#cafeteria keypad

[poppy-metal]

moot said sm abt art letting out a moan when he pisses in the morning and now im thinking of having that be your fantasy - wanting art to piss on you - but he's so embarrassed about it, the act so degrading he doesn't know if he can bring himself to do it - but he wants to please you so bad and you look genuinely discouraged when he makes a face when you bring it up, he's quick to reassure you its just something he has to think about more. honestly, he'd be more into you pissing on him - that feels more right, in his eyes. it also kinda brings the curtain down around this shiny image he held of you, this sweet girl who liked missionary sex and holding hands - you were secretly touching yourself to the sound of him pissing into the toilet every morning? he doesn't know what to do with that.

arts done alot to keep patrick out of his relationship with you - hes stingy about it. protective of you - for what, he doesn't know now - some deep rooted worry that you'd want patrick more, like every girl does. but he can't stop thinking about it. and patrick notices him brooding. and art knows - knows patrick is, well. more liberated when it comes to sex than art is. has more experience. is less romantic about the whole thing. so he caves.

"have you ever...... um. has a girl ever wanted you to - you know -" he makes a gesture with his hands, flushing.

"cum on her tits? yeah, loads of tim-"

"no not cum - the other. the other thing. that, uh. comes out."

"piss? you mean piss?"

"yeah."

patrick stares at art long enough for art to squirm. "fuck off. it was a question, alright? forget it."

but patrick is grinning now - "holy shit."

"stop it."

"your girlfriend wants a golden shower?"

"that's disgusting - "

"give me your phone."

"what? no. why?"

"i need to see this chick."

"i introduced you months ago, patrick."

"yeah, and i fucking forgot. hand it over -"

art pretends hes annoyed but he surrenders his phone regardless into patricks outstretched hand. thumbs flying over the keypads to find his gallery. art scratches behind his ear, still blushing, wondering if it was a mistake to bring it up. he feels guilty he basically outted this kink of yours to his friends when its private. he wonders if you tell your friends he likes it when you spit in his mouth. flushes more at the thought. god, is he a shit boyfriend?

patrick lets out a low whistle. "shit - how'd i forget those tits -"

"alright -" art snatches his phone back, pocketing it. "lets just drop it, yeah?"

patrick doesn't drop it though. in fact he has a long conversation with art that evening.

and the next time you're in the college cafě, getting a blueberry scone, you jolt when you feel an arm brush yours. are startled to look up and see patrick zweig already looking down at you. he nudges your shoulder with his. nods to your scone, and then his plate. "I got it."

you're not one to argue with free stuff. patricks loaded anyway, so you nod. you look around him. "is art with you?" he was supposed to meet you for lunch.

"we're going to meet him." patrick pays for your stuff and turns to you, walking backwards into the cafeteria. he jerks his head, "come with me."

you do, hesitantly. as you walk beside him, you catalog him. of course, you know him. but you dont really know him, know him. he's arts best friend, and a bit of a tennis prodigy, if one that might burn out too quickly if he doesn't regulate himself soon.

still. you aren't around him much, you think because arts worried you'll cheat on him if left alone with patrick for too long. and you get patricks appeal - hes tall and athletic - more filled out than art is yet, he has that whole devil may care kind of look to him, mussed up hair. a smirking pink mouth. something about the way he carries himself, too. confident and assured. its..... hot. you can admit that.

but you love are. you're in love with art. and its for the ways that hes opposite to patrick, that you do. hes a golden aura. a beam of sunlight where patrick screams night - he's soft and kind and he cares about you. he thinks about you. he considers you. he's not shy, but he's soft spoken. he listens. he's like a lazy river - or a fluffy cloud.

patrick leads you up the bleachers to one of the outside tennis cours, and you look out - spot art practicing with someone on the other side of the net. he doesn't see either of you yet, and you dont call out to him. you like watching him play. his precision and grace.

you sit near the top row of metal slats and patrick sits one row below you, so he can prop his legs out and spread his arms behind him on the one you're sitting on. "you sit like a third grader." you tell him, which is true. all sprawled out with his big long limbs.

patrick tips his head back to look at you. green eyes spark - he has a water bottle that he tips back and pulls a long swallow from. you dont watch his adams apple bob.

"i need alot of space to air my shit out." he parts his thighs wider as if to cement that statement and you try not to notice the way his shorts slide down his thick tan legs. they bunch all the way nearly down to his crotch.

"classy." you tell him. picking at your muffin as you stare out at art again. when he hits the ball, he jumps. his shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of pale skin and you rub your bottom lip. mouth filling with saliva because you know what that skin tastes like, feels like, under your tongue. like faint salt, and soft toned muscle.

"you'd know all about being classy wouldn't you?"

something about the way he says it - like there's a hidden meaning, makes you glance back down at him. hes still looking at you.

he's rolling his water bottle sideways up and down his thigh, and he looks like he wants to say something else, but it'll make him laugh, so he doesn't.

you squint. "huh?"

one side of his mouth quirks up. he takes another swig from his bottle - looks out over the courts and shrugs.

well, no.

you swat at his shoulder, irritated, he's pulled you in somehow. "what does that mean?"

he shrugs again - holding a mouthful of water. he swishes it from side to side as he looks up at you. swallows it slowly. holds his mostly empty bottle up and taps your knee with the open lid - "just means you're not as innocent as we all thought."

your eyebrows draw together. your stomach does a little flip. you have the distinct feeling he's making fun of you. like hes in on something you're not apart of.

you settle on, "whose we?"

green eyes flit back to the court - you follow and you find art again. he's turned from his opponent, using the end of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. he fishes a sports drink from his bag and downs nearly all of it in one go. as hes wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he turns slightly, casually taking in his surroundings. you can tell the moment he spots you and patrick because he freezes. his wrist still at his lips. he doesn't wave. you dont either.

you look back at patrick. hes still looking out at art.

"you and art...." you start. "you talk about me? together?"

patrick takes his time turning back to look at you. he seems to be communicating something across the distance to art. he says, without looking "uh huh." and when you shove his shoulder with your knee, he finally gives you his full attention. bad idea. something about him - you feel - like prey or something. you dont know. pinned under his gaze. "art tells me everything."

he puts emphasis on everything, and lets that sink in for you, which it does. slowly.

because there's really only one thing you've brought up with art recently that would be anything worth the dramatics of this. you feel your cheeks fill with blood. your gut pitch with shame.

"i -" you look down at your shoes. pink sneakers. with a frog sticker art had given you, because you like frogs and you told him that and so he got you a sticker of one. "um."

"hey, its cool." a warm hand pats your knee. "its why i wanted to talk to you."

your head jerks up. you shy away from his touch. you want to look out for art and signal him over but you dont know what to feel about him talking about that..... with patrick.

"really." patrick says your name, softly this time so you'll look at him. "im not making fun of you." he tongues the inside of his cheek, half smiling. "i think its hot, actually."

you do glance out for art now. he's back in position, but he keeps shooting glances over where you sit. you swallow. "you do?"

"fuck yeah -" he says it with such conviction that you believe him. "the way you look like you read five verses of the bible before bed and sign the cross over your chest before you give head just makes the fact that you want some depraved shit like that fucking sexy."

you shift around on the bench. you feel at once, buoyant with the praise and wrong for liking it so much.

"i dont know if art sees me that way." you fiddle with your fingers. "i think he thinks its gross - that im. weird."

"art is very repressed sexually." patrick states this like he knows this very well. and well, yeah, you cant exactly dispute it, can you. "but he's a fucking freak, trust me. I've seen his porn history."

you want to see his porn history. god. you want to know every depraved undignified thought arts ever had.

"i think that's why i want him to-" you flush. "to do that. because he's so.... good. and i want. i dunno - i guess i want him to act more shameless with me - maybe that weird - like i want to corrupt him or something -"

"it's hot." patrick interrupts. and you look at eachother. and you see a kind of kinship in him, thats in you. a kind of.... love for the depravity. of wanting to introduce people like art to it. "give me your phone."

he takes it from you before you even hand it to him. he fiddles with it, and you take the time to admire all the freckles on his sunkissed cheeks. he slips it back to you. grins.

"what did you do?"

"gave you my number." he stands. shoulders his own bag - caps his waterbottle. "art's gonna chew your ass out in a minute, sorry about that. I'll be in touch, though." and he's bounding down the bleachers before you can say anything, giving art one of those aggressive, half hug, half wrestle moves as he passes.

you blink - startled to realize art has finished up. his bag is over his shoulder and he's making his way up to you. he's worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

"did you give patrick your number?"

"he wanted it for notes he forgot to take, i think." you lie. stand up. greet your boyfriend who you want to piss in your mouth and on your tits, with a kiss. "hes a nice guy."

"mm" is all art says.

-

and maybe you should have been more mad that art went behind your back to talk about something you shared in confidence. maybe you would have been, if you hadn't shared something secret with patrick too - a plan of sorts. you'd feel more guilty about it if you weren't so turned on by the thought.

and can you really be mad, when it works out so beautifully. after one of arts matches - where you'd so sweetly been on the sidelines to give art water between his sets. when patrick had rushed him out the door in the morning with no time for a bathroom break.

its almost too perfect the way you both corner him in the locker room after. when hes desperate and about to burst. bladder full and heavy from all the water he'd consumed.

when patrick blocks him and corners him in the shower, twists his arms behind his naked back, you're there in a flash. a look of betrayal flashes in arts eyes, but its quickly replaced by desperation when patrick reaches around him and grips his cock.

the whine he lets out is long and pained. "no - dont -" he gasps.

you cant really be mad at art for going behind your back at all because you aren't sure if he could ever bring himself to do this on his own. you tell him that, with coaxing hands up his trembling thighs. looking up at him in utter adoration as you tongue the pink slit of his cock. "its okay, baby." you tell him. naked and kneeling before him, licking licking licking at his tip, until you coax out a bead of piss, just a drop. and you moan as you close your lips around his head and suck it into your mouth like honey.

art sobs. he knees wobbling with the force to keep his urine from flooding out into your mouth. "stop -" he pants. "i cant hold it it - if you - if you keep - oh god -"

"she said its okay, man." patrick coos. licks the shell of arts ear. his hand comes down to press against arts pelvis. "look at her." art forces himself to. "thats your girlfriend, dude. she's fucking hot - and shes naked on her knees for you in a lockeroom shower after you fucking dominated that match. and all she wants." the heel of patricks hand digs in. "is to soak up all that piss you've been holding onto for her."

another little drop of piss slides down your throat and art gasps. his hands weakly come to press on your head, fingers curling in your hair. hes giving in. looking down at you with near awe in his expression instead of his earlier fear and panic. pink lips parted.

"dont you wanna see her swallow it?" patrick breathes. "fuckin rub it into her tits - you can do anything to her. she's fucking yours man - so why dont you be a man and fucking stake your claim, huh?"

that's what does it.

art groans, eyes nearly rolling back in ecstacy. right before he releases, he knock away patricks hand from his dick, grips himself by the base, and uses his other hand to keep a grip on your hair.

the tip of his cock, flushed and throbbing, rests on your fat bottom lip, "its coming - " he chokes, tightens his grip on your hair, "fucking take it -"

and then it explodes out of him all at once. a thick pulsing stream of hot piss pours into your mouth, half of it going right down your throat, while the other half splashes down your chin, flooding down your chest, between the valley of your breasts.

the moan art lets out if pornographic. his legs weak as jelly as his bladder unloads in a yellow stream that soaks you nearly from head to foot.

it seems to go on forever. both art and patrick seem entranced by the sight. the way you moan and swallow what initially went down your throat. gasp when it hits your chest like it actually feels good.

art feels another part of his brain click on. whir to life.

"s-stick your fucking tits out." he grunts, still whiney. but you listen anyway. pushing your chest out towards them, your nipples hard and on display.

art bites his lip. angles his cock so the rest of his stream splashes wetly over your hard nipples. he trails the rest of it down your stomach and - most blodly - the last of it hits your pussy - you whine when it does.

"of fuck." patrick grunts when he sees it.

when the flow peeders out, you pant like you ran a marathon. buzzing with electricity.

art looks down at you like you're the most beautiful thing hes ever seen in his life. on your knees soaked in his filth.

patrick has to reach down and grip himself.

"c'mere" art calls to you, holding out his arms. you fumble and stumble into them. wet chest smashing into his. he doesn't seem to care. his hands are feverish as they run down your back. cup and squeeze the globes of your ass. he licks into your mouth and you're both moaning into eachother. tongues smacking wetly.

patrick rolls his eyes. turns on the shower to its hottest setting. which is just warm for a lockeroom shower.

"you two freaks come over here," he calls out, stepping into the warm spray. "you both smell like fucking piss."

you giggle against arts mouth.

yeah. maybe you're glad he told your secret after all.

[vixensofsorrow]

Demolition Lovers - Ⅳ i'll hang myself in lights and I will glow for you

DISCLAIMER: This fic is a long slowburn with multiple chapters, still being updated. also on AO3 my masterlist (all the chapters are linked there) PAIRING: young!Carol Denning/fem!reader OVERALL SUMMARY: An exploration of your and Carol's relationship through the years. CHAPTER SUMMARY: The argument won't leave your mind, and you need to take care of it ASAP. CHAPTER TAGS: fluff, angst, developing relationship, argument, hurt/comfort, complicated feelings A/N: I absolutely suck at the chapter tags thing

You dreaded the thought of going to school tomorrow. You spent the whole Saturday in your bed, puking up Fridays’ regrets into a bucket, with a pounding headache and a tight knot in your stomach.

Even though it was a Sunday night, some consequences of excessive drinking still hadn’t worn off, but you weren’t exactly sure if it was anxiety, a hangover, or an awful combination of both. Your parents had their suspicions, but you and your sister made a great team when it came to lying to them, and food poisoning was the most plausible excuse. Dana could tell that you were in a bad mood, but you blamed it on the alcohol.

You couldn’t remember most of what happened at the party, and you only found out about the argument that happened between you and Carol when Gina called yesterday to check in on you, but when you asked her about the topic of the fight, she said that all she could recall was all the yelling, crying, and swearing, and not what it was actually about.

You wondered if Carol also forgot about what went down. Most likely not, since she didn’t ring you at all, but you’ll find out tomorrow. The urge to call her with an apology for whatever you did was overwhelming, but so was the dread.

You gulped and reached over to the spruce-blue landline on your end table, inputting her number on the keypad. Halfway through, you stopped and put the handset down.

One time, Jennifer advised that “ No one should trust themselves after 9 PM ”, and perhaps she had a good point. Maybe for now, you should go to sleep obliviously and not relive the childhood flashbacks of confusion and desolation.

The bell rang, and English class was dismissed. Carol didn’t show up to school at all today, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was your fault. Thankfully, you’ll have a whole hour to linger on it, since it was lunch period.

You slowly walked down the traffic-jammed stairway, resisting the rude urge to cut in front of others, as you gave stern looks to the freshmen who still hadn’t caught the hand of the unspoken school etiquette. After what seemed like forever, you reached the ground floor and made your way toward the cafeteria, but frankly, you weren’t even in the mood to eat right now.

The overpowering stench of frying grease, tomato sauce, and overboiled broccoli wafted around in the canteen, and with that, the rest of your appetite disappeared completely.

Most of the long, beige-laminate rectangle tables were still empty, with most people waiting in line with their trays.

You nipped over to the vending machine, before a line could form there as well, and bought yourself a coke. As you expected, the grody machine swallowed your twenty-five cents, without giving you the item. Shit, you must’ve been cursed, because everything that could go wrong, went wrong. You just hoped you wouldn’t majorly fuck up at practice today.

You sighed and repeatedly banged on the dispenser to loud snickering coming from one of the groups, which caused you to turn around. Typically, you’d ignore it, but all your patience already run out. You didn’t have to look for long to find the perpetrators of the hyena-like laughter, of course it were the wannabe Valley Girls, but with a new addition to them; a thin, tall girl with sharp cheekbones, wide mouth, brown perm hair, and a fringe.

Strangely, she reminded you of somebody, but you brushed it off, blinded by irritation. You made eye contact with her and walked away from the vending machine, flipping their table off with a fake smile as you passed by on the way to where you always sat.

You plopped down on the plastic seat facing Rachel and stretched out your arms on the table with a groan. Fortunately, your lunch period aligned with hers, Gina's, Kristen’s, and now Carol’s, too.

“L/N, you’re that upset over a can of Coke?” Gina teased, probably exactly knowing what you’re actually upset about, poking around in the food with a fork, as Rachel ate the soggy mozzarella sticks and Kristen counted coins she pulled out of her pocket.

You looked up at her with a poker face, sucking in your cheek. “Uh, you know what, I’m upset for a different reason, but yeah, let’s go with that.”

Kristen peered up from her stack of coins and joined in on the conversation, her soft eyes analyzing your expression. “You wanna talk about it?” She had a caring and comforting aura, making it very hard to resist venting your heart out.

“Not really. I’m curious though, do any of you know what, like, actually went down between me and Carol at Nicole’s party?” You cracked your knuckles and took off your jacket, tying it around your waist while you waited for an answer. Rachel furrowed her bushy ginger eyebrows, still chewing her food, switching her attention from you to Gina, the only one who vaguely knew what happened, to confused Kristen, who put the coins back in her jean pocket, and then again back to you. 

The goalkeeper broke the silence as she swallowed the fried cheese. “Enge, what? Are you talking about that girl you were with? The one with the glasses?” She gesticulated.

Gina raised her brows and looked away, forming her dark red lips into a straight, thin line. 

“Okay, yeah, so nobody knows what really happened, fuck.” You groaned and leaned back in the chair, pushing back your cuticles. “Also, yes, I am talking about the one with the glasses. ”

Gina rested her elbows on the table. “Listen, from my point of view, I heard vague shouting and cursing, and then you bro-”

You cut her off in the middle of the sentence. “You told me all of that already, thanks.”

“Well, then that’s your only clue, L/N. Unless you want to walk around asking half the school about it.” The defensive-midfielder snapped back with her raspy voice. 

“Rachel, what about you?” You continued searching for an answer, even though you were aware that she most likely didn’t know anything. Still, you held onto a sprinkle of hope.

“I was taking care of ‘Ronica the whole time, sorry.” 

Kristen joined in on the conversation, and your eyes immediately lit up. “Actually, oh gosh, well, probably this won’t even help you…but” The blonde-haired defender was about to break into a long, detailed narrative of what she saw.

“Okay, so, I was hanging out in the kitchen, and I dragged Jason to the party with me, and we were sitting there together, talking, whatever. Gosh, he’s such a dweeb, but in a good way, he started writing down lyr-”

“Get to the point, Kris.” Gina reminded, gently laying her hand on Kristen’s shoulder.

“Right, right, sorry. So there was that and in the middle of us talking this disheveled girl with huge glasses and a blue flannel stormed in, I had a realization like, hey, I think she’s the new girl from Art class, but anyway…”

You were sure that she was indeed talking about Carol, and you sat up straight in your seat, listening carefully. The whole table focused on Kristen and the story.

“…And I’m talking disheveled , her face was red and puffy, and she was sniffling, I could tell she was hyperventilating too. Man, I felt really bad for her… Anyway, she pushed away some people who stood in front of the sink and just put her entire head under it while the water was still running, I think she might have been crying. Yeah, and then she leaned on the counter, the water was dripping everywhere, and well she vomited and then ran away.” She took a bite of broccoli that she dipped in marinara sauce. You thought that maybe she would provide some more useful information, but it was better than nothing, and you were desperate.

“Huh, well thanks, Kristy.” You forced yourself to smile swiftly, as a sign of appreciation.

Rachel tilted her head and put her fork down, as her mouth fell open and she squinted her green eyes that pierced right through you. “Hold on, is the girl with the glasses that Carol? Childhood best friend Carol?”

“Yup, that’s her.” The girls oohed in response, and you sighed while dropping your shoulders down.

Everyone on the team knew the lore behind Denning and you, for better or for worse, and surely some of them shared classes with her too.

You contemplated the description of the state Carol was in after the fight you had, and you really didn’t want to believe it, because then, you must’ve done something truly horrible for her to let people see her weak and emotional side. You didn’t want to believe that you abandoned your wasted friend in the middle of an overstimulating party full of people she didn’t know, left by herself in such a moment of vulnerability, surrounded by tons of drugs and alcohol.

The worst kinds of scenarios flooded in, such as someone taking advantage of her, roofing her drink, beating her up, Carol overdosing, or even someone kidnapping her - what if that’s what happened and she was too scared, or embarrassed, or upset to come to school today? What if she couldn’t come at all? Your fingers traveled to the pimple on your cheek, maniacally picking at it.

Perhaps, leaving her be - because it seems that’s what you did, was even worse than the actual argument, with much more serious consequences, and you just let it happen, for whatever idiotic reasons your drunken self had.

Blood began to seep out from the scratched-up acne onto your fingers as Rachel snatched your hand, murmuring, “Stop that” before you could go too far. You shook your head, trying to make the thoughts go away, and Kristen handed you a tissue.

You ran up the stairs as fast as possible, nearly tripping because of your wet shoes. The door almost fell off its hinges as you burst into your bedroom, carelessly throwing the duffle bag away. You swiftly grabbed the note with Carol’s address and phone number written on it, and immediately rushed outside. The cold rain poured down from the gray, cloudy sky as you took off for her house on your bike, still in the soccer uniform and backpack on your shoulders.

This whole situation was bothering you the whole weekend, even more, today, and you were going to figure out what was going on.

It couldn’t go on for another week, or two weeks, or longer, or your brain would eat itself alive with the overthinking. It already was in the process of doing so - you couldn’t remember the last time you did so badly at practice, and you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you fucked up State Championships for everyone because of your anxiety over a childhood best friend.

The wheels hit the puddle potholes, and rainwater mixed with dirt of the streets splashed on your sneakers. The wind blew away the hood of your soaked jacket, some warm-toned leaves brushing past you, your faintly blue-hued fingertips gripping the handle. You had a feeling this adventure would end up with you catching a cold or an unbearable strep throat. The American landscape of gas stations, parking lots, diners, and fast food chains illuminated the streets. You passed by a crowded Domingo’s and made a final right-turn, riding in the middle of a long road full of houses surrounding it from both sides, looking out for Carol’s place. Almost no one was outside except for children playing in the heavy rain or exhausted yuppies returning from work. The street was remotely quiet, except for shouting coming from one of the houses.

During your time scoping out the surroundings, a middle-aged couple walked out of one of the buildings, the man yelling at whoever was standing on the other side of the door as it got shut close aggressively, along with a kid - most likely their daughter, who was talking with her mom. You looked at the address on the paper, and the house number matched the one you just observed, now aware that the parents and favorite child of the Denning family just reversed out of the driveway. You waited for them to drive past you and when they did you immediately got off your bike, charging towards the front door as it hit the lawn, the wheels still spinning, along with your head.

Out of nowhere, heavy trepidation filled your whole body, and a lump formed in your throat as you stood on the porch, almost glued to the oak floor. All the confidence you had went away with the snap of a finger, and the dropping levels of adrenaline brought you down to earth, but your heart was still pounding. Turns out, you weren’t ready to find out the truth, but you couldn’t back out now. You slowly raised your numb, cold hand and knocked repeatedly, until the door swung open, and when it did, your head jerked back and brows furrowed, slowly morphing into high arches as you crossed your arms.

“Um, hi? Oh, it’s you.” Barbara chuckled, with her hands in the pockets of her pants. “You’re mental, how did you even find my house?!”

“Hey, Barb…” Shit, this is awkward. She parted her lips as her tongue darted around inside the mouth, her wide eyes looking you up and down. A smirk grew on her face, and you could tell that some childhood memories came back to her. “...Uh, is Carol home?” You stammered, discreetly cracking your knuckles.

Miss Congeniality scoffed. “Oh my gosh, Y/N. I would’ve never guessed in a hundred years that you, of all people, would be on a high school sports team! I always took you for the artsy type.”

“Right, well, y’know, those two don’t exclude each other… Is Carol home?” You repeated.

“Ugh, yeah.” She stepped aside, letting you in, grimacing as she noticed water dripping everywhere. “Second door on the right.” Barb tilted her head in the direction of the upstairs as she closed the door. “Thanks…” You whispered, slowly walking up, tightly gripping the sleeve of your jacket.

Thank the gods you were drenched from the rain - you didn’t have to worry about the tremendous amount of sweat trickling from your forehead. You took a proper breath, the first one since you got on that bike, and knocked on the poster-covered door. 

“Fuck off, Barbie!” Carol yelled out, her voice was weirdly strained and creaky. You debated if you should knock once again, or just walk in. You landed on the first, and heavy footsteps along with a loud groan and a “What the fuck do you want now?” followed towards you. Maybe you should’ve gone with just storming in; the hostile tone stiffened your muscles and you were so pale that if not for the racing heartbeat, you could’ve sworn you were dead.

She unlatched the door at full tilt, the sudden airflow cooling your wet, wincing body. As she saw you, she immediately shifted from being truculent and aggressive, to calm and collected. Carol leaned on the doorframe, squinting her red, puffy eyes as she took in how much of a mess you were. It took you longer than you’d like to admit, to notice fresh, oval-shaped bruises on her upper arm, which you kept on dwelling at until she rapidly hid the arm behind her back. You wanted to ask her about it, but you couldn’t utter a word.

“You look like hell, Engie.” The use of the nickname caught you off guard. How did she even know it? Carol turned her head away for a second to brush away something on her flushed face.

“How do you even-” You stuttered, shaking your head and blinking rapidly.

“What do you want?” She cut you off in a stern tone. Her jaw was slightly quivering.

You sighed, sucking in air through your teeth, still holding onto your jacket. “Carol, do you, do you remember what happened between us at the party? Or just anything?”

Carol scoffed, and her eyes darted around alongside a puffy pout in a mocking manner. “Well, I do remember. Quite a lot, actually.” She looked you up and down again, clenching her jaw with a now serious expression. “Looking at the state of you, and the fact that you had the audacity to show up at my fucking house, you probably don’t remember shit.”

“Yea, that’s why I fucking asked in the first place, Denning.” You let go of the sleeve and made eye contact with her, even to your surprise, retaliating her attitude. You were fed up and truly did not want to argue, but it seemed like that was the only way to make things clear.

She raised her brows and chuckled. “Alright. I’ll tell you how it went. You were drunk out of your mind, and so was your little best friend Vee, and some ginger girl was there too. You went to help her, and you left me all alone. That was a shitty move, Y/N. Then you came back and started comin’ at me, being all mad that I didn’t help too, or some other bullshit, and when I tried to tell you that I wasn’t feelin’ good too, you pulled out the childhood trauma card, blaming everything on me. And hmm… I think that’s it. Oh, and you also told me to fuck off before storming off and getting even more fucked up. I think you might have a drinking problem or somethin’.” Carol gritted her teeth and smiled at you with narrow, brown, glassy eyes. “Is that enough?”

Your stomach sank. You didn’t want to believe the words that just came out of her mouth. You understood now why she didn’t want to talk to you, after that, you wouldn’t talk to yourself either. She has been back in town for barely a week, and you already fucked it all up for you both. You had a feeling that you should just apologize and walk away now, but you were concerned about what happened after you stormed off, the bruise, and what happened for her to be crying before you even arrived. You might’ve left her alone that time, but you won’t do it now - no matter how much she asks you to. 

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms. “Carol, listen. I’m bad at apologies, but I’m sorry, I was drunk, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was worried sick on Saturday, and Sunday, and today. I’m, listen, please, just tell me if I did that to you. ” You pointed at the arm she held behind her back.

Denning averted her eyes from you and stared through the floor. “No, Y/N, it wasn’t you. You feelin’ better now?” She turned away, went over to the pile of clothes on her chair, and put on a sweater as you walked into her bedroom, closing the door behind you. Barb probably eavesdropped enough on that topic.

“No, not really. Did some asshole do this? Zach? Kevin? At the party? Is that why you, uh, you know, the kitchen thing…” You stood in the middle of her room, with boxes scattered around in the corners.

Carol groaned as you said “ the kitchen thing ”, running a hand through her hair and grabbing it by the roots. “God, you’re not gonna let this shit go, won’t you?” She sat down on the bed, and took off her glasses, tapping her foot and chewing on her lip. “It was an asshole, but not at the party, okay? I didn’t get raped or anything. And I told you, I also felt like shit, but you didn’t listen, seems like you’re not listening now either… But that’s why I puked, in that fuckin’ kitchen. Who even told you about this?” Her voice got weaker with each word, and she wrapped her arms around her knees.

A heavy weight lifted off your shoulders when she said that she didn’t get hurt at the party, but concern still lingered around. “Oh, Kris told me. Blonde hair, funky makeup, said you share Art period with her.” You leaned against her dark wood drawer chest, lightly picking at your face. “You know, you can te-”

She could tell where you were going with that and interrupted before you could continue. Maybe it’s for the better not to push the topic today, she was already in distress. 

“Oh, her. She’s sweet.” Carol uttered.

She wasn’t angry anymore, her voice was dull and she gazed off into the distance, avoiding you, like something would snap inside of her if she caught a glimpse. Her shoulders slumped forward, almost as if she took on the burden that just fell off yours.

The sudden, longer-than-usual hollow silence, only broken by raindrops hitting the window, filled the room with a painful aura of vulnerability and, strangely, nostalgia. You kept on looking at an almost catatonic Carol, unsure of what to do, a childlike confusion, similar to when you see your parent crying for the first time. It’s been so long since you saw her like this, and every idea that came to mind just seemed wrong.

You could remember that she didn’t like pity, but also that she loved to be held. You sat down cross-legged next to her on the plaid blanket, and before you could do anything, Carol rested her head on your damp shoulder, holding her knees close to her chest, sniffling. For a while, you were kids again, and life was simple. Nothing could hurt you as long as you were in each other's arms.

[epidaleacalamita]

oh yeah i had this crazy ass dream. like i rarely dream and usually i just dream about grabbing snacks at the supermarket and wake up and get sad that i didn't actually get those snacks and i can't eat them. that or the bionicle dream which i don't need to explain to any of you i think. but for whatever reason my subconscious locked the fjck in and queued me up for whatever the hell i experienced last night.

it started in a building with a layout that seemed heavily based on my memories of the high school campus i went to. it was the middle of the night, i was up on the third floor, i was there on behalf of some, like, paranormal researcher? they wanted me to investigate some like weird door that occasionally showed up where there wasn't supposed to be a door on the floor plan. it had like a glass window through which i could see flashing strings of random alphanumeric characters, and there was a keypad next to the door which presumably i had to use to input the correct character from each flashed string. i got the first input right and then i think i might have taken too long to get the second input in. at that point a Scary Voice came from behind the door saying "I SEE YOU..." and at that moment dream me became aware that there were many many deadly ghosts and ghouls wandering this building in the middle of the night and they were all now aggroed on me and aware of my exact location. so i started running, headed over to the stairwell, jumped into the gap in the middle and fell two stories to the ground floor somehow without exploding my knees, and then ran out of the building and to the school cafeteria building.

at that point the scenario changed and i was now a phantom myself, invisible and intangible, hanging out in the cafeteria, it's daytime now. i don;t think there were any other people in there with me. then suddenly a bunch of men with beards and sunglasses walked in, one of them was noticeably taller and bulkier than the others and dream me was immediately like "these are mercenaries. these are hired killers". they had a theme song too like they entered the building and the shot like slowed down dramatically and i swear i heard the opening like first minute of Heart Go Boom by apollo 440. anyway these guys walk through the cafeteria head to the back door and go out back. i, the invisible intangible phantom, follow them. they kill some random guy and i'm like "woah maybe i should do something about these guys. i know, i'll possess them with my phantom abilities" and somehow i became aware that one of them was a traitor who was planning to kill the others and i was like "hm. i don't think i'll possess that one" and as they were casually walking back to their car i phantom possessed another of the guys who had a light machine gun and shot all the other guys except the traitor. then i had my possessed guy shoot himself. at this point there were other people in the area who witnessed this random merc on merc violence and started screaming. but one of them was the ufckin acdc vocalist brian johnson and he screamed too but he screamed in the acdc goblin screech singing voice. and his phone started blowing up because i think the other acdc band members were nearby and they were sending him messages like "whats going on" "was that you screaming" and he got a call from one of them and it was like "lol did you scream in the goblin voice" and i don't remember exactly what he said in response but he was giving this very sarcastic retort and he was still talking in the goblin voice and i remember thinking whatever he said was kinda funny.

then the scenario changed again and i was getting in a travel van with a bunch of people including a classmate from elementary school who i litwrally hadn't thought about in like a decade. i had my phone out and brian johnson's goblin voice sarcastic retort was coming out of the speakers and my classmate was like "is that ai voice cloning of the acdc guy" and for some reason my immediate response is "no it's my australian friend doing the acdc goblin voice" which was a weird thing for dream me to say because i don't actually know if my australian friend can do that voice.

at that point was when i fully woke up and went "Well what the fjck was any of that."

[nonhumanresources]

Normalcy

Alright y'all, gonna start posting my writing here I think! Starting off with one of my personal favorite stories. I wrote this one a while back and iirc the ending is rough but it was well over the assignment limit oops so here we are lol. I'll streamline the formatting and such as I go so it's not all this clunky.

Summary: Laney is a dragon, which is a new experience for her. Fortunately, dragons can still operate cell phones, so at least she can tell someone else.

What to expect: dragon post-transformation POV, "how does a giant lizard navigate inside of a household," several questions about glass eyes, government agents, poor choices in drinkware, and a few space werewolves.

Length: 5.6k words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Laney was a dragon. 

That was not normal. 

She knew normal, somewhat; it was driving a truck, picking up groceries, sitting with friends, watching TV and complaining about corporations ruining TV then watching it some more, buying cheap meals at the lab cafeteria. Being a dragon was exactly none of those things, last time she checked. 

The only light in Laney’s room was the bluish glow of a cell phone, flashing on and off. Shards of glass were all over her head from when she’d tried to stand and slammed a horn directly into the lightbulb. Her tail slapped the ground in frustration as the phone shut off again, leaving her in darkness but for the sickly streetlamp glow behind her curtains. 

Laney was a dragon, but she wasn’t panicked. She wasn’t. Things were going to turn out okay, she told herself. Over and over. Just like a not-panicked person would do. Okay, maybe a little more than that, but that was just nervousness. It was understandable to be nervous. If she could just get the dang phone to stay on, then things would be alright. The remains of the bed groaned as she shifted side to side, haunches settling into a slightly more comfortable position, reaffirming the discovery that a small room was not, in fact, that most comfortable place for a dragon to sit. 

Rest of the story is in the read more! If you'd prefer to read it in a more convenient fashion, the google drive link is here. As always comments, questions, and thoughts are always appreciated.

Lots of discoveries were coming to light, actually. The aforementioned dragon-in-a-small-room theory; the weight limit on a standard Ikea bed frame (plus mattress and mattress pad); and most distinctly, that dragon claws did not, in fact, work on a modern touch screen device. 

Growling came from deep inside her sternum, startling her. Another discovery! Laney was finding out so much - her bosses at the lab would be proud, as long as she wrote it all down, of course. 

She shook her head. Being decidedly not panicked was getting distracting. She had to keep focused.

The phone screen illuminated the sharp curve of her snout as her claws, many times bigger than the small device, managed to snag the power button. That was a small success - now she just needed to follow it up. Her tail rose up from its position wrapped around her paws, a quick swipe across the screen bringing up the keypad for entering her password. The tip of her tail worked somewhat with a touchscreen - it just required careful precision to actually push what she wanted. 

Laney snagged her tail tip in between two fingers, paw curled awkwardly to accomplish the feat. Caution was key, here. The paw shook as she tried to manipulate her tail into pushing the keypad. Lower… closer…. 

The top of the screen lit up with a glorious, wonderful 5, and Laney nearly roared in triumph. First success, after half an hour of fruitlessly trying to even reach this point! Next was a four, just a touch to the left…. 

8.

“Oh, GOD wh—”

Laney was a dragon. She was also speaking English. Needless to say, that was more than a little shocking, and she just about choked on her words, letting out a massive, hacking gag, like an oversized, hissy dog. How did that even WORK?

Wh… whatever. Didn’t matter that an enormous reptile was somehow speaking a human language perfectly; if she could just open her phone and contact the lab, they’d help her. Sure, she was just a delivery driver, but they were working on some pretty advanced stuff - there was bound to be something that could… could help….

Her thoughts stuttered as she glanced back down and realized her phone had shut off. 

Another discovery: being a dragon did not, apparently, limit Laney’s use of swear words. 

It took another fifteen minutes to get back to the lock screen. Granted, five of those were spent panicking as a sharp crack rang out, then calming down as Laney realized it was just her bed frame, and not the phone. Right now, that was way more important. 

She took a deep breath, chest almost ballooning outwards, scales rattling against each other. Laney held it for a moment, surprised, before letting it slip out, whistling between teeth and out the sides of her maw. Being a dragon was so… odd. Or something. Laney realized she’d unconsciously been suppressing her physical feelings, or at least forcing them to the back of her mind. Air trickling over her back as she shifted her wings; the wings themselves, like an extra, unruly pair of arms with a rubber flap; her paws on the carpeted floor; her tail shifting and swaying, soft scales on its underside slithering over the carpet. It was all so alien. Some things were familiar, but even brushing a paw against her front, where she expected to feel something like a hand on a stomach, it felt like her old skin was… stretched over this new shape, brain awkwardly trying to reinterpret nerve signals to fit her narrow view of life. 

Laney glanced down at her lifted paw. Its green scales gleamed dully in the almost-darkness. It almost didn’t feel like hers. 

She looked downwards and almost punched her tail right through her phone screen as it darkened, about to turn off. Too many distractions; she needed to call someone, now.

Focusing hard, she hunched over her phone intently. Using her tail like a stylus again, Laney managed that first five again, and even the four after it, with little trouble. Nine was next; an accidental six showed up, but she managed to hit the delete button this time, snagging the nine with the softest touch from a scale. Just a two left….

As her phone flashed and took her to the home screen, Laney nearly shrieked with joy. It worked! Finally! She was almost saved! The cellphone app was right at the bottom of her screen - another careful tap, and there was a list of contacts. One swipe, two, all the way down to S - and there was the prize: Stentson Laboratories, Inc. She immediately poked it, sighing with relief. 

Luckily for her, although she didn’t realize it, she missed. Her phone displayed a name at the top, and it was decidedly not Stentson Laboratories, Inc. It was Sula Reiner. Laney groaned. Sula was a good friend - and also not who she needed right now. She couldn’t risk hanging up, though - obviously, the less actions on her phone, the better. It would go back to her contacts after the phone call went through; besides, it was nearly two in the morning. There was no way Sula would answer this late, so it was totally safe. She could relax for a moment, and—

“Hello?”

She almost choked on her own tongue, again.

“Laney? Everything alright? It, uh. Definitely sounds like you’re choking.” 

“F-fine,” Laney choked out in response, clearing her throat (although it sounded more like a cat hacking up something behind the couch). “I’m fine, not choking.” 

Sula laughed, her light voice coming through the speaker with a tinny quality. “Good, good. What’s up, then? You need something? You sound kinda sick” 

“I…” What were her options, really? Laney was basically stuck in her room, covered in scales, with nowhere to go, and she couldn’t even operate her phone properly. Calling Sula was a mistake—but having someone else to help out… maybe that would be better. Sula was a pretty open person; maybe she’d be able to do something? 

“Uh… yeah. It’s a lot to ask, but can you come over and help me? I’m… well, you’ll see. It’s not a prank or anything, promise.” 

“Sure, I’ll be over there in a minute. Need me to bring anything?”

Laney blinked, staring at the phone as if by doing so she could see Sula’s face. “Wait, seriously? Just like that? It’s… I mean, it’s important, but—”

“Oh, yeah, no worries. I’m not getting any sleep anyway, trust me.” Sula sounded conversational, but that was a little odd. She acted as if she was nocturnal or something. 

“Okay. There’s a key behind the mailbox on the wall.” Laney felt apprehensive, but the more she thought about it, the more this felt like the best solution. 

“Be right there.” Click. 

The dragon sighed, settled in, and waited.

—

Sula hummed as she walked through the dark towards Laney’s house. Streetlamps and the odd house light threw molten globs of light in all sorts of shades of yellow out onto the sidewalk. Her and Laney lived closer to the edge of town, in the rural neighborhood where they’d grown up. Sula had the patterns and shapes of the streets ingrained in her memory, the way the straight lines bent around the park and its surprisingly large lake. 

Lately, though, she was more used to seeing them at night. It was her element—more so than most college students her age staying up late, working on essays. Their taste of the night came from breezes in windows and fleeting jaunts after sports games and club events. Sula had dove into the night head first, becoming a specter in the fleeting lights, a ghost to the daytime world. 

That’s how she liked to think of it, anyway. It was a lot more interesting when she thought of it that way. Not that the truth was boring; it was really quite the opposite. ‘Alien by contract’ was a serious job title, but it wasn’t quite the aesthetic she was going for. Plus, she knew she wasn’t really a ‘specter to the daytime world.’ That implied people seeing her; that hardly ever happened, because most people were sensibly asleep at two in the morning. Not to mention she was wearing her oversized pajama top with a bunch of cute rabbits and a fleece bottom. That kinda took away from the whole specter look

The hum became a whistle—she was a great whistler—that echoed off the garage doors and vinyl siding of the neighborhood. A near-perfect rendition of the opening song to an anime she liked bounced off lawns and doors and into the sky. It petered off, though, as Laney’s house came into sight. 

All the lights were off, which wasn’t really unusual for this time of night, but Sula already knew Laney was awake. Maybe she was just in the basement? Her parents were gone for the week on a business trip, so it was just her friend there at the moment. Still, her feet slapped against the pavement a little faster, her hands shaking slightly as they lifted the hanging mailbox away from the wall to snag the key underneath. 

Maybe nothing was wrong, and it was just a panic attack, or something? Sula knew Laney’s tendency to clutch her emotions tight like they were birds trying to escape, and when one got away, they all erupted into the air in a storm of tears and feathers.

Yeah, it was probably nothing to worry about. 

—

It was definitely something to worry about. 

When she heard Sula yelling her name, Laney called out from the bedroom. She crouched down in front of the door, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. Her paws shook - what if Sula….

Stop thinking of what if’s, she commanded herself, gulping a big breath of air and breathing it out slowly. I’m calm. I’m not panicked. I’m calm.

Sula’s ungodly screech upon opening her bedroom door nearly pushed her into being not calm. 

“Sula, I—” 

“LANEY! ARE YOU IN THERE?!” she screamed over her, hands held up warily, but thankfully not running away yet. 

“Yes, I’m—”

“I’M COMING IN THERE!” Sula gritted her teeth, glaring right into Laney’s eyes so fiercely that Laney recoiled, shocked. Was she about to try and fight her? She was… oddly flattered, but no no no this was bad.

“Sula! It’s me! Stop!” Laney’s cries made her friend hesitate. 

“I—well yeah, I certainly hope it’s you! I’m gonna come save you from the dragon that’s in your bedroom!” Her voice wavered a little. She was unsure, hovering in the doorway, eyes gleaming. She looked… wild. And the pause was because of Laney’s request, not because of the dragon. 

Laney began to question a few things about her friend. 

“No, I mean—Sula, I’m the dragon, don’t punch me, okay?” Her voice cracked a little on the word dragon. The smoldering, blue-green heat in Sula’s eyes burst alight into crackling curiosity. 

“You’re the dragon?” 

“Yes.” Laney hoped she sounded convincing enough. 

“And this is… not normal?” 

“Of course it isn’t normal, Sula! Are you high?!” 

Sula barked out a laugh, to Laney’s chagrin, then put her hands back down to her sides and stepped up to Laney’s snout. “Weird things happen at two AM, dude. For some people this would totally be the opposite of a problem.” 

Laney growled. “Doubtful! I can’t see why anyone would view this as anything but directly negative! I can’t even get out of my room!” Something about Sula’s presence kept her talking, as if this were an everyday conversation. Sula did that to everyone, she’d noticed - something about her made it feel like you could let your guard down, for a bit, and talk about whatever weird topic she was obsessed with this week. 

“Yeah… this was, uh. Not the greatest place to change, huh?” Sula reached out a hand, hovering it over Laney’s snout. “May I?” 

Laney snorted, but nodded. “Obviously not. And sure. Look, I need some serious help.” She felt her muscles tense as Sula’s cold hand lightly ran along the scales on the bridge of her snout, from her nose all the way up between her eyes. She ran her knuckles over it, harder this time, and Laney felt an intense shiver rattle her spine from head to tail. Her scales clicked and clacked lightly against each other like change in a pocket, and she could feel spines bristle across the center of her back. She felt like… how she imagined a cat, or something. 

Sula just kept talking as if she didn’t notice Laney’s tail slapping the ground happily (a physical sensation Laney was not feeling emotionally). “Help… yeah. Why’d you call me for it?” 

“B-be… becah… S-Sula, ssstop!” She yanked her head up and away from Sula’s hand, who let out a soft eep and stumbled backwards. “I can’t think when you’re doing that, geez… I didn’t mean to call you. You’re just right under the contact for Stentson and I misclicked it with my tail.” 

Sula drew in a sharp breath. “Oh. Okay. Thank goodness I’m here and not them.” 

“What? What’s wrong with Stentson Labs?” Laney tilted her head, what felt like a natural response to confusion in this form. “You worked there for a month or two last summer - it’s not like they’re THAT bad. Uptight, sure, but….” She trailed off as Sula shook her head.

“Nah. Nah, they’re bad news, Laney. I’d bet a whole lot of money that they were the ones who caused this—and that they’ve got someone sitting at the phone, waiting to pick up when you inevitably call.” Sula sounded… grim. It was unsettling. Laney could feel her scales rising again. 

“You… you don’t know what you’re talking about. Just get my phone and, and call them, okay? Please?” 

“This happened tonight, right?” 

“Sula.” 

“So yes, then. And you’re still on delivery duty—what were you delivering?” 

“Sula!” 

“Something important, then.” Laney stomped a paw, frustrated. Why couldn’t she have less stubborn friends? 

“Yes! Fine! I’ll play your game!” Laney snapped, knowing it would be the only way to get Sula off of her tangent. “It was a new experimental compound we were shipping to the military again. It’s a government run lab after all. Probably just some new high-efficiency civilian eliminator. It’s  not my job to care about it.” 

“Did you like… spill it on yourself, or eat it, or something? Stentson has weird stuff going on behind closed doors, Lan.” Sula using her nickname was uncommon, these days - it was all she’d call her back in high school. 

“Yes, Lu. I’m sure. We transported it in one of the freezer boxes. I had to take it out to replace the ice, but it’s not like it spilled—those capsules are air and water tight. I should know, my water bottle is one of the decommissioned ones.” 

Sula opened her mouth to respond, then snapped it shut with a clack. “Where’s your water bottle?” 

“If I tell you where it is, will you drop the silly idea?” Sula nodded. “Okay. Thank goodness. It’s next to the kitchen sink. I was gonna wash it later.” 

Sula slipped out, shoes knocking across the wooden floorboards. She always walked so heavily. Laney’s mom used to tell her that was going to stomp so hard she broke right through the sidewalk one of these days. Well, those days, now. 

Sula’s stomping came back in a moment, and she reappeared, illuminated from behind by the hall light, a large, pill-shaped hunk of metal in one hand. “You’re not gonna like this, Lan.” She tapped a finger on the side of the capsule, reading from a label. “3M E.C. (aq). Probably ‘Three molar aqueous Experimental Compound,’ if I had to guess, since scientists aren’t known for creative naming.” 

“Give me that!” Laney shifted her weight, holding out a paw. Sula dropped the capsule onto it, and she curled her claws over it, turning it over to read the label herself. 3M E.C. (aq).

Great. 

Sula spoke softly. “Did someone do this to you, Lan?” 

Laney growled, a deep primal noise. “No.”

“Are you sure…?” 

She sighed, nodded, and smacked her head on the ground. “Hopefully that military base appreciates the can of Monster they’re getting in the mail tomorrow.” 

—

What a stupid mistake. Laney knew she hadn’t been getting enough sleep, but a slip up this bad could have cost her her life! Drinking out of random laboratory containers—aargh, just thinking about it made her want to slap her past self. 

Sula was sitting against her side, humming. Laney’s declaration had caused her to burst out laughing, to which Laney politely requested she shut up for a minute and let her deal with this. Sula apologized and politely did so. 

It was just… this mistake might have actually cost her life, in a different way. Laney was officially some sort of lab mutant now, ripe for experimenting on. She knew better than to believe sci-fi movies - she wasn’t going to be immediately dissected or something. That was a token comfort, though, against the reality that she would be locked in a secret lab (which were very much real) and run through test after test after test. More than likely to develop a weapon. That was one thing that sci-fi got right: the US was always looking for another weapon. 

More than anything, she just felt… stupid. Her wings drooped on either side, trailing over her ruined bedroom’s floor, and even her tail had stopped moving. She had laid flat on the ground “to pout,” according to Sula. 

Sula’s humming stopped. “May I speak now?” 

Laney took a deeeeeep breath, in and out. “Permission granted.” 

“Nice!” Sula pushed herself off of Laney’s enormous side and up to her feet. “You’re suuuper warm, by the way. I dunno if you can breathe fire, but I’d believe it. Now,” she said, walking over to Laney’s snout, hands on her hips. “Up! Let’s go!” Laney rolled her eyes. 

“Where are we going?” she drawled. 

“The park!” Sula sounded much too eager about this. What was she trying to do? 

“I’m not going to the park when I can’t even make it out of the doorway.” Laney tried to make her words sound as dully disinterested as possible. 

“You’re a lot longer than you are tall, Lan. Besides—I’m helping!” 

“How.” 

Sula winked, and Laney rolled her eyes. “Let’s just say that you’re lucky you called me instead of Stentson.” 

“Look, Sula, I appreciate you coming over. I really, really do. But I don’t see how—”

“I’m a werewolf.”

Sula talked over her. Like, actually, honest-to-god just interrupted her mid sentence. She never did that. Not only that—it was also nonsense. 

“Sula. Don’t.” 

“Lan, you gotta stop being so dreary.”

“Sula, my whole body and life just got upended!”

She had the audacity to shrug. “You get used to it after the third or fourth time.” 

“Stop trivializing this!” Laney growled again, the sound rattling hollowly through her throat and chest, powerful and menacing. She started to push herself to her feet - then ground to a halt as something large and furry slapped down on her snout with a wet plap!

Sula tried to keep talking conversationally, but Laney could hear the grin in her voice. “It’s contractual, but it totally wasn’t the first time—”

“Damn it Sula, what the—”

“It’s a pretty nice gig, really—”

“Sula what the ACTUAL hell is on my face?!”

“It’s my paw!” Laney could see where the fur thinned and lead into Sula’s regular, definitely human arm. 

“It’s your—SULA. EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW. WHERE IS THIS FROM AND WHY IS IT SOAKING WET.” Laney had to force the words out gruffly, one at a time. This was too much. This… no. What was even going ON?

“I told you. Werewolf. Full shapeshifting, the whole jazz. Plus, I’m an alien werewolf, which is even cooler.” Sula pulled her paw back, revealing glowing green pads on her palm as it quickly turned back into an underwhelming human hand. 

“Alien… excuse the hell out of me?” It was gibberish. Nonsense. She was crazy. Laney was stuck as a dragon with her insane friend. Or she herself was crazy. Because that was so… so absolutely, utterly, undeniably dumb.

“It’s awesome,” Sula stated. 

—

“Let me—urf—get this straight,” Laney grunted, chest tight as her hind claws scrabbled against the wall of her bedroom, trying to push her sideways through the doorway. It was the only direction her shoulders could hope to fit. 

“Go ahead,” Sula replied, splayed out like a starfish over Laney’s back on the other side of the wall, keeping her wings tucked in tight. 

“You got abducted and turned into an alien… wolf… squid… thing.” Laney let out a yelp as the shoulder on bottom caught against the doorframe, forcing her to scoot backwards and wrangle it back into position. 

“Correct.” Sula’s head poked through the doorway, around the bulk of her shoulders and chest. “Call me a specter of the night, if you so please.” Laney threw a derisive glance at her cheeky smile, and Sula took the hint, popping back into place. 

“And the aliens were… rouge scientists.” Gods above, that sounded stupid every time. 

“Correct again.” Sula shoved at Laney’s body, succeeding in helping her get one arm through. That was progress. 

“So you made a contract with them.” Laney bucked herself upwards and slid the arm through, collapsing onto her side, panting, her whole upper body successfully extricated. 

“Yep. Taught them the concept of a long term study, and then offered to participate if they stopped kidnapping people.” She slipped her head back through the doorway again. “It sounds way more noble than it actually is. I just can’t stand bad science.” 

That was something Laney understood. They were both STEM majors, and she was just as frustrated by malpractice as Sula. Laney, however, was not insane like her friend apparently was. 

Stay calm. No big emotions. They’ll get away from you.

Deep breath. OW wait okay maybe not that deep - she nearly snapped a rib pushing it against the doorframe. She skittered forwards like some sort of awkward crab. Luckily, the hallway split halfway down - if she maneuvered her top half into the split, she could pull her hips and legs through despite their awkward shape, then maybe… pull her top half back, bunch up like a worm, and she was home free. Or free from home, rather. The back of the house had a sliding glass door - it opened wide enough to carry a table through, and was, by extension, wide enough for a dragon. Perhaps not the intended use, but she wasn’t about to complain. 

“And now… grk… we’re heading to their lab. Which is a giant fish-spaceship.” 

“The Fiship, yeah.” Laney groaned, and Sula giggled somewhere near her tail. “Love calling it that.”

Laney shook her head. “Stupid….” Pulling herself forwards another few feet, she bent her upper body into the L of the hallway, her head pressed upside down against the floor. She was pleased to find that pulling her legs through the door was the one easy task she’d had all night, although she felt like a yoga instructor. While steadying herself after both hind paws made it through, Sula left the bedroom, skirting the wall beside the lengthy dragon. 

“I’m gonna go make a path, move anything breakable.” Laney nodded, and Sula placed a hand against her neck, letting it slide along her scales until she was too far away and it slipped off. 

They’d been friends since either one could remember. Laney and Sula, or Lan and Lu, or Loony and Sucker, depending on who you asked in middle school. Laney remembered her dad always saying he was shocked they stuck together - he could never tell if they were fighting or not, he said. In fifth grade, Sula called it their “forever-bond” and refused to explain what that meant. Sula’s parents encouraged it, even as Laney’s were skeptical, but neither one could disagree on the positive impact this weird child was having on their poor, shy little thing. Everyone tried to explain the friendship between the two seemingly incompatible children.

Sula never referred to her as a poor little anything. That was good enough an explanation for Laney. She was a chemist, not a psychologist. 

Inching her way down the hall, trying not to scratch the paint on either side, Laney was surprised to see Sula before she heard her. Before she could comment on that, though, Sula held a finger to her lips and gestured behind her. 

“We got company,” she whispered. 

“Stentson?” Laney asked. Sula gave her a thumbs up. “Oh, great….” 

“Listen—I’ll distract them.” Sula looked more scared about that than she had facing an actual dragon earlier.  “You get yourself outside. Go through the Black’s backyard and turn right, it’s the fastest way to the park, if you shortcut through the irrigation ditch next to Teddy Morris’s house.” Laney was surprised by the detailed instructions, but nodded affirmatively. 

“Got it. Stay safe.” What she wanted to say was Thank you, please don’t get hurt, this is my fault, I’m so sorry.

Sula kissed her palm and planted it on Laney’s snout, gave another thumbs up, smiled in a way that crinkled her blue-green eyes, staring back into Laney’s—oh. She… didn’t know her eye color anymore. 

She blinked, and Sula was already heading back up the hallway as the front door rang with three sharp knocks. Laney had a sneaking suspicion that somehow, Sula knew exactly what she was thinking, and had already accepted and forgiven her apology. That girl….

 Laney let a shiver run from her snout to her tail, letting herself feel her form again, for a moment. Sides brushing the wall as she breathed in and out. Long, forked tongue that picked up the taste of the air. Eyes that pierced every shadow. Powerful muscles flexing and relaxing under her scaled hide. Long, sinuous tail curling and uncurling. 

As soon as another, louder knock hit the front door, Laney began to move. 

—

Sula faked a yawn and tugged open the door with the slow, contemplative weight of someone who wasn’t always awake at three in the morning. 

Cars with lights pointed at the front of the house lined the driveway and road. A man, dressed in a military uniform of some sort, a pair of dark sunglasses on his face, stood stock still on her porch, left hand rest near a hip holster. Sula could see the puff of a bulletproof vest under his shirt. 

“Yyyeah? Wuzzat?” she mumbled, eyes half-lidded. The soldier looked her up and down. 

“This is the Geralt residence?” he said in short, clipped syllables. It wasn’t a question. Sula let herself ponder what must be going through this man’s mind - stalling, and acting like a tired, mussy-haired student. 

“Ma’am?”

“Oh! Uh. Think so, yeah.” Sula’s drunken slur was a direct opposite to the sharply-spoken man.

“You… think so,” he said, raising an eyebrow, hand drifting away from the holster. Good. Sula wasn’t worried about getting shot—the xenocanids had solutions for that sort of thing. She was more worried about Laney’s parents coming home to bullet holes in the walls. 

“Thas’ wha’ I said, yeh?” She swayed against the door, clutching it, and spoke again as soon as the man opened his mouth. She saw his eyes crinkle with displeasure under the sunglasses. “Pretty sure, at least. Was las’ time I checked. I can go ask, if ya want…?”

Shades shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. Are you Laney Geralt?” 

Sula shook her head. “Why would I be a Geralt? Sssay… wha’s with those shades, anyway? Moonlight too bright for ya?” She hiccuped and giggled, then—hearing the sound of something getting knocked over—broke into a full laugh. Shades tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for her to finish. Finally, wiping her eyes dramatically, she sighed and fell silent. 

“If you must know,” Shades said, voice abrasive and irritated, “these are prescription. As it turns out, some people are judgemental about my lazy eye.” 

“Oh.” Huh. Sula had figured it was just some sort of… intimidation tactic. “Ssorry, dude. You c… considered surgery? I h-HIC-heard there was a good one developed lae’ly.”

Shades tilted his mouth in a curious frown. “Wait, really? Where do they…” he seemed to catch himself, straightening back up and clearing his throat. “If you’re not a Geralt, what are you doing in their house?” 

Sula heard the unmistakable sound of a sliding glass door slipping closed. Anyone in the neighborhood would have recognized it. She grunted, putting on a look of feigned surprise. 

“Y… oh, you know what? You’re totally right. I don’t live here. My bad.” 

And she slammed the door closed in Shades’ face. 

—

Laney paced back and forth on the lakeshore, not caring who saw her. Where was Laney? She’d been waiting for over fifteen minutes. Which didn’t sound like a lot, but she was tired and stressed and NOT PANICKEDand it felt much longer than fifteen minutes, alright? 

A splash in the water behind her. Laney spun, growling, and watched as a figure emerged from the water. “Sula?” 

The only reply was garbled nonsense. 

“L… Laney, don’t mess with me.”

“Grrrlllbrbb,” went the figure. 

“I WILL bite you!” Laney yelled, backing up as four glowing green eyes opened along the creature’s vaguely canid face, fins framing it on either side. Its form was shambling and awkward on land, feet hardly more than two masses of tentacles, paws glowing and grasping, hunched over, odd looking tendrils curling from its back. 

“Bbbllrbbb,” was her reply. 

Laney was about to make a break for it when she heard Sula’s voice calling out. She whipped her head around, hissing, still stumbling backwards away from the monstrosity. 

“WHERE WERE YOU?” Laney nearly roared, dragon lungs panting and huffing, smoke pouring from her nostrils. So I can breathe fire, then….

Sula ran out of the treeline, towards Laney and the monster. “Sorry, I had to give a bunch of grunts the slip!” She stopped and smiled that constant smile of hers once she was a few feet away. “And I see you’ve already met Nthrya!” 

“Nith-what?” Laney growled, glancing at the monster, which had stopped in place. It was… waving at Sula. “You know this thing?” she asked, incredulous. 

“Yeah, it’s Nthrya.” The word came out strange and hissing. It sounded like ‘nith-ri-a’ to Laney, which meant jack squat. 

“What is a nith-ra?” Laney questioned. Sula wasn’t listening, though - she was staring at the monster, who was garbling at her.

“Nah, she’s not a normal creature. Yeah, that’s why you haven’t seen her. Yes, she’s a she.” It was like a one sided conversation, interspersed with garbling nonsense. “Yeah. Yes. Oh, yeah, it’s good to see you too! Look, Nthrya - we’re in a hurry. Can I bring her on the ship? I’ll explain it. Please? Yeah, you can.” Sula clapped her hands and turned to Laney. “That’s that, then!” She paused at the blank look on the dragon’s face. 

“Oh, I forgot you, uh. Can’t speak their language.” She rubbed an arm sheepishly. 

“Not at all,” Laney said dryly. 

“Yeeeah. Well, he said you can spend some time on the ship, and they’ll work on a way to help us out. It’s even docked right now!” Sula pointed at the lake, which was very clearly empty. 

“...Sula.” 

“Oh! Sorry. Uh, these guys see in a different spectrum - the ship is pretty much invisible to you, but it’s right there saying hello for us. Just, uh….” She walked to the lakeshore, then out onto the water, floating above it. “Here, I’ll just guide you in.”

Well. It’s not the weirdest thing to happen tonight. 

Laney was standing halfway on an invisible fin before a thought struck her. 

“Wait, Sula, you can turn into one of those… things?” 

Sula’s grin was as expected as it was cheesy. “I’ll show you sometime. It’s super gross.” 

Laney couldn’t help but give a weak smile back, her emotions starting to cave in. She was gonna break down and cry, she thought. 

At least Sula was here to let her. 

“I’m sure it is,” she said, taking a deep breath and pushing forwards into the Fiship. 

Laney was a dragon. 

And that wasn’t normal. But it was alright, for the moment.

[laalaaisqueen]

Rewrite of the Cure AU-Chapter 11: I'm not allowed to talk about it

Richard pouts as he forces himself to the security room. Lenny was forcing him to go speak to Tinky Winky since the tall purple Teletubby knew a lot of things despite being a test subject.

Guardian piped up warning him not to call Tinky by his nickname.

But Richard didn’t really know where Tinky was, so he’ll need to ask Sparks where the younger male is.

He swipes his card then types in some details on the keypad, including the temperature outside.

The yellow Wess at the computers took one glance at him before returning to the monitors. “What brings you here Richard?”

“Do you know where Tinky Winky is?”

Sparks goes through the camera feed. “He seems to be reading in the cafeteria.”

“Okay, thanks.” Richard continues to sulk on his way there.

He doesn’t hate talking to people, he just rather look at his bugs. Ugh, jobs suck.

Indeed, Tinky is sitting at a table with Po next to him. He’s honestly never seen a kid content on watching someone read. Her scythes were on the table in front of her.

“Hey, Tinky Winky, mind if I speak to you about something?”

His red eyes dart over at him while tensing up. “...I guess so.” His voice is quiet and hesitant.

The poor guy was obviously wary of him, so Richard didn’t sit down.

“Lenny was speaking to me because that’s how conversations work and mentioned you seem to know a lot despite being a test subject, and wanted me to talk to you about how you know so much.”

Tinky Winky’s face frowned at being called a test subject.

“Sorry, his words, not mine.” Richard paused. “Not to make you think Lenny is a jerk, he’s a good guy once you get past the layers of anger and sarcasm.”

“...Have you gotten past these layers?”

He laughs bashfully. “No, not yet, but one day I’ll get there.”

Tinky bites his lip, looking away. “...I’m not allowed to tell.”

That’s a strange response, let’s try another question.

“Did you get the information from your books?”

He looks down at the book he’s holding and nods slowly. Based on the hardcover, it was a novel, not really a book like a history book or something.

“Where did you get these certain books?” Richard didn’t know much about this stalking situation, he wasn’t completely sure if they were allowed to have books about things outside the Main Land.

“...I’m not allowed to talk about that either.”

“Why aren’t you allowed to talk about it? Is it because you don’t trust me?”

Tinky shakes his head. “He’ll get angry if I tell.”

“...Alright.” Richard should be glad that he did his best, but the way he said he wasn’t allowed to talk about it was similar to how a child would say it.

“Did you even actually talk to him?” Lenny raised an eyebrow at him.

“Of course! I’m seen talking to him on the footage!”

“Did he not want to talk because of the security cameras?”

Richard shakes his head. “I don’t think he’ll talk to anyone here ever if he knows of any cameras.”

“..Hey.” Guardian speaks from his place at the table.

“No one mentioned you.” Lenny huffs but didn’t look at him.

“He just kept saying that he wasn’t allowed to talk about it.”

“...That is a tad concerning.” He shakes his head. “I’ve heard of children saying that, but never a young adult.”

He pauses for a few seconds, “Maybe you should question one of his friends.”

“More work?!” Richard whines, pouting.

“Richard you rarely do anything helpful, we are in the middle of an apocalypse, and his knowledge of things is quite odd, what kind of subject knows what an infirmary is?”

The red captain grumps, sulking out.

“Why does he hate his job so much?” Guardian comments.

“He usually just stares at his bugs for long periods of time.”

Well Po did not pipe up with anything so maybe Dipsy will know something.

The green Teletubby was sitting in the dirt, his posture slumped and his ears drooping.

“Uh, hey, mind if we talk?”

Dipsy looks behind him. “..I guess so, I have nothing better to do.”

“Do you know why Tinky Winky seems to know a lot of stuff?”

“Books? I mean some books he quickly shoves in his bag if we ask what he’s reading, same with the journal, it’s kinda odd that he avoids the subject.”

“Has he ever said that he can’t talk about it?”

Dipsy thinks.

“I think maybe he has, I don’t really remember that well, it was such a long time ago. Has he been saying it to you?”

“Yeah, I was hoping you had more information about it.”

“Even if you had Laa-Laa here to ask, she won’t know much about it either, Tinky is weirdly tight lipped about it.”

Maybe this is something to worry about. Could someone be manipulating the purple Teletubby?

[yaoifag]

the underpayed struggling school cafeteria girly watching me fail to type my id number into the keypad for the third time this month:

[i-just-had-a-dream-that]

I don't remember the full thing but I was at school and the layout wasn't like my actual school it was more like monster high and the Addams family house type layout and i was on my way to guitar class and on my way there, there were other guitar students and new teachers who had those effortless toy like electric guitars that had detachable necks and like keypads instead of frets and no tuning pegs and they were showing them off and I was so confused on how they even worked that I missed my guitar class and had to go to physics, and then my friend was hungry and didn't have a snack so I gave them some cranberries that I thought were pomegranates and they liked the cranberries so much that they grabbed my arm pulled me into them and kissed me on the cheek a few times and it was wet and a little odd but I appreciated the gesture so I hugged them back and started walking to lunch and had to fight somebody in guitar hero on the cafeteria TV and there was this homophobic dude that was so scared of me that when I walked into the lunchroom to get the lunch he got blown back into the wall because I walked past him and then suddenly I was in the mlp equestria girls universe at the dance

[columbianewsupdates]

Alphatechs USA Introduces Innovative School Cafeteria Keypad with QR Scanner

http://dlvr.it/T1cL3h

[desmoinesnewsdesk]

Alphatechs USA Introduces Innovative School Cafeteria Keypad with QR Scanner

http://dlvr.it/T1cKv0

[missanthropicprinciple]

I would like to read the Hermann jacking it to Newts calculations fic please 😇

Took me a while because I went to a used bookstore and then spent too long going through my old calculators. Can’t find my high school calculator that actually works, but I fired up one I found in the trash at work. This is filthy smut. Avert your gaze if you don’t like it. (Dead Dove: Do not eat)

“Hey Hermann, my phone died. Mind if I use your calculator while my phone charges?”

“I have a whole drawer full of them, Newton; you may choose whatever you like. I believe most of them are still functioning. Bottom right drawer.”

“Functioning,” Newt chuckled at the accidental pun. “Thanks dude.”

A few minutes later Newton put the calculator on the desk instead of in the drawer.

“You could have put it back where you found it,” Hermann said as Newton headed to the exit.

“I’m going to the cafeteria. Want anything?”

“No, thank you,” Hermann replied.

Hermann wondered to himself why Newton chose the Casio S-V.P.A.M. and not an TI-84 Plus. Newton could have just used a search engine on his computer if he did not need a graph calculator. The thought occurred to Hermann that the man chose it because of its similarity to “Final Pam” and a image of Newton laughing to himself, his brown eyes shining with mischief, entered his mind. The calculator Newton chose was a Visually Perfect Algebraic Method which allowed him to input mathematical expressions as they are written. Did Newton know that he could input expressions that way into a VPAM?

“The calculator interpreted his keystrokes,” Hermann thought to himself, touching the keypad.

Keystrokes.

Strokes.

“Oh dear, I feel some stirrings.”

Hermann ran his fingertips over the calculator where Newton’s, no doubt, grubby fingers had touched the keys. But the calculator appeared to be clean. He looked around to make sure Newton had not returned and swiftly exited the laboratory, taking the calculator with him.

“I wonder what he was working on,” he thought as he closed the door to his room.

He doubted that Newton would bother to save the results of such a simple calculation but Hermann retrieved whatever was there. He pressed keys.

[RCL]

[A]

8,933

“Oh it’s a prime number,” Hermann breathed.

The number was only divisible by one or by itself.

“Much like Newton and myself,” he mused, setting the calculator on top of the toilet tank, giving into the inevitability of impulsive human actions. (He would work out that probability at a later date.) He unzipped his trousers, freed himself, gasping at the feel of the cool air on his “raging boner” (he could hear Newton say those words in his head), and leant on his cane before taking himself in hand.

“Oh,” he whispered as he imagined Newton pressing the shift key and then the RCL key in order to save the number. It could not be something like the Hardy–Weinberg principle, he thought as he stroked himself languidly with a gentle touch. If that were the case, the saved number would be one. No matter what genetic probability Newton was calculating, it would always equal 100%.

“No doubt, 8933 is a random population of some vile creature he’s studying,” Hermann said, increasing his grip as he moved his hand more swiftly.

“What could he be working out? If he knew the population size already. He must be double checking a simple equation,” he thought as he was driven by instinct, allowing him to posit freely as he pleasured himself.

“He doesn’t know how to save formulas; how endearing,” he said aloud, his breath becoming ragged.

If Newton knew how to use saving functions, perhaps Hermann could teach him how to use formula functions on the calculator more efficiently. Surely, he must have learnt how to use mathematical equations for his biological research. He stroked himself faster.

“By Jove,” he said, tilting his head back slightly.

He imagined Newton typing in the numbers, perhaps slowly.

“Oh.”

He thumbed the head as he teased the frenulum. Newt had pressed the shift button. Hermann touched himself as light as he could stand it.

[RCL]

Hermann had no choice but to lick his palm and caress himself more fully.

[A]

The thought of Newton holding the calculator in his hand and feeling the buttons press down beneath his finger pads, the numbers appearing on the screen, the man successfully saving the number - it was too much. Hermann encircled the corona with a single finger to heighten his arousal before working himself with great speed until he was spilling. The very sight of it caused him to pulse several times and he could not help but cry out.

He stood breathing heavily, composed himself, and washed his hands before putting the calculator into his pocket. The lab was still silent and uninhabited. As he returned the calculator to the drawer Newton walked in with some containers.

“I brought you some soup, the kind you like,” Newt said cheerfully.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Newton.”

They sat down at a table on Newt’s side of the lab.

“You got some color in your face,” Newt said.

Hermann nearly choked.

“You look pretty good. I’ve been worried about you lately because you looked more pale than usual. That’s why I brought you some soup because it has some nutrition in it.”

Hermann, still slightly flushed, thanked him and consumed his soup in silence.

[sanctum-of-ramshackle]

Continuous adventures of the MC/Yuu variants

[Synopsis]: Just some MC/Yuu variants in their respective universes.

[SCP-TWST-2020: Dr. MC/Yuu (SCP!MC/Yuu)]

[Dr. MC/Yuu’s office/laboratory]

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Standing still with a blanket wrapped around them*

Leona: Huh? Herbivore, why are you-

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Shushes at him* *Whispers* Don’t say anything. Grab me that T-Bone over there.

Leona: *Finds the steak at their desk and grabs it*

SCP!MC/Yuu: Hand it over slowly and carefully.

Leona: *Annoyed* You’re acting weirder than usual.

[As Leona hands them the steak, the blanket reveals its massive mouth filled with rows of razor sharp teeth.]

Leona: What the hell?!

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Quickly stuffs the meat in it’s mouth and proceeds to yank it off of them* HIYYAAAHHHH!!!

[They swung it back and forth, hitting it against steel walls and banging it on the ground. (*Cue cartoonish sound effects*)]

Leona: *Backs away* Kill it with fire!!!

[Dr. MC/Yuu neutralizes it with a mini flamethrower they carry with them. The blanket shrieks in agony and turns into a pile of ashes.]

Leona: *Traumatized by the sudden encounter* What was that?!!

SCP!MC/Yuu: SCP-799: The Carnivorous Blanket. Good luck sleeping in peace.

<>

[SCP!MC/Yuu touring Epel around the site.]

Epel: Walkin’ around sure can make a fella thirsty.

SCP!MC/Yuu: You’re in luck. SCP-294 just restocked.

Epel: SCP- what?

SCP!MC/Yuu: I’ll show you.

[Cafeteria]

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Typing on the keypad of SCP-294*

Epel: What’s with the guards?

SCP!MC/Yuu: This vending machine is a special one. Which is why it needs to be heavily guarded.

[Then the machine dispense some fresh apple juice.]

SCP!MC/Yuu: Here. I know it’s not the kind back in your family’s farm. I promise you it’s not bad.

Epel: *Drinks the juice* …

SCP!MC/Yuu: Epel? Hey, are you okay?

Epel: This is half as good as Gran-Gran’s juice.

SCP!MC/Yuu: Jesus. Don’t scare me like that.

<>

[Oklahoma]

SCP!MC/Yuu: Crowley, this is a terrible idea to join me.

Crowley: Nonsense! Your world is not as bad as I thought it would.

SCP!MC/Yuu: That’s because you never experienced true horror. Only I was supposed to observe an anomalous object until you decided to tag along.

[A bus rolls in front of the school at 3:20 p.m.]

Crowley: Oddly enough. Why are we at a school?

SCP!MC/Yuu: Just aboard the bus.

[Ten minutes later]

Crowley: *Already traumatized from the bus having to travel into a hellish dimension*

SCP!MC/Yuu: Welcome to SCP-3583: The Tragic Schoolbus…Crowley?

Crowley: *Shaking and hiding his face behind SCP!MC/Yuu* When will this be over?

SCP!MC/Yuu: A half hour? An hour? I don’t remember. *Injects amnestics in Crowley*

Crowley: *Falls unconscious*

SCP!MC/Yuu: This is gonna be a long ride.

[Hazbin Hotel x TWST: Demon Lord!MC/Yuu]

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: *Sighs*

Trey: MC/Yuu? You look rather down. Is everything okay?

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: No. Everything is quite alright, dear Trey. I just have intrusive thoughts of my inner demons.

Trey: Oh. What are they saying?

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: *In their demonic voice* Feed on the flesh of the innocence~

Trey: *Disturbed* …

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: The problem is I refuse to do so since I can’t bear my humane thoughts telling me of your human diseases.

<>

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: *Showing pictures to everyone* Oh hoo! This is the time when Charlie had to chase after Vaggie who was also chasing after Angel for doing something stupid back at the hotel.

[They swiped to the next image.]

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: This is Husker. Passed out drunk.

[Then swipes again.]

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: Whoops. *Closes their phone*

Ace: What was that?

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: …My brother giving me the evil scheming eyes. He somehow made the image cursed after Angel dared me to snap a picture of him without noticing. He noticed.

<>

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: *SNIFFS* *SNIFFS* Ugh. You boys reck of sins.

Azul: *Confused* For your information, this is an all-boys school of villains.

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: Yeah, yeah. I know. Somebody around here smells the worst.

[Then another Overblot incident occurs.]

Static Demon!MC/Yuu: AHA! I knew it!

💫Please reblog for more content✨

[lance-space-mommy]

F***ing Chair

Izuku was best friends with his guidance counselor. Inko knew about Izuku’s mental health and Izuku had no problem speaking his mind. Izuku had been hospitalized on a number of occasions because he told Inko. The guidance counselor was aware of Izuku being open with his mom which lowered the stress of betraying Izuku’s trust.

Izuku was incredibly depressed and struggled to cope with the bullying. Being able to wear a facade all day was exhausting as well. It was nice to walk into the counselor’s office and vent. While Izuku was open, he did hide it around his mother. He didn’t want her to worry more than she already was. Seeing the school counselor was the only option considering therapy was far too expensive.

Izuku had Major Depressive Disorder, Social Phobia, Attention Deficit Disorder, and was showing signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder more and more with every encounter of bullying he endured. It was clear the physical and mental abuse he received day in and day out didn’t help. There was no escape when he came home. Cyberbullying was just as severe.

During lunch, milk had been pored all over Izuku. Much to everyones shock, Izuku slammed his book shut and stormed out of the cafeteria. Katsuki scowled, irritated by Izuku’s dramatic reaction. The brown haired bully jumped, not expecting the retaliation. The other bully watched him leave, bewhildered before smirking.

“Let’s get him while he’s in the locker room!”

Katsuki didn’t have a problem with it, wanting to put Izuku back in his place. The other bully tagged along, lauging about how he was going to mock Izuku. They chased after him.

When Izuku’s three bullies spotted him down the hall, his shoulders were tensed, a milk trail following him. His book bag was in one hand and his notebook in the other. There was something about the aura he was radiating that made them uneasy. Midoriya stormed right up to the guidance counselor’s office, threw open the door and let it out.

“Do you know how much I want to fucking pick up a fucking chair and smash it across their fucking face?”

Katsuki stopped in his tracks, eyes wide in surprise. That went straight to his dick.

“Shit. Izuku’s told on us?” whispered the long-finger bully.

“That’s what you’re worried about? He sounds like he wants to kill us,” exasperated the brown haired bully.

Katsuki had more concerns than that. In that split second, he came to the realization he knew nothing about Izuku. He didn’t know Izuku cursed. He never would’ve guessed Izuku got angry. Katsuki wondered if Izuku already was telling the adults at school, was he telling Inko? In a matter of seconds, he realized his entire future lies in Izuku’s hands. Something about that made him oddly hot, feeling flustered by the information.

The guidance counselor didn’t even sound surprised by his outburst. “Oh I know you do. Thankfully you didn’t do it.”

Izuku took a sharp breath before slamming the door behind him. The building shook from the force of the slam, causing the three to share a stunned look. They all crept to the door to listen, needing to know more.

“I’m leaving my stuff here. I’m going to the showers and I’ll be back. I’m skipping next period,” informed Izuku. His tone was sharp, unsteady, and clearly still holding a lot of rage.

The counselor shook her head, fixing her notebook’s position on the desk. “Very well. I’ll try and dry off your things while you clean up.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem kid.”

The bullies booked it to a janitors closet down the hall to avoid getting caught. Izuku came out a couple seconds later, fingers flying on the keypads on his phone. When he disappeared down the hall, the group chose to part their separate ways and head to class.

Katsuki sat at his desk with a scowl. He was frustrated by his feelings. As much as he wanted to hate Midoriya and unleash his rage to make up for extreme weakness he was feeling, he truly didn’t want to. There was some deep fondness resonating within him. He was terrified and that excited him.

Izuku reappeared a period later with a drained expression. His hair was dry, his clothes were completely changed, and his bag and notebook looked perfectly fine. While the trio were mad their stunt didn’t leave any long lasting damage, they were glad their actions didn’t cause him to be so pissed off that he’d kill them.

None of the idiots wanted to be hit in the fucking face by a fucking chair.

[odxrilove]

☆ 3:35AM

pairing: idol!huening kai x f!reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, idol!au

wc: 1.35k

a/n: huge thanks to xie for beta-reading this!! love you lots <3

synopsis: in which you're having some trouble with a choreo and huening kai decides to keep you company all night long.

sweat ran down your neck and temples, staining your top and coloring the fabric a shade darker. you groaned as your head pounded, the song from earlier still replaying in your mind. as you half-closed your eyes in exhaustion, your feet brought you to the cafeteria's vending machine, resulting in you bumping your hip on one of the tables.

"fuck" you cursed, mumbling to the table "you're just always in the way"

you let your head hang low for a few seconds before bringing it up to look at the snacks and drinks. you scanned them one by one, hesitating while searching your pockets for cash.

it was late and the cafeteria lights were turned off, leaving you in the dark with the only source of light coming from the hallway. you're once again staring at the rows of snacks, biting your lip in concentration as you hesitate between the two most unhealthy snacks of the machine, when a mouvement from the corner of your eye suddenly catches your attention.

you turn, staring warily at the hallway. when silence overtakes the room, you turn back to the machine in front of you.

after deciding which snack you would take, you pushed the coins in the slide, hearing them clinking. with an ache in your shoulder, you pressed the buttons one by one, slowly so as to not mess up the order. pushing the final button, your eyes travelled up from the keypad to your long-awaited snack, watching it slide towards you before falling down-

and getting stuck against the glass.

you whined loudly and closed your eyes in frustration, bumping your head on the glass repeatedly to make it fall.

"hitting your head won't help but continue if you want some pretty bruises on your forehead."

you shrieked and jumped, your body crashing into the vending machine harshly. a chuckle echoed of the walls and as your eyes landed on the person, you sighed in relief. "god kai, don't scare me like that ever again," you spoke up, leaning against the machine.

he chuckled again and walked towards you, stopping right in front of you as he leaned down. you could feel his breath on the side of your face. "need any help?" he asked.

a nod from you was enough for him to stand up straight and hit the side of the machine with his fist. you pulled yourself together and turned around to see your snack fall down. the tall boy leaned forward once again, opening the little drawer and retrieving your snack before handing it over to you with a smile.

you smiled back and blushed, thanking him before looking away.

"are you done for the night?"

you shook your head, "not yet, i'm having some trouble with some choreo. you?"

this time, it was his turn to shake his head, lips in a thin line, "if you're having some trouble with choreograhpy, i'm not letting you spend the rest of the night here alone."

you only giggled. he was going to be exhausted tomorrow. though you had to admit that you didn't mind him staying with you. he looked puzzled as you laughed freely, which made you laugh even more. "dumbass" you said between giggles.

he stopped walking and turned his whole body towards you, tilting his head to the side, "dumbass huh?". you put your hands on your hips, leaning forward to whisper, "yeah dumbass."

a mischievous smile adorned his face and less than a second later, he had stolen your oh-so-precious snack from your hands and started running up the stairs, giggling like a kid the whole time. you ran after him, trying to catch up, "hey come back here! i swear, i meant it affectionately! don't make me run after you!"

but the boy already was two floors above you, cackling and shouting a "come catch me, lazy!" from the staircase.

instead of being the mature person of the story, you let your inner child free and followed him, running up the stairs with haste, you called out for him, because in the end, you could never say no to huening kai.

–

with your hands on your knees, you try to catch your breath, lifting your head slightly as to send a death glare at kai, –who's trying his best not to laugh at you.

"huening-kai, i warn you, you have five seconds to give me back my snack." you speak up as you walk over to him, throat dry from the running.

kai looks at you from his seat on the floor, back pressed against the wall mirror of your practice room, as he smiles sweetly. he starts to crack up when you begin to count to five, holding onto your snack in his hoodie pocket.

just before you can say five, a hand wraps itself around your wrist and pulls you down quickly. you finish with your butt on the ground and a chuckling kai next to you. you groan and pout as he begins opening the plastic, unwrapping the cereal bar and breaking it in two, handing you a half and stuffing the other in his mouth.

you look at him baffled and he turns his head towards you, smiling widely at you with crumbs on his lips. you playfully push his face away, hand pressed against his left cheek.

"hey, you have the bigger piece!" you protest. "which is really unfair as i paid for it!"

he swallows the snack before throwing an arm around your shoulder and bringing you closer. "don't worry, i'll pay you back. i promise."

you quirk a brow, "and with what may i ask? you're always the one saying you're broke!"

he laughs again but this time, it's softer and it lasts only a few seconds before it dies down. he looks down at you and smiles softly, brushing a stray of hair out of your face. he blushes slightly and whispers almost in embarrassment, "with my love."

your voice gets caught in your throat and your cheeks and the tip of your ears turn red. kai hides his face in your neck and you swallow hard. it's silent for a few seconds and you try to focus on your own heartbeat, –which is going wild, instead of his heavy breathing in the crook of your neck.

when you realize he's waiting for an answer, your eyes widen and you clear your throat awkwardly. you look at the strings of kai's big hoodie, pulling on one of them as you keep your head low. taking a deep breath, you lift your head up and gently take kai's face in your hands, gazing at him with hearts in your eyes.

he's suddenly very shy and instantly looks at the floor instead of you. you sigh softly and rub your thumb over his cheek, making him close his eyes as he leans in the palm of your hand.

you bite your lip again before breaking the silence with a whisper, "i would like that, yeah".

kai's happy as he smiles widely at you, face inches away from yours. he wraps his arms around your waist and pecks your nose quickly before wrapping you in his arms, chests pressed against each other as your giggles fill the room.

he leans back against the mirror with you huddled in his lap, your face pressed in the soft and warm material of his hoodie. your fingers grip onto his arm and you nuzzle further into him, already feeling sleepy.

his phone beeps in his bag and he knows it's his hyungs, but when he hears your little snores, he decides that it's not worth waking you up. you look so peaceful and cute in his lap.

kai looks down at you one more time to make sure you are comfortable and secure before kissing the top of your head and closing his eyes, whispering a small "we have a deal then"

he falls asleep with you in his arms, your slow breathing filling the room.

taglist: @0x1lovebot @itsyaapollochild @sunshinelixie-lee @fairybinie @meraniki

please do not copy, steal or repost any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[yeosatinyngz]

Chapter IV

“Exchanging Numbers”

➼A/N: I’m sorry if the pacing seems a little rushed to you, this is a short series so it was hard for me to pace certain events. Especially since I wanted Izana and reader to be acquainted asap😅 so please bear with the terrible pacing

Previous | Next | Masterlist | Bonus Chapter

You were in the cafeteria with Nobara, Megumi, and Yuji. You all were just talking about stuff and Nobara was doing your hair. “And there, done, how do you like it?” Nobara says while you took your phone out to check how it looked with the help of the camera app. She put your hair up in space buns. “It looks so cute, thank you!” Nobara had no time to reply back because Izana interrupted your conversation. “Hey come with me, we’re going to work on our project” “Wait-” he didn’t give you any time to respond and dragged you away from your friend group to his table.

You were greeted by the sight of the Haitani brothers and Kakucho. “Hello Rindou Kun and Hitto San.” They both said hello back to you. “Oh and hello Haitani San” “Hey sweetheart, just call me Ran, and your hair looks almost as cute as you” he sent a little wink your way. You froze up and a tiny dust of pink covered your face. “Thank you” you shyly let out while avoiding eye contact with the older Haitani. Izana interrupted any further advances Ran could pull by saying “give me your phone” you turned your attention towards him “uh ok” You handed him your phone. You have the raise to wake feature turned on for your phone so as soon as Izana got ahold of your phone your lock screen popped up. It was a picture of you happily hugging an unimpressed Megumi and you noticed how Izana’s eyes narrowed while looking at it. “Ah sorry, lemme open up my phone, why did you want my phone anyway?” “So I can put my number in it, how else are we suppose to talk to each other regarding our project” “Ah good point” You open up the phone app and clicked on the keypad button and handed it to Izana so he could enter his number in. He then handed it back to you when he finished. “So how should we start our project?” “I don’t know, I’m no longer in the mood to work on it now.” Bruh, is this dude serious? “Oh if so, I’ll take my leave then.” “I didn’t say you could leave.” This not only caused confusion for you but the other boys as well. “Huh?” “Since we’re going to be working together, might as well get to know each other” SIR WHAT?! I DON’T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU- The Haitani brothers and Kakucho all look between the three of them. Something is up with Izana They all thought.

➼Taglist: @sunahyejin @cryszus @soushswag @gabytodd @wakasagurl