𓄃 Soaring Veil.

Our requests...

Where is it...

"just wait—"

But I hate waiting! It's beneath me! 😡

✘ Inconvenient Solutions.

Krux had left you both to do the dishes, turning into a pointless debate about who should do it. Guess who gave up?

#TAGS: Pure fluff, No trigger warnings, Your pronounce isn't specified as a 'she' so it can be kept as gender neutral, Potentially OOC, Romantic or Platonic you decide.

A/N: DAMN I DIDN'T REALIZED THAT I DISSAPEARED FOR LIKE A MONTH?? I really need to get my mental health checked out. 🥶

⪼ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 ࿐ཽ༵☆

ᨏᨐ———【𖥸】———ᨐᨏ

Krux had barely left the room when the responsibility fell squarely on you and Acronix. The sink was full of dirty dishes, remnants of meals and snacks that had been happily consumed without a second thought about the aftermath. With Krux off attending to some whatever task he has, he’d passed the burden onto the two of you—a decision he would undoubtedly regret if he returned to find the task still unresolved.

“Alright,” Acronix began, rolling up his sleeves and leaning casually against the counter. “You heard the old man. Let’s get these dishes done.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “We? You mean you get the dishes done. I’m not touching those.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed, smirking. “You’re just as responsible for this mess as I am. Why don’t you start?”

And thus, the great debate began.

For what felt like hours, the two of you went back and forth, each refusing to budge. Every argument was countered with a sharper one, every excuse met with an equal bet.

“I cooked dinner yesterday!” you argued, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“Yeah? Well, I cleaned the table afterward!” he shot back, crossing his arms.

“That doesn’t count! You just wiped it down with one of those lazy hand wipes and called it a day!”

“Details, details,” he said, waving you off. “Look, the point is, I’ve done my part. It’s your turn.”

At some point, the verbal sparring wasn’t enough, so the two of you resorted to a tried-and-true method of conflict of: rock-paper-scissors.

“Ready?” you said, holding out your fist.

“Always,” Acronix replied, smirking with confidence.

“Rock… paper… scissors… SHOOT!”

You both threw scissors.

“Again,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes.

“Rock… paper… scissors… SHOOT!”

Scissors. Again.

This went on for an absurd number of rounds, each one ending in a tie. It wasn’t just frustrating—it was eerie how perfectly in sync the two of you were, neither willing to back down either.

“This is ridiculous!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “We’ll be here all night at this rate!”

“Hey, don’t blame me for your lack of originality,” Acronix quipped, clearly enjoying the standoff.

You glared at him, but eventually, exhaustion got the better of you. With a dramatic sigh, you threw in the towel. “Fine. I’ll do the stupid dishes. I guess I’m just born to be a housewife or something.”

You didn’t think much of the comment as you turned toward the sink, but Acronix froze. “Housewife?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, confused. “What? Yeah, housewife. You know, someone who gets stuck doing all the chores while everyone else gets to slack off. Sound familiar? ”

But Acronix wasn’t listening anymore. His expression had shifted into one of pure disbelief, striked with something you couldn’t quite place. “Housewife?” he muttered again, almost to himself. “No. No way. I’m not having you call yourself that.”

Before you could process what was happening, he marched over to the sink, elbowing you gently out of the way. “Step aside,” he said firmly.

“Wait, what??” you asked, baffled.

“I’m doing the dishes,” he declared, grabbing the sponge and turning on the water. “If anyone’s going to be stuck with house chores, it’s me. I’ll show you what a real husband does. You’re not taking on that role, not on my watch.”

You blinked, stunned into silence as Acronix dove into the task with an intensity you’d never seen before. He scrubbed, rinsed, and stacked dishes like a man on a mission, muttering something about “fairness” and “proper roles” under his breath.

“Uh… Acronix?” you finally managed to say.

“What?” he snapped, though not unkindly.

“You do realize this whole argument was about both of us being too lazy to do the dishes, right? Now you’re acting like you’re competing for ‘Husband of the Year’ or something.”

“Exactly,” he said, not missing a beat. “If you think for one second I’m going to let you call yourself a housewife, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m perfectly capable of handling this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a mix of amusement and disbelief bubbling up inside you. “Okay, Mr. Perfect Husband. Let’s see if you can keep this up when Krux asks who cleaned the dishes.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” he said, flashing you a grin over his shoulder. “By the time I’m done, these dishes will be so spotless even Krux will be impressed. And you? You can relax. You’ve earned it.”

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you leaned back against the counter, watching as Acronix continued his self-imposed mission. It was ridiculous, and entirely unnecessary—but also strangely....endearing?

“Fine,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But don’t expect me to call you my hero or anything.”

“Too late,” he teased, winking at you. “I already know I am.”

©leftalpacavoid 2024

what are these people yapping about. Im Obsessed with your writing so uhm keep doing your stuff ig

I actually love or writing tho the yappers can go yap somewhere else

Thank you for providing us with the twins we have been deprived of.

One of the most genuine words I first time heard in a long time, even if I'm not the best at it I still provide just for you guys, I really appreciated it and words like these keeps me going to push my best no matter what and I was really touched because you all acknowledge it too.

Me to this anon:

Thank you darling <3

❀ The Lawn Is Dead.

— He couldn't protect you, Now all he had was the record of your voice.

#TAGS: Angst, Acronix is potentially OOC, What happened to us? We die like men 🗣️, No comfort for him this time, (4.5k words I think)

A/N: I don't know if there is something is wrong with me 😔

⪼ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 ࿐ཽ༵☆

They say grief is part of the human nature, That's why, We should always cherish our love ones before they go.

Acronix sat on the edge of the bed, gripping a small doll version of you in his hand. The doll was soft, stitched together with care, and it eerily resembled you—down to the details you’d once laughed about when you first saw it. But now, the doll was all he had left. His fingers trembled as he brushed them over its fabric, the weight of the loss settling heavily in his chest.

His thumb hovered over the little button embedded in the doll’s chest. He knew what would happen when he pressed it, yet he couldn’t help himself. With a sharp intake of breath, he pressed down, and your voice echoed softly through the tiny speaker, “I love you.”

The sound of your voice hit him like hard, sending a rush of emotion through him. He closed his eyes, as if hearing you again could bring you back, as if those three simple words could fill the void you had left. The moment felt too short, too fleeting. His chest tightened, and before he could stop himself, he pressed the button again.

“I love you,” your voice repeated, gentle and sweet, like you were right there beside him.

Acronix’s hand shook as he pressed the button again, and again, and again.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

It's not enough. Each time, the same words, the same tone, the same warmth. But it wasn’t enough. No matter how many times he heard it, it couldn’t bring you back. The doll couldn’t laugh with him, couldn’t tease him, couldn’t look at him with those eyes that used to make everything feel right in the world. It was just a recording, just a memory that he could never touch again.

His breathing grew shallow as he pressed the button harder, faster, desperate to hear your voice one more time, over and over. “I love you.” The words, which once brought him joy, now tore him apart, reminding him of the reality he couldn’t escape. You were gone. No matter how many times he pressed that button, no matter how many times he heard those words, you weren’t coming back.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you-”

The doll’s soft fabric began to crumple under the force of his grip, but he didn’t care. He was lost in it now, lost in the sound of your voice, trying to hold onto something that was already slipping away. His mind raced, memories of you flashing before his eyes—your smile, your laughter, the way you’d look at him with that knowing gaze. Every memory felt like it was slipping through his fingers, just like you had.

His breath hitched, and he pressed the button again, his thumb almost numb from the pressure. “I love you." He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the flood of emotion that was building inside him, but it was no use. The dam broke. His face contorted, his chest heaving with sobs he had been holding back for too long. The weight of it all, the loneliness, the regret, the pain of your absence—it all came crashing down on him at once.

The doll slipped from his hands as he collapsed to the floor, his shoulders shaking violently. His sobs filled the room, raw and broken, a sound that hadn’t escaped him in years. He had lost battles, lost wars, but nothing had ever felt like this. Nothing had ever hurt this deeply, He lost you. He curled into himself, burying his face in his arms, his body trembling with each breath.

You were gone. He couldn’t protect you, couldn’t save you. And now, all he had was this haunting reminder of what he’d lost. His hands clenched into fists, pounding against the floor as if that could somehow change things, as if his pain could bring you back. But nothing would.

The doll lay next to him, its small, empty eyes staring up at him as if mocking his grief. His hand reached out to it again, almost instinctively, but he hesitated. He couldn’t press that button again. He couldn’t hear those words anymore. Not when you weren’t there to say them for real.

I'm sorry.

His chest ached as he stared at the doll, his vision blurred by tears. The reality of it all settled over him like a crushing weight. You were gone. And all he had left was this sound of your voice, a painful memory that would never be enough.

And in that moment, Acronix broke. He clutched the doll to his chest, his sobs muffled as he whispered your name, over and over, like a prayer. But no one was listening. No one would ever answer.

"𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

©leftalpacavoid 2024

Time twin angst writers, Dis ur prop?? 😋

ɴɪɴᴊᴀɢᴏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴡɪɴs ᴍᴇᴍᴇ ᴘᴛ. 3

🎭 His Dear Witch ~ 🎭

It's unknown why do you even exist. The SCP Foundation doesn't know what to do with you. You're a confusing paradox that they do not understand and most frustratingly—uncontainable in a conventional sense.

#TAGS: Nothing Time Twins related, SCP Fandom is slowly drawing me back, It includes SCP! Reader, The Herta! Reader, Honkai Star Rail x SCP Crossover, Potentially OOC, Reader x Canon, Witch Reader, Short Writing, The Herta! Reader x SCP Character, More stuff like this would be included if interested, SCP FANS ARISE. 🔥🔥🔥

— TW?: Possesive Themes, Be Warned, 035 Being 035 As Usual, Potential Yandere Themes, He Calls You His 'Wife'.

A/N: After hitting maxed pity on Herta's banner along with her LC, I decided to make an interesting crossover because I thought it would be interesting to see how this goes for The Herta! Reader Insert. (Huge bonus that I'm blessed with good stats while I'm building her. 🙏)

You’re the definition of an enigma. A literal spacefaring, unknown anomaly wrapped up in an elegantly appearance, self-aware, and untouchable persona. The Foundation doesn’t know what to do with you, and SCP-035? He’s utterly entranced.

And Who Exactly Are You in the SCP Foundation?

You are Anomaly [REDACTED], a Level 6: CTS entity classified under Euclid. They don’t fully understand what you are—just that you exist, that you have an unsettling level of influence, and that you are playing the longest of long games.

You don’t act out. You don’t cause destruction. You don’t try to escape. Instead, you watch. You let them wonder why you haven’t done anything drastic, knowing full well that the moment you choose to tip the scales, everything changes.

They don’t imprison you because they can’t. They simply keep you in containment because you allow them to.

And then there’s SCP-035.

SCP-035 has never met someone like you before.

He’s charming, cunning, and manipulative—but none of it works on you. Not because you’re immune to him, but because you let him think he’s in control before flipping the script entirely.

You’re his perfect counterpart. The ultimate tease, the unattainable yet tangible anomaly that keeps him guessing.

At first, he tries to toy with you, flirt with you, unnerve you. And then, he realizes.

Oh.

You’re not like the others.

You understand him. You see through every little act, every trick, every calculated play. But instead of rejecting him or trying to outmaneuver him, you do something infinitely worse.

You indulge him.

You let him speak his flowery words, you humor his charm—but it’s clear who the real player is in this game. He’s used to being in control, but you? You make it so easy for him to fall under your spell instead.

And it drives him insane.

The Foundation is uneasy. Not because you’re violent, but because they cannot predict what you’re doing.

Why do you allow SCP-035 to get so close?

Why does SCP-035, a master manipulator, seem to worship you?

What is your endgame?

They want to separate you two, but the problem? 035 actually behaves when you’re around.

If anything, he’s less volatile, less inclined to escape, more… cooperative. But only because he knows that if he behaves, he gets you.

035: (mocking, but with an underlying threat) “Oh? You want to take my darling away? My wife?” (chuckles darkly) “Now, now, let’s not be hasty. You wouldn’t want to see me upset, would you?”

The researchers watching? Having war flashbacks.

The Real Question is...Why You Haven’t Given Him a Permanent Host (Yet)?

Because you’re playing the long game.

You could give him a permanent body. A perfect, indestructible vessel crafted specifically for him. A host that would never rot, never decay, never fail him.

And he knows you can.

That’s why he adores you. That’s why he’s obsessed.

But you? You wait.

You let him yearn. Let him crave it. Let him wonder if today is the day you’ll finally grant him that final gift.

035: (grinning, tilting his host’s head at you) “Tell me, dearest… when will you finally stop teasing me?”

You: (smirking, brushing a hand over his mask, whispering) “Would you love me the same if I gave you everything at once?”

035: … (soft chuckle) “Ah. I see. You do know me too well, don’t you?”

And the Foundation? Losing their minds. Because whatever the hell this is? It’s not normal.

They don’t know if it’s love, obsession, or something far worse.

But they do know one thing:

SCP-035 is yours.

I hate you.

I love you too 😘ノ♡

I should do some...Serpentine reader with Acronix 😉

[We all know where is this going.]

How is it like breaking up with Acronix in a nutshell but you guys are texting.

You: We are breaking up.

Acronix: ts pmo sm n sb rn ngl, r u srsly srs n fr rn vro? lol atp js go 💔... b fr vro, idek nm, brb gng gtg atm lmao, bt ts pyo 2 js lmk lol onb fr. N ts pmo sm n sb rn ngl, r u srsly srs n fr rn vro?

You:....Nevermind, I'll stay.

Acronix: YIPPEE!!