream events, this wasn't what she signed up for, none of it was. Managing the engineering crew should never have shifted into whatever the fuck THIS was.

The steel monster in front of her bled oil silently into the sawdust, refusing to give an answer. Whatever this was, it was for Gods and Sirens, and that was a world she wasn't part of, not really. She wasn't a Saint, she was just a ghost, caught repeating the same mistakes over and over till she faded away.

The E-Dev in her pocket vibrated again, and she tapped the back of her head against the plate steel wall, trying to convince herself she wasn't ready to vomit as she squinted up towards the hangar's ceiling, lost to the night murk the lights around her couldn't quite cut through.

She figured she should answer, making him wait was just going to make this worse.

Jak-Knife had already warned her, a curt ping earlier today to "sstay ou t of his way it s bad seiifa". Ven too when he'd dropped by in the afternoon with the excuse of worrying about if she'd eaten yet and half a bag of something spicy and dripping in grease. He'd said the Cathedral staff were noose tight and whispering nervously about an incident a few hours before, something had gone wrong in a talk with visiting sponsors - with the twins. Word on the rumour mill was it had nearly turned vicious, the suits looking ready to brick themselves as they'd all but ran through the meeting room's doors after Troy had flung them open hard enough to unhinge one, and according to priests who'd been on hand? Tyreen had really embarrassed him.

Sei had winced as Ven explained, both painfully aware of this behaviour pattern and what it meant for everyone he was close to. Why the God Queen had been going out of her way to put her brother down in front of high-value clients recently was impossible to guess - no one could really get into her head or understand her decisions lately, but this wasn't the first time, and if anything it was getting worse. Little insults. Little knife-sharp jokes that weren't jokes at all, and mockeries masked behind a paper thin smile like it made them less deadly. She'd imply he was a burden, or undermine his expertise in ways so cleverly worded that the officials would have no choice but to laugh awkwardly as Troy seethed while his twin continued with negotiations.

Today she'd apparently told him to make himself actually useful and fetch their guests some drinks, right in front of servant crew and moments after he'd finished a grueling breakdown of growth projections and profit expectations for this quarter to a rapt audience. It's hard to tell if him snapping had actually surprised her or had been exactly what she wanted, but the staff who'd been there were terrified, and insisted the Vault Mother had looked genuinely shocked when the desk he threw had missed her head by barely a few inches.

He'd stalked out of the meeting and vanished into the upper cloister, and now it was the middle of the night and her E-Dev pinged for a third time.

She closed her eyes and tried to breathe out the fear coiling through her ribs in a shaky exhale. She knew exactly what was happening, it was the same as always with him. Enraged, dripping with self-loathing, and lost somewhere in that toxic mood somewhere between vicious and pitiful - looking for something to hurt, looking for a way to vent the pain as he paced like a snarling monster, muttering like he was arguing something with himself, a back and forth of accusations and desperate apologies to something no one else could see.

Tyreen couldn't eat him alive with her powers but she could do it with her words... and maybe that's what had changed. Maybe she'd realised a new way to control her twin with manipulations that left him so emasculated and damaged in confidence that he wanted to tear something he loved apart just so he could turn the hatred on himself after.

Of course it was going to be her.

The same dance every time now, the same frustrating steps that she'd memorised by this point, trying to break him out of his deadly spiral as he'd rant at rave at her, till he'd attack her somehow, then skulk into the shadows when he was done foaming at the mouth, leaving her to carry everything he'd piled onto her shoulders - the threats, the hate, the aggression, only to beg for her forgiveness the next day and be ignored.

He'd spend a week desperately apologising, showing how much he understood how pathetically wrong what he had done had been, sending ridiculous gifts to the mechanicum where he knew they'd have to be accepted under his sigil, reassure over and over in messages that it wouldn't happen again, that he'd just been under so much pressure, that he'd just snapped, that it wasn't right and she hadn't deserved it and how much her friendship mattered.

The E-Dev pinged one last time, and Seifa straightened, dusting off her overalls and adjusting the toolbelt slung around her waist.

God-King Calypso demanded a sacrifice - self harm masked as a blade he'd lash at someone he loved so it would cut him all the deeper. She'd take it, better her than someone else. She could handle him.

She always had.

It was raining again, felt like that hadn't stopped at all this month. Pandora had wet seasons, it's just that the water never seemed to go anywhere. The acrid dust absorbed it almost as fast as it could fall, but in the city it flooded the streets as it rushed down gutters. Neon light reflected from gaudy signs in pools of colour that swam across the uneven paving stones as she slowly made her way towards the Cathedral, a waterproof canvas thrown around her shoulders protecting from the downpour.

Even at this time of night, the city was still alive. It never really stilled anymore, too many deals going down in alleys and money changing hands in clubs for it to ever actually sleep, and as she picked her way past huddled locals far too engrossed in their own business to pay her any mind, Seifa wondered when it was things had changed like this.

This place had been a shanty town, hadn't it? When she'd arrived to take over the engineering division there had been maybe one, two thousand COV followers camped around the cathedral in rickety shelters. Bandits mostly, erecting camps and functional living quarters with expertise alien to any outsider. It was a city now, fuck, it was a metropolis. She'd overseen the building of half of the major apartment systems in the inner ring around the holy quarter, so how did it still feel like it had grown of out nowhere?

Sei huffed out a steamy breath into the chill night air as the cathedral began to come into view, bass music and laughter fading as it was swallowed into the drumming of the rain on the buildings she left behind her.

She used to be so proud when she saw it, the awesome majesty of its twisted spires and jutting angles framed against the rocky outcrop that loomed behind it. Nowadays it just looked like something grotesque, a mirror of what it contained maybe. The COV was rotting from within, and everyone knew the source.

She'd been warned by friends more willing to face the harsh realities of the twin's decline that time was running out.

Tonight, tomorrow, a week from now, it didn't matter why it was going to happen, just that it would, and as much as she hated admitting it to anyone, Seifa knew she wasn't strong enough to do this much longer.

He was killing her.

Anything could set him off now, it was constant. Numbers under-performing this week, an underhanded comment from Tyreen that tipped the balance, not enough sleep, too many stims, not gaining weight, an article mocking his appearance, anything. It could have been any of them he had summoned, her, Ven, JK, the why or who was inconsequential because the desired outcome was always the same.

Troy wanted to hurt himself, not them, but he didn’t know how. The pressure would build and build till he broke down, lost logic, went wild-eyed and shaking in barely controlled rage. He hated being Troy Calypso so much there were times he wanted to tear his own skin off, he'd told her as much on nights alone and open in shared sadness, but there was no escape. It was this, or starving in a manner she couldn’t even comprehend, and when he'd asked before if maybe that would be the better option?

...She'd not known what to say. She'd failed him then, tripping over the words catching in her lungs as he desperately waited for an answer that would make sense of things, and she'd never been able to give one. Just sat next to him as they both sank deeper into the trap of their titles and the horrible reality that there was no clear way out.

He was waiting in the throne room for her, just like she'd imagined. Pacing back and forth across the dias as the city light streamed through the stained glass windows, glinting sharply off the rattling gold spines his ritual gear was decorated with as he moved.

She'd stood in silence, watching, trying to catch what he was asking himself as he'd snap a muttered retort in spite, but not able to ever make out the questions. Like an animal snared in gilded chains she figured, or something else maybe - an idol pretending to be something living? A shiver had ran through her as she waited for him to turn his frantic attention to her, quietly waiting for the blow to come. No one had even been there to greet her or open the doors to the throne room, they were ajar, the staff knowing better than to risk being in his presence when he was like this... she smirked, knowing better than her, anyway.

He'd shifted attention to her so smoothly it felt like the rant he'd been hissing to himself just continued directly into her as he'd turned, beckoning her closer with a quirk of those horrible claws. She'd bit her lip and swallowed down how much that enraged her, being summoned like a fucking dog when this man so often made clear he viewed himself as dirt in comparison to her, but months of dealing with him had tempered the reaction. Easier to go along with it, placate him, nod and let him vent out the bile till he realised how much of a fucking asshole he was and came crawling back later.

It was the same dance as usual, the exact same steps. She could feel where he was going with each shift in direction, jumping topic to topic in an attempt to place blame and becoming more enraged with each simple refute she could offer. She never made it easy, that wasn't her nature in the end, she'd calmly reply back to each accusation with logic that left him shaking harder as the fury built, like a caged predator or roid-mad Psycho desperate to attack but not getting the opening. She could play this game for hours, long enough to make sure he worked for the satisfaction, even if it left her exhausted.

She'd always been petty, after all.

He threw snarled jabs at Mechanicum performance, raised complaints that she knew weren't true, accused "concerns" about output she could disarm easily, the same as always, till suddenly he shifted.. and everything went wrong.

She could handle him with spines raised and teeth bared, she could stand unflinching as he aimed blows that he never really landed, but she hadn't been prepared for him to suddenly relax. He'd stood straight, rolling the weight of the prosthetic on a shoulder all casual and friendly like suddenly he wasn't seething under the grin his snarl melted into, and she'd felt a jolt of fear. This was something new, this was something... worse, she could feel it like electricity crackling up her spine, and for the first time that night her heart began to pick up a stuttered pounding as cool sweat beaded down her back. He took a step closer, and for just a second, there was a question flittering across the back of her mind that screamed something she couldn't ignore before it vanished into her practiced calm.

For a split second, Seifa questioned if this was Troy.

"You know, it's funny, Sei..."

She opened her mouth to warn him to stop, the atmosphere was at fever point, he was going to go too far, something in how terrified his eyes looked against he vicious curve of his smile sent panic through her chest.

"Troy" her voice cracked "Come on, Troy you know you shouldn't keep going, this is -"

He cut her off with a tsk and raise of a bladed finger, bending to lower his face closer to hers from where he towered above her.

"Rude Seifa, I was talking."

He was near enough to feel the body heat glowing from his chest, and her voice choked in her throat as the point of a talon tapped gently against her nose as if he was chiding some kid.

"Funny isn't it?" He cooed, and it wasn't.

"You used to have so much time for me, didn't you. We used to really spend time together..." the lack of his stutter was a warning she knew him too well to ignore.

"... but nowadays you're so desperate to get out of my presence that I can literally see your skin crawl while you're forced to be around me. It's happening right now Sei... ain't it."

That was a lie, and she wanted to slap his hand away from where it pointed towards her chest, push him back towards the throne behind him and tell him how stupid an attack that was. She's always had time for him, she gave him infinite time, she gave him so much of herself that she'd been crumbling, she wanted to tell him the truth of it, that how much she gave him had been killing her, but she couldn't, he didn't give her the chance.

"You've got allllll the energy in the world for your little friends though, don't you. You've got laughter and happiness to pour all over them, fill them up with, show them how much you care, but not me, not anymore. And you know, that's got me thinking recently!"

The smile was fake but the monster behind it wasn't. He may as well have been snarling, and she was fully aware he wasn't really attempting to hide that at all.

He stepped a fraction closer again, close enough for her to reach and press a warning hand against his chest as he leaned further down to meet her eyes, the veneer of his calm cracking under the weight of the now haggard, panting breathes he whistled through that vicious smile, the terror in his eyes. She didn't understand any of this, why was he so afraid when it was him pressing this onwards, why was he so panicked when the act was so calm? His skin was like fucking fire under her hand and the push she gave to try and move him back did nothing.

"Made me realise, maybe I was never your friend really - maybe I was just something you held onto like a lifeline in the storm of your shitty life choices, huh?" She felt tears rise, this wasn't fair, this was too real now, this was being aimed at his friend not his employee, but he wouldn't stop.

"Taken for a ride while you lead me on all these years. That would explain it, right? How much you got for them, how much you'll give them, when I'm just a burden to you. Or..."

His mouth was next to her ear and she wanted to beg him to stop before it was too late, before he did what she knew he was about to do. To stop before he decimated everything, but the words were caught behind the sob she refused to let spill as he drove the knife home with one last twist.

"Maybe the real problem here Seifa, is they are more than friends, hmm? Because that's your real operation method, isn't it. That's how you get what you want, everyone knows it. Maybe they met your standards, but you just never saw me as good enough to fuck."

The crack of his jaw against her fist echoed through the stone throne room for long enough to make the silence that came after all the more horrible.

She remembers that, that noise and the pain ripping through her hand in burning waves, but she doesn't really remember the rest.

She doesn't fully remember what she saw, the flash of those glaring, monstrous eyes that burned down on them both as Troy reeled in horrified shock, cradling his face in confusion like he couldn't understand why she'd just hit him, she doesn't remember the flicker of Siren wings or the laughter that echoed somewhere in the back of her mind but made no sound.

It's a daze. Whatever he whispered pleadingly after, teary-eyed and shaking, she didn't hear.

She doesn't remember leaving and how she stormed down the Cathedral halls and into the freezing night air, doesn't remember who saw her or if clergy had been there. Doesn't remember the way she'd mindlessly picked towards the hi-rise Ven's quarters were in before realising she was walking the wrong way, or how effortlessly she'd flipped the ignition in her ship, or how prepped she'd been to jump out of Pandora's orbit soon as she hit safe distance, doesn't remember any of it.

But the pain in her hand and the look in his eyes after, she fucking remembers that.

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #seifa #leech lord #sbsart

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Recruits, Regulation″

Recruits Kimber, Alvarez, Han, and McCaster sat mostly slack jawed in the little conference room on the command deck of the UNSC Harbinger. The little alien doctor they had called ‘Krill’ was standing at the front of the room, and in general military fashion, he had a powerpoint holographically projected over the far wall.

On the projection currently was a diagram of a human body, the kind you would see in high school health textbook.

The little alien was pointing vigorously towards the diagram, “And here, right here this little opening that leads into the bladder is called the urethra, and if you STICK things in it, it gets grossly infected and causes horrible urinary tract infections.” The group of recruits simple sat there in shock, “This, this is the anus, this muscle was designed to push things out not take things in. In fact, if you try, the negative pressure created by your adventure can pull things INSIDE your colon and up your large intestine. The procedure for getting that out might include surgery, but could just involve someone like me reaching up there to grab it out.”

Mouths gaped in astonishment.

They couldn’t be living through this, could they.

“This, this machine right here is the mechanism used to close the airlock doors. If the airlock doors get jammed, do NOT stick your hand inside to try and fish them out, because this may cause something called degloving…. If you don’t know what that means, its when all the skin peels off your hand like a banana and-”

The door at the far end of the room hissed open, and they turned to see the commander, of course the man didn’t just walk into the room like any normal person. He glided in on his ‘heelies, hands clasped behind his back like he was standing at parade rest. It was such a strange sight, considering the man was wearing an officer's uniform and a captain’s cap having ditched the sunglasses from earlier in favor of the eye patch, which did not, in fact, seem to be a joke, but was definitely part of his everyday wardrobe.

He came gliding to a halt next to them, “You made a powerpoint?” He asked in mild amusement.

“Of course I made a powerpoint.”

“Hmm,” The man shrugged, “Guess it makes sense.”

“Can you let me finish.”

The man grinned, “Afraid not. We are about to launch, and I have it on good authority these four have been invited to the bridge to see the spectacle.”

The little doctor sighed, “So human by way of his exasperation that it was hard to tell he was even alien, “Alright go then, but when one of them ends up in my infirmary with some stupid injury, I am going to blame you.”

“You blame me anyway.”

“That's because I am convinced you are the amalgamation of human stupidity and recklessness.” The recruits looked nervously back and forth between the two. Its not everyday you watched an officer get insulted to his face, but the man just smiled and laughed blowing the entire thing off.

“Well I’ve never gotten anything stuck in my colon, so I guess I’m not a good representative, anyway.” He pointed to the four of them, “Come on. I think you’ll want to see this.”

Nervously the group of them stood and followed the Commander through the open doors walking along behind his gliding form.

He had…. Not been what they expected. They had seen the movie trailers, heard about his exploits, watched flight demonstration videos, in certain cases, and even received lectures about intergalactic relations based on transcripts from his conversations, and or interactions. He was a legend at the academy, at the forefront of human/alien relations. All the books were written based on what he had done or what people in his crew had done. He had been the first man to SEE sentient nonhuman life.

And there he was, wearing an eyepatch and heeleing down the hall like a botched middle school costume party. Not to mention, when they had heard of him, they had immediately assumed it would be someone older and more experienced, someone graying at the temples who had seen more life than he knew what to do with, but this…. This guy wasn’t much older than them. Young enough to be their older brother, or their older brother’s weird ass friend.

Then there was that smile, like he didn’t have a serious bone in his body, and they were expected to follow this guy?

How could they take him seriously?

“Um… Sir, I don’t mean to sound…. accusatory , but.” He glanced over his shoulder back at them, green eye sparking with some unknown emotion.

Recruit Kimber pointed down at his shoes, “Um, are those regulation…. With the uniform or…”

He grinned again and turned away, “Uniform regulation Gama on the proper maintenance of footwear when wearing uniform. Footwear must be classified as a dress shoe and come in Mat black or grey, no laces.” he pointed downwards at his feet, “These are slip ons, and in the online description they were described as a ‘dress shoe” maybe it was on a technicality but I took a screenshot just in case anyone asks.”

They stared at him.

“Um…. sir…. I hate to sound like an….ur well…. But you arent exactly…”

“What you expected?” The man finished, coming to a stop and turning to face them.

“Well.” Alvarez rubbed the back of his head, “Yeah, I mean you…. Well weve read about you in military science and tactics, and we sort of just assumed that you’d be more ...”

The conversation died away as the young recruits shifted awkwardly.

He smirked, “you thought id be some old stuffy officer with years of military experience. Some regulation stickler with a metal rod shoved up my ass, yes sir, no sir, you say jump, I say how high, that kind of person?”

They shuffled their feet awkwardly, but didn’t answer.

The man didn’t break his expression, “Well this is the reality. When I was a kid I used to set up my telescope out on the lawn, hoping I would see a UFO I trained for over five years in aviation to get my ass on board the Enterprise, because I wanted nothing more than to go to space.. My first trip to space was in an F-90 darkfire, and I nearly died. I was on the forerunner team that stepped foot on Proxima b and then when we receive incoming radio signals from an unknown source,I accompanied them as well. There I was the first person to see extraterrestrial life, not only that but I helped to establish linguistic contact between the two races. When the Drev war happened, I was deployed when I never should have been, lost my leg become a part of operation steel eye fought through withdrawals and PTSD before crawling back to the UNSC only to learn that the GA Knew me and trusted me enough to want me as the human representative to the rest of the galaxy.” He paused for a second looking them over, “All of that, was just one big accident. I was in the right place at the right time, and aside from training as hard as I did to be a good pilot, I have stumbled and crashed my way to success by the grace of my own luck.”

The group remained silent.

He looked at them with a critical eye, “Do you want to know what I learned through all of that?”

They remained silent but nodded nervously.

He took a breath, “I learned first and foremost to never stop loving what you do, With the army it is easy to take all the rules and regulations, and hate all the political loopholes you have to jump through. It’s easy to make a routine to grow bored. But boredom leads to burnout, and every day I wake up on MY ship living my childhood dream and determine I have no right to feel that way, so if that means wearing heelis on the command deck, Playing songs older than dirt on the bridge, and making myself look like a fool, than I’ll do it, just as long as I remember to contain it when it most matters.”

He turned away and began gliding down the hall again, “Ever wonder why my ship, despite being the most dangerous, is the most sought after in the fleet… It's because Morale. I make sure to keep my people entertained and happy. Morale has the happy side effect of making people work harder, they try more, and they are more loyal. Everything I do, I do for the crew, and for myself.”

He came to a halt at the bottom of the steps and led them upwards onto the bridge.

The small blue Drev, Sunny, was waiting for them, “Rousing lecture, I almost peed myself a little.”

He snorted and shoved her aside with a shoulder, “You know you love me.”

The drev lifted her head slightly, “Do I?”

“Yes, you do.”

The recruits followed nervously after him glancing towards the Drev female and her bright gold eyes. She snapped her beak at them and they stepped back nervously. She made some sort of humming sound deep in her chest. The the base of her throat they watched as two large holes opened and closed in time with her breathing.

Creepy.

“Begin preflight sequence.” The commander had taken a seat in the captain's chair, and as he was sitting there giving orders and taking command of the ship, you could almost forget that he was wearing an eyepatch and a pair of heelies.

By order form one of the bridge men, they strapped themselves into their seats as the countdown sequence began, “Crew of the harbinger this is your Commander speaking. Please follow all takeoff protocols for we are beginning preflight at this time. Please make sure to strap down all objects that would be lethal flying towards you head, and keep your hands and and feet inside the vehicle for the duration of the ride, thank you for flying with the UNSC.”

He flipped some controls on the chair as the countdown began, and it wasn’t moments before they were being lifted into the sky. Everyone braced themselves against their seats clutching the harnesses as they were thrust upwards into the sky, hands clasped onto harasses, and then they were airborne.

Despite the sudden and violent takeoff, the ride was relatively smooth, and they watched out the windows as earth receded behind them.

It was an amazing sight, more than any of them had ever before imagined, “Charge warp drive!” The commander ordered.”

“Charging warp drive, engage on your command, sir.”

“Diagnostic report on the coolant system?”

“100% operations functional, sir!”

“Engage warp drive in three ...two…. One.”

And then they were gone, off into the vastness of space at the forefront of space exploration.

At the forefront of danger.

***

The forefront of danger was not what they had been expecting, they certainly had not expected the aggressive prank war that occured on April first, a prank war that covered McCaster in Green paint, and resulted in Han having lost all of his left shoes.

They didn’t expect the mess hall to burst into a sing along when the commander began playing outdated rock music, they hadn’t expected to get cleaned out in a game of poker by an alien nearly twice their size, or chased out of the shower by a very grumpy looking spider hybrid.

All through this, the commander appeared and disappeared at random wheeling past or riding on the back of the electric blue Drev, only to prance down the hall out of sight leaving a trail of…. Something dumb, bubbles or confett, behind him.

How he managed to requisition any of the things he got his hands on was a mystery to them.

And though this was the strangest experience they had ever had, he hadn’t been wrong about burnout, boredom, or monotony. They never knew what was coming next, and there was always something interesting going on.

If you walked in on the commander, one moment he was trying to teach the spiderlings how to shake, and the next moment he was on a conference call with the president of the UN brass of the UNSC and the galactic Assembly giving tactical advice with the same mouth that had earlier proclaimed the hypothesis that , why don’t we just do all our laundry in space seeing as the inhospitable vacuum would kill all the bacteria, not entirely sure if he was joking or not.

During meal times he spent a good portion of it rotating around the tables and eating with a new group every day. Generally his big blue friend, Sunny came with him, and more often than not, the doctor as well. Seemed odd how close he was with them, but no one would give a straight answer when questions came up about the nature of the relationship.

It was on just such a day when the commander made his way over to their table and took a seat followed by the blue Drev who was carrying a large salad in a mixing bowl.

The drev could really put down food, but that made sense.

“Morning gentlemen.”

“Morning, sir.”

He tilted his head, “Don’t look so thrilled, you might have an accident with all that enthusiasm.”

Alvarez clutched his mug, “Sorry not a morning person.” He muttered

“And you commander.”

“Any time is a good time to be alive.”

“And there is the optimist.” Han muttered with a sigh rubbing groggily at his eyes before pausing “What are you wearing?”

The commander grinned leaning back to show off his shirt, “Star Wars T, its vintage, do you like?.... Don’t give me that look, it’s casual friday.”

They just shook their heads in slight amusement as he leaned an elbow on the table, “I was meaning to ask you guys something.”

They nodded, and he was about to open his mouth to speak when, alarms started going off all around the ship.

Suddenly, the geek was gone and the commander stood in his place demeanor no more marred by his clothing than a speck of dust in a beam of sunlight.

“EVERYONE TO YOUR STATIONS, NOW!”

“What’s going on!”

He tilted his head to the side listening, probably to a report over his implants.

“The GA is under attack. “

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iamanartichoke · 6 years

Note

I don’t know if ur still taking prompts but I saw this prompt once that was like “ur ship is in a situation where one kisses the other & the other is just shocked bc it’s not the situation that would happen in & they don’t expect it from them” like using it as a distraction or something?? Okay honestly it didn’t say that it explained it much better but if u .. kind of understand .. can u do it with valki? Or something similar

So this prompt inspired some Loki and Thor feels, which came out, in order to let Valkyrie pick up the pieces (kind of) so … I hope it’s in line with what you had in mind! Also, this is not particularly flattering to Thor, so I apologize, but I still love him, truly. Some of my prompts have been set in the Sanctuary ‘verse, but this is very much not, just as a disclaimer. Anyway, I hope you like it and thank you for the prompt and your patience!

Word Count: 2126

Loki’s biggest mistake, he would reflect later, was believing that Thor was at all capable of treating Loki as an equal.

It should not have been a surprise. Even after Loki had fallen, Thor had not seemed to understand - had not seemed to care - what drove Loki’s actions. Thor, who called Loki’s grievances imagined slights, who turned to throw blame at Loki’s feet quick as lightning when things went wrong, who had not hesitated to leave Loki writhing in immobilized pain on Sakaar.

You’ll always be the God of Mischief, Thor had said. Loki heard the truth behind the words - you’ll always be lesser, Thor might as well have said. You’ll always be a weaselly trickster up to no good. Returning to Asgard with the ship to save them all meant nothing, in the end. Loki thought he could die trying to prove himself to Thor, and Thor would only look at his corpse and scoff that his death could have been more glorious, had be bothered to try harder.

Three days after they’d set course for Earth, Thor gathered his tiny council - Heimdall, the Valkyrie, Banner, Korg, and Loki - to discuss preparations and logistics for their journey. While Loki appreciated that Thor included him on the council, he could not help but bring up the fact that Earth might not be the best destination for the Asgardian refugees.

“Surely we might be better received on Vanaheim, perhaps,” he suggested, “or Alfheim. Somewhere we’ve already got an alliance.”

“Earth has an alliance with Asgard,” Thor countered, “and it is where we have friends. It’s like a second home to me.”

“To you, yes,” Loki said, “but not to the rest of your people. Earth is a chaotic world, brother. Its governments are often in opposition to one another. Wars between the humans are on-going and violent. They are fickle creatures.”

“You think too little of them,” Thor said, clasping his fingers together. The others had grown quiet, watching Thor and Loki volley back and forth like it was a sporting match. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki noticed the Valkyrie bring a flask to her lips. “I have lived among them, brother; I know how they operate.”

“You know how your Avengers operate,” Loki refuted, keeping his voice even, though irritation was beginning to prick at his nerves. “Not humans.”

Thor tilted his head slightly, and the corners of his lips tilted in what Loki was beginning to recognize as Thor’s new smile. It was not borne of amusement or good-nature; it didn’t reach his eyes. (Eye, rather.) It was a smile that revealed an impatience Loki had never realized Thor possessed; it was a smile that said Thor believed he was right and that to try to convince him otherwise was to waste his time.

With a pang, Loki realized that it reminded him of the way Thor’s arrogance had taken hold before his first coronation.

“Do you mean to say that the Avengers are not humans?” Thor asked, with a lifted brow.

“I mean to say that they are not representative of Midgard as a whole,” Loki returned evenly. “Have you even considered the humans’ innate hostility toward a superior race? How much trouble it can cause?”

“You still think us above them.” Thor’s voice was flat.

“Of course I do,” Loki snapped. “We are above them. That is simple fact.”

“What’s simple fact,” Thor replied, his remaining eye darkening, “is that you are willing to put the remainder of Asgard in peril so that you can hide from the consequences of your crimes on Midgard. Don’t pretend that’s not what this is.”

Loki blinked. The words were cruel, even for this new Thor, and Loki’s guard was lowered enough that they hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. “Is that truly what you think?”

“I think that you always act in your own best interests, Loki,” Thor replied, “everyone else be damned.”

Loki’s anger sprung up so violently that it was a visceral shock to his system. He felt heat rush to his cheeks as he glanced around the table. Everyone was making great pains to avoid his gaze. When Loki looked back at Thor, he saw something that might have resembled regret, as if Thor realized he’d gone too far, but he did not take back the words.

“Clearly,” Loki said tightly, as rage began to build up beneath the surface, pulsing in his veins, “my opinions are not welcome here, so I shall take my leave.”

“Loki -” Thor began, but Loki was already pushing away from the table.

“Do as you wish, your Majesty,” Loki said. He spun on his heel, fists clenching at his sides. His anger radiated palpably off of his skin and several of the electric lights in the room burst and shattered as he passed. He paid them no mind. He just kept moving like a walking statue - eyes straight ahead, shoulders rigid, features frozen into a mask of impassivity. Anyone who looked at him, however, would have seen the dangerous darkening of his green eyes and been wise to stay away.

Loki didn’t know where he was going. He just knew he had to put as much distance between himself and Thor as possible. He thought of going to his quarters, but he did not wish to be cooped up in the tiny, empty space. He thought about going to the Commodore and simply taking it, Thor and the rest of Asgard be damned. He’d fly far away from this wretched ship, seek out Xandar or someplace similar, where all he’d need was his wits and a bit of gold to start anew.

In the end, he went to the observatory deck, where just a few days ago Thor had been crowned king and Loki had felt balanced and centered, for the first time in years. They’d all been riding the high of a battle hard won, he supposed, and the reality of Asgard’s destruction had not truly set in. What a fool Loki was, to believe anything had truly changed.

He stood at the window for a long time, long enough for his anger to simmer and cool, receding back under the surface. He wished that he could lose himself out among the stars - that he could simply be swallowed up by the glittering darkness and disappear into the void. It was such a tempting thought, until one remembered what terrors lurked in the folds and shadows of the void, unseen. Loki shuddered.

Soon, he heard footsteps approaching. He listened to the shuffle of the person’s walk, light and a bit uneven, before he determined it was the Valkyrie. “Are you lost?” he asked, without turning around.

“No.” The Valkyrie continued her approach until she was standing beside him. She folded her arms across her chest and gazed out the window, not looking back when Loki glanced at her. “Just seemed like a nice view.”

“View’s the same at any window,” Loki told her, clasping his hands behind his back. “I’m not sure why you chose this one.”

“Perhaps I wanted the company at this particular window,” the Valkyrie replied, lifting her shoulders. “Do you mind?”

“Yes,” Loki said honestly. “I do mind. I’d rather be alone.”

“Hmm.” Valkyrie did look at him then, something measuring in her gaze. “I think you’re right, you know.”

“About being alone?”

“No. About Earth.” Valkyrie reached into her pocket for her flask and offered it to him. Loki accepted it and brought it to his lips. He took a long swallow, his eyes never leaving her face.

“You could have said so,” he replied when he lowered the flask, handing it back to her. “In the meeting.”

“I could have,” she agreed, “but I don’t think it would have done much good. You and Thor are both so stubborn - when you get going, there’s nothing anyone can say.”

Loki scoffed and looked back out the window. They were allies in battle, perhaps, but being in their presence for a few days did not mean she knew either Loki or Thor. Not truly, not enough. Behind his back, he pressed his thumbnail into his palm, relishing the sting. “You must know,” he said, “that Thor is always right. Even more so now that he is king.”

Valkyrie said nothing. Not that Loki expected her to. He sighed, unclasping his hands so that he could examine his fingers. “Thor’s changed,” he went on, more quietly. “He’s always been arrogant, but I thought he’d outgrown it. Circumstances necessitated he outgrow it. Now … now he seems to be regressing into the hothead he’d always proven to be in our youth.”

“Maybe not,” Valkyrie countered. She tipped her head back, downing the rest of her flask. “He’ll seek you out,” she added, tucking the flask back into whatever pocket it came from. “After you stormed out, he was regretful. Said he didn’t mean to upset you and he’d grown too defensive. It’s just a quarrel, Loki. All siblings have them.” Valkyrie smiled a little. “You’ll kiss and make up, sooner or later. Thor does value you, even if you can’t see it.”

Loki felt a lurch in his chest. “Why do you care?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows at her. “I don’t even know you. Nor do you know me.”

“Call it turning over a new leaf,” she replied dryly.

They were quiet for a few moments, and then, as if on cue, Loki heard Thor’s heavy footsteps drawing near. He closed his eyes, wanting to neither argue with Thor nor work it out. Not yet. Either option seemed exhausting.

Perhaps, Valkyrie could tell. “You wanna talk to him?” she asked in a low voice, leaning in.

“Not really.”

“Loki!” called Thor, and Loki started to turn, but then the next thing he was aware of was Valkyrie’s lips against his.

He let out a sound that might have been a yelp, had she not swallowed it down. Her fingers went to his hair, gripping the strands and, even though everything rational in him screamed at him to pull away, Loki felt himself respond. She pressed against his lips, seeking entry; he granted it and her mouth felt molten against his tongue. Loki felt dizzy and somewhat faint, his heart thudding in his ears.

“Wow, um, okay,” Thor said, sounding very far away, and only then did Valkyrie pull back. For a long moment, she and Loki stared at one another. Loki noticed her cheeks were flushed and her eyes seemed much brighter than they had a moment ago.

Then Valkyrie turned her head enough to look at Thor, without letting go of Loki. “If you don’t mind, your Majesty,” she said, cocking an eyebrow, “we were hoping for some privacy.”

“Oh, um, right.” Thor looked nothing short of bewildered as he looked from Loki to Valkyrie and back again. “Loki, I just thought we could talk, but - uh, I guess … I mean, I can find you later. If you want.”

Loki managed to nod.

“Right. Okay.” Thor took a couple of backward steps and then shook his head. “I’ll just … see you two later, then,” he added, and then all Loki was aware of was the quickening of his steps as he all but fled the deck. When he was gone, Valkyrie finally let go and stepped back.

“What in the Norns was that?” Loki finally asked, backing up as if he expected her to fling herself at him again.

“Distraction,” Valkyrie said simply, and then laughed. “My God, you should have seen your face. It was hilarious.”

Loki was still having trouble finding his words. He could not remember the last time he’d been kissed. It had not been a priority in a very long time. “Distraction?”

“Yeah. Not only did I put off your inevitable talk with Thor,” she said, “but now, you’ll have something to talk about besides how much you two hate each other. Or love each other. Whichever.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to thank you.” Loki’s tone was laced with a dryness that he did not quite feel. His heart was still beating too quickly for his liking.

“You kissed me back,” Valkyrie said with a shrug. “That’s thanks enough, if you ask me.”

“I -”

Valkyrie grinned and tossed her ponytail. “You’re welcome,” she said, and then she was sauntering off before Loki could respond. He watched her go, suddenly aware of her in a way he had not been before. He watched the swing of her ponytail, the shift of her walk, and then he brought his fingers lightly to his lips, and he smiled.

#tumblr prompts #charlotte writes #loki fic #valki #valki fic #thor and loki fic #brodinsons #angst #post thor ragnarok fic #a nonny mouse

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fenton-bus · 6 years

Text

Sagan's Comet

(a prologue)

∞

2020

If there is a causal relationship between the popularity of Barry Eisenberg's autobiography and the complete loss of journalistic integrity exhibited by the Manhattan press no one acknowledges it. In spaces formerly occupied by actual news, one can now find awed descriptions of the fun way the eighteen year old Portland native verbally decimates the Buzzfeed contributor brave enough to cross the threshold of his lair. Articles dedicated to examining the significance of his hoodie collection (consisting solely of secondary colors) are written with the zest and intensity of individuals delivering the defining information of the age. Between covering Syrian conflicts and Zayn's solo career these adults with journalism degrees they allegedly worked hard for print wild speculation about what Barry's digital watch says about him as a person, maps his evolution from monosyllables to making a Newsweek reporter cry whilst thanking him for the opportunity through her tears, and publishes three thousand word think pieces heavily suggesting that he is the voice of his generation.

Two months into his junior year at Columbia, Barry becomes a meme.

According to the lanky, mustachioed Starbuck's barista (who enjoys all the benefits of tumblr fame for two glorious minutes before he's brought down by an old "problematic" Burning Man post.) he waits in line every other Thursday before his Applied Calc class, and one morning he is informed-with an unfathomable regret-that they are currently out of bran muffins.

Barry allegedly makes a face that defies the descriptive power of the written word.

Skylar totally believes in fate. He was meant to come in that day, despite dancing on the precipice of being fired for coming to work after ingesting some "herbal refreshment". He was meant to get dragged behind the counter to fix the espresso machine, meant to turn around to grab the wrench at the exact moment Barry made That Face. He grabs his phone, snaps a pic and before Todd can offer the dude a blueberry substitute, twelve hundred people have added gross looking block text to Skylar's post. That Face becomes a universal constant just as relevant when describing reactions to sexism (When ur in a patriarchal society ) as it is to receiving troubling medical news (TMW UR DOCTORS ALL: GENITAL WARTS!!!?!1) . Kids aim That Face at unprepared parents in the aisles of Toys R Us. Girls just trying to enjoy happy hour with their besties clock the dudes halfway across the bar with The Face and the "you're the only ten I see" dies in the bros' throats. Tired moms schlepping their kids from one hellish interpretative dance class to another collapse against the seats of their Subaru Foresters and That Face all over the traffic cop worried about his quota and are let on their merry way with a stern warning. After announcing a pop quiz in Applied Calculus Professor Bevens is hit with sixty-two different versions of That Face.

The effect is so powerful\disturbing the professor decides to take lunch in his office that day.

When Mike Wallace asks Dr. Josef Stenberg why we, as a culture, are so fascinated the noted historian and scholar replies that The Face "effortlessly and intrinsically captures the depth of the human experience."

∞

There is a three day period wherein The New York Times makes a genuine attempt at substance before all parties involve realize how difficult it actually is and decide that mining Barry's first two years at MIT for scandal is much more creative use of their time.

The seven article series proves so popular the rate of traffic often causes the site to crash, to the point where the NYT puts an ad for a new head of IT in its own newspaper. (An error brought to their attention by the former IT supervisor as she storms out of their office making two very rude gestures with both of her hands.) The articles come dangerously close to reporting the significance of the solar ray that's currently powering the campus greenhouses and the fifteen classroom\lecture halls running on fossil fuels before remembering it's audience and veering back to the good stuff: in addition to campaigning long and hard to get one of his professors fired, (because the individual is a plaintiff in a current lawsuit his name has been redacted from all documentation in order to protect his identity. In any further documentation he shall be referred to as Mr. S.) Barry starts a (still active) war between the physics and computer science majors, stages a ninety-day sit in at Lanctom Hall and refuses to attend class until the United States converts to the metric system, attends seven out of his ten classes in his pajamas, builds a Death Ray, stages his own funeral, and has regular off-campus lunches with Neil Degrasse-Tyson where (according to an unnamed source) they discuss plans to reanimate Carl Sagan.

The Times receives countless emails from current and former MIT professors the content of which ranges from "Come on guys" to paragraphs of legal jargon, but because facts are annoying and can easily ruin a good time, they only publish one. For Mr. S who is, at this very moment, teaching a remedial chemistry class in a Hoboken public school, seeing his words in print gives him the necessary courage to take out an entire page of the Op Ed column for the sole purpose of calling Barry an "odious, mouth-breathing cretin" (among other, more foul monikers) and insist that his time at MIT is "the most convincing super villain origin story I've ever seen." Buried in the seventh paragraph under piles of incoherent rage is a fairly lucid comparison to Lex Luthor, which all things considered, Barry rather likes.

At six-thirty the following morning,

Don't you have young minds to compromise?

appears in the comments section of Mr. S's article. The user name is something banal and forgettable, but the 25 x 37 armadillo icon is responsible for the overjoyed intern's giggle snort and the frantic search for a 2013 Scientific American article in which Barry mentions that armadillos are often underestimated because of their size and deceptively docile demeanor.

∞

2017

So.

Barry wakes up in Naldo's body, which because he invents time travel when he's fifteen and perfects localized teleportation over summer break his freshman at year at MIT isn't even the weirdest sentence he's ever had to type. It isn't even the strangest thing that happens that year, (that literal prizes goes to Sergey Abermoff a stunningly mediocre marine biologist who wins the Noble Prize for his contributions to Alaskan Puffer Fish research. From March to August Barry is engaged in a furious letter-writing campaign to the Academy because seriously? Dr. Gloria Hernandez discovers and isolates what appears to be a second God particle but generous funds are being allocated to his dad's favorite Red Lobster entree? No.) While he makes a concentrated effort to document his daily experiments, and somewhat less dedicated attempts to record his thoughts about more personal subjects (he objects to the use of the word "personal" in this context because it implies a mutual exclusivity between the personal and the scientific where no such distinction exists, but he digresses) spontaneous ionic transference is apparently unworthy of documentation. Reading through the accounts of the incidents of that spring, scholars and historians alike are surprised to find only the briefest, most perfunctory outline of events.

It's an odd, tangential footnote in most textbooks, and even the larger more expansive biographies tend to refer to it transiently. One of the foremost examples of this phenomenon being Edgar Chen's Event Horizon which glosses over the events in a way Joan Collins of the New York Times calls "whimsically dismissive". Of the archived articles, research papers, essays, books, films, digital recordings and miscellaneous sundries that number in the thousands only two hundred and eighty-six contain references to the events of the spring of 2017. Of that number one hundred and thirty-seven are passing references, eighty-five are footnotes, five are visual references ( two screen grabs, a gif, and two vague scenes in the Cern documentary and the feature film Singularity, all of which are subject to intense and varying interpretation) forty- two are allusions in popular fiction, twelve are auditory, and seventeen are references to supplementary reading material that contain descriptions of the events so vague they border on unintelligible. In chapter four of Jackie Iron's (famed director of the Crabnormal Behavior Octo-thrilogy) tell-all Shellin' Out, Barry writes:

"I've never been fond of the "body-swap" trope. At best it's a cheap device used to create a sense of empathy between two characters possessing diametrically opposing viewpoints. At worst it's a study of the traumatic power of unrelenting body horror, a state of such brutal, paradigm-shifting physical and emotional dissonance that it's difficult to imagine surviving the encounter without constantly testing the tensile strength of reality for the remainder of one's natural life. Why would a writer subject their audience to something so terrible?"

Strangely, Barry's autobiography makes only a passing reference to the event. He glosses over his years at Columbia (there are a few offhand references to a Washington think tank he attends in the summer of 2017) but expands upon graduate school in such unrelenting, excruciating detail that chapters forty-seven through fifty-three are known to make a few students nauseous. The clinical, almost detached narrative prompts Melanie Fung, freshman human interest columnist of the Columbia Daily Spectator, to write: "The text habitually bathes Eisenberg in the soft light of scientific heroism, but the more personal, and possibly, more interesting threads of the narrative are glaringly absent."

It isn't until Jill Suarez publishes The Eisenberg Principle that the personal elements of Barry's life-coming out to his parents, the bullying he experiences in school, the two week period he spends in Renaldo Montoya's body-are recounted in detail.

#space-time found fam #singularity #friendship is magical realism

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witchcastors · 7 years

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An Icon™ Barney Ghost - would love to hear more about ur spooky stuff bc omg boNES??? The only bones I fuck with is chicken bones after i finish my drum sticks ((also dont worry about it ok this ask is just for whenever u feel like u wanna/feel ready to share some of the other spooky stories!! since tensed up telling that story dont feel pressured to tell us until ure ready! I know The Feel honestly i got into witchcraft so i could Deal With Spirits bc honestly?? Ghost™ troubles makes me a croon

I’ve finally got to this message! (I’m trying to keep them in order and I’m very bad at it, I apologize) How are you doing hunny? Ghost troubles are the bane of my existence–something’s always going on with me, lol. Perhaps I should reach out to Iya barney ghost and let him know that he’s reached Icon status? He’d love it, I’m sure. (Insert capt holt’s voice: BooOOnNeEE!!!!)

I’m definitely going to take this ask as an opportunity to go into more detail about him the others I had to deal with that following week. For all of you who are curious as to what she’s referring to, here is part one of the story about one of my paranormal encounters.

After the initial run in with the seemingly terrifying, lanky Creature from Hell at what I’ve named the Indie house, I wasn’t exactly happy with Lise, but I didn’t blame her for it. I just didn’t want anything to do with that house or any of the others in the area (there are 4 highly active haunted houses in those woods, and since then I’ve had a shit ton experiences with two of them in particular, because, you guessed it, I’m a curious dumbass who’s very susceptible to peer pressure)

In fact, after I tell you guys about this story, I can go into some of the crazy things that happened at the Pink house, if you’d like? But, I digress.

So yeah. We eventually get back to Lise’s house–which was about a half hour’s walk through the woods away. That wasn’t fun, our paranoia was at an all time high (mine esp because I was pretty sure the Barney Hell Beast was following us).

After getting home, Tim was on a roll. He wasn’t really a believer in the whole supernatural area, and he was having quite a good time going over what had happened over and over again. I remember sitting on Lise’s bed with the two of them. We were eating those dreamsicles and the tv was on as background noise, but my focus was the woods. Lise’s bedroom was in the back of the house, and her back wall was basically just a huge window that faced the woods–the same direction that the Indie house was in. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that we were still being watched, (despite kinda knowing that the demon seemed to be landlocked to that house for some reason)

Tim had finally noticed that I was acting weird, and when he asked about it Lise kinda went into a rant about me–so much so that I ended up having to stop her. I didn’t have much control of it then and was very insecure, particularly about my sight (I’ve got what my nana calls a Ghost Eye). He then badgered me about it (ugh I hate younger me for caving in) Regardless! I managed to convince him of my weirdness by going in detail about his nightmares and grandma that I shouldn’t have known anything about. I don’t remember most of the rest of the night, but I know the next day, we had school. And I still. I still couldn’t shake it, the feeling that we were being watched.

It was right after third period. I always met up with Lise because we had fourth together. When I saw her, I knew something was wrong. She looked happy and all, but her aura was shrowded from me. And it was…oozing? Not sure how to explain it. What’s worse, is the ache in my teeth now had a sharp, definable taste: metal. Tinfoil. Just a hint of it. We were by the gym area, too, and I remember feeling like something was watching us from the trophy case area. I grabbed her arm to pull her closer to me to ask what was going on with her, so our other friends wouldn’t hear. She laughed and said I was being stupid. But. As soon as I tightened my grip, I had what I can only describe as a vision? A vision of the night before, of her bedroom. Of that tall, creepy thing in the dark, standing right outside her bedroom. Only, it wasn’t looking at us in the bed. It was facing her closet. I saw it’s elongated limb start to rise, it slinked it’s way up the back deck. Then the vision flashed back to Lise sleeping next to me.

Lise’s face was twisted–not really out of the ordinary, she was very expressive in her sleep. But she was having a nightmare. Back to the window. Apart from his arm, the creature still wasn’t moving. His face had changed though, his too small eyes had grown huge, now they took up over half of his face. He was very focused, so much so that his body was starting to vibrate–I saw more blackness forming, sharp spikes peeling and tearing out of the tops of his shoulders.

Lise snapped me back to reality then. We were standing in the doorway of english and she was whisper-yelling at me to move my ass inside or we were going to be considered tarty, also two other guys were trying to get in. But I was pissed. Lise had done something she shouldn’t have, I just didn’t know what yet.

When we had gotten to our seats, she had asked me what my problem was and I kinda blurted out what was in her closet. Then got yelled at by our english teacher. Waited for a few minutes in silence while Lise looked very upset and uncomfortable. I passed her my notebook, and when she sent it back, I knew we were officially in deep shit

“I may or may not have taken a few bones from the house!”

She was snickering while she watched me read it. I thought I was going to vomit. How stupid do you have to be to take BONES from a HAUNTED HOUSE. When did she even do it?! When we were running from the house? I was so confused. Thankfully, we were then allowed to break off into our jeopardy study groups so I was able to yell at Lise

My other two friends were then given a light rundown, my sag friend hit her immediately and then this bish PULLS OUT ONE OF THE BONES. It was old and small and dingy looking, also the top part of it, that looked like it might have been connected to a hand maybe, had been stained with something. It looked like goopy ink. And the energy around it was a murky green. It made my shoulders tighten and my throat hurt. Not a very good sign.

I AM NOT KIDDING. SHE’S LIKE “I got the rest at home” Sag friend literally turned around in her seat saying “you white girls are crazy” I’ll skip the rest of the day bc, aside from a few snippet visions and little weird things, it was rather uneventful. Until school was over.

The entire ride back with her dad to her house was very stressful. In reality, that thing hadn’t been following us around all day, one of its…familiars(? i can describe it if yall want) was. Which meant the Hell Demon was at her house. Trying to get to the bones she had taken. What if it was waiting for us in her room? What did these bones mean to it? Could it leave if Lise was carrying on of them on her person?

I’m going to end this here now that I’ve given yall a good workup and some background info. If you’d like to hear about my first verbal encounter with this creature, please send me another ask! I’ve already written most of the memory down. Also, if any of you guys want to be notified about this or any of my other encounters, just let me know (I’m going to tag the babes who had left comments on part one just in case theyre still interested, but ill remove their names if they ask)

#alrighty so i guess this is part 2? i know this one was rather dull im sorry i just gotta work up to part 3 #its what Iya deserves ok i wanna tell his whole story if i can #demons #cryptids #horror #spooky #spooky stories #mine #personal #iya #thechopkins #horror story #barbarismandcamaraderie #aspen annihilation #windybeginnings

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