Ok Imagine This.... Force 141 Meeting Price Twin Sibling Reader That's A Retired Captain But Here's The

Ok imagine this.... force 141 meeting price twin sibling reader that's a retired captain but here's the twist they think reader is an imposter when in reality their just here to visit price and take him to his favorite restaurant for his break...

This is so old I’m sorry :,)

Protective 141 my beloved

“Leaving, on a jet plane..

Don’t know when I’ll be back again..”

Your soft voice cut through the music, singing along as your tires dug across the dirt road leading to the base entrance.

Your keychain swayed gently from the rear view mirror, a tiny toy soldier John had slipped into the pocket of your slacks the day you were promoted to Captain.

As much as you were at peace with retiring from your position, those small pieces of your career never seemed to disappear.

The security personnel were all smiles seeing your truck pull in, joking and teasing as they’d done for so many years. While your car was taken care of, you were lead to your brother’s office before being left to greet him. You listened through the door, only hearing the tapping of his keyboard.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

You grinned like a child when you heard a low curse and angry footsteps. The door flew open.

“You are a pest.”

“Good to see you!” You beam.

“Mhm.” He grumbled, though he guided your shoulders inside carefully.

It had been strange since you left, but just being in his office was reassuring. He told you what he could now that you weren’t in on classified info, and you told him nearly everything. The nightmares, the daydreams, the panic attacks, disassociation.

Talking to him always reminded you that even though you ached to be back in uniform, leaving was for the best.

You displaced his office decorations and spoke with him for a few hours before he hugged you goodbye tightly, reminding you that this was still a version of home, and he was here.

“Always here.” He said.

You closed his door gently, hesitating a moment to run your thumb down the groove of the door seam in thought.

“You lost?”

The voice nearly made you jump, though your years in service didn’t let you show it as you turned to see a young man in uniform, scanning you with a furrowed brow.

“Do you need assistance?” He repeated, adjusting his cap.

You blink in realization. “Oh, I’m-"

“This is a restricted area, mate.” Another voice joined the first, accompanied by an intimidating figure that had appeared from behind a corner. Not an inch of him was uncovered apart from his eyes, his build and layers making him look even more threatening. He seemed to puff up like an angry cat; amusing to your trained eye.

“John is my brother, I worked here with him before your task force transferred here.” You replied smoothly.

“Price doesn’t have siblings.” The masked soldier spoke lowly.

You smiled despite yourself. “Well, that’s news to me..”

“Need some directions?”

Another?

Your patience thinned.

“Look. I served here, he’s my brother. If you open this door, he’ll tell you.”

The first soldier eyed you suspiciously.

“Forgive me for not taking your word for it, uh..?”

“Price.” You deadpan. “My last name is Price.”

The capped soldier hummed, seemingly still off-put.

You sighed, exasperated. “Please open the door.”

“Yeah, alright.” The masked man starts toward you, and you fight the urge to skillfully escape his hold when he guides you by the shoulder back into the office.

“I hope you’re not lying..” The Scottish soldier from before murmured as you passed, and John lifted his head from his work.

“Claims to be your-”

“For Christ’s sake, release your death grip from my sibling!”

His exasperated tone makes you smile as the three soldiers flank you. The hand on your shoulder leaves along with a tense apology that only deepens your amusement.

“If I wasn’t, I think they did a pretty good job interrogating me.” You say lightly.

“I’m so sorry.. what’s with you lot, aye?”

He shut down the protesting of the capped and Scottish soldier with a raised hand, sighing as he brought you to face them.

“Should have thought to introduce you..”

Capped soldier was Gaz, Scot was Soap, mask was Ghost. Their apologetic shuffling of their weight made you comfortable already.

“It’s nice that you’re so..protective.”

You hoped they sensed your amusement and didn’t really think you were rattled. It would have taken a lot more than a strong arm to trip you up.

“They’re idiots.” John corrected, sitting back down.

“You served?” Ghost murmured.

“I did. I retired a few months ago.”

“You’re.. Price’s age?” Gaz’s tone was disbelieving.

“Oi.” John glowered.

“You can’t say that..” Soap nudged Gaz harshly.

“The exact same actually. Well..” You glance at John. “I am three minutes older..”

“And yet you’re the child.” John bit back.

“Why’d you never tell us you have a twin sister?” Soap gestured to you.

“Not your business?” John replied.

“Aye..” Soap rolled his eyes.

“You three should come with us for dinner.” You suggested.

John’s ‘No’ was overshadowed by the resounding enthusiasm of his task force.

“You’re supposed to be on my team.” John grumbled.

“I’m retired, John, I work alone.”

He glared at Gaz’s quiet laugh.

“7:00. We’ll be at that little run-down near the bar.”

“You’re taking them there? I thought you were family.” Ghost shifted his weight.

“Good chips.” You and John both defended the restaurant of choice at the same time.

“Oh, they’re twins for real..” Gaz murmured. “Creepy.”

“See you tonight.” You gently shoved John’s head before excusing yourself.

“See you!”

“Bye!”

“Cheers..”

When you had left the building, the three turned back to John. Soap didn’t get a chance to open his mouth before John rumbled a warning.

“If you so much as think about it, I will tear you apart.”

Dvd request here! Can I request survivor reader who can actually kill the killers but decided to play along with the game?? Like one time the reader decided to kill the killers just for fun? Thankyou!

Killing The Killers

Content Tag(s) : basic game violence, k!lling, mentions of gore, some sexual tension, reader discretion advised

Paring(s) : the trapper x reader || the ghostface x reader || the shape x reader || (separate)

A/N : So sorry for taking so long, life has been busy and hurtful but— I'm here (somewhat) now! // have to feed my dbd followers, also I’ve always found it easy to write Myers so forgive me for his longer part.

TRAPPER | Evan MacMillan the foolish wolf.

“You’re the predator right up until you're prey.” - James Sa Corey

When he was free from the entity and released into the realm of the trial, his attention was captured by unfamiliar footprints nearby. They were a pair of two planted and smudged in a dense mud puddle nearby. By a normal gaze, it’d just be mistaken for an accident, a simple walk through in fear. However, when he chose to follow its direction, the truth unfolded with a shoeprint pressed too hard not to be unintentional near one of his traps.

The simple action told him this trial would probably either be the most exciting he's had recently or the most frustrating.

As he knows you are the one behind this.

Since your first arrival, you've shown that you're not meant to be hunted, nonetheless be prey. You showed that you are the peak of a human, having a high intelligence and awareness of yourself and your surroundings. With that being said, Evan is envious of your skills at adapting and conquering instead of being obedient. It’s something that even most Killers wouldn’t dare to try against the entity.

But, that also meant you’re the demise of him and the rest of the killers.

It felt as if you were the entity itself, doing what you wish without the consequences of death, knowing you can always escape.

It frustrated everyone and everything, specifically your ‘dumb luck.’ You didn't use or bring tools into trials often for the sole person of not needing them as you like to take chase. But do say if the killers are intentionally ignoring you, (something Evan does) you run off to open chests with some amazing tools or meds before finally ‘playing.’

If Evan was to find you on gen he’d try to be as quick as possible to snatch you. Of course that never happens with the way you weasel past him, a piece of your clothes or hair straying in the wind from his whiff.

Your giggle following.

Evans’ breathing was heavier than seconds before, his chest rising and easing with this familiar urgency as he stomps after his prey. He managed to get into a chase with Dwight and land hits on Bill and Feng nearby, their distant cries of pain pounding against his eardrums. But, he had tunnel vision on Dwight, wanting him out now so he didn't have to deal with everyone together.

He raised his Cleaver, eyes bloodshot as the wind slices at his swing. He would have hit that damn man to the ground now if it wasn't for you taking the hit. The smell of your blood intoxicating the air and painting both your clothes and his. This was new but a shame for him it didn't last long, you blame it on him for his tunnel vision.

“Clumsy clusmy~”

You smile, as his right foot touches the ground. The snarl of a trap snapping closed filling the air. His hunched-over form gives you the disadvantage and shoves him off of his feet, a series of snaps following, and the killer groaning in agony.

Dwight was long gone, on his way to the gate that Bill and Feng were opening. That left only you, looming over the man with this look that Evan could only say was of bloodlust. The cries of the sirens match your ragged breathing as you step a heel onto him, his disowned weapon now firm in your grasp. The same hand that poured with your blood from the gash on your back, a sloppy one that surely hurt. Yet, you couldn't feel it and he felt as if he understood why as you brought the cleaver over your head.

It was adrenaline, possibly even something else. As you successfully played rabbit long enough to fool the dumb wolf. This whole game he's forgotten his traps because of you. Because of you, he couldn't get them to stop. Because of you, he couldn't get Dwight. And because of you, he's dead.

The death was quick and as painless as possible. As if you were ending the suffering of an animal. His hand only reached out when he returned to his realm, hovering over where you once stood. Evan could've done something. But, he didn't. His body was bitten by traps, littered like poison ivy and fear(?)— no. Impossible. Was it? It made him growl as he presses his hand against his chest.

A mere human, smaller than him and what he believed, weaker than him, tired and caught its prey. Him.

He then realized as he stood that the print from the beginning was a warning. Your warning, maybe even clue or advice that he needs to be smarter. He needs to be the better hunter so he can catch the most sacred creature of all. You.

GHOSTFACE | Danny Johnson

Smile for me.

“When you hunt predators, the best camouflage is weakness” - ANDREW VACHSS

Mr. Ghostface has always been captivated by you. He knows that you aren't just some attractive face willing to fall over for a straddle, that teasing smile and laugh is what tells him exactly that.

Like him, you're playing the game by its rules. You're obeying in your own way and just adding some fun into his life. He thanks you for that, he’ll even thank you personally if he can just manage to get his hands on your quick body. But, he can't, you know him awfully too well for his liking.

And something familiar itched him in the back of his head every time he swiveled around from a bird's call, only being welcomed by well- nothing and looking like an idiot as he walks about to make sure no one is around the corner.

Through the whole trial, you were a mere shadow in the corner of his eye. His head turned to connect and finally get in a chase with you, only for his blood to run cold. The tugging triggering in his brain as the hands trample over his cloak, tightening around him. It felt as if the fangs of a cobra latched onto his neck, its body tightening around him until he fell with a strangled gasp.

He could feel your hands going along his body before taking his beloved knife and camera.

“What do you think you're doing?” He huffed, an obvious annoyance dripping off his voice. This- was not it. At least it was something he wasn't enjoying due to the sole purpose of him not being in on the ‘plan.’ (If you know what I mean).

“I know you aren't that dumb, Ghosty “ A tone of joy kissed his ears as he was pulled back, the flash of a camera temporarily blinding him. One before the death, one after. Something that pissed Danny off to the moon was the way you handled him- after all HE’s supposed to be the one doing this! Not the other way around!

“Smile for me!”

-Were the last words he heard before the fuzz of death overtook him. Since being brought here, he knows what death feels and looks like. And he knows very well that he was dying, one attack after the other being fueled with this shot of adrenaline before his eventual death.

The layered voices of the entity show their obvious disappointment of this trial's performance. Danny grumbled to himself as he rips his mask off, running his grimy hands down his face to get rid of the remaining sweat. By the feel of it, the entity only mended him to the point he would survive, leaving him with the ache of his stabs.

He growled as he snatched up his camera, using an unneeded force while he looks through it. The photo of Meg welcoming before the next did. Where the mere sight made his body freeze, his eyes slightly widening under his mask.

Danny was unsure why he was feeling this exact way. It was a horrendous mix of attraction and competitiveness that stirred in his chest with the sight of you straddling his back; imitating his pose to the exact hold of his knife to the lean, the only real difference being the look you had. A look of a killer he thought.

A look of a challenger. Or maybe simply someone that he had to put in their place.

THE SHAPE || Michael Myers

The other boogeyman.

“Black widows may be powerful predators, but every predator is somebody else's prey.” - Lionel

Michael is very conflicted about his emotions toward you. The only thing he knows for sure is he hates how aware you are. You don’t allow yourself to have tunnel vision when doing tasks and that means you’re always on alert. That being said, the smallest noise, whether it be by the wind or a light step, your attention is already over your shoulder.

Your hands still working with familiarity, your keen hearing focusing on both your surroundings and the task at hand. To him, it’s annoying. To others, it's applaudable. This is why he always tries to play smart if you’re in a trial.

He knows you have Spine Chill, an ability you quickly learned so you can always have a head start on something. You also don’t utilize lockers, not because you don’t know how to you’re just playing smart. After all, if you’re able to get out of his line of sight and out of the area faster, he doesn’t have a chance of catching up to you. (Also because you nearly died during a trial with Bubba and that forever stuck with you).

Long story short, you are the victim that every killer wants to kill for ‘bragging’ rights. Or at least some small validation they want from themselves.

To Michael, you're a stand-in obsession. As the entity quickly took notice of how much he truly wishes to capture you. His intents are similar to his original obsession, but maybe a bit more— possessive. As when you became Bubba’s star obsession for a bit, Myers became a bit, disobedient. The tension between the two killers abnormal and leaving the rest with a disturbance between the realms.

Since the first incident, (him brutally slaughtering Bubba) you became his new obsession if Laurie wasn’t in trial. Even if she was sometimes it’d switch between the two of you, as offerings became more prominent by the Killer when he found out you’d be in a trial.

The Offering was one that was only obtainable by the entity by his performances (sacrificing the whole trial), or lucky run-ins during them. Nothing in between due to him actually being able to get his hands on you. If he was he’d probably cut off a lock of your hair for good luck or something along those lines. After all, not everyone can have the chance to get their hands on a creature like you.

A shame that when he did, he couldn’t cherish it.

You’ve been thinking about this plan for a while, mostly because you had mutual respect and interest in the masked killer. He was the only one that truly made your nerves go haywire and goosebumps erupt on your body. That enough was respectable. To the other survivors, it felt as if you had made him an obsession. (Which isn’t entirely wrong).

However, by the end of the day, it didn’t matter. Especially when you were dragged into a trial with the wisps of the the entity, the fog thick this time around. That itself gives your fellow survivors that you were in the trial, as you’re able to utilize the fog. When stealth you can see those near you, similar to one of Dwight's skills but it only lasts for a couple of seconds with five-second break intervals. Unless the killer is near then it's 10-25 seconds. You can see them up to 10 before the timer starts. ‘See Evil’ is what it began to be called.

Michael mentally scowled for a second at the thick fog. It used to be no problem for him due to it sometimes being a level too short, meaning he’d see over it. But, the entity seemed to have changed her mind over time and returned equality between survivors and killers.

Hallo! Truly loved the MonsterAU stories! Wonderful, amazing writing!

Would it be possible for you to write: what if human!reader was turned into a chimera?

Akin to this:

Feel free to ignore!

Chimæra

Pairing: Monster 141 x Chimera!reader

Cw: science experiment, human torture, human testing, gore?, blood, canon-typical violence, unethical human experiments, kidnapping, child abuse, malnutrition, child neglect, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.6k (A/N): credit to @bluegiragi’s monster 141 designs.

They were tipped off by an anonymous source that some shady and highly illegal things were being done in a small and remote town near the border of Belarus, their ongoings unknown to both the government and public of their country, but someone had given Laswell a file containing all the horrific tests conducted within the closed walls of the innocuous-looking compound —a laboratory dressed as a simple military base. The folder held snapshots of emails and files sent between scientists and researchers, small indications of what was being done to both humans and monsters, yet withholding important intel about certain things. It disclosed the location, the names and faces of every worker and leading figure in the compound, the number of security and their schedules, and what was done, but not what was truly happening, it left small clues, sublet words here and there with hidden meanings —never clear images, blurry ones as if the person was in a rush.

Despite not having clear indications of the illegal activities, Laswell had enough to have 141 sent to take it down, to bring the dehumanising lab to its ground and burn it down. She didn’t have trouble convincing them, it was telling enough to let them read the condensed files for them to read, to see themselves the monstrosity being done to children and monsters they took, kidnapped from around the world to be left at the deceitful hands of crazed scientists. There wasn’t much to be found outside it, the base wore the facade of a benevolent patron, bearing the crest of kindhearted investors wanting to rebuild rundown houses and reconstruct rough and broken roads and paved streets in the town they took to hide. It worked for the most part, they profited from this by acting without raising any suspicion from anyone, neither the authorities nor the people. 

“Christ,” Gaz swore, looking down at the words in the file he received, the teased truth and the dreadful treatments through a thick layer of secrets and subtle wording, the only clear intel was from the straightforward emails sent to and from researchers and the heads of the facility, unabashed and shameless bragging of their success and the narrative to which these subjects could be used. “Why did it take so long?”

A recurrent theme of these was about a certain subject, it was about C34, spoken with such pride and joy about their creation, the work of the new world and the future made within these walls. Most emails were the exchanges between them about C34’s training, the ongoing treatments and every successful mission and exercises, they spoke of C34 as if they were a dog, a rabid mutt they captured and took on the task of domesticating it. It was demeaning, degrading and cruel, to look at another being as something lower, something needing domestication —it went against every rule and law put in place to protect humanity, the many conventions sworn to protect the goodwill and security of the innocents.

“We’ve had our suspicions before,” Laswell sighed, the images of the screen switching with the small click of her control, laser pointing at the images of various weapons cache and illegally procured weapons. “There was a slip up in the shipping, it was dropped here-” she motioned to a circled area in the map, a closeup of a secluded road near the town, “and we were able to retrace it to the facility. We needed more intel about the facility before acting and we needed to know what we're facing here, if we should send a team or send you.”

“What now?” Price tilted his head back, smoke leaving the sides of his frown, a deep and unpleasant one. He couldn’t even look at the intel given with a straight face, the shadowed truth of cruelty and dehumanising acts done by humans. “Figured you send us after seeing this, Laswell?”

Laswell nodded, jumping to another slide, showing blurred images of subject C34, a blurry figure, tall and imposing in every way possible. They stood high, stature seemingly one belonging to a monster or hybrid: on four legs and the wide, familiar shape of wings, everything about C34 cried monster. Perhaps one they captured as a child, taken from their mother and kept in this cell. There were many pictures of this one, blurry and disfigured, but others had smaller shapes, the size of children with various characteristics. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus!” Soap spat, disgust dripping from his tone in waves, unending as were the other’s curses, each holding their level of horror and repugnance. His face was wound tight, brows dipped lowly and lips pursed, he balled his fists, anger rising within him with every image he saw, the deplorable conditions and the care given to the monsters —what could they even expect from this shady company engineering monster and human DNA to fit their preferred narrative, for money, for reputation, for strength. “We ‘ave tae do somethin’ about this, Price!”

Soap - Johnny - had always been the more emotional one, letting his good heart lead his decisions when the situation seemed to fit it. His wolf made him more susceptible to emotional attachment, a pack mentality driven deeply into his mind and heart, he was viciously loyal and wore his heart on his sleeve, uncaring of how he’d be hurt by a betrayal, he simply saw the best in the world, something many couldn’t after a while, but Soap could, Johnny was a good man at heart. That’s why he reacted the most out of everyone, voicing his distaste and hate, his need for revenge and the sanctity of the lives being stolen in the facility. 

Soap pushed Price to agree, seeing no reason not to lead the breach, to uncover everything done to innocent lives. His eyes connected to the man hidden in the darkness, his blue eyes gleaming with fierce justice, a contrast to the wraith who lay in silence, abhorrent and seething quietness. Ghost peered at him, head tilted up with white pupils darkened by black eyes, death layering off him with calmness. He gave Soap a curt nod, affirmation for him to continue to voice his mind, to help those in need. 

“Seems like it’s been decided, Kate,” Price gave her a lopsided smirk, amber eyes narrowed with what could be read as anger, teeth sinking into the girth of his cigar, ash falling. “When are we going?”

Her lips parted in a proud grin, eyes gleaming with something dark and wrathful. She leaned on the table, head held high and shoulder broad while she flicked off the projector:

“Wheels up at 1500 tomorrow.”

You stared down the man before you, watching him tremble under your cold gaze, steps hesitant to approach you despite being seated, body prone on the hard floor you called a bed. He was new, possibly recently employed and his boss - or his direct manager - played a dirty game with him. It was some kind of rite of passage for every new employee courageous enough to accept their recruitment, all bright-eyed geniuses wanting to build their place on earth with forthgoing discovery, desperate and narcissistic; yet they were so easily tricked into you cage, locked in by cackling and grinning guards and coworkers. 

He smelled young, fresh-faced and a bit nervous, most were when they first saw you. You remembered everyone who walked in, the smell of fear and anxiety, the disgusting scent oozing off their bodies, rotten and putrid like a rotting corpse. You would’ve gagged and choked if you weren’t used to it, having grown close to the smell of death, calling the reaper your friend. You weren’t bothered by him, only the cart he was wheeling over, a big and heavy cooler that smelled fresh. He was made to bring you food by his boss, a cruel joke played on every new scientist who was always so eager to meet you before cowering in terror once the lock clicked. 

Standing before your third cage, he unlocked the small hatch and, with effort and a loud grunt, pushed the cooler into the hole, big enough for a big cooler but small enough to fit your arm through it. You waited until he stumbled away, distancing him from you before reaching for the container, it was light, weighing little in your palm. They fed you raw meat, sometimes buying the fresh catch of a Belarus hunter, usually an elk or a wild boar, but if they were lucky, a bison or a bear, other times they would have conserved meat shipped from outside the town, bigger cities or outside the border. 

Today was an elk, the meat cold and free of rot, it smelled as good as a fresh kill did, bloody and heady. You ripped into it without care, tuning out the loud retch from the scientist as you gorged on your meal, claws tearing it in half and biting into the bloody meat. Blood rolled down your lip, painting your cheeks crimson and staining the cream-coloured rag they considered a shirt. It would be changed after your meal, as it always was. Despite the elk weighing around six hundred kilograms, you finished it quickly, with pointed teeth cutting and pulling flaps of meat and ligament, blood spraying and dirtying the metal ground near the hatch. 

It was filling, albeit cold. You cleaned your hands of blood, licking it off like a grooming cat, tongue laving over the sharp edge of your claw and under your blunt fingernails. You peered at him from under your lashes, eyes gleaming in the darkness. You watched - pleased with yourself - him shudder, face growing green with unnerve at your show. You knew he was desperate to leave, to get a breath of fresh air outside of your cell, you understood his fear and wanted him to suffer for helping your owner, the man watching over your training, but you wanted him gone before he emptied his stomach on your floor. So you pushed the cooler out, clawed arm breaching past the hatch to leave it farther from your cage. 

He left hastily, legs shaky and face pale. 

“I want a bison next time,” you growled, words rolling off your tongue huskily from its rare use. 

It looked as inconspicuous through the NVGs as it did in the pictures, a few grey buildings built lowly to hide an immense labyrinth dug into the ground, secret passages crossing unending halls with locked doors and tipped with surveillance cameras to watch over the whole facility. They studied the very walls that made this place a secret fortress, from the body to its heart, like mounting a brigade against a castle, Laswell’s team found the few hidden entrances that connected to the lesser-used passages, winding through many hallways and wide vents, big enough for humans but too tight for monsters the size of C34. Task Force 141 led the mission, infiltrating the base under the darkness of night where they could crawl and slink through shadows to catch what they hunted. They were joined by Marines, all experienced and skillful, wearing scars like a badge of honour. It would either be a quick in and out, or a long and strenuous infiltration. 

Price took Gaz and led half of the Marines through the west, breaching the lab from above. They pushed in steadily, relaying information and physical cues to Watcher - Laswell - with a body cam recording everything they saw, the facade they wore above ground, hiding their dark enterprise. Ghost, as usual, has Soap watch his six, following closely behind him with puppy-like loyalty and the other half of the Marines. Team Two’s - Delta - mission started through the underground passage they sniffed out, a long and unwinding hall that went straight through the heart of the facility. Ghost’s team went dark, needing the cover of silence to stay hidden in a highly protected area of the base to run this clandestine mission. They spoke only when needing to, to make calls, to reaffirm intel or to let both Bravo and Watcher know a change, the tech team in the temporary safe house a few miles away from the compound watched through the cams, from the subtle change in the air to a jarring lead to what was happening. 

While Price and Gaz worked on creating a distraction, taking a load off team Delta’s shoulders, they could work through the system faster and more efficiently with the fire taken off their backs and front. It was controlled chaos for both teams, creating a mass discordance within the enemy lines: panicked higher-ups at the sudden attack, while they had a small squad of personal soldiers, they were unprepared, taken by surprise by both teams attacking on two fronts; and confused mercenaries, their quiet and boring schedules made them lose the edge of suspicion, of wariness towards what awaited them and the sheltered job with little to no action apart from a few failed escape attempts by the subjects.

“Delta 0-1 moving in,” Ghost mumbled into the coms, his team following him closely, rifle held tightly with the muzzle pointed forward as they crossed the threshold of section C, heading towards the one holding the monster subjects. 

They left behind them groups of bodies, slumped over the walls or limp on the ground, blood painting the sterilised and glossy walls, turning the once white hall into a grotesque place, dead bodies covering the length of the corridor like the ones they walked through before, leaving the stench of death that even the Marines could sniff out. It wasn’t clean - they weren’t aiming for it to be clean - but they wouldn’t need it to be clean when the Laswell would send a clean-up team to deal with this, Ghost would steal a bite before they arrived, quenching his hunger for revenge with them. 

A few guards stayed to watch over the cells, doors unlocked by a keycard that most guards kept in their back pocket, Ghost would have to take one off a dead body. Under Ghost’s cover, Soap dashed to the other side of the hall, taking a few with him to corner the mercenaries, boxing them into a closed hallway until they all died. Despite a few of the Marines taking shots, bruising the skin under their plate, black and blue blossoming like a bloody flower under the thin layer of skin, they kept their heads high and minds clear, moving forward without a misstep or hesitation. Soap swiped a few cards from the bodies, throwing one to Ghost. 

“Delta 0-1 to Watcher, can you hear me?”

“Solid copy, Ghost,” Laswell voice rang out clearly, reaching his ears in seconds.

“We found the cells,” his eyes roved over them, white paint over thick, cement walls to hold whatever they locked into the cells, perhaps the children the saw or the big one, C34.

“Do you have the keycards?”

“Affirm,” Ghost growled slowly, hearing Laswell's confirmation to continue. “Going in.”

He tapped the pad, a loud beep ringing in their ears as the lock’s mechanism creaked to life, unlatching from its metal hold to let them in. Both he and Soap walked in, leaving the others to watch their backs while they surveyed the first room. It was dimly lit as it was bare of any decorations apart from a visible toilet, a small sink and a few metal beds. It looked like any usual cells they came across, made barren and empty of anything useful to prevent the prisoners from escaping or causing a ruckus, but the people they kept in these cells were children. Soap swore under his breath at the sight of children huddled together, seemingly no older than 12, he lowered his rifle. They were backed into a corner, three older kids holding a younger one in their arms, protecting her from them, from whoever meant to harm these children. 

They looked malnourished, left to slowly rot in these cement boxes until the scientist found something worthwhile in them, their cheeks sunken in, eyes droopy and swollen with bruises - they were beaten, it made something ugly rear its head inside Ghost dead heart - and lips dried. One was armless, having wings that they used to cover both of their cellmates, naked with only feathers covering their body, this one looked more like a harpy than it did human. The two others had arms, both having the lower half of a mammal, neither of them was sure which four-legged mammal it was, but one had a pair of wings, while the other’s back was bare of anything. 

“We’ve found the children.”

You could hear the chaos from your cell, the blaring alarm and the smell of death. The building shook from its foundation, vibration emanating from both the ground floor and the basement, just farther from your hall, the closed and sectioned-off area. They separated you from the defective ones, all your young mistakes they made after achieving success —you. They tried to recreate it, but it never came out how they wanted it. Maybe it was a mistake on their part or maybe it was the lack of a certain gene in their DNA, a subtle difference that you and the rest had. You didn’t want to know and you didn’t want them to succeed a second time, it was painful, the shift, the tests and the change, the storm of pain, terror and confusion weren’t worth this power. 

You could hear the booming sound of gunfire, a loud ricochet of the bullet when the nitrocellulose sparked and sent the bullet outwards, finding its destination in the warm flesh of human guards. You usually enjoyed this kind of chaos if you knew what started it, and laughed when something caused trouble for your captors, but you were cautious of this one. You neither knew who thought to disturb the peace nor did you know who was behind this, their scents strange and the sound of steps unknown. All you knew was that their steps were heavy, out of breath but pushing their way into - what you thought to be - section C. The place they kept the young and willful. 

You might be blinded by your cell, but the guards outside your confinement knew how to talk, their chatter and barking orders loud enough for you to hear through the thick walls. From them, you knew they were strangers, unknown players on your board of pawns. You didn’t know their goal, whether they were here to let you out or keep you in a cage of their making, but you knew they were a gamble on your fate. As the noise got closer, you sat down, crossed your paws and waited, cautiously awaiting to see what your verdict would be.

Strangely enough, there was a different section, separated from the other one by many gates and stricter security, but they were able to break through it. Security was concentrated in one hall as if the monster they locked at the end of this hallway was of big importance. It had higher security, stronger and thicker. Ghost wondered if it was to keep the monster in or keep people out, either way, this meant that they found the thing they first came here for: the trained and dangerous subject C34. 

Ghost was apprehensive about opening this metal door, built taller than any doors he’d seen, it was as wide as it was tall, metres over what would be considered normal for a human or monster, similar to the wide gates that protected British castles, tall and imposing, but the most worrying was it’s vast amount of security measures. He thought back to the blurrier giant he saw in the picture, their shape indescribable and otherworldly, almost alien-like. His eyes met Soap’s reassuring ones, standing steadfast and unyielding to do good in the world. So with a nod, Ghost worked through the locks and scans of the heavy, metal door made to keep this cement cage closed. This door clicked loudly, echoing down the hall with ominous intent, foreseeing something damming and destructive. 

Yet they hadn’t expected to see another cage within the cage, a box made of reinforced glass, large and robust and inside of it was another cage, a rough metal one with bars for walls, a sick joke of a bird’s gilded cage. It would’ve seemed almost exaggerated to have three layers - three different cages - to keep one subject safely locked up until he caught sight of the monster. Lying on the cold, metal ground with legs folded in, tail curled around them and staring at both him and Soap with cautious curiosity. It looked like a gryphon if it were more reptilian than a mammal, this monster had a human torso, a head wearing a stoic expression, dressed in rags. Where there would normally be legs was the body of a bird, an eagle perhaps from the golden-brown plumage and reptilian legs from the knee down, followed by a fully scaled back, hind legs and a strong tail. Each toe was tipped with a sharp claw, big and deadly if it got its hands on someone, it could easily rip into anyone without putting in much effort. The biggest thing about it was the folded wings, feathered and equipped with a talon. If it could fly, these wings would be powerful. 

He understood why they kept it locked, it was neither man, monster or hybrid. It was a beast of human creation, a creature made to be at the peak of its condition. It was smart, he could see it, the glint in its eyes and the pursed lips, mien kept monotone and calm —observant. 

What did Laswell sign them into? 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly

Hello!! Can I request about monster task force 141 + könig & horangi, if thats alright for you!

Where reader is a pyramid head instead and I like to see their reaction reader having a pyramid head c:

EXCUSE ME!? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME WITH THIS ASK?!???!? Cuz if you are, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I am still breathing! I might be kneeling for this concept, but I am still breathing.

Pyramid Head!reader

Headcanon

Pairing: Monster 141 + König + Horangi x male?reader

Cw: blood, gore, canon-typical violence, gun violence, betrayal, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2k

You looked like you came right out of a horror game, a tall, muscular figure hidden under black and dark brown fatigues, thick thighs supporting the big, rusted pyramid that hung from your head and stocky arms that could bend a man in half as easily as it was to rip paper in two. Despite being slow and stumbling around, you were an entity to bring on high-stakes missions, letting you break through their defences with a heavy hand and even heavier attacks, crashing through walls and stalking the walls for your next victim.

They were all shocked when Price talked them into accepting you,  gathering them into the debrief room with your file, or your lack of one. It wasn’t easy, having you permanently transferred to their Task Force when you were so sought out by other teams for help as a long-standing mercenary and an entity. So Price was overjoyed that  Laswell had managed to get you to themselves, waiting for you at the tarmac on the day you were to land. 

Mixed feelings were being shared between his team when they watched you amble down the slope, head hung lowly, the tip inches from the ground. You were intimidating in person, seeming much bigger than life, finally being able to see you rather than hear of you, the haunting reputation that followed you around like a shadow. You weren’t a Ghost, someone reputed for having no living record and past, or his intimidating presence; nor were you a scary mercenary from KorTac, dangerous and imposing. You weren’t an efficient and fast-moving unit like the 141, you were just a one-man army powerful enough to rip a man in two and wield that heavy Greatsword, and despite it being a bit old-fashioned, you used better than man could use a rifle. 

Price, as first mentioned, was glad his hard work came to fruition, having someone like you on his side when it mattered was amazing. He might’ve been slightly worried about his boys reacting negatively towards you, Ghost, especially with his volatile hate and distrust of strangers. Only to be reassured when he saw how, unlike the way you carried yourself on the field, you were a gentle soul, a silent one but caring nonetheless. He watched you take care of his boys, wandering behind Gaz or Rudy when they returned injured, a looming figure that cast a protective shadow over them. You were like a pillar, solid and dependable, going out of your way to get anyone that strayed behind, turning your head at a slight angle to stop a bullet from hitting the one you were protecting, and caring for them. He may not be able to hear you speak a word, to be able to hold a conversation and listen to you tell them how much you cared about him and the others, but he knew you loved - he knew you were able to love. 

Ghost was distrustful of you, one with a shadow as big as yours or someone he’d worked alongside before. He kept you at an arm’s length, never too close to him so he could protect himself from another betrayal, the hurt and the sadness that came along with being betrayed by someone he trusted, and never too far so that he could watch you, analyse every thought or act you made, to stop you from hurting them before you could. He’s seen you in the field and worked on the same side, he knew that every little detail about you on the reports was true, not illusions and delusions, but factual events that happened with you beside them. He won’t lie, you were an asset - he hated using that word on any hybrid, monster or entity, but it was the truth - that people vied for and they were just lucky that you had their back and they had your undying loyalty. Your occasional sparring with him, Price and König only reinforced your care for them, holding back until he barked at you to fully come at him, you’d hesitate, but never for long. You cared for him as he cared for the others, he could see it, and now, his care was extended to you as well.

Soap was like an excited puppy meeting a new friend, past the intimidating facade and the trailing shadow behind you, you were nice. You reminded him of Ghost and König, the tall, imposing and silent figure, but unlike them, you only replied in grunts and groans, your body language being the biggest way for them to understand you. You were patient with him, bearing with his overenthusiastic tail that kept tapping your thigh and arm whenever or his rambling, your large pyramid nodding slowly, humming when you agreed with him and grunting when you disagreed. You were fun to be around, when he, Rudy and Gaz went around, bringing you along with him to play a little game, you wouldn’t snitch and you wouldn’t say a word, only shaking your head when Price or Ghost asked if they were behind it (the Captain and Lieutenant went along, seeing as they could enjoy themselves after a hard and stressful mission). He could be as shamelessly chaotic as he wanted with you, he didn’t have to entertain the egos of others or maintain a certain level of dignity, he could be himself like he could with the others. He didn’t feel like a burden beside your lengthy shadow, he felt like he was protected, and safe, but most importantly, he felt loved.

Gaz was tentative, not overly enthusiastic as Soap nor as suspicious as Ghost, he was a good mix of them both, guarded but welcoming. He didn’t mind sitting next to you and being the one to start the conversation since you always replied in hums and groans, hands moving to form the words that you couldn’t form under the pyramid. He only truly became comfortable when you went to the trouble of going back for him, stomping through the group that surrounded him when he crashed down, watching you rip the enemy apart with your swinging Greatsword that was too heavy for anyone to lift was breathtaking. Despite witnessing a scene right out of a slasher movie, his teammate in a rusted, pyramid head soaked in blood and guts, you gave him a hand and took his hand with the gentlest squeeze he ever felt. Then the little stunt you helped cover when he, Soap and Rudy were caught doing a prank on one of their leading commanders. He could depend on you, practising sign language to better understand you and simply wanting to hold the hands that saved him.

Alejandro, as usual, was easy to get along with, his charismatic and warm mannerism was easier to open up to. He might’ve been betrayed and lied to many times, but he knew a liar when he saw one after the whole Shepherd fiasco, so he knew you meant well (not that he could see your face for any indications). Unlike others of his rank, he preferred the respect given through comradery over respect through rank, he kept close to the people he worked with in the long run, forming bonds to cherish like he did with the Los Vaqueros and the men of 141. Withholding the same idea, he worked his way through your file and approached you with someone who’d won his respect and admiration from the black Ops you participated in and the people you bled to save. It was a quality he liked about you. While still being professional, he held you, he encouraged you, he embraced you just the way you were, and you reciprocated it without a second thought. 

Rudy had his reservations about you, something strong, something big, something powerful, something caring, but never something deadly, dangerous or selfish. From what Alejandro told him, he couldn’t bring himself to be doubtful of your loyalty and devotion, and from what he’s seen on the field, you weren’t deserving of the reputation of a bloodthirsty monster that followed you as it did Ghost and König. You had something that made you stand out, maybe it was the contrast in your character when you looked so menacing: your softness, the gentle edge in your actions, the comforting quality in your muted response, and your active protection on and off the field. He appreciated the way you brought more to the Task Force, another pillar of stability, another ear to rant to, another person to hold, or another friend to laugh with. Even the little pranks he’d join in on, getting his commanding officers red with rage and breathless from laughing and leaving you to cover for them, your hands speaking the words you couldn’t mutter outside of simple sounds. He often ended up in the same predicament when he couldn’t stop himself, cheeks rosy and warm, heart beating fast, fingers fumbling with each other and words coming out in breathless puffs, he knew what he felt and he wasn’t so bothered by it.

Horangi wasn’t sure what to make of you, you weren’t quite human, nor were you a monster, you were a mix of both, a creation of human and monster grief and pain. Little was known about entities and Eldritch beings, and being a feline monster made him naturally curious, or slightly curious. He observed you, watching you from afar without actually interacting with you, slinking around you, golden eyes narrowing at you like a tiger in a hunt. He didn’t dare approach you until he got to know your small cues, the danger you could pose - if you could pose any from what he saw, too gentle for the creature you were - to him or the others. He only stepped forward to talk to you when König made him, feel skittish and slightly awkward for feeling like such a stranger towards someone who took multiple bullets for him when he was down. He held his head high and voice stable while he pushed through his awkwardness, listening to your soft hums and low grunts in reply to his words, he was surprised to see König so engaged in this conversation when he had an aversion towards new people. Honestly, he was just surprised that König talked so much about you. If there was anything good, he would be the first to hear about it from König. He came to know you through König and the time you spent together on missions, hostage rescue and noisy infiltrations. Your small ticks, your little quirks and your verbal handicap were all things he came to learn and like, nearly making it his duty to watch you from the side as you stumble through the halls with your back hunched over from the weight of your pyramid.

König didn’t try approaching you until he absolutely had to, or if he needed you. Be it to give you an order, to ask you something, or during Ops, it would only be a few words here and there, never something long-drawn as he had with the other men or Laswell. It was only after being sent on a quick and easy task that he let you in, letting you calm him down after his unpredictable shift and grounding him, taking back control of his erratic mind after a rough shift of mindset, from a primal and instinctual one to a rational and panicked one. Your rough calluses felt soft against his hard, scarred skin, the soothing circle of your thumb on his palm and the grip to keep him aware of his situation, to keep him grounded on his reality after the carnage he created. Despite not being able to talk, you spoke loudly through your verbal cues, your hand on your shoulder and another one in his hand, listening to him ramble away about his fears and anxieties. You would sit down with him and lend an ear to him when he came to you, even after his first interactions with you. He wondered if you had similar fears, those demoralising words that echoed in his mind on the worst days or the painful reminder of his mistakes. If you did, would you let him ease you down from your pain and care for you with his smaller hands?

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

I've found myself in a hole of sagau recently so here's my idea thrown into the mix.

An imposter au where the Reader is immediately able to fight back because they have their Honkai Impact 3rd characters, who could recognise them at first glance, with them.

Finding yourself trapped in the sagau imposter au would be a troubling situation for anyone. Well, anyone but you, that is.

See, the thing is, you were not only an avid player of Genshin Impact; but one of Honkai Impact 3rd too. In fact, you started playing Honkai way before Genshin came out. You were already at the max level for Honkai, unlike Genshin. What, with your captain level resting at level 88 as opposed to your adventure rank 57.

You spent more time on Honkai than you ever did on Genshin. Even your unbuilt Honkai characters could reach the damage levels your Xiao reached because of Honkai's insane damage scaling.

So even if in this world, your genshin characters forgot who you were, you knew for sure your girls had your back. They definitely remembered their captain that they would personally greet on the bridge every time you logged in.

So no, you weren't worried about the sagau imposter au.

In fact, to say you weren't worried would be a total understatement.

"Kanchō!" Kiana's, the Herrscher of Flamescion, determined hues landed on your form as she thrusted the arm of a familiar bard roughly in front of her. "Would you like us to eliminate them for daring to lay a hand on you?"

"Tut tut tut~." Elysia, the Herrscher of Human Ego, playfully smiled - although the dangerous glint in her eyes gave away her true feelings instantly. "How could they not recognise the cute, unforgettable face of our kanchō? Of course, not as cute as me~."

In her hands was the mighty geo archon himself, Zhongli.

Mei, the Herrscher of Thunder, threw her almost identical look-alike to the ground not long after. "This... 'archon' takes on my physical appearance but she is far weaker to me by comparison. Both in physical and mental fortitude."

As your Valkyries glared down at the inferior characters, said characters held their head down in shame. Not from the bitter taste of defeat, no, but rather from the feeling of disappointment in themselves for not recognising you as immediately as your other-world acolytes.

"We are deeply sorry, great creator." Zhongli's deep voice resonated through the area. "Had we known the other was a fake, we would have-."

"Ah ah ah~." Elysia raised her hand, wagging her index finger from side to side with each word she had said. "No excuses. If you can't recognise our kanchō, you aren't good enough to worship our kanchō; let alone speak to them."

Venti was trembling, his lips jutted out as tears pricked the corner of his eyes, his thoughts a complete mess.

All of your followers were horrified, disgusted in themselves for worshipping a fake this whole time, questioning their previous action and regretting ever setting out for your head.

"To have raised a sword against Kanchō," Kiana piped up once more. "It's unforgivable."

Ah yes, what happened mere moments before, when you had just arrived at the first bit of civilisation you had seen since being isekai'd. At the time, you were alone, no Valkyries keeping you company.

You had just stepped foot into Inazuma when a bright flash of lightning briefly crossed your eyes, a purple sword ready to slice you in half appearing not long after.

You didn't even have the time to register fear - luckily enough, you didn't need to. The sword was halted before it could reach you, the familiar long locks of a Valkyrie you frequently played as blocking your vision from your attacker.

"Mei?" At your call, she tossed her head back. "Wha-? What are you doing in the Genshin Impact world?"

"Keeping you safe, kanchō." She answered before swiftly returning her gaze to the front of her, heaving against the other character's sword with such strength, they were knocked back several feet, losing balance and falling over completely. "You dare make an attempt at my kanchō's life?!"

As she leapt away to go fight the Raiden Shogun, an arrow shot through the air, aiming straight at your head.

You would have been none the wiser to it had it not been for-.

"Kiana?" The white locks held up in a high ponytail belonging to the main character of Honkai Impact 3rd appeared before you. "You too?"

"Shōsa would get mad at me if I ever let anything happen to you." She gave you a gentle smile as she held the great sword her teacher once wielded with a tight grip. "I also wouldn't be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you."

With that, she was off.

Okay, so that was two attacks in a row by two archons. Surely, the third one doesn't want to-.

"Calm down, kanchō~." A familiar playful voice reached your ears. "It's just me, you're quite jumpy right now, hm~?"

"Anyone would be after being attacked twice in a row, Elysia."

Her pink, crystal eyes shone with mirth as she gave you a little giggle. "Don't worry, the most beautiful girl ever, Elysia, will make sure not a harm lays on your head."

Your own eyes crinkled with amusement at her words. "Glad to hear that, oh-so-beautiful Elysia."

She looked ready to respond when, suddenly, her expression shifted and her eyes narrowed. She quickly tugged at your wrist, pulling you behind her before she took out her bow and shot it at an angle ahead of you.

"Sorry to cut this short, kanchō. Someone seems to want to be greedy and take my attention away from you! I'll be right back~!"

You pursed your lips as she, much like all your other Valkyries, left you in pursuit of your hitman.

Just what was going on here?

"The Bronya will get to the bottom of it." You jumped upon hearing the voice with a hint of a Russian accent to it.

"Ooh! Ooh! Me too! Me too!" Another, more childish, voice spoke up.

Two more of your Herrschers seemed to have joined you.

And that all led to this moment.

"Kanchō." The deadpan voice of Bronya, the Herrscher of Reason, drew all of your attentions to her. "We have located the imposter. The Bronya wants to ask kanchō about what would be a sufficient punishment for them."

After her statement, the Herrscher of Sentience came in, very roughly throwing what looked to be like a clone of you, at your feet. "Yatta! That was so easy!"

The imposter shook with fear, their eyes trailing up slowly to meet with your cold gaze.

"So you're the one parading around as me, huh? Hmm, let's see, what would be a sufficient punishment for you?"

Kanchō is the Japanese word used to refer to the captain of a warship.

Shōsa is like lieutenant commander or major in Japanese. Kiana is talking about Himeko when she says shōsa.

I made this cuz when Genshin turns against you, at least Honkai will have your back 😌

Dead By Daylight request! Survivors or Slashers reacting to a female!newbie/survivor having a way with animals. Some suggestions: Trapper, Myers, Oni, Ash, Bill, + whoever else you'd like. I hope this isn't too much!

Slashers & Survivors Reacting To An Animal Whisperer Reader.

Content Tag(s): Fluff

Paring(s): The Trapper/Evan MacMillan || The Shape/Michael Myers || The Oni/Kazan Yamaoka || Ash(ley) J. Williams || William “Bill” Overbeck || + Jake Park (x GN!Reader, Separately)

A/N: Not a big fan of this piece but it's all :,) ignore my spelling errors. 

SLASHERS

The Trapper | Evan MacMillan 

Evan has a cute connection with nature already. He knew a couple of the survivors could find a way around it too, but he never had one like you.

You were the new survivor that Frank had mentioned during a recent trial. He didn't think much of it, as he thought he’d only see you through a trial.

Well he was wrong.

He actually found you setting off all his traps in his realm. When you two stood, staring at each other for a couple of minutes. He noted the small little animals on your head and shoulders. The birds looking as if they were making a nest in your hair.

When you tried to make a run for it, he snatched you by the back of your shirt. Causing the animals to scatter as you tried your best to slip away. Evan wasn’t gonna allow you though. You messed with his traps, in his realm… and you were dirty.

…He forced you to bathe when he brought you to his home. Gave you some clothes he found and that was it. Did tell you not to mess with his stuff and— simple…

He may or may not have made a little hangout area for you and your animal friends beside his home though…Totally didn’t make little door entrances either for any wolves or Cubs.

He totally did.

As the animals seek for him and cuddle when your out on trial. A heap of warm fur always welcoming him.

You as well when you return.

He actually had grown a big crush on you after a week or so. So he gets flustered whenever you join the cuddle pile but doesn’t dare move… if the entity takes him out of a trial during a session he’ll definitely make it quick and show no mercy to return as quickly as possible.

The Shape/Michael Myers

Honestly? He's never been so confused in his life. He doesn't- have any specific relationship with animals of any type. He prefers to stay away from them half of the time. Even the crows get on his nerves.

So imagine him when he heard a unfamiliar voice. Going to check it out because he can. Then the pure- just- confusion his body held when he saw you. A new survivor just cuddled up with a wolf.

He didn't even know they were around these areas.

Why the hell was that thing even letting you near it? Regardless use it as a bed?!

Myers could only watch from behind a tree. He knew that thing wouldn't let him nearer so he kept his distance... He was growing curious though. The way you- sunk into the fur. Was it really that comfortable?

As time passed he eventually figured out you had some sort of ability with animals. It didn't seem like you could command them to attack (they do it themselves) but just had a companionship with them.

When he was finally caught by you. He was ready to walk away as he physically cannot do anything to you without severe consequences. (He wanted to kill you because he didn't like you catching him actually being curious btw)

He didn't expect you to call out to him. He thought you were dumb too for even approaching him with a little squirrel on the top of your head.

Over time he- didn't care(?). He finds it annoying that the crows go quiet during trials with you though. Even when it's other survivors if you're in the trial they don't dare to move unless he's on his way. That being said he’ll highly tunnel you and get you sacrificed as quickly as possible. (Both because he's grown to have a soft spot for you and doesn't want to be inconvenienced. Especially in specific trials when the survivors decide to go play with the crows more than survive.)

Makes it up with a hug you ask nicely.

The Oni/Kazan Yamaoka

So envious of you.

He's a calm spirit at times (odd to say with his special abilities but trust me.)

So when he encounters you in his realm for the first time. He was ready to escort you out. Until he noticed you were meditating. A variant of these magnificent birds relaxing on your limbs and perched on stacked pebbles. One's which he could safely believe you managed to tower.

It was a nice to see.

Kazan wouldn't dare disturb you either, going off to do his daily duties as normal. He would try to sneak up a bit sometimes though, (will crawl if he really needed to) just to study you. The birds did get off his location after he staggered a bit too close; causing them to scream at him and for him to collapse face first. His heavy armor clattering with the fall.

The two of you stayed still for a couple of minutes before you carefully approached him. He is much larger than you so even your lending hand wouldn't help. But he accepted the act without much hesitation or rudeness.

From there, he got to ask you questions. There was a language barrier between the two of you at first. So he wrote his questions down instead where you would get help from the other survivors to translate then answer.

Is honestly super excited when you cover him in critters. Gets all jittery and makes small noises. One's which you could only describe as a purr(?)

Will constantly try to catch small frogs or animals around his realm to ask you about them. Then shares the facts with Spirit.

SURVIVORS

Ash(ley) J. Williams

Confused and impressed.

Doesn't really know what to think about it other then, oh neat. That's really cool.

If your are able to show him a wolf or a bear up close then that's when he gets pretty enthusiastic. Will joke about wanting to wrestle the animals— but isn't actually joking because you catch him doing such things minutes later.

Man's isn't scared to be mauled.

That you respected a bit. But that was also just a death wish in your mind.

The animals seemed to enjoy it though, so you couldn't stop him half of the time and ruin all the fun.

Ash is the guy to force anyone into a literal dog pile if possible. So expect being crushed or at least thrown on top of one from time to time.

Bill 'William' Overbeck

He thought he managed to get a special cigarette when he saw a stranger rubbing the belly of a damn bear.

When he knew he wasn't high he just believed he finally turned crazy. As you, the newbie was just petting the belly of a grizzly and the cubs were just casually clinging to your limbs.

Bill wouldn't say anything for a good time.

It wasn't his business unless it became his business.

He is a dog type of man, so if you bring a bunch of little wolf cubs he’d probably melt. He wouldn't mind falling asleep against a tree with th cubs in arms either.

You can catch him baby talking the canines too.

Will help you and the parents raise them. Both of you generally becoming grandparents to the wolves.

Jake Park

Forest man is severely jealous.

He was known to be able to at least hold a calm exterior with the crows of the realm. Which he was enjoying having. As no one else was able to do it.

Until you came along and birds, foxes, and even bigger mammals started coming around to visit you at camp.

Everyone has their own opinions on your ability but are always in awe of it.

Whenever someone would compliment you, Jake would roll his eyes and scoff. Simply stomping away like a baby. You couldn't blame him though. He was here first- and had a way with the birds before you did.

After a couple of hard weeks, he noticed you stopped bringing the animals back to camp. Only going out to them instead... He was told by Kate that you felt bad for making him feel ‘normal.’

Which made him feel bad.

He did his best to show you he wasn't mad or frustrated with you. Simply just jealous he didn't have a spirit like your own.

...Would eventually ask you to teach him your ways or at least about your fuzzy friends.

Managed to befriend a squirrel with your help and name him Sasquatch.