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florencemtrash · 8 months

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Hummingbird: Chapter Five

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Violence and injuries

You blinked back into your apartment at the end of your nightly patrol, swearing out loud as you began the arduous process of peeling your suit off your sweaty body. Bruises in all stages of healing littered your body like a Pollock painting - purple, blue, yellow, and pink marks spreading up and down your skin like they were living creatures.

You sighed in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for the shower water to heat up enough to loosen your tight muscles, and twisted your body, looking and pulling at the marred skin.

Miguel wouldn’t be too happy about this… not that he would ever have a reason to look at you naked. The thought alone made you blush furiously.

Miles had been away touring colleges across the Northeast and left you with the task of managing his Spider-duties. It hadn’t been so terrible the first two nights - the minor criminals of New York City were hardly prepared to handle anyone with your powers (like the armed robber who was shocked beyond measure to find his gun had disappeared from his hand). The following nights not so much. Word had gone around that Spider-Man was MIA and criminals minor and major jumped at the chance to unleash their plans. Coffee and spite fueled you through the following week, but there was only so much coffee you could consume in a day after averaging 2 hours of sleep a night.

You would have asked Miguel and the others for help, but there was a strict no interference policy when it came to non-anomalies. Sure, Miguel would have bent the rules for you, but it wasn’t anything you felt comfortable with. Everyone knew he treated you with a special care that sometimes warmed your heart and sometimes set you on edge - always visiting you in the med bay for the most minor of injuries, finding some excuse to track you down in Spidey HQ when you visited, and even going so far as to ask the cooks to add a special edition item onto the regular menu after you’d gushed about it to him at lunch (Peter was the one to tell you).

It also didn’t escape your notice that he kept you from the most dangerous missions, or waited until the last second to call you in for help.

Terco idiota.

You groaned when you stepped into the steaming shower, grateful for the hot water that ran rivers down your back and swept away the exhaustion the night had brought. When you were finally clean and comfortable in your pajamas you sank onto the floor in your living room, pulling the battered and familiar sketchbook forward on the coffee table. One of the many benefits to being an honorary Spider-Person was that the physical exhaustion of superhero duties helped quiet your mind enough to consistently finish your art projects. And every alternate dimension you visited opened up a whole new world of creative possibilities - quite literally. Still… you’d caught yourself drawing the same thing (or rather person) over and over again recently.

You worked for a couple of hours, one ear honed in on the stolen police radio propped up on your tv stand alongside your suit. Mercifully, even criminals needed sleep and you drew uninterrupted until the first rays of dawn started to spill over New York, skyscrapers casting long spindly shadows over the grid.

When morning came you finally dragged yourself into bed for a few hours of blissful sleep leaving behind the soft images of Miguel littered on the coffee table. One day he’d just entered your life and never left, slowly invading every corner of your mind until a week without him felt like a shoe that didn’t fit.

Miguel’s eyes flickered over to you when you blinked into existence beside him, empanada in one hand and a water bottle in the other. His heartbeat picked up, then slowed down, relaxing into the newer, steadier pace of life that you brought him.

“¡Buenos díaaaaaas!” You said in a sleepy singsong voice, dropping the empanada into his lap and jumping on the desk. It wasn’t uncommon for you to stop by his office and make sure he was eating regular meals, although sometimes you would just blink food onto his desk with a post-it note affectionately commanding “Come, pendejo” whenever you visited Spidey-HQ.

“You look tired.” Miguel said, smiling softly as you took your usual spot. He allowed himself to sink into his chair, gazing at you with a love neither of you had the courage to talk about yet.

“So do you.”

“Yes, but I always look tired.” He said with a slight quirk of his lips. You made a little hmmmph sound in agreement, taking a deep sip of your drink.

“Miles is away so I’ve taken on his patrol shifts. I don’t know how you Spider-people manage to do this AND still have full time jobs. I feel like I’m barely keeping up.”

Miguel perked up. You hadn’t told him that you were expanding your superhero duties in Miles’s absence.

“When will he be back?” His eyes focused on you, taking in the faint bags beneath your eyes and the droop of your shoulders with concern. He stood up and moved closer to you, leaning down on arms that bracketed your crossed legs. The smell of coffee and cream was bitter and sweet in the space between you, mixing with Miguel’s own spiced cologne. It warmed you up from the inside out until you wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms.

“Next Sunday.” You groaned and settled for leaning your forehead on his shoulder as you tried to ignore the pounding of your heart, “It’s probably a good thing. If he ends up leaving New York for school, I’ll have to pick up his duties.”

The stolen look of adoration he gave you was replaced by one of confusion and surprise. He’d forgotten that Miles would be graduating next year and going to college.

A New York City without Spider-Man seemed so… wrong. Across countless universes it was always New York City, or some version of it, and Spider-Man. NYC and Spider-Man, Spider-Man and NYC.

You sat patiently, waiting for Miguel to shuffle through his thoughts like he always did, carefully organizing them with the precision and practice of a scientist.

“I could… I could help out if you ever needed it.” He murmured softly, leaning into you and finding comfort in your closeness.

You jerked up so quickly you nearly smacked into his nose, “Did I just hear the Miguel O’Hara suggest breaking protocol?” You teased, poking at his firm chest.

“Well, I-” Miguel lost his words and his cool, color faintly brushing against the tan of his cheeks. He liked having you sit so close to him, no trace of wariness in sight. In the months you’d gotten to know and work with one another you’d learned to grow around each other as tightly as two plants climbing a garden trellis until he didn’t know where he started and you ended.

Memories, painful and sharp, slammed into him - the last kiss he’d given his wife before he ruined everything. The look of terror on Gabriella’s face before she splintered into nothing. And here he was again, jumping at the chance for a future with someone he didn’t deserve. Had he learned nothing after losing everything?

“No,” He shook his head, “You’re right. It was a stupid idea.” He said stoically and stepped away.

“Hey,” You whispered, grabbing his hands when he pulled back. He was entering that dark place again. He hardly talked about his old life except as a warning to Spider-Society members. He believed he was a walking, talking cautionary tale - nothing more than a sense of duty kept him from spiraling down into a sea of terrible memories that would tear him apart.

“It wasn’t stupid. It just means you care.” You said, and felt some relief when Miguel squeezed your hand back, “I can handle it, Miguel. I promise. You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.”

Miguel’s breath caught in his throat. He knew you meant it jokingly but the words still hit a sore spot.

He didn’t want you to go. If he had control over the powers that governed the multiverse he would ask that you stay with him here forever. He would court you properly instead of dancing around the issue of your growing feelings for one another. He would hug you and kiss you and ask you to spend the nights with him…

Al carajo. He swore and gave into one of his safer desires.

Without warning he closed the distance between you two, slipping into the space between your legs and pulling you against his chest in a bone crushing hug. It was the most contact you’d had with each other since the collider explosion. You melted into his touch, gripping him almost as tightly and getting lost in the smell of coffee and cinnamon.

“I’d like to have you around if that’s alright.” He said softly into the crown of your hair.

You smiled, “Yeah. That’s alright with me.”

“Hey Miss Y/n?” You jolted awake at your desk where you’d drifted off during free period.

Miles smiled apologetically from the door with Gwen at his back who waved and grinned at you.

Oh thank god he was back. You thought to yourself, running a hand through your hair to fix it.

“You know you’re allowed to call me by my first name, right?” You said with a stretch of your back - the sound mimicked a glow stick so much you were surprised you didn’t begin to shine with neon light.

“Yeah, but it’s weird to call an old person by their first name.”

Gwen smirked at Miles as he dropped his bag off at an empty desk.

“Old?!” You said incredulously, “Miles, how old do you think I am?”

He froze like a cat that had just knocked over a glass cup, “Uh…….”

“Oh this should be good,” Gwen quipped, sinking into a chair and propping her feet up on the back of Miles’s chair.

“I-I mean,” Miles stuttered, “Like forty-”

“FORTY?!”

“Thir-Thirty-Thirty-three?” He stumbled over his words, heat rising into his cheeks and coloring them a deep plum.

“I’m twenty-eight!” You said, throwing your hands up dramatically.

“Whoops.” Gwen chuckled. You tipped your head back and laughed, momentarily forgetting the last two weeks of crime-fighting exhaustion.

“How were the college tours? I want to hear everything. Was Princeton all you hoped for?” You leaned forward in your seat, propping your chin up on woven fingers.

“Princeton was fantastic!” Miles said, dragging his chair over to sit closer to your desk, much to Gwen’s chagrin as she lost her footrest, “It looks like something out of a Harry Potter movie. And their engineering building was just-” Miles continued to gush over the schools he’d seen, pulling up photos on his phone of Princeton, Harvard, Columbia, Brown, URI, BU, Northeastern, and a slew of others.

You hung onto his every word, his excitement so infectious that even Gwen abandoned her spot to share Miles’s seat and hear the stories she’d no doubt heard before.

“I loved Berklee,” Gwen jumped in, pointing out a photo of her and Miles smiling in front of their admissions building.

You tilted your head to the side, “You visited colleges in this universe?”

She blushed, “Miles’s parents let me tag along for part of the trip so I had to pretend like I was looking at colleges myself.”

“That makes sense.” You said, noting their closeness and the stolen glances they shared when they thought you weren’t paying attention. “Well, I’m glad the trip was a success!”

“I actually wanted to ask you something, Miss Y/n.” Miles said nervously, straightening up in his chair, “Would you be willing to write me a recommendation letter? I know you’re busy and all but-”

“Say less!” You said with a glowing smile.

“Really?!” He brightened up.

“Of course! Who else would be better suited to the task than me?! I mean, probably someone with more writing experience, but I would be happy to do it.”

“Thank you so much!” He quickly pulled out a resume from his backpack and a list of schools he was planning to apply to, sliding them across the desk with relief now that the anxiety of asking had fallen off his shoulders.

The three of you dove into a conversation about college (you had MUCH wisdom to bestow upon them… art college had taught you many lessons), Spider-duties, and life in general. At the close of the school day, Gwen followed you home, a regular occurrence after you’d offered up your apartment for her to crash in whenever she visited your dimension. She always had a change of clothes folded in your dresser and a toothbrush in your bathroom.

You groaned when you were shaken awake from a deep sleep. Gwen hung upside down from your ceiling already in her spider-suit, pink-tipped hair tickling your nose.

“What-what the- JODER!” you shouted, blinking off the bed and landing on the floor with a groan. There were still moments where you didn’t have complete control over your powers. “¡Carajo!” You hissed in pain and picked yourself off the floor, “Gwen, what the hell?”

“Anomaly in Times Square. Miles is already there and needs backup.”

Shit shit shit. You slapped yourself awake and scrambled to grab your newly mended suit from the closet.

“What are we dealing with?” You shouted as you ran out of your bedroom, slapping on your watch and hearing Miles’s voice ring out from it.

“Dude’s sparkling like a firecracker on Chinese New Years!” His panicked cries rang out, “He’s going after-” Miles’s voice cut out after a strike in the chest fried his watch.

From your apartment window you could see the lights of the New York skyline flicker and crackle like tv static.

“You ready, Gwen?” You asked, holding out a hand.

Gwen ignored the hand and jumped onto your back, wrapping her lean arms around you for dear life, “Oh god I hate this so much.” She said, squeezing her eyes as you teleported them all the way to Times Square.

It was always harder blinking with a passenger in tow. The collider explosion had changed you on a molecular level in such a way that blinking through space felt as natural as passing through a doorway… for others not so much. Traveling across New York City with Gwen felt like dragging a thick strand of yarn through a tiny needle.

Bright lights exploded out of billboard signs, cascading over you in a burning rain of color. You threw an arm around Gwen as she reoriented herself, pushing her down behind a flipped cop car as a bolt of electricity sailed past your ear crackling with heat and energy.

“You don’t remember me do you, Spider-Man? Not important enough for you?” A voice boomed out, tinged with the power you felt during thunderstorms.

“For the third time, I have literally never met you in my entire life!”

“You’ll remember me. They’ll ALL remember me when I’ve taken everything from them.”

“Shit.” You and Gwen said in unison before leaping into the fray.

You made quick work blinking the few people who remained huddled in buildings and under rubble to safety a block away.

“Sorry, sorry. Sorry!” You apologized as people dropped to the floor after being blinked, unused to the feeling of teleportation.

The lights blinded you constantly, blue electricity zipping across the ground like animals on the hunt. You teleported across Times Square, narrowly dodging lightning strikes that raised the hair on your head and arms and teleporting buses, cars, and concrete over the man’s head. He kept up with your attacks, jumping to safety or simply blowing the vehicles up with his power.

Maybe this was what having a Spidey-sense is like? You thought to yourself as you knocked Miles out of the way of a well aimed strike, using the taste of metal in the air as a sign that he was powering up.

A bolt caught you in the chest, sending you crackling through the air. You landed in a smoking heap by the gutter, groaning as your watch smarted and burned on your wrist. You wrenched it off with pain shooting up the side of your ribs.

So much for calling for backup. You swore inwardly as Gwen cried out, tossing her own smoking watch onto the ground as she picked her way out of the rubble of broken billboard screens. There would be no calling Miguel until this was over and done with… if you ever got a chance to call him. The safety net you’d always had fell away from your feet, leaving you buzzing with anxiety.

“Throw the cage!” You screamed at Gwen. She jumped and arched through the air, throwing a device no larger than a coin and watching it stick to the ground beneath the man’s feet.

He thrummed with the energy of New York City’s power grid, drinking it in through his skin like a sponge. The shield sprang to life, closing in on him with precision and accuracy. You let yourself breathe a sigh of relief as he quietly looked at his new cage. The high strung buzz of power in the air dissipated, no longer called to him from behind the holographic barriers.

The man quietly pulled off his hood, revealing blue skin cracked with the movement of electricity shooting through his veins like blood.

“Wait, NO!” Miles shouted, “It’s not going to work!”

“You really think this can hold me?” He grinned, white eyes haunting, “Think again.”

He pressed the palms of his hands against the barrier and you all watched in horror as it blew apart in his hands.

“SHIT!” Miles yelled, throwing his hands up to block the light that exploded outward.

You ducked down behind an overturned bus, feeling the sharp pricks of debris falling down on your back and singeing the fabric.

Times Square was once again alight with electricity and light, and the electric man stood at the center of it all, drawing in power and watching with delight as block after block of neighborhoods went pitch black. Helicopters flew overhead, spotlights zigzagging over the ground. You watched, powerless as he aimed one finger at a helicopter and shot it down to the ground. Miles and Gwen lept into action, working in tandem to weave a net strong enough to catch it as you continued to distract the villain. But you were slowing down, exhaustion creeping into your bones.

Another shot to the shoulder slammed you into a brick wall, body flickering in and out of existence as you struggled to blink yourself away. You fell to the ground in a crumple of limbs.

A boot pressed down between your shoulder blades, heavy and bruising. You screamed when a burning hand grabbed you by the back of your suit and hoisted you into the air. Blue eyes, cold and unfeeling bore into your own.

“You didn’t need to get involved.” He said, his hands beginning to light up dangerously. “I’m sorry this has to happen. But you’re not going to stop me. No one is going to stop me.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” You said through gritted teeth.

Every dimension was different and every dimension left its mark on its inhabitants like a key to a home or a postal code. It was how the Go Home Machine was able to send people back where they belonged.

“You think you could ever do that?... I think you could.” Hobie had said about the Go Home Machine. You’d scoffed and brushed it off at the time but… there was no time like the present.

You squeezed your eyes shut and grabbed a hold of his arm.

You drew on every inch of your power, searching throughout the multiverse for something that felt like home to this person until…

You got a match.

“What-what are you doing? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” You opened your eyes and gasped. The man’s body was slowly breaking apart like the static on old distorted TVs. He tried to get away from you, struggling against your iron grip as you held on for dear life, pouring your power into the action of forcing an unwilling person across the multiverse.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Dimension.” You growled, finding yourself back on solid ground as his legs went, then his lower torso. His face and arm were the last to go, mouth frozen in a silent scream, leaving you clutching empty air.

Miles and Gwen gawked at you from twenty feet away as the lights of the city slowly shuddered back to life, a stillness and unnatural quiet falling down on the city that never sleeps.

Your knees buckled beneath you and they shouted your name.

The last thing you saw were the blurry outlines of Miles and Gwen running towards you before your head hit the ground and the world went black.

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

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Author's note: Annnnnnnd here's Chapter Five! Thank you all for reading and sticking with me and my chaotic posting schedule. I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666@natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies@07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #miles morales #gwen stacy #peter b parker #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse

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enam3l · 1 year

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in my worlds, robin's parents are chill crunchy stoners

inspired by this!! by @steveshairychest we don't have enough robin lore. we need more.

So often children are the antithesis of their parents and no more so than in the case of the Buckleys. Two hippies who fell in love at a protest on their college campus, both black sheep in their middle class families. Now they're older, married and have a daughter but never grew out of the bohemian lifestyle. They one day got lost on the way back from Woodstock, finding themselves in Hawkins. Taken by the scenic forests and amused at its small town charm, they relocate with baby Robin.

An abandoned plot of land is cultivated into a haven of produce. Thus Buckley's Roots n Fruits is born, an organic, holistic grocery store. It raises the eyebrows of Karen Wheeler and her yummy mummy crew. Yet appreciated by the likes of Wayne Munson and Joyce Byers, the Buckley's being generous and offering freebies on old produce and accepting IOUs. Eddie never lets on he doesn't know Robin as the trumpet girl, but as the daughter of his best clients. Any community complaints fall on Hopper's deaf ears, in his eyes they take of people in need and let him in on a herbal hangover secret.

But to Robin, she is everything they are not. She's sick with nerves over exams whilst they tell her they're proud no matter what. She panics about the cost of college despite them telling her they'll always find a way. She threatens to call the CDC convinced she has Dengue fever but they choose to soothe her with folk songs and a herbal home brew. To them, Robin is an anomaly but they adore her for it anyway. They could never wish for her to change, only for her to stop letting anxieties dictate her life.

Then Robin bonds with Steve, drawn in by his mothering. She admires his grumpy moods and desire for control because he's everything she's wanted in her life. The best thing is, Steve is a constant because like his own, her parents can come and go. Gallivanting on strange retreats and experiences all across the country. But Steve always tries to explain, that unlike his, her parents care. She always knows exactly where they are, how to contact them and is left with enough food or money for the duration.

Steve loves her parents, his heart full when they call him an honorary Buckley. Even if their approach to life is strange to him, at least they're full of love. Not once do they bat an eyelid because he's always at their house. Never questions where they're going because they understand best friendship is sacred. They appreciate he cares for Robin in ways she believes they can't. There's always a seat at the table for Steve, a spare bed ready made, a present on his birthday and a little stocking at Christmas.

But there's one important thing that her parents never do. They never ever question Robin's relationship with Steve. No toe curlingly embarrassing moments of them calling him her boyfriend. They hope that telepathically, she'll one day somehow know that they don't care what she does or who she loves, as long as she's happy and a good person. That any secret is safe with them, they'll never shun their baby girl. Plus, they're not blind - they saw how as a young teen, Robin would ogle at their Carly Simon records.

#robin buckley #robin buckley headcanons #robin buckley x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #enam3l love lola #enam3ls rockstar eddie #steddie

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sanctum-of-ramshackle · 2 years

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SCP-TWST-2020

[TWST AU]: An MC/Yuu from the SCP universe

[Synopsis]: In this timeline, a scientist named MC/Yuu who works for the SCP Foundation was looking into a case where people claimed they found “Wonderland.”

Gender Neutral MC/Yuu

[(A/N)]: Surprise! This is the unknown MC/Yuu mentioned from the 100 Followers Celebration. I have been watching multiple of SCP videos lately. Thought it would be fun if the TWST world was treated like an anomaly.

On their usual shift at the SCP Foundation, MC/Yuu was writing down a report about their previous case they handled. The SCP-3640 a.k.a. Escape from the House of Mouse.

Then one of their colleagues came by and told them there were reports of people who claimed they all found a portal to another world.

This got MC/Yuu hooked on since they never worked on this kind of case before. So they decided to take this opportunity to learn more about it.

MC/Yuu and some agents arrived at an abandoned funeral home where people who explored in rundown buildings had reported they saw one specific coffin that lights up with colorful blinding sparks.

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Pulls out their gun* I’m ready. Everyone, scout out. If you see something odd, call me over.

SCP Agent 1: Roger that.

Everyone split up with a partner and starts searching for any anomalies, with caution.

An hour passed by, they radioed MC/Yuu.

SCP Agent 1: *BZZT!* Dr. MC/Yuu, we found something. We need you over. *BZZT!*

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Calls back* I’m on my way. Don’t touch anything and stay five feet apart of the anomaly.

The next minute, MC/Yuu arrived to the other agents who found a coffin which started lighting up through the cracks not long ago.

MC/Yuu volunteered to observe the object before bringing it back to the foundation so D-Class subjects could test the object. The agents were concerned at first, but they decided to trust them.

As they opened the cover, blinding lights emerged out, causing MC/Yuu to loose focus and fall into the portal.

Then they arrived to Twisted Wonderland and flew out of the portal onto Crowley, who was checking in.

They freaked out and points their gun at Crowley.

Crowley: What are you doing?!

SCP!MC/Yuu: Stay away from me! I have a fucking gun in my hands and won’t hesitate to shoot your head off, anomaly!

Oh, one more thing: They can act so unhinged after working with such dangerous anomalies.

As it seems they’re stuck until the portal opens again, they’ll just collect information about the place called Twisted Wonderland.

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Starts recording the interview with their recorder* Alright, let’s get started. Could you state who you are and what do you do?

Riddle: Of course. I’m Riddle Rosehearts, the Dorm Leader of Heartslabyul Dormitory and an honorary student of Night Raven College.

SCP!MC/Yuu: I see. So, what classes Night Raven College provides compare to what doesn’t exist in my home world?

Ace: There’s Alchemy, P.E. with flying broomsticks, and what not. I bet historical events from here aren’t accurate to your world’s history moments.

SCP!MC/Yuu: Does Night Raven College function like any other universities such as admissions and career consulting?

Deuce: Wait. Your universities work like that? We have magical assortments to help us with our years.

SCP!MC/Yuu: Hmm. Do you realize many people accidentally found your world through a coffin? Like a pocket dimension.

Trey: Really? Well that explains why there are many unfamiliar faces back in my family’s bakery. They even looked more surprised after witnessing magic like it’s their first time.

SCP!MC/Yuu: Uh huh. I see your world’s technology looks advanced as the ones back home. The smartphones and tablets.

Cater: Really?! Does your world have something similar to MagiCam?

SCP!MC/Yuu: Similarly, yes. Minus the magic properties. In Twisted Wonderland, could you name and describe each countries?

Leona: I think you got the wrong one to ask an annoying question.

SCP!MC/Yuu: Okay, never mind. Could you tell about how you grew up before attending NRC?

Ruggie: All I can say is a rough neighborhood, a not-so-easy childhood and working many jobs to support myself and for others. Oh, doughnuts. Can I takes these with me after the interview?

SCP!MC/Yuu: Oh, sure. I brought them in if you were hungry. What other animalistic features beast-people were born with? If the question is uncomfortable to answer, you don’t have to say anything.

Jack: No, I’ll answer for you. There are many with great strengths and abilities you would know. If you want to learn more, the Savanaclaw Dorm has many beastmen you can interview, if they cooperate.

SCP!MC/Yuu: Sounds like a field day, but next question. What is the currency used in Twisted Wonderland?

Azul: The currency used in our world is Madol, Dr. MC/Yuu.

SCP!MC/Yuu: That’s interesting. Could you explain to me how the environment works in this world?

Jade: Oya? I’m glad you asked. In fact, I can use my terrariums for demonstrations.

[An hour later]

SCP!MC/Yuu: That took quite a while. So what is your strength level scaling from 1 to 10?

Floyd: An 11 if I squeeze hard enough. Do you want one~?

SCP!MC/Yuu: Impressive, yet terrifying. So how many siblings do you have?

Kalim: Around 30 siblings!

SCP!MC/Yuu: That’s a lot of names to remember. How are you associated with a snake?

Jamil: *Cringes while covering half of his face* It’s a long story. In short, my Unique Magic is able to hypnotize anyone with direct eye contact.

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Writing down on their notebook* Hypnosis and “Unique Magic”. How are you able to balance school with outstanding careers?

Vil: Well, it was all hard efforts and not missing great details to enhance my skills as an actor, an influencer, and being a Dorm Leader of Pomefiore.

SCP!MC/Yuu: Wow. That’s quite a lot and working at the foundation seems easier now. Is “observing” students of Night Raven College the only thing you do for free time?

Rook: Oui! I also do photography.

SCP!MC/Yuu: Uh huh. How are you able to handle situations when others mistaken you of the other gender?

Epel: I yell anyone accusing me as a girl and sometimes beat ‘em up.

SCP!MC/Yuu: Looks are deceiving…Hey, why is your brother not here? I told him I need to interview everyone in this school.

Ortho: Sorry, Dr. MC/Yuu! Nii-San can’t come because he’s anxious of leaving his room. He usually talks through his tablet.

SCP!MC/Yuu: Then I can’t proceed if he is not physically present for the interview.

Ortho: *Sighs* He will not like this.

[Half hour later]

Idia: *Scared shitless*

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Stares blankly at him* So, Idia Shroud, what family curse people rumored about? I’m not judging you based on groundless words. I only need answers. That’s it.

Idia: *Practically shaking* W-W-Well…You see…

[2 hours later]

SCP!MC/Yuu: That’s…quite a lot to take in…Again? I can’t proceed if he isn’t present.

Lilia: Oh my! My apologies on behalf of Malleus, doctor. I’ll be the one to answer his questions since I raised him. Of course, I’ll answer my questions as well.

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Suspicious* Very well. You may answer.

Silver: *Fell asleep during his interview*

SCP!MC/Yuu: （−＿− ) …

Lilia: I’ll answer his questions too.

SCP!MC/Yuu: …Right. Could you try speaking in a calmer tone?

Sebek: WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! MY VOICE IS CALM, PUNY NINGEN-

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Points their gun at Sebek’s forehead* I have a gun in my hand and I’ll pull the trigger if you talked this fucking loud again. Got it?

Sebek: *Closes his mouth and shrinks down* Understand…

[The next hour]

SCP!MC/Yuu: Could you tell me more about yourself?

Grim: Would I? I, The Great Grim, have always been trying to enter to Night Raven College…

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Writing down their interview log*

[Hours later]

SCP!MC/Yuu: Holy shit. I can barely think of other names for these anomalies. Maybe I should just call this world SCP-TWST-2020, and use their actual names.

Crewel: Pup, why do you work for such a dangerous job?

SCP!MC/Yuu: Funny story. I was actually taken in by the SCP Foundation and they thought I was one of the many anomalies since I was still in my elementary years and pretty intelligent. In reality, I’m just knowledgeable in many fields from reading in too much (And was tutored by Miss. J). They offered me a job and education since they thought I would be a great asset after things cleared up. It was a surprisingly rare opportunity, from other co-workers’ words.

Crewel: Then are you not scarred for encountering such vile creatures?

SCP!MC/Yuu: Only the first few times, and my job has benefits like psychiatric check-ups or using amnestics. Do you have guys have therapy in this school, or world?

Crewel: *Side glares at Crowley*

Crowley: *Clears his throat* We are working on that…

[Visiting the SCP Foundation]

SCP!MC/Yuu: Okay guys. I relocated the coffin in a safe chamber room since we can’t risk any lives trapping themselves. Who knows what troubles could cause.

Deuce: Ah, understand. You’re pretty diligent of everything.

SCP!MC/Yuu: Oh it’s nothing. Everyone here just wants to keep the world safe from any anomalous objects and maintaining the world from insanity. Also I got special permission from the higher-ups after collecting data. You present harmless natures, but with some mischief and childhood trauma that you’re allowed to interact with others within the foundation which is why you’re all classified as Safe, for now.

Riddle: What do you mean by “for now”?

SCP!MC/Yuu: Remember the times you and the others overblotted during my stay?

Riddle: *Nervous* Yes.

SCP!MC/Yuu: I even showed the higher-ups about the phenomenon and convinced them to let me handle these occurrences. I’m not afraid to use extreme measures to secure, contain, and protect.

SCP!MC/Yuu: Wait, stop! Do not touch the duck.

Ace: *Yanks his hands away from a purple rubber duck* What?

SCP!MC/Yuu: Oh thank god. You almost killed yourself.

Ace: Why would I be killed by some bath toy?

SCP!MC/Yuu: That’s SCP-6868, Bubbly Bobby the Rubber Ducky. The risk class is DANGER.

Ace: A toy duck? Dangerous?

SCP!MC/Yuu: Just read the reports about this anomaly. *Passes the file to Ace*

[Minutes later]

Ace: *Hides behind SCP!MC/Yuu as they’re holding the duck with gloves on* Why does your world have to be fucked up?

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Squeals of happiness* My baby!

Grim: Wait! I’m not a baby!

SCP!MC/Yuu: *Rushes over* Move, Grim! *Pushes Grim aside and hugs SCP-999 a.k.a. The Tickle Monster* I missed you, buddy! Work was hectic! Are you and Kairos doing okay?

SCP-999: *Happy noises*

Grim: *Jealous* Hmph!

💫Reblogs help creators✨

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kairiscorner · 9 months

Text

when i found out jess' va was president barbie i knew i had to make this.

that's because they're dreamhouses. – jessica drew fic

a/n: me? having a crush on issa rae and the characters she plays? nah ,,, ok maybe a little (◕ᴗ◕✿)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

jess was taking care of mayday since peter b was off handling some anomalies, she had the day off and had decided to spend it with her honorary niece, mayday. she had gifted the little one with a set of barbie dolls she found at a toy shop she passed by one day, and the infant was enthralled by how shiny, pretty, and pink the barbies were. she chewed on a few of them, almost shoved a barbie's head in her mouth, but jess prevented that from happening and showed her how she played with barbies as a young girl.

she taught mayday how to use the hairbrush, how to accessorize and dress her barbie up, and showed her the little dreamhouse she had as a young girl that she hoped mayday would play with. once mayday had gotten used to brushing the doll's hair and was starting to find it fun, jess smiled a little and played with her, making little scenarios with mayday and teaching her new words and introducing her to all kinds of barbies.

ben reilly walked by the room they were in and did a double take, stepping backwards and asked himself if he was really seeing this–jessica drew was playing barbie dolls with mayday. jessica drew, the no-nonsense co-leader of the spider society, was playing with barbie dolls. jess had noticed ben staring and looked at him with the smile faded from her face, she raised an eyebrow up at him. "can i help you?" she asked him as he tried to appear cool and unfazed. "yeah, um... why're you playing with dolls?" he asked her with an eyebrow raise of his own. "what? she likes them, i'll play with her if i want to." she answered him as she made her barbie bounce along with mayday's barbie, the two of them having a kind of wacky dance off together. jess' smile widened as they played together, with ben looking at the two of them incredulously. "no way are you playing... dollhouse with her." he said with slight envy in his tone.

jess looked at him, now slightly irritated at him for what he was insinuating. "one, it's a dreamhouse, motherfucker. two, yes way i am playing with her, she likes it, so we're playing it. and three... do you want to play, too?" she asked him as mayday giggled and reached for a beach ken doll, handing it to ben, who looked at the infant with bright eyes and a surprise face. he tried to resist it at first, but he gave in to his want–he really, really yearned to play with them. "okay, fine. just for a bit." he said as he sat down next to them and received the ken doll mayday handed him.

the two of them played together and acted out all sorts of scenarios with the barbies and ken they had, with ben being a little too overdramatic with their roleplays, but nonetheless, was a very fun experience for them all over all. when miguel came back to talk to jess and ben about a runaway anomaly, he stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes as he witness them... playing with barbies. "why are you guys playing dollhou–" "they're dreamhouses, motherfucker."

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angelicyouth · 1 year

Text

Youth ; Chapter 8

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ warning: recreational drug use

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

The pungent smell of acetone permeates the surrounding air of the living room, music a sharp contrast as it softly plays in the background. Intense concentration causes me to slowly blink as I focus on neatly creating streaks of black. My hand is as still as I can make it while I hold onto longer digits, meticulously painting my brother’s nails.

He sits in front of me with his raven locks pinned away from his face with overly cute clips and his other hand holding his phone. Soft taps resound from time to time when he types against hard glass and the occasional sharper sound from his ring adorned fingers.

Something lightly touches my lips as Stan handfeeds me a chip, my mouth automatically opening but my eyes never looking away from its current task. Loud crunching erupts between the two of us before my brother gently starts to chuckle under his breath. Turning his phone, he shows me a social media post with a lengthy amount of text.

“Yeah, no. Sorry, but I am most definitely not reading all of that. Especially for you.” I declare to which he rolls his eyes in irritation at, our makeshift table beginning to move. Our family dog, Sparky, lays between the two of us as a place for my brother to place his elbow onto.

“Man, it’d be sick if we can go away with the guys somewhere for winter break.” My brother says wistfully, forlornly staring at his phone.

“Hmm?”

“I’d kill to rent a log cabin or something, one with a jacuzzi and everything. Maybe we can plan something this year and have Tolkien pay for it.”

My nose scrunches in disgust before I scoff, “Fuck no. I don’t want to sit in cum infested water. Knowing you, you’d probably get off on sitting near a water jet.”

“Oh fuck off, asshole! That happened once and you know it! I was fucking ten!” I gag, obnoxiously pretending to vomit as he indignantly tries to protect whatever dignity he thinks he still has.

“You really need to get your shit together, Stanley. I’d like to at least see you get into a serious relationship once before I die.”

“Yeah? Well I’d like to see you shut the fuck up for once in your goddamn life but you’re living proof that not everyone can get what they want.”

I’m unamused as I blink up at my brother, wondering for perhaps the millionth time why the higher powers decided to make Stan Marsh. A shame, truly.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

TEXT MESSAGE (CLYDE DONOVAN)

Clydey: emergency

Clydey: like actually

Clydey: can u send me $3 pls

Y/N MARSH has sent $3 to CLYDE DONOVAN.

N/N: (rolling eyes emoji)

Clydey: ty ily <3

Clydey: (screenshot of his avatar in an app on his phone)

Clydey: they call me ranch cause i be dressing (sunglasses emoji)

N/N: did you just waste my money on an in-app purchase.

Clydey: respect the drip, babe

Clydey: god.

Tap!

My head shoots up from its prior position looking down, my body stilling to see if I can hear whatever disturbed Clyde wasting both my time and money. When I don’t hear anything after a few seconds, I dismiss it as an anomaly and look back at the screen in front of me.

Tap! Tap!

I take off my headphones and listen again, my eyebrows furrowing until I hear the disturbance another time. I locate the source and walk over to my window, watching as a rock hits the glass panel before I fully push aside my curtains and heft it open.

The cold air immediately hits me and I giggle at the scene before me: Craig perched onto a branch of an adjacent tree outside of my bedroom, his hand filled with rocks to pelt at my window. “What’re you doing? We have a front door, you know.”

Being friends with everyone for years, we’ve all naturally grown up to be honorary members of each other's families. This meant that it wasn’t unnatural for any of us to visit someone’s house even if their respective owners weren’t home. None of our parents would ever bat an eye if they were to go down to the kitchen to see that Cartman let himself in and was rummaging through our fridge, for example, even if Stan and I were both out. Formalities were a thing of a past so long ago and all of our parents learned that it was better to not question it.

“I know, I just thought that this would be more romantic.” I’m rewarded with Craig’s boyish grin and I mentally swoon at the handsome boy in front of me, giggling out loud.

He extends a large, tan hand and smirks down at me. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get out of here.”

The moonlight hits the visage of the attractive boy in front of me, accentuating his sharp features. I feel like I’m in a daze as I slowly nod, a blush quickly spreading on my cheeks when I catch myself. After quickly throwing on a jacket, I take his proffered hand as he helps me climb down the tree.

Crossing the short distance to the front of the house, I’m surprised to see the Tucker’s family car parked out in the front. The taller teen’s longer strides allows him to reach the door on the passenger side first, to which he chivalrously opens for me.

He ducks his head a little lower, a playful grin wide on his face as he sweeps the length of his unoccupied arm in front of his body. I laugh into the night as the hand he has on my lower back gently nudges me forward to guide me into the vehicle.

I watch as the scenery idly passes by us when I look out of the window, trying to see if I can figure out where the teen is taking me. He refused to tell me our destination, citing it as a surprise and evoking further excitement on my part at the already spontaneous outing. It’s harder to discern our surroundings so late into the night due to the darkness but despite it all, the moon eagerly follows us.

Music gently accompanies us as I soon find myself casting Craig several lingering glances while he drives, the attractive teen a sight to behold. He has one hand on the steering wheel, his thumb tapping a beat onto the leather in time to the surrounding melody and quietly mouthing along with the lyrics. Silver rings adorn his longer fingers, further accentuating the veins running along his hands to his arms. I thought he wouldn’t catch me since his eyes are focused on the road but he surprises me when he makes quick eye contact with me, smirking, before placing a large hand onto the side of my inner thigh.

I blush at the sensation, the weight of him evoking a faster pace on my beating heart. When he sees the red hues steadily painting my cheeks, his hand gently grips at the area before releasing the slight pressure and smoothing his thumb over my pants. I feel mesmerized by the repetitive motion of his finger, if only willing him to move just a tiny bit—to do something about the bundle of nerves slowly building up.

I quickly find myself becoming hyper aware of every action of the boy next to me and I intently watch as his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, making them appear even more enticing and plump. His eyes are half-lidded and when I involuntarily clench my thighs, I see the exact moment that his gaze on the road shifts from playful to something many shades darker. He deeply chuckles under his breath and oh Lord, it makes my legs go weak.

All too soon, the car slows to a stop and Craig looks at me again, flashing me a knowing smile. It’s smug and I can feel my face heat up even further, reaching the back of my neck before I break eye contact to stare out of the window again in a desperate effort to calm myself down. Something soft gets placed onto my head and I look at Craig to see that the teen next to me is missing his beloved chullo.

“Can’t ruin the surprise, can we?” A mischievous grin sits on his face before he pulls the hat further down, completely obstructing my view.

I hear him exit the car before getting to my side, grabbing one of my hands and interlocking our fingers together. When he begins to carefully guide me out of the car, I giggle every time I slightly stumble, the adrenaline of what awaits me makes me overexcited and impatient.

“I love surprises.” I speak out into the air.

“I know.” He hums.

After a few steps, he has me wait in one spot before I hear him open his trunk. Two hands place themselves onto my hips before he softly commands me to jump and I blindly obey, feeling myself getting placed onto a cold, hard structure.

When Craig grants me my vision back, I’m rewarded with a view overlooking what seems to be all of South Park. From this far, even the shitty town looks beautiful as the distance distorts the view, forcing whoever is looking to take in the colorful lights and buildings.

I look around to see that we’re both seated on the hood of his car, my favorite food spread out in front of me in an assortment of take-out containers. His windows are rolled down as his car continues to softly play music from the inside.

“So what do you think?” His voice is shy, containing slight hints of insecurity and nervousness at my possible reaction. My inner thoughts are filled with the sounds of me absolutely squealing for having evoked an expression like that from the notoriously uncaring teen.

“How’d you find this place?” I’m in awe of the scenery, never once seeing a view like this despite living in South Park all of my life.

“Took me a fuck-ton of driving to find something that I was finally satisfied with bringing you to.” He says, opening all the containers and setting everything up for us to eat.

“Your dad let you take out the car?” I quirk an eyebrow.

“Fuck no. I got home around 4:30AM yesterday for sneaking out so late.”

My heart stutters in my chest at the answer when I think about how well he hid his sleep deprivation at school. I feel overwhelmed at the consideration, watching as he bundles up the plastic bag the take-out came in to stuff into his pocket. Not only did he get my favorite food, but he also got my order down to perfection.

“You got my favorite food.” I say so softly that it’s almost a whisper. I feel like I’m going to cry of happiness from the thoughtfulness and care of this boy. Moments like these make me feel so undeserving, so lacking for how much unconditional love I receive.

“For you, I’d do anything.” Craig gently says, a smile so fond on his face as he reaches out for my hand. His azure eyes shine in happiness so tender, it’s almost as if they’re part of the stars above us.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“And you see how that star connects to that one? That constellation is your astrological sign, your zodiac.” Craig's deep voice lightly says near my ear, his arm extending forward to patiently point out the star for me.

We’re both lying on the hood of the car now, my head nestled onto one of his shoulders as his unoccupied arm snuggly curls around my waist. He lays on his back while I lay on my side, pressing our bodies together to combine our warmth with an arm of my own thrown over his taut stomach.

I’m in awe at everything he says, the usually monotonous boy’s voice filled with a passion so rarely seen from him. I drink in every bit of information that leaves his mouth, mesmerized by every cadence and intonation of his words. It’s hypnotic—he could tell me that Cartman weighs only 50 pounds and I’d believe it.

“Sorry, am I talking too much..?”

“No! No. I love hearing you talk like this. I could honestly listen to you for hours. Don’t let anyone, even me, tell you otherwise.” I turn my head to face him as I quickly reassure the ravenette, a gentle smile on my face.

My arm relinquishes its hold over his frame to blindly reach out to hold onto the hand at my waist. I intertwine our fingers together and give it a small squeeze in reassurance. He blushes and I can feel my insides melt at the utterly fond expression on his face knowing that it's for me.

His embarrassment causes him to continue to stubbornly stare up at the sky, refusing to look over at me. The blush adorning his cheeks develop into a darker hue after my words, so deep that I can see the vivid shade of red despite the dark night.

“… I brought you out to see the stars because they’re more visible today. A few days after a new Moon means that the moonlight isn’t as bright.” His voice is so low between us, as if he was sharing a secret.

“Craig…” My cheeks begin to hurt at the amount of smiling this boy causes me. He finally looks over at me, our faces so close together.

“I confessed to you under the stars so I wanted to have the stars as our audience again for when I took you out on our first date.” He brings his hand over to caress my cheek and his fingers are so cold against my flushed skin, but it grounds me to the moment.

He softly continues, gently smoothing a thumb over my face. “Because of that, whenever I look at the stars, I see you. And sometimes, when I can't sleep… I’ll look up at the stars and thank them for bringing you into my life.”

He brings his forehead closer until it lightly touches my own. “I love you, Y/N. More than all the stars in the sky. And as long as there’s one star up there, I’ll always love you.”

I can only nod, dazed, not trusting that this is not just a dream, afraid that speaking will ruin the moment. Before I know it, my eyes softly close as I feel his lips against mine. And I feel like crying because Craig kisses me just the way he loves me—soft and sure, like I’m the only thing that matters in the world. In his world.

The way he slots our lips together has no ounce of hesitation, it’s gentle and patient. He lightly pulls back and nips at my lips as a small parting gift. When the distance between our faces grows, I find myself whining, letting go of his hand and pulling at his jacket.

He laughs at my eagerness, endeared at my reaction. “Come on, beautiful. Use your words for me. What do you want?”

“Craig.”

“Hm?” A smile lazily lays on his face, smug and all too knowing.

“Please.”

I tug harder so he relents and brings his upper body over mine, propping himself up with his forearm against the car as our lips connect again. It makes me dizzy with how wanted he makes me feel, the sensations I feel beginning to get overloaded. My arms reach out to thread my fingers through his hair, slightly tugging and using them as leverage to bring him even closer.

He’s a passionate but patient kisser, drawing out the movements for as long as possible, biting and licking at my lips. When I allow him entry into my mouth, his tongue slides against mine and before I can even attempt to fight for dominance, he pulls back, smiling smugly and lazily at me.

Scratch that, he’s a goddamn tease and before I can call him out on it, a large hand grabs onto the side of my face to pull me back in. It’s slow. It’s sensual. His scent fills my nostrils before the hand on my cheek slides back, gripping onto my hair. Angling my face up, he lightly begins to trail his kisses down my jaw and onto my neck.

The wet sounds that invades my ears are lewd as I feel his lips touch my skin, lighting a fire in its wake. Every kiss lights my body up, heating it up and charging it. His fingers grip onto my hair just a little tighter, smirking at the skin underneath my collarbone when I gasp.

He leaves a trail of saliva as he works his way back up my neck, the light wind of the night lightly touches the wet spots and elicits goosebumps at the heightened sensation. He works painstakingly slow, kissing every space inch by inch.

I sigh out into the night, leaning my head back to grant him better access. He drags his lips across the sensitive skin of my throat, a barely there touch, not enough. I’m so needy that I almost moan right there, when he finally presses a searing kiss under my jaw.

He kisses across the expanse of skin as he goes back down, humming in approval at the sound of harsh breathing that his actions evoke. The vibration causes me to part my lips ever so slightly, desperate breaths of air spilling between us. I relish in the slight suction of his mouth, his teeth grazing against overly sensitive skin, and his hot tongue soothing itself over the abused area.

His other hand makes quick work at reaching underneath my shirt, cold fingers lightly trailing themselves at the skin of my waist. Long digits softly run along up my stomach, the cool rings making me shiver in anticipation. When he grazes the underwire of my bra, a loud ringing cuts through the air.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

The hold on my hair relinquishes as Craig reaches under me to retrieve my vibrating cellphone from the back pocket of my pants. I mope as I answer, mood extremely sour at the interruption.

“What.”

“Dude, where the fuck are you? It’s past 3AM. I’m not covering for you if mom or dad notice.” Comes my annoying brother’s distorted voice.

I sigh before hanging up in irritation, not deeming the conversation worthy of a response. I close my eyes in silent defeat before soft lips caress mine. Craig smiles down at me with a backdrop of shining stars over his figure. The moonlight glows brightly from behind him, as if casting a halo over the teen above me. Seeing such ethereal beauty before me is all I need before I find myself happy and content all over again.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Thick wisps of white smoke slowly blend up into the clouds and I watch them disappear into the cold morning air, a pervasive smell filling the parking lot. I’m sitting on top of my skateboard, idly rolling it from side to side as Craig sits next to me on the asphalt with his back against the school wall. One of his longer legs is pulled up towards his torso, his forearm lazily resting against the top of the elevated knee before he lifts it up to take a drag from the cigarette lit before him.

My eyes languidly watch as Kenny skates on his own board, a blunt hanging from his mouth as his shoe hits the ground to gain momentum. An exhilarated grin forms around the object in his mouth as his body lifts off from the pavement, the board gracefully flipping in the air. I bring my hands together to encouragingly clap at the stunt in front of me, the blonde shooting me a wide smile at the kickflip he successfully performed.

He stops in front of me and offers me the blunt in his possession but I gently shake my head in response, satisfied with the current high I have going on right now. Kenny nods his head and with one last hit, he stubs the ember hues before putting it away in the plastic container it came in to smoke for later. Craig gets up and dusts the back of his pants off before offering me a hand, helping me up and taking my board off the ground for me. An arm wraps around my shoulders as we begin to make our way back to school, the ravenette stomping his cancer stick out.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“So… Do I get any context on why you two have sunglasses on when we’re indoors, or do I just accept it…?” Kyle’s eyebrows furrow as he warily watches Kenny and I giggle to each other, the whole group gathered in front of Tweek’s locker as he puts his extra thermal filled with coffee away for after lunch.

Craig knowingly snorts as the blonde and I exchange mischievous grins, fighting to keep our smiles from growing any wider. On our faces sits oversized, flashy shades that threaten to swallow up our whole face.

“Ugh, you guys reek.” Clyde brings his face close to the two of us, wrinkling his nose as he invades our space to sniff at our jackets. We playfully lower our glasses to the bridges of our noses, showing visual confirmation of his observation when the boys spot our blood-shot, half-lidded eyes.

“Dude. It’s only 8AM. School hasn’t even started yet.” My brother side eyes us, most definitely judging us for making the smart decision of getting absolutely zooted before class.

“My bad, man. Want a hit? We didn’t finish.” Kenny offers, his hand reaching into his pocket to lift up the plastic containing our unfinished blunt. It peeks through the orange material of his parka as Stan takes the moment to seriously contemplate if he should.

He resolutely shakes his head, the elder Marsh finally making a smart decision for once in his life. “Nah. We have that test in math, remember? If I fail, my parents are going to beat my ass. Maybe after school.”

My head shoots up from where it was laying against Butters’ shoulder, the blonde rubbing soothing circles into my back as he offers me a pack of snacky cakes for my weed induced hunger. Kenny stops sipping at Tweek’s coffee to sooth his sudden cotton mouth as he and I frantically begin to search for the other’s eyes in panic.

“Oh, shit!”

“Bunch of fucking crackheads, I fucking swear.” Cartman rolls his eyes, mumbling as he rudely snatches the offered snack from Butters’ hands for himself.

“Shut the fuck up, fatass! As if you’re one to talk. An addiction is still an addiction, even if it is food.”

”Yeah, dude. At least we’re not built like an improper fraction.”

“Aye!”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Dull thuds surround the practice room as the cheer squad practices their tumbling. I sit against the cool glass of the floor to ceiling mirrors that cover the walls, wiping the sweat that has begun to slightly bead at my hairline. Bebe tiredly leans against me and passes me her water bottle when she’s done sipping at it, my hands blindly reaching out until I feel cool metal against my fingers and muttering a small thanks. I drink the ice cold liquid before Wendy calls all of the team up to rehearse the new cheer we just learned, one final time before practice ends.

“We’re back, we’re better. We have no fear! Nothing can stop us, this is our year!” In synchronization we go through the motions of our choreography, making sure our chants are both clear and loud.

“The cows are here; in green, black, and white. We can’t be defeated, so prepare for a fight!” We ruffle our pompoms, before our co-captain is satisfied enough to dismiss us for the day.

Heidi throws an arm around my shoulders, playfully leaning her weight against me in exaggerated tiredness. I fondly laugh as I lightly skim my fingers onto her side, tickling her to force the touch-sensitive girl upright. She begins to pout at her failed mission to get me to carry her exhausted form before Red grabs one of my arms, hugging it to her chest as we make our way to the girl’s locker room.

“Hey, Marsh. You’re close with the guys, right?” I quirk an eyebrow at the redundant question as I stuff my cheer shoes into my gym locker.

Jenny Simons continues despite my lack of a reply. “You think you can bring me up to Craig? Like, put in a good word for me or something?”

She giggles as one of her friends playfully elbows her for her unabashedness and I exchange looks with Bebe, surprised at the girl’s interest.

“Uh.”

“Ooo, Craig Tucker?” Another one of her friends teases as she changes out of her practice shirt.

“Uh, yeah! Have you seen how he is with girls? It’s hot how he ignores them. Imagine someone as cold and unbothered as him giving you the time of the day. I’d die.” The ravenette continues in a dazed voice, fanning her blushing face. The other girls in the locker room exchange mischievous grins at the confession of her crush and they giggle in delight at the lovesick girl.

No one but Kyle knows about Kenny and Craig confessing to me and our feelings being reciprocated. I’m not quite sure what to say in this awkward situation and before I can even attempt to try to pull something out of my ass, I get a text from Tweek saying that football practice is almost finished.

I let out a sigh in relief at the timing of the message as I excuse myself and head down to the school’s field, thinking about Jenny’s words. When would we tell everyone? It’s still new so I don’t think I’d be comfortable with announcing it until we all found our footing. The boys are still testing out the waters and I don’t want to rush what could potentially be a perfectly good thing, especially if it ends up not working out. And it hurts me to say it, but I’m absolutely terrified of people finding out I’m with two different boys at the same time.

Oh god, how will the boys even react when they find out? What will I do when my brother finds out?

All too soon, I see the back of the bleachers coming up and forcibly stop my thoughts before it can get out of hand. I circle around the structure to take a peek at the practice taking place, not wanting to distract the boys. A shrill blow of a whistle can be heard when I step onto the white-marked grass, the coach barking out directions. From my position, I can see Cartman lazily sprawled out on the floor, his chest rapidly heaving up and down in quick succession.

Typical fatass.

From across the green expanse, I can see Jimmy and Clyde arguing with each other. Tolkien plays devil’s advocate from his position on the floor, smirking up at the bickering in blatant amusement and instigating a fight. Kyle rolls his eyes when the coach yells at them to run a lap in punishment, Clyde fake crying in indignation.

“Y/N!”

Tolkien is the first to spot me, his delighted voice distracts everyone from their laughter at the running boys. All heads turn to my direction and I shyly wave at getting caught, stepping out of my hiding spot.

“Princess!”

Kenny’s yell echoes across the entire field in excitement, the upper half of his blonde hair is tied up and I take a moment to appreciate the sight. If he had been exhausted and depleted of his energy from practice a few seconds earlier, it’s gone now as he begins to sprint to close the distance between us. He hollers as if he hadn’t seen me a few hours prior, a wide grin overtaking his handsome face.

“Ken! Be caref- OOF!” I get cut off as his body roughly collides with mine, his arms immediately wrapping me up and hefting my body into his arms.

I automatically lock my legs around his waist, quickly reaching out to lay my arms around his shoulders. He’s sweaty and grass-stained but I sigh in fondness as he smiles into my neck, slightly squeezing me. He softly coos at my blushing face as he makes a debacle out of the both of us in front of the entire team, my brother rolling his eyes as Clyde sobs my name in the distance.

The amount of happiness in the blonde’s reaction threatens to make me combust on the spot, so filled with love for someone like me. He gently places a large hand on the back of my head, lightly stroking his thumb in my hair in tenderness. The coach takes the loss of interest as his cue to dismiss practice for the day and the boys begin to walk over in our direction.

“Did you see that throw I made?” He eagerly asks me.

Despite being fresh out of practice and unshowered, I deeply inhale his scent. He doesn’t smell like shampoo or clean laundry, but it’s still a scent that makes me feel so close to him. It's a boyish, musky scent that makes him feel like home, so warm in its protective embrace. It’s just so Kenny that makes it so addicting.

“No,” I giggle. “I just got here. But I’m sure it was amazing!”

At my words, I’m rewarded with a searing kiss pressed onto my cheeks. And even when the boys catch up to us, the blonde still doesn’t put me down as they start to make their way back to the boy’s locker room. I feel his fingers start to drum along my side and I start to bite my lips in a futile attempt to prevent my smile from getting even wider than it is now. I shyly wave over the blonde’s shoulder as the boy’s other teammates wave in greeting to me.

“Did you see that, N/N? Jimmy started bullying me but I still got into trouble!” Clyde fake sobs as he makes grabby hands at me. Kenny just rolls his eyes and reaches out a hand to push at the brunette’s sniveling face.

“It’s because you weren’t listening, Jesus!” Tweek tattles from the side.

The barista doesn’t play on the football team like the rest of the boys, instead choosing to pursue boxing from when Stan got our Uncle Jimbo to teach him how to fight when we were younger. On the days he doesn’t have to work at the coffee shop, he’ll sit on the bleachers with Butters to do his homework while the other boys practice.

“It’s okay, Clydey. I’ll buy you dessert, okay?” I soothe the dramatic boy, his theatrics making the rest of the guys push at his body to further “bully” him even more for being a crybaby.

And when we choose our after-practice food spot for the day, I keep my word and buy the brunette an ice cream cone in a flavor to his choosing. I shake my head when he tries to feed me a fry in exchange, bringing my hand up to ruffle his brown locks in thanks for his kindness. In his distraction, Craig takes a lick at his soft serve and I roll my eyes as the brunette whines again, batting the taller teen on the arm.

We sit along the curb of the sidewalk, fast food scattered around us as we talk about our day at school. My brother lights up the joint Kenny and I didn’t finish and I watch the fleeting smoke escape from his parted lips, disappearing into the night sky. When I see the bright stars twinkling overhead in vivid contrast to the darkness around us, I smile.

#south park #south park x reader #craig tucker x reader #kenny mccormick #craig tucker #south park fanfiction #kenny mccormick x reader #lalawrites

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ganzdraw · 1 month

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Promised!Red

From the Promised!Sans sentinel line. This girl is the most agile of the group and who has an honorary title of being a supervisor of the new recruits of the line who want to enter.

But despite that she is also a mentor to (Promised! Clara XI).

She has a very disciplined and firm demeanor. Mostly she is always seen training since her goal is to serve her kingdom even when her life is in danger. Since she herself owes a lot to the Empress for sheltering her under a roof when before she had nothing when she was sentenced for stealing from the queen. Since in her past she tried to steal gold from the queen to have something to eat but she was stopped by Princess Zoey.

But the empress herself took pity on her and gave her her hand to help her and giving her a home in the castle. Spending her first years surrounded by many good people and becoming friends with the princesses even though it was difficult for her to be friends with Zoey, she doubted if Red would be good.

She got her first job as a sentinel since P!Sans saw potential in her, showing a knack for monitoring the island for malicious events among the population or any anomaly. She earned the title of her Supervisor during her years. But regarding her fall she became sad to see that Empress Toriel fell from her and she now takes a more serious attitude regarding her work. to keep alive the promise she made to Toriel and her princesses.

Curiosities:

1- Her best friend is "P!Greater Dog" after having a slightly embarrassing battle with him over a cookie

2- Although no one tried, because they see a P!Red is very serious when they interact with it. She is emotionally shy of physical contact. And only P! Greater Dog has seen her like this after hugging her so many times that he feels tender when he sees her best friend dying of grief.

3- He's a monster despite looking like a human.

4- The entire Ebott Island calls her Little Pink Riding Hood because of the color of her clothes and her eyes. Even though it's called red

5-The creation of this alternate character came from a random sketch that was among many that I made in my sketchbook since I was experimenting with clothing designs and more with the original network. And I really liked it and I gave it life and a story.

Art By: GanzDraw!

P!Red is an alternative version of the original "Red" which is from the creator (Taxiderby)

#promisedtale #undertale au #undertale fanart #undertale red #undertale fandom #digital art #promisedred

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gamerbearmira · 10 months

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You know what’s heartbreaking is the way that Mirabel finds out about Miguel being a hypocrite. It’s when she’s fighting alongside Miles to help him get back to his dimension and in a fit of rage Miguel accidentally spills the truth about how she’s an anomaly.

He covers his mouth in surprise when his favorite niece looks at him with a hurt expression on her face, Miguel wants to go to Mirabel pull her into a hug.

He wanted to tell her the truth about how her family are in the wrong era and that she wasn’t supposed to be Spiderwoman. Miguel wants to explain that she’s not the only anomaly that he made an exception to the his rules too and that he had to keep it a secret because she’s his favorite.

But he can’t now, not when she’s hurting and looks scared that he’s going to hurt her.

Mira knows that he didn’t mean to hurt her with the truth, but now she’s scared of what’s going to happen to her when Miguel gets his hands on her. All she knows is that even though she’s his favorite, her Tio will put cannon events first over her because of his actions right now.

She remembers the conversation that they had because of the guilt of when it felt like they were replacing a family member, and how they cried about it together afterwards. Then they had another conversation about boundaries, hell they even celebrate Dia de las Muertos together, she wonders if all of that was just for show. So that when the time is right then he’ll get rid of her and her dimension because she’s not supposed to be cannon.

The last thing that she sees is her Tio Miguel using his claws trying to get to her and Miles, remembering that she still has her watch she takes it off and throws it at Spiderman 2099, it stuns him long enough for them to escape together. Mira escapes with Miles Morales to what was supposed to be his home world but they went to a different dimension instead.

To make matters worse? Mirabel’s canon events are exactly on line, yet she still turned out fine and her universe is very much intact. So he can’t even use that excuse. And Mirabel hates him for projecting into Miles like that. Calling him an anomaly. A mistake. Something about those words makes her hurt really hard inside. And as much as she doesn’t want to, she can, will, and does oppose him. She doesn’t approve of what he does, honorary Tio or not. There are some lines you don’t cross. And Miguel crossed that line when he started tweaking like that over Miles, who mind you, is in a similar situation to her AND IS THE SAME AGE. Imagine how she feels. Heartbroken.

#my asks are open #my asks #encanto #encanto au #au #encanto mirabel #miguel o'hara #spiderwoman au #across the spiderverse

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punkeropercyjackson · 22 days

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Jason Todd got screwed over by his writers because they gave him incredibly poor characterization that nowhere near did his character justice and plots and relathionships that didn't work for him.Stephanie Brown got screwed over by her writers because they made a bunch of other characters treat her like shit for no reason with almost none of them getting consequences.Please learn the difference and stop acting like Jason's been anything but coddled in-universe despite being an incredibly cruel person and like Stephanie's not the one who was used as the DC universe purple punching bag even though she does nothing but spread fun and kindness

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jasontoddssuper · 6 months

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I'm having a lot of fun with this au so take this

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2broschlininahotub · 26 days

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Hello again, I was doing some research into the Project Moonverse and I am curious as to which of the Anomalies/Abnormalities you would say is your favorite.

So far I am leaning towards 2 of them in particular, the first is Funeral Of The Dead Butterflies, in part due to the eerie design of it and the way it seems to be something of an Angel Of Death, not inherently malevolent nor quite benevolent, only wishing for the dead to be at ease.

That it was also my first real glimpse into the Project Moonverse, courtesy of you, has also earned it some brownie points in my book as well.

The second is the Drifting Fox due to its resemblance to the Great Gray Wolf Sif from Dark Souls, as well as my own fondness for animals...granted I am not so fond when they are blitzing me with a sword in their mouth lol.

Outside of those two I like the design of My Form Empties, in part due to how it seems to be a perversion or corruption of an otherwise holy idol and the uneasy feeling it gives off as such, and 4th Front Of The Smoke War, due to how it touches on the horrors of what seems to have been a nightmarish war that most have either forgotten about or wish to forget about.

A pair of honorary mentions as well, with the first going out to Punishing Bird, because provided no one does anything stupid, it is hilarious to watch harassing the employees of Lobotomy Corp lol.

The second is Der Freischutz and Der Shutze due to the stories they tell, and the way they play on the classical opera of the Free Shooter.

All of that said, I hope you stay safe and take care.

For me my favorites are back alley watch dog, Big and Will be bad wolf, Blue star and Wayward passenger.

Wayward passenger looking like a necromorph.

Blue star is one of favorites as the star and eldritch the ming in the design.

#limbus company #project moon #pmoon #lobotomy corporation #library of ruina

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defectivevillain · 9 months

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poisoned propriety

Pairing: Flagg/Reader

summary: In light of your mother’s death, you’re crowned the King of Delain. Flagg simply wants to manipulate you into doing his bidding. Somehow, it is more difficult than Flagg expects it to be.

reader's pronouns: he/him

[ao3 version]

I'm not quite sure this will have an audience other than myself, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Flagg doesn’t know how to feel about you.

He has been an advisor to many different kings over the years. He has gone by many different names, too—Bill, Browson, and most recently, Flagg. Indeed, Flagg is not a mortal being. He is beyond such weakness and vulnerability; his flesh and blood are not so feeble as to perish due to age. Flagg has existed for centuries and he will continue to exist, until Delain itself is nothing more than a pile of rubble.

For the past few centuries, the kings he worked alongside were rather unremarkable. Furthermore, they weren’t incredibly bright—which allowed for Flagg to begin laying the foundation for his future schemes. However, the coronation of your mother threw a wrench in his carefully-laid plans. Indeed, she had been rather suspicious of him. That hadn’t boded well for him; Flagg only made a few strides towards the ideal Delain he envisioned during her reign. Once she died, he couldn’t help but feel a bit more optimistic about his prospects.

As her eldest son, you were named king following your mother’s death. When you were crowned, Flagg was fairly confident in his ability to manipulate you. He knew you were a bit of an anomaly as far as royalty went—and you still are, years after your coronation. For example, you don’t have any children. Everyone knows that a king should have at least one potential heir. When you die, there will be no one to replace you. Despite Flagg and nearly every other person’s reminders that you should really have an heir, you don’t do anything of the sort. Instead, you act as father to Peter and Thomas, young orphans. The two boys initially worked in the castle as stablehands, but after you met them, they quickly became permanent residents of the castle and honorary members of the royal family. Delain was initially very invested in your sudden interest in the two boys, and many of the townsfolk scorned you for your refusal to secure your royal bloodline and produce an heir. You didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of you, weirdly enough.

Now, Flagg can’t help but observe your interactions with the two boys. The two are brothers, yet they act rather differently from one another. Peter is charming, intelligent, and honest. Thomas almost seems to be the shadow of his older brother. Flagg can’t stop a smile from spreading on his face when he notices how Thomas seems to simmer in irritation and anger whenever you give his older brother attention. That jealousy is certainly something that can be exploited, and Flagg plans to do just that.

His opportunity comes when he stumbles upon Thomas crafting a model ship one day. Flagg watches silently, dimly, as the boy puts clear effort into each piece of the ship. Any other time, the magician likely would have been spotted by Thomas. However, the boy seems so thoroughly engrossed in his craft that he doesn’t display any signs of noticing Flagg’s presence. Flagg stands by and watches for a while, before Thomas eventually gets up to his feet and walks out of the room—evidently to deliver his gift. The magician follows in the shadowed secret corridor nearby, until he is comfortably situated behind the eyes of your beloved dragon.

It doesn’t take long for Thomas to come to your door. You quickly let him in and Flagg watches as the boy somewhat awkwardly hides the ship behind his back. You clearly notice that he’s holding something, but you must be pretending not to notice it for Thomas’s sake. Eventually, the boy explains his gift and shows it to you. Flagg watches with bated breath.

“Oh, Thomas,” you breathe, your voice sounding strangely choked. You hold the model in your hands with extreme care, as if afraid that the slightest of movements may ruin the craftsmanship. Your gaze flits about the ship, evidently taking in the minute details that Thomas spent a considerable amount of time on. Flagg feels a twisted grin growing on his face as he waits for you to drop the ship to the floor and crush it underfoot. This will be the catalyst for Thomas’s distrust—the crack in the ground of your relationship that will soon grow to be an impassable chasm. “This is wonderful—so carefully crafted. You must’ve spent hours on this.”

Flagg stills. He quite nearly gives away his presence behind the dragon, as he inhales sharply in surprise. For a fraction of a moment, he swears he sees your gaze flit to the dragon’s eyes and, subsequently, him. Flagg quickly rids himself of the notion, putting it down to his overactive imagination.

“Well,” Thomas responds humbly, his cheeks dusted pink. He averts his eyes, but the pleased pull to his lips suggests that he’s very happy about your reaction. You must sense that the boy isn’t quite sure what to say, because you continue to pile on the praise.

“It’s beautiful,” you say sincerely, not a hint of dishonesty anywhere in your expression. Flagg looks at the ship scrupulously, unable to see past the somewhat clumsy and childlike craftsmanship. These things don’t seem to bother you in the slightest. The magician watches as you reach out and ruffle the boy's hair. “Thank you, son.”

Flagg feels his jaw snap with the pressure with which he’s gritting his teeth. Thomas looks happy—far happier than Flagg has ever seen him. There’s a bright smile on his face and he quickly launches himself into your arms. Flagg scoffs before abandoning his espionage, feeling a sudden desire to be with his poisons.

Flagg knows that he still has Thomas in his grasp, thankfully. The younger brother may have slipped from it momentarily with that moment—the pride in your eyes as you complimented him on his ship—but Flagg is certain he’ll have Thomas eating from the palm of his hand soon enough. Thomas is afraid of him, and the magician plans to utilize that fear as much as possible. When Flagg notices that the boy is acting particularly despondent one day, he decides to make a move.

“Thomas, you look rather sad,” Flagg remarks casually. He’s been debating the proper timing of this interaction, but he thinks now will have to do. If the magician waits too long, Thomas won’t even entertain the thought. “Mind if I show you something?”

“Will there be bats?” Thomas asks guardedly.

“No bats, dear boy,” Flagg replies honestly, amusement seeping into his voice as he remembers the boy’s frightened reaction to the bats. “Come on, then.” This solidifies the matter in the boy’s eyes, evidently. Flagg nearly simpers in satisfaction as the orphan follows after him (albeit apprehensively). When the two of them finish making their way down the dark hall, Flagg stops and turns to face the younger brother. Thomas is staring at him with thinly-veiled apprehension. “You must be quiet.” Flagg reprimands, before motioning for the boy to approach. The boy sidles up to him and the magician gestures for him to lean forward. Thomas does so, staring into your private quarters. He must sense that something isn’t quite right, because he pulls back to stare at Flagg.

“What is this?” Thomas whispers quietly.

“We are looking at the King through his most valuable possession,” Flagg answers. It takes a moment for the boy to realize the implications of that statement.

“The dragon,” Thomas whispers aloud. He evidently gets over his apprehension, because he leans forward and stares ahead greedily—as if drinking in everything he can see.

“Indeed,” Flagg remarks. He allows the air to fall to silence after that, knowing that whatever Thomas sees will speak for itself. Surely, you must have some unflattering habits in seclusion. Flagg intends to expose them to the impressionable young boy. He waits a few moments, only to find that Thomas is mysteriously silent. Resisting the urge to groan in annoyance, Flagg peeks through the other eye of the dragon.

You’re seated on a plush armchair in the center of the room, one leg casually crossed over the other. The room is uncomfortably silent and the lack of noise buzzes in Flagg’s ears. The magician sneers and waits for you to do something unflattering, to say something that will break your relationship with Thomas right in two. You don’t do anything of the sort—instead peacefully reading. Flagg must remind himself to be patient. Surely, you will expose your true nature soon enough.

Time passes and you don’t budge from your original position. In fact, you hardly move at all. Flagg’s heart nearly leaps from his chest when he finally sees your left arm move, only for you to drink a sip of water and return to your reading. After a few hours, it’s clear that this venture is nothing except a colossal waste of time. Flagg chances a glance at Thomas, interested in seeing what the boy thinks. Frustratingly enough, there’s a fond smile on the boy’s face as he watches. Flagg’s irritation grows in response. He brought Thomas here to prove that the King wasn’t the venerated leader everyone thought him to be. Instead, he seems to have only further solidified the boy’s love for you.

As Flagg takes Thomas through the dim corridor and back to his room, he reflects on the week’s events. You’re quickly growing to be a problem. Flagg needs to get rid of you and he needs to do it quickly. It seems as if, with each passing moment, you’re charming yet another person. Nearly all of Delain is besotted with you. Kings like you are rather rare, but they’re perhaps the most dangerous. A King beloved by his people has nearly limitless power.

Flagg muses on the thought that night and falls into a restless sleep. His dreams that night are… intriguing. He has the typical few dreams—killing you with poison, stabbing a knife through your chest. However, he has a new dream that night. At some point throughout the night, Flagg blinks his eyes open and finds that he isn’t alone. There’s someone lying next to him on his bed. The magician casts a wary glance to his side, only to find you staring at him with those knowing eyes of yours.

“What are you doing here?” Flagg can’t help but ask.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say with an amused smile. There’s something soft in your expression and Flagg has to resist the visceral urge to look behind him. Surely that compassion—that love—isn’t meant for him. It must be for someone else. His thoughts must show on his face, because you sigh and place a hand on his cheek. “What’s the matter?”

Flagg shakes his head. He has no idea how to describe what exactly his problem is—that he devoted his time here to killing you and is now struggling to do it. How is he supposed to explain the effect you have on him?

If he thought your presence was unexpected, what you do next is entirely unforeseen. You’re leaning impossibly closer and, after a brief pause, closing the distance between you to kiss him. Flagg instinctually stiffens and you’re quick to pull away, a frown on your face.

“Are you alright?” You ask. Flagg stares at his King, his head buzzing.

“Of course,” Flagg then responds, because he’s nothing if not a liar. He makes an effort to smile—an effort that is surprisingly easy—and leans forward to kiss you. Just as his hands slip down to your waist, you’re lurching backwards with a pained exhale of breath. Flagg opens his eyes, only to find a knife stuck through your chest. You’re looking down at the knife with dread and the expression on your face is wide-eyed betrayal. Flagg reaches out to you, but you’re careening backwards with surprising speed. He stretches his arm further, further, further-

Flagg wakes breathing hard, his clothes sticking to his skin with sweat. He takes several moments to remember how to breathe again, before he pushes himself up and moves towards the bathroom. There, he’s quick to look in the mirror—unsurprised to find dark shadows forming under his eyes. With unsteady hands, Flagg splashes water on his face. What was that dream? Why were you in his bed?

If sleep was difficult before, it’s nearly impossible to find after that dream. A few hours later, Flagg lets out a groan and gets out of bed, abandoning the notion of slumber. He busies himself with reorganizing his potions—then painstakingly taking inventory of everything he has. It’s menial labor, but it keeps him busy. By the time he’s done, Flagg comes to one unshakeable conclusion: you must die. Your persistence and your unwillingness to fall prey to his schemes are quickly becoming unbearable. You’re even invading his dreams. Flagg clenches his fist and glances at his crystal. The magician is possessed with a sudden clearheadedness. He knows what he has to do.

Flagg resolutely tugs his key from where it sits on his chest and removes it from his neck. The magician leans forward and places the key in the kleffa lock, a maleficent smile growing on his face. Dragon’s Sand should do the job quite nicely. The poison isn’t quick-acting; in fact, it may make you feel more vigorous and well-rested before it sets your lungs ablaze and steams you from the inside out. The cruel smirk reflected on Flagg’s face now would be enough to send anyone running.

There’s a knock on his door. Flagg’s concentration is broken and he curses, before growling and moving towards the door. When he swings it open, he’s surprised to find a mere servant waiting for him. He doesn’t even get to utter a word before the servant is worriedly talking with lightning speed. Flagg eventually has to hold up a hand to get them to slow down and repeat themself. The servant takes a deep breath and reiterates their message.

“Sir, it’s the King,” the servant chokes out through quick breaths. “He is unwell.”

Perfect. Flagg hides a grin behind his hand, before mustering up some panic and asking the servant where you’re located. The servant responds that you’re in your quarters and Flagg is quick to push past his uninvited visitor and walk down the halls towards your chambers.

He arrives at your door, only to find numerous servants scattered around the hall. As he steps through the crowd, he’s vaguely aware of the hushed whispers and hissed remarks that pass over their lips. Flagg pays the servants no mind and instead moves to enter your room. He opens the door slightly, before closing it behind him—you probably wouldn’t want anyone to see this. This motion makes Flagg stop in his tracks. Why is he thinking about what you would desire? He shakes his head and looks over to your bed.

The King of Delain is reclined back in bed, skin sheening with sweat. Your eyes are dull as you stare up at the ceiling. There’s no hint of the lively intelligence that you always seem to possess. In fact, Flagg isn’t even sure if you notice him. He clears his throat a bit too loudly to alert you to his presence. You tilt your head down and blink at him drearily.

“Flagg,” you greet him, your eyes glassy and hazy. It almost seems like you’re looking through him. The thought is unnerving.

“My Lord,” Flagg responds, hands twitching to do something. Theoretically, he could kill you right now. However, there’s something about the way you shake and shiver under your thin sheets that discourages him from doing so. When he looks down at your uncharacteristically vulnerable form, all Flagg feels is a strange desire to protect you.

“You look rather shaken,” you remark with detachedness. Your gaze is honed in on him, yet Flagg feels none of the cool pressure that typically comes with it.

“My Lord,” Flagg breaks off, the words falling to dust in his mouth. He’s never felt so choked by emotion before. What is happening to him? “I am fine. Shouldn’t you be worrying for yourself?”

“Ah, I suppose,” you acquiesce, before a hacking cough rips itself from your throat. Flagg raises his eyebrows at that. He’s admittedly confused as to how you contracted such a sickness. From what he’s witnessing, the magician thinks he may be unfamiliar with this illness. “Thank you for visiting me, Flagg.”

“Of course.” Flagg says. When he turns his back, he grasps at his necklace—in what he recognizes as a nervous twitch that he hasn’t performed in years. To his surprise, when his hand reaches his collarbone, all he feels is skin. Flagg looks down at his chest. His key is gone. The key to the cleffa lock that has rested on his chest for millennia is gone.

“Flagg.”

You’re calling his name again. Flagg turns around and manifests a look of nonchalance. The sight that reaches his eyes is enough to rip a startled gasp out of his throat. You’re sitting up in bed, a familiar cord wrapped around your wrist. His cleffa key dangles from your fingers and waves at him mockingly.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing this anymore,” you say with twinkling eyes, a slight smile on your face. Flagg feels all pretense completely shatter and he makes a grab for the necklace, only for you to pull it away quickly. Despite your illness, you seem to be unusually cognizant of your surroundings. Flagg is brutally aware that there are guards outside and servants nearby, therefore, he doesn’t make a move to try to grab the necklace again. Instead, he only… stares.

How did you get the necklace? Flagg always wears it around his neck; he has been wearing it all day. You must’ve somehow stolen it from him in the short time of his visit. His eyebrows furrow and his mind is straining to rationalize your nearly impossible actions. Flagg is a rather observant man; no one has ever dared to steal something from him—let alone in front of his very eyes.

Thankfully, it seems as if your tricky ploy took up a good chunk of your stamina—you’re quickly leaning back into the pillow at your back with a pained grimace. The key is still held in a tight grip, dispelling any of Flagg’s notions of getting it back soon. The magician stands silently as you adjust your posture and recline to your original position. You close your eyes and Flagg takes that as a dismissal. Just as he’s about to leave, he hears you utter one final statement.

“Good night, Browson,” you murmur, so quietly that the magician has to strain to hear it.

“Good night, My Lord,” Flagg responds habitually, moving towards the door. The realization comes crashing down on him just as he crosses the threshold of your doorway. Heart racing, Flagg glances back at you—only to find that you seem to be asleep already. Pushing past the dread coiling in his chest, the magician walks back to his room. It isn’t until he’s safely within the confines of his quarters that his mask of composure shatters.

Browson… The magician hasn’t heard that name in a long time. Flagg has never breathed a word of his immortality to anyone. Yet, in a fevered haze, you bid him farewell using the name he had all those years ago. Surely, your statement can’t be a coincidence or a mistake. You must know about his status as an immortal. That’s the only explanation. But… how?

Inexplicably, Flagg spends an unreasonable amount of time in his room after that, experimenting with potions in an attempt to find an effective cure for your illness. He knows that he shouldn’t be trying to develop a cure; if anything, he should let this sickness run its course. After all, it is very likely that this mysterious illness is powerful enough to kill you; you may be young, but you’re still a mere mortal. Despite these recognitions, he continues to develop an antidote for you. Flagg tells himself that it’s his job—people would grow suspicious if he made no attempt to cure you of this ailment.

The first antidote he creates doesn’t work. Isn’t that a truly twisted irony? The only time he desires for his medicine to cure you of your ailment, it doesn’t help in the slightest. Flagg is summoned back to your quarters several times after that, and each time he feels his murderous resolve growing weaker and weaker in the face of your exhausted smile. You must be incredibly fatigued, yet you still put on a smile for others. A true King, Flagg can’t help but acknowledge.

Before long, Flagg’s willpower breaks completely. He makes another antidote—this time, with the bone-deep urge to witness you return to health. Flagg has never made such a potion before. Indeed, intent is a powerful weapon when used correctly. When Flagg administers this antidote, you begin to heal. He watches as the light slowly returns to your eyes. The magician can’t help but question his own actions. Indeed, your bout of illness would have been an opportune time for you to die. Why didn’t he kill you? This may be the toughest question Flagg has ever had to answer.

When you recover days later, everyone in Delain seems to breathe a sigh of relief. It doesn’t take long for the suggestion of a feast in celebration of your recovery to reach the ears of many castlefolk. While Flagg knows you aren’t the gloating type—or the type to truly enjoy such a big event—he knows you wouldn’t dare to rob the people of their joy, fleeting as it may be. Unsurprisingly, you agree to the idea and the banquet is scheduled for the next day.

Flagg spends the day before the event in his quarters. He’s certainly not avoiding you; rather, he’s busy. Surely you will be just fine without his assistance. After all, you’re now in possession of his key—which gives you access to Dragon’s Sand. That thought is certainly worrying; he spends most of the afternoon attempting to devise a plan to retrieve his necklace. His sleep that night isn’t as restless as the one the night before; however, you still sneak into his dreams.

Flagg wakes the next morning with a pounding headache and a strange feeling in his chest. He changes into his more elegant garments and makes his way to the banquet hall—resigned to the fact that he needs to at least make an appearance at the feast. Everyone knows him to be the reclusive magician; furthermore, the general populace holds a healthy amount of fear for him. Flagg uses this to his advantage, as he walks through the banquet hall without a single person stopping him for conversation.

Flagg idly wonders where you are. It doesn’t take long to find an answer to that question, as his eyes fall on your figure near the center of the room. Something about you looks different and it doesn’t take him long to figure out what it is. His brass key rests on your chest, shimmering as it catches the light. A plethora of different feelings hit Flagg all at once. One sentiment prevails over all the rest, and it is a sentiment so unusual that he finds himself frozen in place as he contemplates its presence. The sight of you wearing his necklace incites an unfamiliar feeling of possessiveness within his blackened heart. He watches as you socialize with several different people, unaware of the fact that you’re practically wearing Flagg’s mark on your chest.

He can’t help but notice that one man seems particularly shameless, as he places a hand on your forearm and speaks to you while standing rather close. Disgust and irritation battle for prominence in Flagg’s heart. He doesn’t realize he’s moving until he’s suddenly standing before the group.

“Greetings,” Flagg remarks, eyebrows furrowing when he notices the stranger inch towards you once more. “My King, I’m afraid I come bearing news.” He then glances about the group that has gathered around you, trying to nonverbally convey the fact that he needs privacy for the conversation. You seem to understand.

“Very well,” you say with a nod, turning your attention to the group of people assembled before you. “Everyone, please enjoy the feast in my momentary absence. I will return soon enough.” You follow Flagg out of the banquet hall and onto a secluded balcony.

“What is the matter?” You ask in the brisk night air, letting your arms fall to rest on the railing.

“My Lord, I-” Flagg breaks off, confused as to how his voice doesn’t seem to be working in the manner he desires. He’s never been so tongue-tied before, and he almost has to wonder if a small part of that speechlessness should be attributed to your manner of dress for this evening. Indeed, you’re wearing luxurious, elegant robes that fit you perfectly. Your eyes are bright—no longer uncharacteristically dull from illness—and there’s an easy smile on your face. Flagg feels robbed of his breath.

“You spoke of news,” you prompt him, an understanding smile on your face.

“Yes, I did,” Flagg confirms. He tries to search his mind for a justifiable explanation but he comes up short. He watches as you begin to grow impatient with him. After all, he did interrupt your prior conversation with the other partygoers. You’re clearly waiting for him to say something, but Flagg can’t find the words.

“Well, if you have nothing to say, I should go back-” You try to say.

“Wait, My Lord,” Flagg interjects quickly, shooting an arm out and grasping your forearm gently. You raise an eyebrow at him and the magician is quick to remove his hand. “I...dreamt of you.” You still for a moment, eyes momentarily widening.

“What was the nature of this dream?” You ask. That question is the only one he had feared. Flagg isn’t sure how to explain what he saw or the feelings that the dream incited in him.

“It opened my mind to other possibilities,” he eventually manages to say.

“Such as?” You probe, your eyes glittering as you stare at him. Flagg suddenly feels the need to avert his eyes, lest he become blinded by your light.

“Such as… you and I,” Flagg supplements, feeling uncharacteristically apprehensive about the coming conversation. “I find myself… unable to dispel you from my thoughts.”

“You meant to kill me,” you recall, your hand clasped around his key. It’s clear you don’t really believe him and, somehow, Flagg feels the need to reassure you.

“I wasn’t sure how to handle the feelings you provoked within me.” Flagg breaks off, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “Do you remember what you called me, the night I visited you in your chambers?” Your brows furrow in concentration.

“Browson,” you recall after a moment. “It wasn’t exactly hard to puzzle out,” you continue, after evidently sensing his unspoken questions. “You’ve been here since my mother’s coronation, which was many years ago. The advisors in the past were all remarkably similar to you, despite their differing appearances. Besides, you are… rather powerful. I surmised you want more than to be my mere advisor.”

“Correct,” Flagg admits. “I have spent centuries advising the Kings in Delain. Every one, I have managed to bend to my will. Every single one… except you.” The admission hurts to speak. “You consistently defy my expectations. You are constantly ruining my carefully-laid plans and it is infuriating.”

“However… I’ve grown to appreciate your quick wit and sharp intellect. I have been in Delain for many years, yet I have never felt so wholly understood by another person—and a mortal, no less.” You don’t look very surprised by the mention of his immortality, and Flagg suspects that you already had your theories surrounding his unusually long life.

“My King,” Flagg remarks, his heart racing inexplicably. He can’t remember the last time he had such an uncomfortable physical sensation. It takes a few moments for him to recollect his thoughts. You’re looking at him expectantly. There’s nothing but patience in your gaze. Flagg realizes he’s been struck with a rather mundane feeling: anxiety. He takes a deep breath. “May I have this dance?”

“Yes, you may,” you reply gracefully. Flagg feels an unfamiliar joy tugging his lips upwards into a smile. He leads you back to the banquet hall, unable to quite tear his eyes away from you. It seems his goals have... changed.

#defectivevillain #the eyes of the dragon #Stephen king #eyes of the dragon #flagg x reader #flagg x male reader #male reader #masc reader #x male reader

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sgcairo · 2 years

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My Genshin OC Masterlist

Happy 300th post! It's time to break out the OC's, because the Babytorre AU is growing, and I also have a hoarding problem. So here we go, all the characters I have (so far)! Do keep in mind that these are just overviews and ones like Sveta's (and a few others) will be a little confusing because of plot reasons, and because I tried to cut them down to the bare bones as much as possible. These are all over the timeline in terms of their main appearances, but here's a general grouping:

Pre-current Genshin timeline: Brighella, Argadros.

Current Genshin timeline: Sveta, Gei Yue, Gei Limei, Irnes, Sasha, Miriam.

Post-current Genshin timeline: Anastasiy, Earl, Gei Huojin, An Xishin, Mo Hengzhu, Jing Ya.

Be warned: this is a really long post. I'm scared of it, honestly. But it runs through the basics of every character and their affiliated stuff. If you do have questions, run to my asks! I don't bite (usually).

[Quotes are from many media, not from my own works.]

Snezhnaya

Anastasiy Danya-Ilya

"I'll bless my homeland, 'til I die..."

Known as "babytorre" and Pantalone's adopted son. An anomaly in a cloning experiment which bore a successful and healthy child, rather than a dying image of the past. A mirror image of Dottore as a child, minus the part where he went down the mad scientist route, as Anastasiy went down the arsonist route instead. His poofy and curly hair is his staple, which partially covers his right eye, and he wears the Harbinger uniform, as his honorary position is to assist the Sixth Harbinger, Aurelio.

In terms of weapons he uses small vials filled with a mysterious red liquid: a fire potion, except it's a carefully balanced chemical formula that he hand crafted himself. When thrown, they create an explosion, which is further magnified by the quantity of vials used and the concentration that's within them. He also has a pyro delusion, but it is a last resort, and should not be used under any circumstances. There are a few hidden blades on his body, a trick he learned from Pantalone, but he has yet to use them.

His childhood was relatively painless, compared to what it could've been. Pantalone did his best to keep Anastasiy out of his work and well protected, which was fairly successful. With the additional protection from his creator, Il Dottore, Anastasiy was one of the best kept secrets of the Zapolyarny Palace, only known to the Harbingers and their few trusted associates. Those who dared touch him are now six feet under, taken care of by his father and папа, never to be seen again.

Anastasiy is oddly kind, which is a trait that no one knows the true origin of. Perhaps it is merely his childish nature, perhaps he is just to sympathetic for his own good. But he certainly did not pick it up from either of his parents, their cruelty knows no bounds. Anastasiy knows true love towards all things, while their greed will be their downfall, taking what is not theirs. He's too trusting, his fatal flaw, which ultimately led to his own destruction. A scar over his chest reminds him every day of his own foolish trust, though he continues to reach out to those who have hurt him.

Earl

"To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles..."

Earl is no anomaly to Il Dottore's experiments, he is a triumph. A fusion of Il Dottore's and another Harbinger's genetic code, he looks uncannily similar to Pantalone, minus the white streak in his hair and eyes the color of blood. Experimented on endlessly to see his full potential, not allowed rest lest research be lost. Blood is taken from him to the point that he is sickly and hardly able to walk, let alone reach his full potential as the corrupted blood of ancients runs through his veins. He is little known through the palace, as he is hidden away where no eyes other than Il Dottore's can behold him.

The details of his corruption are vague, but when actively in danger, his corruption will activate and put him into a bloodthirsty haze, in which he is not directly in control of his body or his mind. He becomes increasingly more violent the longer the threat persists, and in the occasion of an extreme threat, red lightning and sparks have been known to manifest, a sign of elemental energy being stored unnaturally in his body.

His own weapon is a geo vision, granted after leaving Snezhnaya and settling in Liyue. While he doesn't have a specific weapon, he is quite skilled in using a catalyst, and his geo attacks are more focused on disarming and neutralizing, rather than the intent to maim or kill. His constructs are startlingly similar to ruin guard arms and pieces, perhaps derived from Irnes' fascination with ruin guards that he passed to Earl, perhaps out of his own subconscious protection.

Earl is tired, more often than not. Weary, aged beyond his years, hardened by his experiences in the Zapolyarny Palace. Though beyond that, he is also subject to the strange fascination that the other clones of the Doctor have shown, and wishes to explore new world that he has encountered. But at the end of the day, he is a somber individual, a bit shy and quite worried most of time. It's hard to catch him in a completely serene state.

Irnes

"What’s the matter my dear, don’t you care for tea?"

Yet another error in Dottore's experiments, but for a very different reason. It is said that he emerged from incubation early, and no one was there to catch him, leading to a nasty fall and a scar on his forehead where he hit the floor. No one's sure if that's what actually happened, but he's been a strange individual ever since. Dramatic, bouncing off the walls- not to mention strangely affectionate-, he leads the clones as their honorary "older brother". Most love him, some hate him- but he's especially loved by both Anastasiy and Earl, and takes care of them in turn. He has a strangely affectionate attitude, which is very uncharacteristic of the Doctor's clones, but makes him much beloved as a result.

In terms of dress, he's quite peculiar, wearing a classic grey waistcoat and slacks, with the most horrendous blue striped bow tie you ever did see. It's horrible. A disgrace to fashion. But he's never caught dead without it, and Anastasiy likes it, so he keeps it on at all times except for when sleeping. His outfit out of the palace is a lot more formal, in a big coat and usually with a letter in hand. His boots can be heard from across the palace, and are especially ornate around the heels- Pantalone did say that silver looked rather stunning on him, after all.

The other clones aren't sure what his job is: after all, Irnes isn't typically seen doing jobs around the lab, due to his outgoing and sometimes quite clumsy nature. It's suspected that he works for Her Majesty as a messenger, especially for her more discreet business. He's also a master escape artist on top of that, which is an issue for many reasons. The main one being that he regularly is found outside of the lab, and it's a pain to wrangle him back inside. It does make for a wonderful messenger when things get messy, however.

He once worked as the overseer of the ruin guard factory in Liyue (which was shut down after Il Dottore's interest waned), which was how he got all the burn scarring on his arm, along with the broken bones and torn flesh that sourround it. No one's sure how he got them, but there's a rumor that his arm got stuck in some of the mechanics and was permanently damaged as a result. He favors his left arm for a reason.

Scapino (Sveta)

" She used me very badly; and I felt so enraged against the ingratitude of our age that I determined never to do anything for anybody. But never mind; tell me about yourself all the same."

The tragic escape artist, and the successor of La Signora as the Eighth Harbinger, though short lived. Known for her unusual cruelty despite her friendly deposition, Scapino was made to be the Jester's blade, his ward and successor when the time came. But fate twists in strange ways, and with the untimely death of Signora, Scapino was brought into the lofty position of a Harbinger for her prowess in battle and survival through the years, to keep the people of Liyue in line with the Tsaritsa's wishes.

Scapino's crescent blades are the nightmare of recruits, as they cut viciously and spare no one. Those who do go up against them have scars from the encounter, and Scapino's heavy yet agile fighting style makes for a difficult opponent. She's unpredictable and relentless, with laser focus on her prey. Few escape unscathed, and her icy delusion stops the blood in the veins of the fools who challenge her. The pyro vision at her side gets very little use, but those who have witnessed its power refuse to face it again, and for a good reason.

It is rare that a Harbinger will find romance, especially of their perpetual enemy. But it is well known that Scapino fell for a Liyuen soldier- Gei Yue by name- which caused her to defect. It is tragic that she was lost to the hold of the abyss shortly after her recognition of her love for Gei Yue, her heritage finally coming back to claim her. Through many battles, did Scapino win her freedom from both the abyss and the Harbingers, but all good things come to an end. The Harbingers always come back to claim what's theirs- Scapino was brought back to the homeland in chains.

Few know her as the Imperial Tutor, in scarlet, fur-lined uniform. It is said that she taught the Gli Innamorati everything they know, though her complexion has long since lost the glow of a brilliant smile that it once held. So much is hidden behind eyes that resemble the glaciers that coat Snezhnaya's mountains, pain that has twisted her body to the point that a gold cane accompanies her down the Zapolyarny Palace's corridors. And it won't stop until she is free.

Brighella*

"My only love sprung from my only hate. Too early seen unknown, and known too late!"

Not much is known about Brighella. Only that she was the Fourth Harbinger, before her untimely death, and quite close with the Jester. Some even say he was infatuated with her, though it remains to be seen if her death truly impacted him, as he was silent and unreadable at the funerary service. Though she was known for being reliable and quite energetic, a cold blooded killer was hidden under the surface, which enjoyed the chase above all else.

Her weapon was notoriously a greatsword, as Brighella was a tank before anything else. Her bodily build was unfit for the agile and quick style of fighting that many of the other Harbingers favor, making her favor the greatsword over any other weapon. Her charges were enough to nearly knock Capitano back, and the two often trained together for this very reason. Her thirst for blood was known among the legions, and few sparred with her as a result.

One of her missions bore unfortunate and strange fruit, that being the encounter with an Abyss Lector, deep in the woods. A general by the name of Argadros, gifted with the crown of frost. Matched against the holder of a cryo vision, it was a duel that shook the surrounding forest, two equally matched forces doing their best to draw first blood- unsuccessful for hours. Once the two finally stopped, it was clear that the General would win because of his supernatural abilities alone, not his skill. That was the beginning of a series of meetings, which bore not only a union, but an unknown child that was lost in the many villages that dot the countryside of Snezhnaya.

Brighella's death was cause of the Harbingers alone. Upon hearing of her tryst, she was deemed a traitor, and hunted until she was speared seven times, killed in the icy hills beyond the palace. Even in her last moments, did she beg Pierro for her life, which the mighty Brighella had never done in her life. Only in that moment did Pierro regret giving the order for her death, as he held her close, surrounded by her lifeblood in the cruel cold.

Sasha

“Fire and water looked so lovely together. It was a pity they destroyed each other by nature.”

It's said that Sasha originally got his vision after nearly drowning in a frozen lake as a child. A gift straight from the Hydro Archon themselves, and a mark of his Fontainian heritage. Born from an arranged marriage between his father, a Snezhnayan nobleman, and his mother, a Fontainian patron, he inherited the snow white hair of his father, the Tsaritsa's blessing. His position as Scapino's second and the sole male mirror maiden makes him quite prestigious and well known within the ranks, especially with his adept healing abilities and illusions.

His childhood was relatively easy, though he was trained in the use of his vision earlier than most. He was taught so young that it's practically ingrained in his blood, the use of its power. His illusions are small, but near impossible to tell from ordinary and actual objects, his healing powers impeccable. His only flaw is his attitude- which has made for some troublesome encounters under other Harbingers or officers. He was almost disbanded for his refusal to heal them over petty scuffles, but becoming friends with Scapino ultimately saved him from being discharged permanently.

Sasha is known for his pointed critiques of Scapino, and is the voice of reason between the two. It's true, Scapino doesn't know what's good for her, and that's why Sasha is there to set her straight. Though she ultimately makes the mistake of not listening to him, and the consequences are... grave. A word of advice- listen to what he has to say, he's been through some rough stations. He knows how the world works, especially under the Tsaritsa's rule.

Ironically enough, Sasha is also in an arranged marriage, much like his father. Though his future wife is a part of the Adventurer's Guild in Mondstadt, and she's quite the inventor from what he's heard. They occasionally exchange letters, which never fail to make Sasha smile. He has never seen or met her, but from the way she writes so happily and excitedly in her letters... He knows that he loves her. Truly. His parents might not have had the most loving relationship, but he will treat his fiance the way she deserves. That's the least he can do.

Liyue

Gei Yue

“It hurts to breathe. It hurts to live. I hate her, yet I do not think I can exist without her.”

As any good story begins, Gei Yue's has a noble start. Born to a prestigious family of vision holders, she is the oldest daughter of the Gei Family, renowned for her skill with the spear and her family's legacy within the Harbor. Though she has little claim to it, as her vision never appeared, and she was left as one of the only members in her family to never receive one. Her sister instead received a geo vision at a very young age, leaving Gei Yue in her shadow, despite being the older of the two.

Gei Yue's weapon, the spear, is commonplace within the Millelith, which she is a part of. But she wields it much differently from the others, with the grace of the wind on a mountain peak, and with moves that are more akin to water than the earth. It impresses Scapino to the point that she remarks that Gei Yue would be an excellent soldier under her command, though Gei Yue refuses. The two sparred quite often, mostly out of Gei Yue's hatred for Scapino (and Scapino's provocations) and her need to prove herself without the use of a vision.

In fact, Scapino and Gei Yue were at each other's throats the first time they met, and their loathing for each other when they were younger has long since faded, giving way to tenderness. Though Gei Yue did try to decapitate Scapino at least once. Their sparring gave way to begrudging companionship over time, especially after Scapino gets seriously hurt because of her delusion. Gei Yue didn't have the heart to cast her aside, and Scapino grew on her somewhat.

While Scapino is back in her homeland, Gei Yue finds herself on the docks often, watching for the cold steel of the Snezhnayan fleet, though it never comes. Their son, Gei Huojin, is born shortly after Scapino is dragged back to Snezhnaya, and Gei Yue does her best to raise him as best she can. It's hard, especially with his appearance, but their family has nothing left to lose, and she has to try. For Sveta.

Gei Limei

“The emotion that can break your heart is sometimes the very one that heals it...”

The younger sister of Gei Yue, she is the prodigal daughter of the Gei Family, and the one who took over their generational business in healing. Her geo vision is known to resonate and emanate healing pulses, which fits well with her gentle and accepting nature. She tends to act as a counterbalance to her sister's impulsivity, but also notices how Gei Yue triest to distance herself as much as possible- because of jealousy.

Gei Limei's abilities are somewhat limited in the combat aspect, but her unique geo resonance is known through the Harbor as an excellent way to relax the muscles and relieve tension. Many of her clients find that just her presence soothes them, and her vision's abilities are well known and praised by those who know her. Collecting herbs for her healing concoctions is also easier, as she uses her vision to track the tunnels in the earth that the roots leave behind.

Gei Limei is considered of the marriageable age, and has several suitors as a result. Despite her distance, Gei Yue is adamant about not letting any of them pressure her younger sister into marrying them, which Limei is silently grateful for. Though she has a crush on a certain someone... Gei Yue has yet to figure out who it is.

She's quite close with Herbalist Gui, given how similar their occupations are. In fact, he's like her older brother, and she often hangs around Bubu Pharmacy whenever she has free time, not only to purchase the harder to find herbs, but also to talk to him about her new balms and incense. Of course, she's the one who got Earl the job at Bubu Pharmacy through some sneaky suggestions, which Baizhu gave her the look for. Though he's indebted to her due to an accident that ended with her carrying him back to the pharmacy, so he can't complain.

Gei Huojin

“You must perform amidst the pain, this is the act of perseverance.”

The son of Gei Yue, under extraordinary circumstances. As the son of two humans, logically he should have been born as a human, which led to the peculiar event of his birth... as a half adeptus? Especially of the draconic nature. While it was originally considered the blessing of the Archons, many of the people in the Harbor are convinced that Gei Huojin is the reincarnation of Rex Lapis. Though there is no telling if this is merely the intervention of celestia, or the doing of an ancient adepti hiding among the people of the Harbor.

His weapon is a spear, which he was taught from the moment he was able to walk. Lined with gold, the head so brilliant that it catches the light and the eye of those who set eye on it, his spear is a distinct shape, made by his own hands in the deep forges in Jueyun Karst. When he performs with his troupe, it is the signature of his character as Rex Lapis, known to the people as Skysplitter, like the mountains it was made from.

He lacks a geo vision, but his power as an adepti allows for a full draconic transformation, as well as his own manipulation of the earth. His powers will never match those of Rex Lapis, but they are impressive nontheless, as his signature move involves a shockwave that can overturn earth easily.

His troupe travels to the places around the Harbor, a small group formed by Yun Jin with the mission of reviving the old arts and tales of Rex Lapis and the Guili assembly. Huojin himself usually performs as Rex Lapis, and is extremely flexible as a result. It's also how he met Earl, straight off the ship from Snezhnaya and looking like death. That was the beginning of a lifelong friendship, over a plate of bao, perhaps even more, once Huojin becomes the new Prime Adeptus of the Harbor. But that's still a ways off... or so Cloud Retainer says.

An Xishin

“Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts... perhaps the fear of a loss of power.”

It's said that Osial had many attendants, but An Xishin was one of the few that managed to escape Rex Lapis' wrath. Though his corruption nearly consumed him in the process, leading to the battle that created the watery crater in Bishui plane, where the Oceanid now roams. Rex Lapis was generous enough to spare him, however, and as a result, An Xishin received his name and a cleansing of the corruption that had rid him of his mind. Every few months or so, he must be cleansed of his corruption once more by Xiao, but he lives a mostly peaceful life as a performer in Gei Huojin's troupe, and with his friend Mo Hengzhu.

An Xishin is known for being a pacifist. While he may seem helpless or a pillow princess, for lack of better words, he is anything but. His form closely resembles that of Rex Lapis, but his true abilities lie in shapeshifting, as his body is technically composed of condensed water, which can be hard to pin down and versatile in how it defends itself. However, An Xishin tends to flee instead of confront.

His friendship with Mo Hengzhu started curiously. As a young geovishap, Mo Hengzhu was quite cuddly, weirdly enough. And from being exposed to Rex Lapis' power, his human characteristics began to manifest over time, eventually in the form that is known so readily around the Harbor. An Xishin watched it happen, and practically taught Mo Hengzhu everything he knows, and they've been as close as brothers ever since their first meeting.

An Xishin is something of a mother hen to the troupe, and readily takes in new recruits without batting an eye. His role as Osial in performances may give him a standoffish reputation, but he is anything but- Earl was taken under his wing with no hesitation, and he's always cooking or providing food for the group, as they must "keep their bodies strong". He's quite adamant about taking care of others, as he was never shown the same kindness.

Mo Hengzhu

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”

The backbone of the troupe, and the most physically strong among them. His geovishap origins as a son of Azhdaha give him poor vision, but his tunneling abilities and physical prowess easily outweigh the disadvantages of his heritage. As the performer that typically plays Azhdaha, he's very popular among the people of the Harbor, and his strength allows him to assist the people in many ways, as kindness was the first thing he was taught.

His name was originally given to him by An Xishin, when the other first found him. As a geovishap, an indirect son of Azhdaha, he holds high prestige within the existing Adepti, and his formal title is Prince of Hongda Ravine. Though a landslide destroyed and filled what remained of the ravine, Mo Hengzhu still holds the title as its honorary prince and protector. He visits whenever he has the time, though his birth place no longer exists on the map, and has been taken over by a small village in the recent years.

His friendship with Gei Huojin is very close, as Mo Hengzhu helped Gei Yue raise him. In Sveta's absence, the Adepti filled in, and Hengzhu taught Huojin most of what he knows in terms of the manipulation of geo- which is a big part of the reason why Gei Huojin's attacks are of the impact type, similar to a vishap. Mo Hengzhu also acts as the "uncle" to many of the other children in the Harbor, along with An Xishin, as he has a particular soft spot for children.

Mo Hengzhu is not exactly the brightest, but he's definitely intent on learning new things. An Xishin is considered the brains of their friendship, while Mo Hengzhu is the brawn, but he also enjoys asking about seafaring vessels. While he's most comfortable on the ground because of his poor eyesight, he thinks that boats are marvelous (and scary) inventions, and is very interested in how they work. They do separate him from the ground, where he uses the vibrations to see, but they also are just so masterfully crafted...

Jing Ya

“If you are a boat that wants to sail in windy weather, you must be more stubborn than the waves!”

Many have commented on how oddly similar both Xiangling and Jing Ya look, but they are quite different. For starters, Jing Ya was blessed by Barbatos, and has a glaring anemo vision that is known for its soft breezes to contrast her standoffish nature. Having grown up with Gei Huojin, she's quite stubborn, and one of his closest friends. In fact, they started the troupe together with the help of Yun Jin, with Jing Ya still playing the part of Guizhong to this day.

Her bull-headed nature is considered rude by many people, but in a family with eight sisters and three brothers, most of them younger than her, she has to be. Her shouting is considered a disturbance, but the boys are used to it by now, and most are shocked that she's the same person onstage. Her dark green hair concealed and soft makeup aside, her role as Guizhong is gentle, which is a rude awakening for most when they find out how brash she is.

Her talents lie in the martial arts, though she also has a bow and arrow at her disposal, which she despises but keeps around regardless. She's often found wrestling or sparring with Gei Huojin or Mo Hengzhu, as she's one of the few that can actually give them a challenge, with her agile disposition and palpable physical strength. Though they can both overpower her easy, her anemo vision makes it harder for the blockheads to pin her, giving them an actual challenge.

Ironically enough, no one has approached her for marriage, or even with a romantic prospect in mind. The Millelith have tried to recruit her many times, with no success. She's perfectly content with her troupe, and someone has to keep the blockheads in line, else they destroy something. Her haggling is also unmatched, so An Xishin doesn't get tricked into paying double for the cor lapis he's often found munching on as a snack.

Mondstadt

Miriam Brusset

"To invent, you need a good imagination and a pile of junk."

The marvelous inventor, Miriam Brusset! Born and raised in Mondstadt, her inventions are known far and wide for being peculiar yet useful. From small flying machines to lights that use electro to illuminate a room, she has made creations that put Fontainian innovators to shame, all in the service of Mondstadt's branch of the Adventurer's Guild. Her brilliant smile and upbeat attitude never fail to bring joy to the hearts of those who know her.

Her arranged marriage was decided long before she was born, to a wealthy Snezhnayan aristocrat. In a time of need, his family provided much needed funds to the Guild, in exchange for his hand in marriage to one of their own. Their reasons remain a mystery, though it is suspected that it has something to do with the Doctor's plans- likely surrounding the corruption in Mondstadt's ancient ruins.

She regularly receives letters from this mystery fiance of hers. He writes quite eloquently, and often talks of his days in the Snezhnayan military, under someone called Scapino. The amount of stupid or chaotic stories she receives is through the roof, but hearing from him after a long day of failed experiments definitely brings a smile to her face. He promises that once his time is over, he'll come to Mondstadt to visit. She can't wait for the day.

She's often found with Bennett, making sure he doesn't get too hurt while adventuring. She even makes the medkits that he carries on him, and a few little gadgets to help with his burns that he often gets from his vision. Though she enjoys visiting old ruins with him particularly, she finds the Ruin Guards very fascinating, and doesn't mind if she gets a little scraped up because of his bad luck. It's for science!

Abyss & Khaenri'ah

Argadros, the Frozen General*

“To love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed.”

How tragic the tale of Argadros is. Fated to love, destined to lose. A general of the darkened underbelly of Teyvat, he was once a young soldier, with eyes full of light, sent by his king to defend his lands. But the gods ruled otherwise, and the destruction of Khaenri'ah ripped his family and life from him, leaving him half dead on the outskirts of the once beautiful nation. Now, he seeks his vengeance, to pay back the pain that the Archons and their kin inflicted on him, all while his body rots itself to death.

It is little known that he once had a little sister, Remidra. His family was small, just his father, his sister, and himself. He originally joined the forces of the king to get enough money to cure his father of Eleazar, which a pompous and manipulative merchant had tricked him into believing. He took great pride in his work, wearing his badges with little shame.

But the fall of Khaenri'ah came, and it's said that he was cleaved in half. However, through the intervention of the Abyss, his body was reassembled, but at a price. The rot in the wound was never extinguished, and it continues to spread, to someday consume him completely and make him nothing more than a walking corpse. His ability to use ice has slowed it down, though it continues to spread, feasting on his body for as long as it lives.

His love for Brighella bore them a child. One he eventually returned to claim, to replace him as the new general once his body gave out. Though she fought against him, tooth and nail, resisting him until she was dragged back in near-death. The scar across her throat is a reminder of how far he would go for his family, as she is the last of his kin, and his beloved daughter. Twisted, horrible love fills him, which once possessed Brighella, and he loathes the Fatui for her death along with the corruption of his daughter. He will not stop until his family is reunited, even if it is in death.

(List is subject to change)

If you made it all the way down here, congratulations! You just went through forty years of plot in a few minutes!

Anyways, more soon! Toodles!

#genshin impact oc #genshin impact ocs #genshin impact #babytorre #anastasiy #earl #irnes #snezhnaya #fatui #fatui harbingers #il dottore's clones #liyue #adepti #mondstadt #so many ocs #i've been collecting these for so long #important post #pinned post

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