#I might be stupid; but the way they talk also sounds eerily similar... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years ago

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What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition.

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #tom riddle #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #meta #headcanon #opinion

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cuddlesslut · 4 years ago

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Silence

Part Two to Home

Atsumu x Fem Redaer

Summary: Atsumu deals with the aftermath

Warnings: Angst, NSFW, Slight smut, Atsumu is an Ass

AN/ UNEDITED. this is just a portrayal of Atsumu for this work not how I actually perceive him

The will be a Part Three.

Part One: Home

Part Three: Memories

Atsumu cursed himself as you ran out the restaurant. He knew he was getting to cocky. Frustration was taking over his body as he sat back down at the table. He ran his hand over his face as let out a heavy sigh before looking up at her. Yuki ,his most recent girlfriend, sat there loss for words. He could see the tears building in her eyes. Obviously she was confused it’s not like she knew anything about you he had courted her like all the others under the disguise of being single. He racked his brain he knew he had been careless lately. Normally you’d never notice his infidelity he’d been doing it for quite sometime now and for so long you were none the wiser. He’d find some chick take her either back to her place or a hotel have his fun and be gone only repeating the same girl maybe twice at most three times if she was a really good lay. He’d make sure no marks were left and he was clean up before heading home to you his unsuspecting fiancé. Yuki was different though she was the first woman to actually catch his attention in more than just a sexual capacity. Don’t get him wrong the sex with her was amazing but he also found himself enjoying her company wanting to spend more and more time with her. He curses maybe if he hadn’t been so stupid and forgot your birthday everything would be fine. Being so pissed at the situation he failed to worry about Yuki’s feelings as she finally broke the silence.

“Tsmu I don’t get it, we’ve been together for eight months how could you cheat on me,” she sniffled tears starting to stream down her face as her usually charming boyfriend sat across from her looking at her with annoyance.

He scoffed looking at her pitiful state. If he wasn’t already so fed up with the situation he was sure he could use his silver tongue to get out of this situation and have her back at his side momentarily, but no he needed to save all his effort and false reassurances for you.

“Oh sweetheart I didn’t cheat on you,” he gave a little chuckle, “That’s was my fiancé , I’ve been with her for six years what makes you think eight months means anything, you were the side piece darling.” He saw the hurt on her face and knew he had just been a complete ass but he couldn’t find it in him to care right now although he was sure he would later. That hurt turned to anger as she stood and threw her drink in his face.

“You are an ASSHOLE Atsumu!” She yelled finally losing what composer she was keeping before storming away out the same door you had just previously exited.

Yeah I guess I am he thought as wiped his face the rag before signaling for the check. Looking at the glass that contained your ring he thought of all the Pinterest boards you had saved of rings and dresses and different color schemes. He thought of the excitement and love in your eyes when he finally proposed. He plucked the ring out of the drink before pocketing it and heading home.

As he entered your shared home he realized he had guessed right you weren’t there. He pulled out his phone, pulling up your contact and hitting call. It wouldn’t connect. He let out the breath he was holding, so you had already blocked him he thought. He walked to their room wanting to change out of his wet dress shirt. He immediately noticed the most of your drawers were empty and your half The closet was looking sparse. He wondered if you were coming back for the rest. Part of him was sure you would, you would come back where else could you go. Yet somewhere deep in his mind part of him was screaming at the idea of you being gone. But he wouldn’t let that part surface. He walked out to the kitchen noticing the box of onigiri left out along with his brother’s birthday note to you. He rolled his eyes of course Osamu remembered. That’s probably where you are ,now that he thinks about it, that or your heading to Suna that’s who you always ran to he grimaced.

Thinking back to high school when the two of you had first gotten together he had introduced you to the team. You and Suna just clicked it was like you had been friends all of your lives the way you easily laughed and joked together. He had never seen anyone pull Suna from his shell the way you had and he still hadn’t. Not a single one of the middle blockers previous significant others had ever pulled the same reaction from the stoic man as you had. It didn’t take Tsumu long to realize the fool was head over heels for you. But it’s didn’t matter to him you were completely oblivious to blockers affections, as well as the fact that you were dutifully loyal to the setter. He wasn’t worried because what was Suna compared to him.

While he figures he should call either of the two to make sure you are indeed safe, he doesn’t feel like getting a lecture right before bed. He grabs his glass of water before heading to bed. Noticing how cold the mattress is without you. It’s fine he thinks he doesn’t need you. He knew that fact from the countless woman he’d beded in the last few years. Plus he’s sure you’ll come back. He’s the only man you’ve ever loved.

———

Atsumu wakes the next morning to find the house eerily quiet. He pays little mind to it before heading off to the gym he has a game today he can’t allow himself to be distracted. The setters normal routine isn’t disrupted for the most part. Finding his team doing his warm ups. He does however run into Osamu at the gym he’s setting up his vendors stand for Onigiri Miya. His brother says nothing of you to Atsumu minus some well wishes. So you must have ran to Suna he muses. His game goes off with out a hitch securing the victory for MSBY.

He finds the house just as he left it no trace of you having step foot back into your home. He checks his phone looking for a sign that you want to talk. No messages or calls. He decides to try and check you location but it seems that your number is no longer connected to his plan. He furrows his brow it seemed like a big step but he brushes it off his mind. He had just won a big game he wanted to celebrate. Usually he’d have dinner with you either going out or indulging in your delicious home cooking, you both share smiles about the game either her gushing about her favorite moments had she attended the game which normally she’d try to make a priority, although there were times you’d have class or work and you have to miss in which you’d sit and listen to him starry eyed as he retold the highlights of the game. You look at him like he was a star shooting across the sky. But right now the kitchen was empty and the house was silent missing the awes of your praise. It was to much at the moment. The setter changes into something dashing before heading out he’ll grab something to eat and then maybe get a celebratory drink.

That’s how Atsumu found himself here at some sleek bar with a glass of scotch in his hand. He surveyed the bar watching the people around dance and talk and go about their night. He try’s not to think about the silence waiting for him at home .That’s until he spots a girl. She look kind of like you similar build although her hair is longer and a slightly different hue. He knows it’s not you but still that hasn’t stopped him before so he slides his way over to her.

“Hi there,” he smiles a charming smile. She looks up at him giving a sly smile. From here he can see her eyes they’re nothing like yours, he shakes the thought from his head. “You know your boyfriend really shouldn’t leave you all alone like this you are much to beautiful,” if he a a nickel for every time he used that line he could probably retire early. He could see a slight blush appear on her cheeks.

“I would tell him but I don’t have one Mr. — ,” she trailed off leaving an opening for his name.

“Miya,” he smiles a bright fake smile. “And you are?” He questions.

“Chiyo,” she smile subtly biting her lip as her eyes raked down his figure. It’s almost too easy he thinks to himself.

“Well Chiyo-San may I buy you a drink?” He not so subtly eyes her as well.

And that how he got here for the first time ever he brought a woman home to your bed. Their body’s mashed together. Their clothes strewn around the house leading a trail to the bedroom. The recently quiet house filled with grunts and moans. “Miya-San,”she cry’s out and he has to try not to roll his eyes. She might look like you but she sounds nothing like you. You always makes the prettiest gasps and mewls as he worked your body over. She doesn’t feel like you, he can’t remember the last time you were together like this breathless underneath him. He shakes his head trying to rid himself of the thoughts. He’s confused he never compared you before with is flings you were always separate from his mind when the slept with other women. Frustrated with his thoughts he pulls out flipping the chick ,what was her name Chizu? , over on her knees before pounding into her relentlessly pushing her face in to the mattress as he took frustrations out. Her moans get louder as his face scrunches up in annoyance. It’s not long before he’s finished them both off and she laying there breathless as he throws away the condom. He see her make herself a little more comfortable on his bed he shared with you. He cringes.

“Hey Chizu, uh it’s probably best if you get going,” he states pulling a pair of sweatpants on.

He can see the disgust on her face. “My name is Chiyo asshole!” She says grabbing her clothes on as she start out the door.

Normally he’d care that he’d at least said the wrong name. But right now he just laid on the bed staring at the ceiling. The silence was back.

———

It has been two weeks since you left. He hadn’t heard from you, you never came back for your stuff. He hasn’t heard from Suna yet either although he figures the ass is to busy trying win and mend your broken heart. It’s only been two weeks but those two weeks without you were torture. He realized very quickly how much comfort you brought to him. How much he relied on you. All the mornings you’d spend cuddled together drinking your morning coffee. Although that had been less recent while he busying himself with Yuki. He missed the delicious meals you’d cook. Or the way you’d take care of him if he’d train to hard. He misses seeing you at the desk studying away your tongue poking out ever so slightly as you concentrated. He misses your laugh that would fill the house as you watched whatever anime you were currently bingeing always asking him to join you. You were always the one looking out for him making sure that he ate and rested. Always handling the groceries and the house work. The place was a mess without you he was a mess with out you. He misses the life you brought to the his home. He’s drawn from with wallowing when he hears knocks at the door.

He’s surprised to see his brother and Suna standing on the other side.

“Hey I’ve been trying to get in touch with YN but she’s hasn’t been answering is she here?” Suna asks stepping to his house his brother following behind. Suna stops his face scrunching up at the state of the place. Osamu also notices.

“Damn Tsumu its a mess in here YN let y’all live like this?” His twin asks taking a good look at his disheveled twin. “What happened,” concern crossing his similar features.

Atsumus mind starts to reel a bit. You werent with Suna?

“YN hasn’t been with you?” He looks at the middle blocker he was hoping he knew how you were.

“No,” he states starting to get really worried. “What happened,” there was an edge to his voice.

Atsumu stayed quiet. His brother nudges him but he still looks down. It isn’t until Suna grabs him by his collar that he looks up.

“She left me.”He states.

“That makes no sense YN loves you with everything she has she wouldn’t just leave you, what happened,” Osamu questions again.

“I cheated on her and she found out,” he says. He doesn’t look up but he can feel the rage coming off of Suna and the disappointment from his twin.

“What the fuck do you mean you cheated on her!” he yelled shaking him “for how long!”

The was no use lying and trying to hide it you weren’t coming back he can tell. And even if you would he knew he didn’t deserve you.

“The past 2 years,” he chokes out. Suna let’s go of his collar in disbelief.He breaths getting ready to explain everything but he wasn’t ready when he felt a fist connect with his cheek. He was on the ground rubbing his jaw. He looked up and Suna was seething in anger. His brother looked disgusted with him.

“Where is she,” Suna demanded.

��I don’t know she left two weeks ago I figured she was with you,”

“So lets get this straight you broke her heart and she left you and you didn’t even check to make sure she was safe! Did you ever even love her,” the dark haired middle blocker screamed at his former teammate.Of course he did but he cant say that not after he never showed it. He look down he couldn’t meet his friends eyes he felt so ashamed. He heard a scoff and then the front door slam. Suna was gone. He looked up and saw his brother staring down at him.

“You’re a real piece of shit you know that,” Samu says before he follows out the door.

Sobs tear through Tsumu as he realizes he ruined everything.

He sat there on the floor left in silence.

Home Masterlist

Taglist: @momoinot @multi-fandom-fanfic

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq #haikyuu angst #atsumu angst #atsumu miya #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu x y/n #astumu x reader #atsumu is an ass #haikyuu smut #atsumu smut #suna x reader

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

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Pranksters of the Bunch (Harry Potter AU)

Y/n is just starting to get comfortable with her new friends, when she learns about their more... playful side. We learn about more relationships and see hints of our endgame. We also get a glimpse of some other players that make up the rest of our version of Hogwarts. @literaryhedgehog

Pt. 1

“For next class, homework is to practice your transfiguration. Anyone who can get their matchstick into a needle is exempt from writing their essay. You are dismissed,” Professor McGonagall said, tapping her wand on the blackboard so the notes from the day’s lesson disappeared. As the other students began filing out of the room you picked up your bag and dropped your notes into it, careful to set your “quill” gently so the bic ballpoint pen you taped to it wouldn’t fall off.

“If you epoximose it, you won’t have to worry about it falling off” Lindsey said with an eye roll, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Some of your habits were a bit… odd. Like your preference for a pen that you didn’t have to dip in ink.

“I’m sorry, if I what?” you asked. “That sounds like a sneeze.”

“It’s a spell that’ll glue it so you don’t need to use spell-o-tape,” Kelley said, appearing on your other side as Professor McGonagall left the room.

“I can teach you, if you like. It’s super simple, even a first year could do it,” Emily offered, ignoring Lindsey’s sideways glare.

“Then why don’t they teach it to us as first years?” You said, slamming your chair under the desk. Not that you disliked any of your classes, but the curriculum seemed to leave out a lot of useful information.

“Because they’re afraid that it’ll just help students do better pranks,” Lindsey huffed, crossing her arms. If anyone was going to teach you things, it should be her.

“No they’re not,” Ashlyn said, rolling her eyes. “They teach tricky techniques that are applicable to multiple spells. It’s like quidditch drills.”

“Cause it’s so much less challenging than fighting a boggart, or accioing anything. If you mess it up, then you could glue your fingers together,” Emily snorted, shaking her head. She was just lucky that Madam Pomfrey liked her enough to not rat her out to Professor Slughorn (not that he’d actually do anything) or Professor Longbottom.

“Or accidentally drop a banner on the Huffelpuffs?” Ashlyn said with a raised eyebrow. Emily and Kelley seemed to shrink just a bit under her gaze.

“That was you?” You asked, eyes wide. That banner had almost knocked Cheney off her broom and Amy was pissed. Rumor had it that the Slytherin captain had taken care of the incident because it was someone in her house that did it, but no one knew for sure (at least you thought no one knew).

“You can’t prove anything,” Emily grumbled.

“It was them,” Lindsey nodded, smirking at you. “and Arod made sure they not only apologized, but that they actually meant it. Kelley only got away unscathed because she hid in Gryffindor tower,”

Those two always got themselves in over their heads and something always went wrong. You could only wonder what the Slytherin chaser did to them. Amy was terrifying when she wanted to be especially when you messed with her girlfriend.

“Of course I meant it, the banner wasn’t supposed to fall,” Emily grumbled. “The charm was supposed to last the whole game. Anyway, she made me practice the sticking charm and its reverse a hundred times so it wouldn’t happen again. Not that it matters next year when I’m actually on the team. It’s stupid that they still don’t want second years to play beater.”

“At least this time there won’t be any accidents,” Ashlyn said, smirking as she settled into a chair previously vacated by some of your second year peers. Which was when you realized it was kind of odd that she was here. Wasn’t she a third year student?

“What do you mean?” You asked, your head tilting to the side like a puppy.

“Wait THIS time?” Lindsey, asked, looking between the three girls settling down at the desks like it wasn’t the end of the day’s classes. “Don’t tell me you’re planning another prank right now?”

“Of course not!” Kelley said, looking aghast.

“You haven’t left the room yet,” Emily said, adopting a similarly innocent, wide eyed expression.

“They’re going to be dumbasses and probably get detention for a month aren’t they?” You asked, looking at Lindsey for help. Though you had know been hanging out with them for the past few weeks, they were still her friends after all.

“Oh. I don’t want detention though,” Ashlyn said flipping through a spellbook absentmindedly. “And it will be rather hard to prove we have anything to do with an event which might or might not happen in the next few days.”

“Just a word of advice, though. If you’re going to take a shower today, do it in the next two hours and don’t take one tomorrow morning,” Emily said finally, eyes softening just a little at your too nervous expression.

“You don’t think they’re going to test your wands to see if it was you?” Lindsey asked skeptically.

“Priori incantatem only goes so far, especially if I tutor Y/n on how to glue her pens together,” Emily rolled her eyes, and shrugged. She would argue she was just being a good friend after all.

“With the kind of prep work we’ve done, they’d have to go back, oh, at least three days before they saw any hint that we’ve done a spell related to the event, which again, might or might not start in,” Kelley checked her watch, the face of which glowed a soft yellow, “two hours and five minutes, give or take 20 seconds.”

You wondered if she came from a muggle family too, but you had been too afraid to ask. You had never met a wizard or witch that preferred wristwatches to pocket watches before.

“In that case, we’ll head back to the Gryffindor dorms,” Lindsey said, hastily sweeping her transfiguration notes into the mouth of her bag. “See you at dinner Kelley, Ashlyn.”

“Want to meet in the library to learn the sticking charm Y/n?” Emily asked. Lindsey stopped in the doorway, waiting for you. “Like I said, I practiced the charm literally a hundred times, so I’m really good at it now!”

“Um, I think I’m just going to focus on turning my matchstick into a needle tonight, but maybe some other time?” You mumbled, glancing up at Lindsey. (Were you imagining the slight uptick of her lips?)

“Okay, See you then!” And with that Emily turned back to her compatriots, who all put their heads together and started talking in hushed voices, over a sheet of paper which looked eerily similar to a playbook.

“What do you think they’re planning?” you whispered to Lindsey as the two of you raced towards the stone staircases up to the Gryffindor tower. There was this one staircase that was the fastest way up when it was connected to the right floor, but it only stayed there for a few minutes every half hour. If you missed the window to catch it there would be two extra flights to climb.

“You really don’t want to know. Something always goes wrong when they make plans anyway. It’s why they always get caught,” Lindsey said back equally as quiet, shaking her head. She would skin them alive if you got caught in the crossfire. You were on her off limits list (you always had been) and they had always promised to respect that.

*****

The two of you just made it to the beginning of dinner, after taking turns in the dorm’s bathroom to shower and dry your hair (at least until it wasn’t noticeably dripping). You didn’t know when your next opportunity to take a shower unscathed would be, and you were happy you had made it within Kelley’s two hour window.

However, despite your expectations of screams, or the sound of frogs appearing from the drains, it was a quiet night. As was the morning afterwards. It wasn’t until lunch the next day, that you learned what the prank had been. Exactly as the clock struck noon, all around the great hall people started laughing as the hair of ¾ the school population turned bright colors.

Professor McGonagall frowned at her bright purple hair in the reflection of her teapot. Alex threw a roll at Kelley (with neon yellow hair) who was pointing and laughing at her forest green hair. Tobin and Lauren had fallen off the bench laughing over at the hufflepuff table, pointing towards their respective girlfriends matching pink hair at the ravenclaw and Slytherin tables (Tobin’s hair didn’t seem to have changed color, though Lauren’s was a pale aquamarine sort of blue).

At the Slytherin table Michelle was admiring her jet black hair, though with a wave of her wand it seemed to be speckled with glimmering white and red stars, then she turned to resume her conversation with Joy and some of the other seventh years, who you noticed didn’t seem to have colorful hair.

Looking around the hall, you noticed that a lot of the older students seemed to be lacking the colorful hair sprouted by most of the student body. A few Ravenclaw sixth years had only looked up briefly from studying their notes to see what the commotion was about, before returning to “The Official N.E.W.T.S. Study Guide- test prep for the procrastinator”. Hope, Brandi, Mia, Briana, Christie, Tiffany, Lorrie, Carla. You looked at the sixth and seventh years you knew from watching quidditch games. Regardless of house, almost none of them appeared to be affected by the prank..

“You could have told me, you know?” Alex glared, throwing another roll at her cackling girlfriend.

“But what fun would that be?” Kelley snorted, dodging the roll and quickly snatching up the basket to remove any further ammunition out of Alex’s reach.

“Ashlyn told Ali and Emily told Kristie!” Alex whined, her nose scrunching up just the way Kelley always loved. Alex’s angry face was too cute for her to be like or off limits.

“I value my life too much to mess with her hair care routine,” Ashlyn said, lifting her hands in surrender at Kelley’s death stare. Ali was on her off limits list after all, and that was a line she wasn’t willing to cross.

“And you’ll notice all three of us were also affected by this terrible prank some stranger pulled!” Kelley said, unable to keep a straight face to match her seemingly offended tone.

“Though I think I might use my free period after lunch to practice some quidditch drills,” Ashlyn said, twirling a strand of her bright maroon hair around a finger. “I have a feeling that the color will fade after I dump the icy cooler water over my head.”

“Need someone to send some quaffles your way?” Lindsey asked around a large bite of turkey. She was always down to practice, especially if it meant avoiding the food fight that seemed to be brewing at their table.

“Wait, ice water?” You asked Kelley as Ashlyn and Lindsey began discussing practice plans. Kelley jumped on the opportunity to escape Alex’s ire.

“Oh yeah, we- um, whoever pulled this terrible prank- tied the spell to the hot water pipes. It should be safe to take a hot shower by tonight, but basically anyone who used hot water last night or this morning was affected. Cold water removes it though, which is why we quidditch players will discover the counter first, as we are known for taking ice baths after practice.”

“So I have to freeze my ass off to fix this shit!!” Alex screeched, plucking at the strands of green hair falling into her eyes.

“Come on,” Lindsey said, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards where Brandi was sitting at the front of the Gryffindor table. “Let’s go get the locker room key from Brandi so we can go practice before potions.”

“Yeah, let’s do that” You mumbled, eyes widening at how Alex was now towering over Kelley. You didn’t know the beater could shrink so far into her chair.

Brandi, it turned out, was talking with professor McGonagall about the house cup this year. Though no longer head of Gryffindor house, McGonagall was still invested in the team’s progress.

“Oh, speak of the boggart, here are our two latest recruits,” Brandi said, gesturing at you and Lindsey as you walked toward her. “Professor, Lindsey is our newest chaser and Y/n is one of the best first time seekers Mia has ever seen.”

“Speaking of which,” Lindsey said jumping in, “We were hoping to practice some drills after lunch. Could we borrow the locker room keys?”

You stood just behind her, still a little intimidated by both women.

“It is good to see some responsibility coming from some of our second year Gryffindors,” Professor McGonagall said, smiling at you- when you peeked out from behind the taller chaser- and Lindsey in turn. “I do think some of your classmates, and perhaps even some of our third year students could learn a thing or two from you.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you smiled meekly and quickly made your way out of the great hall with Lindsey and the acquired keys. “What do you think she meant by that? Do you think she knows who did it?”

“Oh absolutely,” Lindsey said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t take a Seer to predict that they’re going to have detention tomorrow night. Now come on, I want to try that new feint you read about.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #literalhedgehog #lindsey horan imagine #harry potter au #hogwarts au #quidditch au

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midnightdemonhunter · 4 years ago

Note

Okay but 👀👀 The Celeste and Hiro parallel rant drop~ [When you can of course 💕💕]

OKAY so uh thesis statement ahoy: hiro is arguably one of the most similar classmates to celeste, if not the most.

I know i have to start off by saying yes, hiro, considered one of the most stupid charecters ingame by the majority of the fandom, reminds me most of minor mastermind celeste with her elaborate murder plan and act to throw people off their guard.

And while im not gonna go fully into detail on my 4d chess hiro theory/hc/reality cause thats a whole other essay, hiro is shown to (just like celeste) use an act, AND be a really competent liar.

In game, in chap 3, theres a scene where Monokuma is super suspscious of everyone leaving the bathhouse togehter for seemingly no reason, and they've gotta quickly cover for the fact that he doesnt know about alter ego.

Celeste is the one who instantly lies expertly and comes up with the idea of them betting on baths. This scene is used as foreshowing for her being a future killer, and a reminder of what a scarily good liar she is.

BUT shes not the only good liar in this scene. While hina takes some time to get used to the lie and not act super sus,

Hiro is instantly on board the lie.

He's the only other shown directly reactinf to her lie, and his reaction is to unflinchingly mirror her without question! Perfect poker face!

And while this little incident might not be enough evidence on its own, it repeats!!! Hiro is the one to always bring makoto to the bathhouse, confidently lying without trouble on two more occasions!

The second time he even spells it out for you!!!

This is a man capable of putting on a smile and lying to your face and the mastermind!! Of putting on an act when needed!! Sound familiar? (Yes, because its what Celeste does ALL THE TIME)

And sure okay, hiros capable of lying! Cool! But are there any more dirrect parallels? Maybe ones pointed out by other charecters in game? YEP

At the end of both their free time events, makoto's final opinions on Celeste and Hiro are eerily similar.

Basically, makoto decides he cant ever let his guard down around either of them, and is tentative to even call them friends. Because, as he's learned from talking to them, these are both people willing to lie, cheat and do basically anything to get what they want, and to keep surviving.

These are both people willing to frame others purely for their own benefit and survival, celeste framing hiro himself in chapter 3 and hiro framing toko in chapter 4, and people willing to kill to survive.

Because while celeste planned a double murder to escape, Hiro was ready to kill Sakura at the first sign that his life was in danger. These are people who are hard to trust and find trusting hard.

While I wont go too much in detail cause this rant is already super log whoops, chap 3, especially the final trial, is arguably a competition between Hiro and celeste for who can win the trial while keeping their act up! (Because why i cant go too into detail here, i am convinced at this point that hiro is constantly putting on an act in order to seem less threatening YES I HAVE EVIDENCE)

Celeste chooses to frame him (because hes "stupid" she says, and someone so obviously "stupid" cant bring up good points without easy evidence, right hiro?) , consequently betting her life against his, and her ability to defend herself against his. She puts them in a scenerio where their differences and similarites become apparent and easy to highlight because in the end it is her against him!!

Another really interesting thing about that trial is while Celeste's acts and lies end up imploding in her face, hiro's,,,sort of do as well! His over exaggerated dumb act nearly gets him executed, and he ends up having to break out of it temporarily jn order to point out something key he'd noticed.

(Yeah byakuya the point is you weren't supposed to know that) He also does use his supposed lack of intelligence as proof he's inocent in that trial, which is arguably,,one of the main reasons he uses it in the first place.

(Interestingly enough Celeste is also the one who points out this possibilty, implying she thinks he IS capable of that amount of forethought)

This is getting way too long so i have to cut it short for now, but additjonal points I'd be glad to ramble on in a second post include their shared low empathy (very clearly illustrated in how they treat/talk about Alter Ego) AND the fact that they're both shown to change their speech style depending on whats happening and who they're with. (Celeste's obvious accent drop in her final trial breakdown, Hiro dropping a casuel style of speaking when hes alone with makoto and trying to be honest with him, and when he's fully intending to come off as the adult in the room, which he is)

SO TL/DR They're both yasuhiros who are excellent at lying and putting on an act, are shown to be untrustworthy and have trust issues and do whatever it takes to survive, are direct opponents in trial 3, and have ulterior motives for how they act on a daily basis. Simply put, they're playing fools and playing nice! :)

#danganronpa #yasuhiro hagakure #Celeste ludenburg #Celestia ludenburg #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #dr1 #midnight speaks #4d chess hiro #yasuhiros #charecter essay #meta #IM SO HAPPY SOMEONE ASKED #honeslty i still have so much more to say but this essay is already super long and i cant add any more photos to it for evidence #i do plan to write a full post/essay explaining the 4d chess hiro theory #cause WOW do i think hes a dude lying constanlty to seem dumber so he'll be underestimated #did not realise the sheer amount of things i had to say on them until i wrote some out whoops #okay also please dont ship them its still super bad and creepy #i just think theyve got BIG parallels that go unnoticed by the fandom and that their canon dynamic #especially in chap 3 has the potential to be really interesting and becomes much more interestinf if you assume certain things #ALSO i am writing a fic about their chapter 3 dynamic and 4d chess match so that's fun #anyway yeah hiros smart and super similar to celeste #*drops mic*

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carcinized · 3 years ago

Text

skipping records and eternity

~1k words | ao3

first of a series if people like it? i'd love to write more limbos...

please reblog if you like this it helps me a lot :DD

Tubbo stared into the unforgiving blizzard outside the cave. This was normal. A part of his morning routine, in fact. Staring out at the storm, wishing it would go away but knowing that would never happen; at least, not as long as he was in Limbo. But no one escaped Limbo. He’d thought Tommy had once, but Tommy was beside him now, so that couldn’t be true.

To his back was a hearth, wisps of people gathered around it. Tubbo had tried to reach them hundreds of thousands of times, probably, and he knew by now he couldn’t. It was like being in a dream, trying to reach the people around the fire. Either he was so slow he stopped moving or all of a sudden he was back where he started in a flawless loop.

Sometimes the figures huddled together, whispering, and occasionally looking back at Tubbo with glowing eyes, making Tubbo’s skin crawl. Sometimes the shadows shaped themselves into a certain tall enderman Tubbo knew all too well, or a regal figure with familiar sunglasses, or a happy, flailing child, or a tall figure with a barely distinguishable red and blue uniform. But despite it all, trying wasn’t worth the pain of not making it back, not even for family. Not anymore.

Tubbo sighed and internally scoffed, neverendingly surprised to be unable to hear his own sigh. Even after all this time, he hadn’t adjusted to being deaf. Or maybe he wasn’t deaf; maybe his Limbo just had no sound. It would make sense, after all. A world without sound, and especially music, was hell, in Tubbo’s opinion.

He shook his head to clear himself of the depressing thoughts. It was time to start his day. Tubbo got to his feet, taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves. Just another day in hell. Could be worse, right?

The light of the fire behind him flickered and a shadow of a figure with horns passed through it before disappearing eerily from the light of the flame. Tubbo spun around to look back at it, unwelcome hope flooding his limbs, but the shadow had already merged back with the others. He didn’t try to follow.

The next part of Tubbo’s repetitive morning was underway. The days were so similar Tubbo could no longer distinguish his memories of yesterday from that of today, or even what he thought might have been years ago. It seemed Tommy had spotted someone he wanted to see in the flames, because he was currently sprinting in an infinite route towards the fire, reappearing back to the edge of the cave still with his momentum.

“You idiot! It’s never going to work!” Tubbo called out pointlessly. “You’re never going to get in! …You’re never going to get in.”

Tommy attempted to get through one more time before he finally slowed, sitting down on the floor, visibly upset, mouth moving quickly. Tubbo couldn’t hear what he was saying, but, knowing Tommy, he was probably cussing more than a sailor could ever dream of.

Sighing, Tubbo sat down cross-legged beside Tommy. There was no point in talking, so he wrapped an arm around Tommy’s shoulders to try and comfort him. Them against the world, always.

“Come on, it’s that time of day,” Tubbo said, mostly to himself. He stood and offered Tommy a hand, which Tommy refused, opting to stand up on his own.

Tubbo moved on without comment, walking towards the other end of the cave, where he’d set up a workstation with an anvil. He had the infamous discs in his inventory, and always had since appearing in Limbo. However, every day when he played them in the jukebox they had been miraculously gifted, Tommy shook his head vehemently. And every day, Tubbo attempted to fix them.

He was handy, right? He was able to create nukes without so much as a blueprint. He should be able to repair two simple discs if he kept trying, even if he couldn’t hear them to check his progress. It seemed Tommy could, at least, considering he would always shake his head.

Sometimes Tommy tried to stop Tubbo from trying to fix them at all, probably to spare his time. But there was nothing better to do in Limbo, and maybe while trying to fix the discs Tubbo had fucked them up, but if he ever stopped trying he might never make them correctly. And he wanted to fix them, to fix them for Tommy, even if it seemed he never would. And, well, he needed to do something while he was stuck here for all eternity. Why not try and make it better with some music?

Tubbo made some finishing touches to the disc before picking it back up and walking towards the jukebox, ignoring Tommy’s protests. If Tubbo could do this, it would all be okay. They could sit together, shoulder to shoulder, and listen to the discs, and everything would be okay. Even if Tubbo wouldn’t be able to hear the music, that wasn’t what he really wanted, anyways.

Tubbo slipped the disc into the slot on top of the jukebox and turned to Tommy, whose violent headshakes had slowed down, more melancholy now than anything else. He met Tubbo’s eyes and shook his head once more.

Tubbo wanted to cry, but crying was stupid, so he simply took the irritating disc out of the jukebox. “Well, we still have another one to try to fix,” he mumbled around the burning in his throat. “Right, Tommy?”

Tommy didn’t look at him, hands reaching up to cover his ears instead.

Tubbo turned away once more, picking up the other disc.

Maybe, deep down, Tubbo knew it was fruitless. Maybe, deep down, he knew he’d never be able to fix them for Tommy. He couldn’t mend an attachment that didn’t exist. After all, these weren’t the discs, only emotionless carbon copies created specifically for this perfect little hell. But Tubbo would never stop trying to mend them, and mend things with his best friend, and trying to prove that he was worth it, that he could do something worthwhile. He would never stop; he knew that much. He supposed that was why they called it Limbo.

ty to @platytheplatypode for beta reading and helping with the title otherwise this would have not been titled </3

also literally tubbo is an unreliable narrator in this to some extent ask me what really happens here (or the symbolism i included bc its cool :]). thank you to @everydaybabbles for helping me figure out the limbo way back when (if you even remember?), i hope you dont mind being tagged but tysm youre literally the only reason this exists DFJDSLF

#i literally spent months on this PLEASEEE look at it its cool i swear #allyster writes #dsmp #mcyt #tubbo #c!tubbo #tommyinnit #limbo

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milchig-de · 4 years ago

Text

Never gonna give you up

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: After being kidnapped by the League of Villains and meeting you, Bakugou thinks about you. But then you meet again. Will he let you go again?

Request: Hi! I saw requests were open, could you please write a scenario for Bakugou, where during his time kidnapped by the lov, they had another captive. A girl who is his age, but she has been there for a few months. The reason why she is there is because of her quirk. Her blood can heal others, all they need to do is drink some of it, the bigger the injury the more blood. They are saved together but then separated. It’s been two years of no contact when Bakugou goes to recovery girl to find the same girl who was a captive now learning under recovery girl. They hit it off.

Warnings: curse words

Notes: Did I change my story just to fit the title? Yes, absolutely. Also this was requested by @jessie4098, hope you enjoy! Sorry again for taking so long!

Bakugou struggled against the bonds that were tying him to the chair. After kidnapping him, the League of Villains had encased his hands in a metal box so he couldn’t activate his quirk. Of course that did nothing to quell his anger. If they dared come close to him he would knock them out if anyhow possible.

But since he couldn’t do anything right now, he took in his surroundings instead. Their hideout was in some sort of bar- one of them, the warp villain from the attack at the USJ, even wiped the glasses with a rug. There was only one door and no windows, so he couldn’t tell what time it was or where he was.

Obviously he already knew the warp villain and the hands villain but there were some new faces. The scar face that had pulled him through the portal stood in a corner, a lizard-human next to him. In another corner was the masked villain that had managed to capture him with someone in a full bodysuit next to him. Surprisingly, there was also a middle school girl there. Had they kidnapped her? It certainly didn’t look like it. Otherwise she would also be tied up.

Suddenly that girl moved towards- and past him, towards another chair that he hadn’t noticed before. Another person sat slumped down in that chair, tied up in a similar fashion as him. The girl tugged on the persons arm, in an almost whiny manner.

“Hey there, sweetheart!! I got hurt pretty badly in the fight so it sems that I have to take some of your blood again!!”

The person didn’t respond. Ignoring that, the girl brandished a knife and cut their arm. Then she proceeded to lift their arm up to her mouth and... drank it? What kind of sick shitshow was this? Looking at them closely, Bakugou noticed the countless cuts and band aids all over their arms. It seemed that they did this regularly. Maybe they had some kind of quirk that required her to drink their blood? The crazy girl did say that she got hurt... Even though there were no visible injuries on her bodies.

Putting their arm down, the crazy girl strolled back to her original place. With the other person there, Bakugou would have to be more careful with blasting those stupid villains away. They didn’t look like they knew how to fight and they certainly weren’t in any condition to do so even if they could. If, you know, their slumped form was any indicator.

After the crazy girl had settled back down, the hands villain started to talk. He spouted some stupid bullshit about joining the League of Villains. As if Bakugou would ever become a villain. He was determined to beat All Might and to become the number one pro hero and he was not willing to let go of any of his goals.

That was why as soon as the bodysuit took off his bonds he got ready to blast all of them away. Shuffling closer to you, he carefully took of your bonds too and then stood in front of you to protect you. But then the heroes barged in and they got sucked away in one of the slimy portals. He grasped your arm but the portals forced him to let go. Before the fight between All Might and All for One, he got rescued by the others, but he doesn’t know what happened to the person. They weren’t on the battlefield like the villains so he desperately hoped that the heroes saved them. Sometimes, late at night when a nightmare of that time wakes him up, he thinks about them. Regrets of not being able to grasp them and bring them with him to safety plague him occasionally.

But why is he thinking about them now anyway? There wasn’t really a lot he could’ve done about them and it’s been two years since then already. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to give up on you.

Bakugou shakes his head, hoping to get rid of those stupid thoughts. He got hurt while sparring with Kirishima, so he’s now on his way to Recovery Girl to get fixed up. Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he opens the door to the station.

That isn’t Recovery Girl.

Standing in the middle of the room is a person that looks eerily similar to the one that also got kidnapped by the League of Villains.

Upon hearing the door open, you turn your head only to discover Bakugou standing there. To be honest, you had never met officially, but you’d be a fool not to at least know his name. For one, he’s one of the most successful students in all of UA, but he’s also that boy who stood up to the villains.

When you got kidnapped, you were barely conscious half of the time because of blood loss, but you do remember him. How could you not? He was so brave, standing up to them as if he was saying that he would win no matter what. You had to admit you hadn’t seen his features properly at the time, so you only remembered his blonde, spiky hair and his angry posture, but you had figured out who he is because of the news fairly easily. Funnily enough, they barely mentioned you, but you don’t mind at all. It allowed you to live a fairly calm life without having to worry about anyone recognizing you.

Now that he’s standing right in front of you, you allow yourself a moment to check him out. He still has his spiky blonde hair and even if he’s simply standing there, you do notice that he still has a slightly angry body language. Besides that, you also notice his ruby red eyes staring at you.

While you do admire him and think he’s hot quite a lot, you also have a job to do, so you point to one of the beds standing in the station and tell him to sit down. A first glance tells you he isn’t that badly injured, meaning alcohol and some bandages would probably be enough. Preparing everything, you put it aside before asking him about his condition.

This is the first time you heard him talk since then. His voice sounds a little gravelly, though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. Shoving those thoughts aside, you focus on the cuts he shows you. Most of them aren’t bad at all, but some of them look pretty bad. Though you realize upon closer inspection that they’re is still only on the surface and doesn’t even require stitching. So you carefully clean and disinfect his wounds before putting band-aids or bandages over them. You try your best not to smile, since the band aids you used had pink Hello Kitty motives on them. They are the courtesy of Recovery Girl, who decided to only use those ones as a sort of punishment, since a lot of students are pretty reckless and don’t care whether they get hurt.

Bakugou stays very calm during the entire procedure, not even flinching at the pain from the alcohol. You wonder if he remembers who you are, considering he didn’t mention or do anything that makes you assume otherwise. But perhaps he just doesn’t know how to approach it. Frankly you can’t blame him for it. It’s not exactly the easiest subject to talk about.

After finishing him up, you pull out a document and a pen, explaining to Bakugou that you need to record every student you treat because you’re only an apprentice so far. You already jotted down his name, so instead you asked for his class and noted his injuries and what you used to treat him.

Closing your pen you give him some last advice. Dismissing him, you put the document in its rightful place before going back to cleaning equipment. Of course you want to talk to him about well, everything, but how can you possibly ask him to spend time with someone he barely knows?

But then he brings up the topic.

“Are you the one who was also kidnapped by the League of Villains?”

Well that’s pretty direct. Instead of leaving as you had told him he could, he only stood up. He turns towards you, clearly expecting an answer. So you clear your throat and confirm his suspicions. Upon hearing this, he stalks closer to you.

“Do you have time right now? There’s some things I want to know.”

“I actually don’t have time right now, since I’m, you know, doing my job. Recovery Girl deserves a break so because I am fairly capable already, I took over for today which means I need to be available at all times. But-”

You walked back over to the desk, then you pulled out a small piece of paper and a pen. Scribbling your number and name down, you folded it and gave it to him.

“Here’s my number so we can meet up or just text if you prefer that.”

Taking the paper from you, he nodded and walked out of the station, though not without saying thank you.

Once outside, Bakugou finally allows himself to relax. He was so tense the entire time he was talking to you. It was difficult because he didn’t know how to approach you about it but also because you’re very pretty. A tiny smile wormed itself onto his face when he thought about you. He clutched your note a little tighter in his grasp, afraid of letting you slip through his fingers again.

Maybe it’s good that he didn’t give up on you.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha scenario #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha scenario #curse words

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themonotonysyndrome · 4 years ago

Text

Emerald Onlooker

Part 2 of the Successors to the Future is here! I, uh, didn’t expect a lot of people liking it, but since I’m still pretty excited about this AU, I want to write as much as I can.

Thank you again @tri3tri for inspiring us with your Second Wive AU and many, many wonderful Yandere!Malleus content. A little summary about this AU: Yandere!Malleus married and took MC against her will. He turns her into a Queen and they had 2 daughters. However, Yandere!Malleus is pushed to take on a second wife (a Fae woman, Gekkon) to give him a son, a male heir. During the wedding ceremony, MC took the opportunity and escape to NRC with her daughters in tow and Crowley finally did them a solid and send the three of them to MC’s world.

Successors to the Future, summary: Without a court of condescending Faes and Malleus’ oppressive affection, MC and her daughters live happily in the other world. When she left Twisted Wonderland, MC didn’t realise that she was pregnant and thus, she gave birth to a son who grew up as carefree as a bird and just as kind. However, now that her eldest daughter had just turned sixteen and discover her Unique Magic, she was returned to Twisted Wonderland as a first-year student in Diasomnia. Since it’s only a matter of time before Malleus and his court discover her presence at NRC, MC and her children did their best to prepare her for that inevitable day.

This oneshot is a continuation of that.

FD/N = First daughter’s name/Renata Draconia (half-human, half dark Fae Princess. Malleus & MC’s eldest child)

SD/N = Second daughter’s name/Sherrie or Cherry Draconia (half-human, half-dark Fae Princess. Malleus & MC’s middle child)

S/S = Son’s name/Lucien Draconia (half-human, half-dark Fae Prince and the heir to the throne. Malleus & MC’s youngest child).

MC/S = MC’s surname

Sherrie enjoy going about her daily lives on her lowest brain capacity most of the time. There’s nothing like just... switching off your brain and ignore all the boring things around you.

The only thing that gets the gears and cogs in her brain spinning is when she plays video games like Portal or coming up with schemes to get her eldest sister out of trouble.

When she jokes about only having 2 braincells and that both are constantly on holidays at the same time unless Renata did something stupid, Renata howl with laughter while Lucien just rolled his eyes at his cackling sisters.

But now that Renata is playing student in Night Raven College, Sherrie is surprised to find herself looking forward to not only help her oldest sister dodged their father’s steps, but also pulling the proverbial rug underneath the Thorn Kingdom.

Especially Lilia Vanrouge.

It’s addicting. The unholy glee running within you when your cute puppets finally realised who’s been tugging on their strings all along.

Humans are easy and oblivious enough for her to practise on. Despite how monotonous school can be, the environment was a good place for Sherrie to learn and play. Everyone has a chip on their shoulder; everyone wants to stand out among the rest.

So it’s really not that hard to learn who’s the right person to blackmail, who’s desperate enough to do anything to make their crush look at them and how to make the key figures dance on the palm of her hands.

This year’s prom night was certainly a memory she won’t ever forget.

And now? Now Sherrie can’t wait to play with the so-called ‘superior’ species - their father’s ancient court and loyal retainers - once she and her sister could establish contact.

They’ve been working hard on this little project. Everyone in her little family is. Renata is off being a good little student and let the gossips travel on its own, their little brother is doing his best to assured their mother that all would be well and Sherrie?

Sherrie is busy setting up the stage for the climax once Renata usher all the important players to where she wanted them.

(Mama likes to call her a ‘smart cookie’, always rubbed her head affectionately and said, “You’re a brilliant girl, Cherry. You’re just lazy. I know you can achive anything you want with the proper motivation, just like Floyd-senpai.”.)

(Their Mama can never know just how far her daughter had use the same skill that she praise to manipulate others.)

In the middle of the evening - just shy after midnight - Sherrie heard a water drip somewhere in her bedroom.

Drip... drip... drip...

She pushes her chair away from her gaming laptop, game paused and just listen. Her eyes scan the dimly lit bedroom.

Drip... drip...

“This better not be the start of a horror movie.”

It’s coming from... somewhere near her vanity table. Sherrie ignores the clutter of make-ups, perfumes and figurines on the table and waited eagerly. Her leg couldn’t stop bouncing when the surface ripple like water’s surface once.

The ripple clears and instead of staring at her reflection, her oldest sister stares right back at her.

“It works!” Renata said incredulously. “I can’t believe the headmaster’s half-assed runes actually works!”

“The fuck? What happened?” Sherrie reply, a bit taken back. Behind her sister, Sherrie could see a bed, study table and walls and other furnishing that eerily looks similar to the ones back at the castle.

Renata waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “I had to literally bullied a grown ass man to help me contact you. It took me a week of camping in the library to figured out how, but we managed to come up with runes that allow us to create a link to every mirror in the house.” She explains in an exasperated tone. “I’ll teach you the drawing tomorrow. All you guys need to do is just draw them on any mirror and it’ll send me a signal to find a mirror of my own.”

“That kinda sounds like a phone call. Like, an interdimensional phone call!”

“I know right! I already put a compact mirror in my purse so I can call you anytime!” Renata said with a smug grin. She’s clearly proud of her clever little trick. Even with the help of the headmaster.

Sherrie never doubted that her sister couldn’t find a way to contact them. She’s a prodigy when it comes to magic.

She might be young, but she could still remember how their tutors gave out praises as if they were candies when it comes to her older sister and her affinity for magic.

It’s just too bad that their compliments are worthless when they always ended with, “If only the Princess is a full born Fae...”

“Ok, so, contact established. Now are you still in Phase 1?” Sherrie said, bringing their conversation back to important matters. She made sure to properly and slowly explain their game plan a week before the Ebony Carriage took Renata to Night Raven College. The words are clearly written, highlighted colourfully and important steps are accompanied by cartoon stickers.

Despite being a prodigy at magic, her sister woefully has short attention span when it comes to playing the long game. Her attention spans burn hot and fast, just like her anger. It also burns out just as quick as it came.

Renata rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “Yes, yes. I’m still in Phase 1. It’s hard to make friends when everyone is wary of you. Do you know they hung up portraits of past Dorm Leaders and their Vice Dorm Leaders in each dorm? It’s so annoying when everyone stares at me and at father’s portrait whenever I walk into Disomnia!”

Sherrie hums and made a quick dash to grab her tablet. The one where she wrote down her plans. She swipes the screen to the list of names that their mother had given them.

“They’re just NPCs, don’t worry about them. What you need to focus on are the students with the surnames that Mama gave us.” Here, Sherrie is tapping on the screen of her tablet to the mirror. “Have you met any of them or did you fucked up the plan already?”

“Calm your tits, I’ve been following your instructions.” Renata assured her, not the least riled up. “We’re only in the first semester; I only managed to match the names and faces of my dorm mates so far. It’s gonna take me at least a month of snooping around before I could find them.” Renata paused and her eyes suddenly lit up as if she just remembered something. “Oh, but I’ve been farming intel of the Thorn Kingdom using the Lucky Leanan spell every day after curfew. It took some trial and error but I successfully managed to find the castle again!”

Sherrie recalls that one of Renata spells - Lucky Leanan - creates a small fairy made out of pure magic that would do sneak attacks by shooting lightning bolts while Renata fights. It’s small enough to flit behind an opponent’s line of sight and take them off guard.

Small enough to sneak into the castle without anyone none the wiser.

So Sherrie nodded. “That’s a good move. You’re safely far away from the castle and you can remotely dispel Leanan if it gets dicey.”

“Yup! Look at my one braincell go!” Renata cheered. “If I keep this up and give it plenty of water and sunlight, maybe it’ll grow!”

Sherrie burst out laughing alongside her sister. Her joke took her off guard. Hopefully their laughter didn’t wake up their mother and Lucien.

Sherrie hiccups and wipe the tears from the corner of her eye. It feels nice to talk to her sister again.

She misses her disaster of sister already.

“Anyway, I need to hit the bed soon.” Renata said, breaking her train of thought. “I’ll do my best to gather as much info as I can about the ongoings inside the castle for you. Are there any heads up you want me to look for?”

Sherrie smiles brightly and reply, “Of course! If you could, be a dear and get everything about father’s... other wife. Everything - right down to the most boring shits.”

“On it.”

That first-year Diasomnia student has been the talk around campus for weeks now.

Not only is she the only girl in Night Raven College, word on the streets quickly spreads that she’s look too similar to one of the previous Dorm Leader of Diasomnia to not be related.

Staring at her while she’s busy taking a selfie of the Great Seven statues, he agrees that the similarities are too uncanny.

Now, why would he sends his own Princess to a villain school without any retainer?

That, and why under a different surname?

Something’s not right.

Renata MC/S brought with her an interesting mystery to Night Raven College. A mystery that caught his interest at the first whiff of her scent. And oh Great Seven, her delectable scent. The first time his nose caught that mouthwatering smell, it had his tail swishing in eager and his head spinning.

It’s the scent of his favourite flower - blood lily - with a hint of something... otherworldly. He still can’t quite put words into it.

He wants to unravel her. Understand what makes her tick.

Uncover what she’s hiding.

Four days later in History class, Professor Trein gave him - and Renata - their golden ticket.

“Kingscholar, MC/S - you two will be partners for this assignment. I expect you two have no objection.”

“It’s fine...”

“I don’t have a problem with the arrangement, professor.”

The professor nodded and class is dimiss. Students began making their way out of the room. Except for him... and her.

Renata steps in front of his desk when they finally have the class all to themselves. He takes a good, long look at her.

She’s certainly beautiful; a real heartbreaker. But there’s something interesting within her bright green eyes. Something volatile. He wonders what could it really be.

“Hi there. So you’re Bakari Kingscholar, hmm? Hope we can ace this assignment without any problem.” Renata said with a small smile. Is she trying to be friendly? Because it just looks condescending as hell.

But that just makes this a lot more fun.

“Same here. Girl or not, I won’t let it slide if you prove to be a dead weight.”

His warning clearly took her off guard with the how her smile froze. It was only for a moment though, before she let out a laugh. As if he just told a funny joke.

“Kitty-cat is flexing his claws, huh?” Renata had the audacity to grin. The other Savanaclaw students would’ve lowered their heads at his tone. “Don’t worry. Do your part and I promise I won’t light your tail on fire.”

Oh, his old man needs to know about this girl.

You have no idea how much fun it is to write about Malleus and MC’s children! Especially the Princessess. Unfortunately, they’re more like Malleus than they or MC even realise it. Anyway, my main reference for SD/N is none other than... TADA! Fyodor Dostoevsky from BSD!

It’s just that Sherrie is a lot more lazy and rather keep to herself and stay at home. She only goes out of her to way to mess with people because of Renata and her tendecies to get into trouble.

I’m still thinking on the draft for part 3 so we’ll see how that goes. Also, I was struggling wether to name Leona’s son or not. I think that honoured should go to @tri3tri!

#twisted wonderland #fanfic #twst mc #Draconia Family series #tri3tri #Second Wive AU #twst kids #drama is gonna kick off real soon #yandere!malleus

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the-asmp-wt · 3 years ago

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(QUICK OOC COMMENT ABOUT MY POST. This is a nightmare, so characters WILL be out of character. Everything italicized is the dream. Have fun!)

The ground was sand. This was something that was unusual, because a!WT knew in her heart that this was L’Apoloburg, but nothing remained past the sand. No walls, no homes.

“Hello?”, she called out, squinting to try and see if she could see anybody in the sand. The wind kept pushing the sand over her feet, and she kicked it away, deciding she may as well walk since there was no answering call.

a!WT walked for hours, or maybe only minutes before reaching what looked like the walls of L’Apoloburg, crumbled and fallen, and a figure standing in front of it. The closer she got, the easier she was able to tell that the figure had its back to her, and that it was the President.

“a’Wilbur! Where are we- what happened to our home? What’s going on?”, a!WT asked, reaching out a hand to grab onto a!Wilburs shoulder, but instead of the other turning around the scene changed.

They were now both standing in L’Apoloburg, brightly colored grass beneath their feet. a!Wilbur was facing a!WT, and they were by the walls. The look on a!Wilburs face was a look that a!WT had never seen before, it was unsettling.

“D-did you r-really think I w-wouldn’t know?”, it asked, and a!WT froze. No. No no no no this wasn’t right this wasn’t something that happened or was going to happen no.

a!Wilbur was advancing now, grinning, and a!WT backs up, until her back hits the wall, panic shooting through her stomach. That was wrong she shouldn’t ever be scared of a!Wilbur this wasn’t right why was this happening-

“D-did you re-really buy that I’m that stupid? Come on a!WT, really? Was that what made you think you could pull this shit off? Of course I know your working with the enemy. I knew since the day I made you my Vice President.”, a!Wilbur sneered, a sword appearing at its side, and they rested a hand on it.

a!WT couldn’t comprehend what was happening. a!Wilbur knew all along? This was just some stupid fucking game that she was a pawn in?

“Then why not say something earlier! Why wait until I’ve told a!Tommy things!”, a!WT responded, pretending like her voice wasn’t shaking as hard as her hands were, eyes wide.

a!Wilbur laughed coldly, a dark gleam in its eyes that was never there before. At least, never a look that was directed at her. Once the laugh faded, the words that came were just as cold,” You think I care? You think I told you the truth- do you really think I’d trust You? Of all people, why you? It was just a stupidly easy way to distract the poor whining opposition…”

It was then that a!WT felt the eyes on her, and her gaze drafted from the healed but entirely unrecognizable face of a!Wilbur to the area around the pair. They were surrounded by residents, both ones who had been exiled and those who stayed. Ghostburs, a!Niki, even the a!Techno and the Wilbur she had met on her journey. They were all watching with impassive expressions, meeting her gaze and the longer they looked the more disdainful they became, faces warping in expressions of pure disgust or betrayal.

But the worst was a!Tommy.

a!Tommy’s eyes were filled with disgust and hurt, but also grim resignation. He was up in a tree, their bracelet-less arms wrapped around a branch, making no move to help.

“Help me.”, a!WT mouthed, aware that a!Wilbur was speaking but she paid them no mind, pleading for her friend to somehow be able to save this. Surely she had a plan, or some sort of saving grace that would get a!WT out of this. They were a pair right? Best friends?

Though a!Tommy was far away, his words echoed around a!WT.

“Why would I help you? You didn’t even fucking give me useful information- you got yourself into this situation. I don’t need you, and never did. You weren’t careful enough, and now everyone knows. Everyone knows everything except me. You’ve given me nothing… you are nothing to me…”, a!Tommy’s voice echoed, a!WT wilting back against the wall, the wall now fully supporting her weight as the weight of the words crashed down around her, unable to help but whisper back a helpless,”You don’t mean that.”, but a!Tommy’s cold eyes and careless shrug confirmed the Vice Presidents worse thoughts.

Everyone knew everyone knew everyone knew-

“Who are you talking to? Praying to some god you’re hoping will answer- why would they help you? Everything was in your hands… you could have saved me.”, a!Wilburs tone suddenly changed, and a!WT straightened, instantly looking back at the President. It’s face was now covered with a mask a!WT knew they got from a!Dream.

“What?”, a!WT asked, feeling incredibly wrong footed with how this had changed, but not questioning when it had had the chance to put on the mask. She also didn’t question the way a!Tommy was now standing beside a!Wilbur, and the feeling of being watched became stronger.

“You could have fixed things, fixed us. You could have not betrayed everyone you ever met, but everyone knows, and always did. We are all damned to a cursed existence because of you. And you are not going to escape punishment for your crimes”, a!Tommy and a!Wilbur spoke in unison, voices eerily similar as they both drew weapons, a!Tommy hoisting a bow and a!Wilbur with a sword.

There was chanting now, and the clicks of a clock. “We all know”, was being repeated over and over, in perfect time with the ticks of a clock that were getting steadily louder, and quicker as the pair in front of her advanced.

“No, no- no nonononono- NO-please, I’m sorry Please-“,a!WT couldn’t back up any further, shrinking down and she finally realized that tears were streaming down her face. The clocks were getting louder, and a!Wilbur was drawing its sword back, preparing to swing.

The sounds reached a crescendo before all the voices merged into one, sounding like every single person she’d ever loved or cared about. She was surrounded, but completely alone, with no one on her side. Only the ticking of the clock was there now, echoing in the silence.

“They all know. Traitors like you deserve to die alone, and your time is up.”, a!Wilbur said, mask disappearing to reveal their grinning face swinging it’s sword swiftly at a!WT’s face, as a!Tommy let the arrow fly in the same direction.

~*~

Right before the weapons hit, a!WT woke up, gasping for air, pushing herself away from the desk she had been sitting working at until she’d fallen asleep. The force of her startled push pushed her backwards in the chair, hitting her head on the ground once she fell.

“What the fuck-“, she mumbled, sitting there for a moment with a hand over her face and her other under her head, staring up at the ceiling. A!WT’s chest heaved with frantic breaths as though her body was making sure that she was still alive.

For a moment the girl simply laid there, staring up at her ceiling, unaware of the tears streaming down her face as she tried to convince herself it was all a dream. But was it? Maybe everyone did know…

“I’m so fucking stupid.”, she mumbled to herself, sniffling slightly as she crawled out of the chair and stood up shakily, glancing out the window, glad to find it was only barely sunrise. That would give her some time to try and make herself perfectly presentable before any of the remaining citizens saw her. She couldn’t let them see her like this, she was all they had left right now. The president hadn’t sent a letter, and a!Tommy hadn’t replied. Maybe they didn’t need her….

Deciding to busy herself in her work, a!WT stumbled back over to her desk, setting her chair the correct way around before flopping down onto it, and pulling the papers towards her. Might as well try and finish figuring out the details for the weaponry they had.

As she tried to distract herself, and the sun rose, the girl couldn’t quite shake the feeling that everyone around her knew, and were just waiting for the right time to expose her as a traitor. The morning sun and the tedious work may have burned away her clearest memories of the dream, but a!Tommy’s words were burned in her memory. They didn’t need her, and her time was running out.

#a!WT #nightmare time #apologist smp #L

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mst3kproject · 4 years ago

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The Ape

In the vein of movies that should not be confused with eerily similar previous entries, The Ape is distinct from The Ape Man... but not by much. Both feature a slumming horror superstar, glandular secretions, and a stupid gorilla suit. All these things also showed up in early seasons of MST3K, of course, and The Ape Man also has a surprise bonus. Apparently, the guy in the gorilla costume is none other than Crash Corrigan, of Undersea Kingdom!

Long ago, Dr. Adrien lost his daughter to polio, and ever since he's been obsessed with finding a cure. That sounds pretty noble, but unfortunately, Adrien is a mad doctor, so the cure he comes up with requires killing healthy people to drain them of their cerebralspinal fluid! In order not to arouse suspicion, he kills and skins a gorilla that escaped from a circus, and wears its hide when he murders people... you know, as one does. To nobody's surprise but his, he ends up getting shot, but hey, at least he cured beautiful young Frances' paralysis!

This is a weird, dumb movie but one thing I can say in its favour is that everybody seems to have given it a good try. This material was far beneath Boris Karloff but he takes it seriously and actually gets a couple of decent moments, as does Maris Wrixton (who was also in The Face of Marble) as Frances. Nobody else is even close to Karloff's level, being just bland 40's actors who talk too fast, but none of the main cast are phoning it in, either.

Conversely, the worst thing in the movie is its truly horrendous gorilla suit. The puppet face shows the actor's eyes and can curl its lip, which is cool, though the features don't look very gorilla-ish. The rest of the suit, however, is terrible. It's way too shaggy and in order to give it a gorilla-like silhouette, they stuck a big hunchback on it. This might have worked if Corrigan had tried to walk on all fours like gorillas actually do, but instead he waddles along upright like a toddler with a full diaper, which ruins it. The people who made the movie also appear to think gorillas are nocturnal which, for the record, they are not.

Gorillas were kind of a big thing in movies of the 40's and 50's. The species had been scientifically described a century earlier, but hadn't really been studied until the 1920s and most people had never seen one outside of King Kong. Films of the period were not kind to the gorilla. One of the first gorilla movies was 1930's Ingagi, which purported to be a documentary about gorillas kidnapping women as sex slaves. That kind of set the tone, and subsequent movies depicted gorillas as creatures prone to violence and rape. Examples from this blog alone are numerous: The Ape Man (1940), Panther Girl of the Kongo (1955), and Bride of the Gorilla (1951) for starters... Robot Monster (1953) might also count.

The Ape has a slightly more nuanced approach to gorilla behaviour. Yes, its gorilla does maul people to death... but the first victim is its trainer, who has been shown mistreating it. Another circus employee even tries to tell him that he'll catch more flies with honey. When the ape batters its way into Dr. Adrien's house, it does so in order to get at the trainer's coat, which Adrien left draped over a chair when the dying man was brought to him for treatment. We see far more fear of the escaped ape than we do of the animal itself, and it does not commit near as many murders as Adrien does while dressed in its skin!

So that's halfway progressive for the 1940s. We can also look at the treatment of Frances, the wheelchair-user partially paralyzed by polio. She is clearly meant to be an object of the audience's pity, and Adrien is obsessed with making her able to walk again – as he could not do for his own daughter. To some extent the movie infantilizes her, as she is clearly dependent on her mother, unable to have much of a social life, and her boyfriend Danny professes his willingness to 'take care of her'. When she regains movement in her legs at the end of the movie, she and her mother immediately burn her wheelchair. Apparently she's not allowed to build up her stamina slowly... if she walks ten minutes from home and then can't continue, she's just gotta sit there until she recovers or somebody finds her.

On the other hand, Frances' family aren't trying to force Adrien's possible cure on her, but let her choose it for herself. Her mother doesn't mind looking after her, and Danny is happy to accommodate her by, for example, hiring a cart so she can accompany him to the circus. Danny in particular is very suspicious of the fact that the injections Adrien gives to Frances are causing her pain, and takes the doctor to task for it, telling him he would rather have her disabled and happy than walking but in pain. “I'd rather carry her around all my life!” he says. Her loved ones are willing to try for the cure, but it doesn't seem like anyone will be miserable if it fails. Frances herself wistfully admires the acrobats at the circus, but shows no anger or bitterness that she cannot be like them.

Frances is even allowed some initiative, as she hurries down the road in her wheelchair calling to Dr. Adrien and trying to warn him that the gorilla is in the area. This, ironically, is what leads to Adrien getting shot, as it attracts the attention of the posse hunting the animal. But as Adrien lies dying, he gets to see Frances standing for the first time in ten years, so I guess we're meant to think this was all worth it.

But was it? Several people died in order to provide the spinal fluid that helped Frances heal. The movie shows them as terrified of Dr. Adrien and/or the gorilla, but other than that it is oddly uninterested in their fates. None of the deaths are presented as tragedies, with families left in mourning... the only family we hear about for the gorilla trainer is a father who is already dead, and another one of the victims was an asshole who told his wife if she didn't like him cheating on her she could always drown herself(!??). So... are we supposed to think they don't matter? That their deaths are acceptable because they helped Frances – who was not dying or even deteriorating, and was satisfied with her life as it was – to a cure?

It is notable that we do not see what happens when Frances finds out that people had to die for her to be able to walk. She would have to reassess her opinion of Dr. Adrien, whom until now she has thought of as a loving father figure. She would have to figure out what this means for her future and perhaps need reassurance that she is not culpable. Her unconcerned happiness at the end suggests that nobody bothered to tell her, and that she has not yet made the connection herself. This is really quite unfortunate, because it deprives Frances of her only real chance to be a character rather than a plot point – which is ultimately all she is here.

Nobody else is shown dealing with the aftermath, either. The town has long mistrusted Dr. Adrien because of rumours that he was experimenting on his patients, and a recent spate of missing dogs is shown to be his fault. An early scene shows a group of boys bothering the doctor by throwing rocks at his house (which made me wonder if toilet paper hadn't been invented yet. According to Wikipedia, it dates to 1857, so there's your Fun Fact for the day). Seeing their worst fears realized really ought to have some effect on the people. Even if nobody bothers to tell Frances how her miraculous cure was effected, others will surely figure it out and have to weigh up what he achieved versus the crimes he committed to get there.

Yeah, I know: this is a movie about a guy killing people while wearing a dead gorilla. I'm thinking too hard.

Finally, I want to note some interesting possible connections between The Ape and a number of other movies I've seen. Both The Ape and The Ape Man appear to have been inspired by the 1932 movie Murders in the Rue Morgue, which also features a gorilla and injections of bodily fluids in the name of mad science, and did not feature very much resemblance to Edgar Allen Poe's story of the same name. I don't know if these films directly inspired each other, and it's been ages since I saw Rue Morgue... but the combination of plot elements here seems weirdly specific to be something different people came up with independently. I should watch all three again and see if I notice any more similarities between them.

There are also interesting likenesses between The Ape and another Boris Karloff movie, 1945's The Grave Robber. The latter is the story of a doctor who needs fresh corpses as part of his research, which culminates in surgery to allow a paralyzed girl to walk again. The doctor in this film is more a victim than a villain, himself, as he finds that the man he's been paying to rob graves for him is actually murdering the homeless, and he can't expose this criminal without jeopardizing his work and incriminating himself. It's been a long time since I saw this movie, either (as I mentioned a few weeks ago, I've had some shit going on and I haven't had a lot of time for movies, bad or otherwise), so I can't actually say if it's better than The Ape, but it's definitely less silly.

Anyway, the moral of this story is vaccinate your fucking kids or a gorilla will kill you.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the ape #40s #guys in gorilla suits #tw: rape #allow me to recommend a better movie #we're running out of plots

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marshmallow-phd · 5 years ago

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Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

You parked on the side of an empty back road, careful not to stop in any spot that might be muddy. It hadn’t rained for a few days, but with the weather lately, you couldn’t be too careful. The last thing you needed was to have to call Erik and confess to him that you did indeed go out to the woods to take pictures and were now stuck in the mud and needed his help.

A small part of you felt guilty. His concern wasn’t completely unfounded. If he’d had gotten hurt working on a backdrop by himself, whether by falling off a ladder or being hit by a light, you would be hesitant about him doing it again. But each of you were your own person, right? Independent not codependent?

Okay, it was probably time to lay of the self-help books for a while. You took one modern philosophy class and it had been a downward spiral from there. Perhaps it was time to give the supernatural genre a try.

The trees smelled intoxicating. Mixed with the humidity in the air, it was the kind of scent that could outperform even the most expensive of perfumes. It was an aroma that surrounded you, engulfed you in its arms the further into the woods you went. The peaceful smile that pulled on the corners of your lips were automatic, involuntary. Not that you would fight if you could. Despite the rumors of wolves running around, you were comfortable here.

Deep within the forest, a wide, oval clearing full of browned wildflowers rested. Bits of green here and there tried to break through the foliage that had died during the harsh winter. Their odds of making it through might not have been great, but you admired their tenacity.

These clearings were common in the woods and yet, they were your favorite places to capture. From one angle, it could seem like you were lost in a fast labyrinth of Mother Nature. Another, a prairie that belonged to another region entirely. The possibilities were endless if you really thought about it. And each clearing, you’d discovered, was unique within itself. Its shape, the plants it held, the thickness of the grass. You knew you hadn’t found every one yet, but you were determined to someday. For now, though, you would have stick with this particular clearing that you had visited before, as it was close to the road for a quick getaway, should you need it.

Sliding the bags off your shoulder, you crouched down and dug through until you found your notebook. The pages were unlined, which allowed you to right down your thoughts and ideas at odd angles. To you, it gave the otherwise somewhat boring inside a more artistic aesthetic. The plain leather cover was soft in your hands, worn from the amount of use and abuse you’d put it through. It wasn’t exactly common for photographers to write out their ideas before shooting. Some drew out the scene they wanted to capture, trying out different angles in their imagination. Most didn’t do any sort of prep like this at all. But you preferred to write it out, especially since most of your ideas tended to come at the most inconvenient times. Scribbling down half-coherent words tended to be quicker than a sketch.

After a quick review of your latest ideas, you tossed the notebook down and turned on your camera. You took several test shots, adjusting each settling until you came to the look you were searching for. Long shots and close ups, you photographed nearly every square foot of that clearing in order to get that one picture. That one picture that took everyone’s breath away, that made them stop and tilt their head every which way in order to take the scene in at all possible viewpoints. You wanted to them to see the world the way you did.

So in tuned to what you were doing, you hadn’t noticed the pair of eyes watching you from the shadows. They gave off the faintest glow filled with curiosity as they hovered in the air. You snapped a few photos in their direction, still unaware of their presence, and then lowered the camera to look back on the shots. At first, when you clicked through the pictures, you didn’t notice the tiny amber dots that blended in with the foliage. But by the fourth picture, you stopped.

Never before had you been scared by this place. Then again, the only animals you’d ever encountered before were rabbits and deer and other mostly harmless critters. These did not look like the eyes of a friendly Disney sidekick. Ice ran down your spine. You couldn’t run. If it was a predator, that would only encourage it. So, you tried to remain as still as possible while lifting your eyes to the spot that the animal was hiding. Perhaps there was a chance that it wouldn’t sense your fear and would take your stare down as a reason to walk away.

No such luck.

The leaves under its paws rustled as it stepped forward into the sun.

A tannish wolf with a long black strip down its back revealed itself. But it didn’t look menacing. In fact, though you might have been fooling yourself, it seemed almost… curious? Confused? It was hard to read the expression since you couldn’t fully compare it to a human. With slow, thoughtful steps, it came closer. You tried to remain still, tried not to move. The strain was causing your legs to tremble slightly. Now, you felt tremendously stupid for not listening to Willa’s warning about wolves. Was this considered an ironic moment? You weren’t entirely sure since language arts had never been your strong suit.

Unable to keep you upright anymore, your legs gave out. At least you landed on your butt with your camera hanging safely around your neck. Your fingernails dug into the dirt next to you as the wolf came closer, still at that same cautious pace. Harder and harder, your heart pounded in your ears. The wolf paused for a few seconds before continuing on. Could it hear your terrified pulse? Silently, you said your goodbyes as the wolf erased all space between you. Its muzzle nudged your cheek, coming to a stop near your ear. It sniffed deeply, then jumped back.

Your eyes widened, somewhat relieved that it hadn’t pounced, but also confused. Why wasn’t it attacking? Why did it look spooked?

The wolf sat back, head tilting back and forth as it studied you. It made no threatening moves or sounds. The tips of its ears perked up and it let out a sound that was eerily similar to a scoff.

“I guess you’re not hungry then?” An odd thing to say out loud to an animal that couldn’t talk, but you blamed it on the shock of the whole situation.

The wolf responded with a short puff of air before lowering itself down to its stomach.

This was… surreal. All the other animals you’d ever encountered had either kept their distance or ran away at the slightest sound. And yet, here was this wolf, laying in front of you, not vicious or aggressive. It was almost… cute, in a way.

“You’re a strange creature,” you said out loud. The wolf apparently took that as a sign to come closer. Crawling on its stomach, it took came to the point where it was almost able to rest its head in your lap-

The shrill sound of your current favorite song ripped through the air. You gasped, jumping up to your feet and running to your bag where you desperately searched through the pockets until you found your phone. It was Willa.

“Hello?”

“Hey, where are you?”

“I, um,” you glanced at the wolf who had jumped up to its feet. “I got bored so I’m just out driving around. Why?”

“Jiyoung called and asked last second to switch shifts at the coffee shop and so I’m free for the evening. And I’m hungry.”

You laughed a little at her not-so-subtle hint. “Alright. Give me twenty minutes to get back to the dorm. How does brick oven pizza sound?”

“Like heaven.”

“Okay, then. See you soon.” You ended the call and looked up, meeting eyes with the wolf. It never broke contact and in turn, gave you a bit more bravery. Lifting up the camera, you snapped a single shot of the wolf. “I’ll be back.” A strange promise to make, but you said it anyway. You wanted another encounter with this mysterious creature. Gathering up your things, you hurried out of the clearing and back through the trees to your car, still sitting on the side of the road.

It took less than twenty minutes to make it back to the university. Back at the dorm, Willa was lying on her bed, scrolling through her phone mindlessly. She sat up as soon as you came through the door.

“Fun drive?” she asked.

You shrugged. “It was fine.”

“No exciting scenes to snap?”

Her tease made you roll your eyes. “No, not really. Now, come on. I thought you said you wanted to eat?”

Not missing a beat, Willa jumped up from the bed, snatched up her purse, and pulled you out of the room, contemplating out loud which signature pizza sounded good.

Minseok growled as he ran through the forest. How he could have possibly lost those three was beyond him. Being unable to find them now was even more stupefying. They were loud, how could he not know which direction to take? He had to be careful. This part of the forest was close to the back roads and Junmyeon was worried they were being spotted too often. If the three them weren’t paying attention-

Click. Click. Click.

Minseok brought himself to a halt at the strange sound. There wasn’t any sort of pattern to it, but there was an underlying shuttering that seemed vaguely familiar. Too curious to just ignore it, Minseok headed in the direction e suspected it came from. Once he found the answer, he’d go back to finding the others.

The sound led him to one of the many clearings in the woods. A person wandering around the area taking pictures seemed to be the source, a camera in their hands. You appeared to be alone. Odd since not many ventured out in the forest by themselves. The isolation didn’t seem to bother you, though as you carelessly went about your task.

Staying in the shadows, Minseok watched your back as you continued to photograph the nature around you. Something… something strange was tingling in his shoulders, like the muscle beneath the skin had fallen asleep. Without prompt from him, his paw moved forward. He should be leaving. Be gone before you spotted him. But he couldn’t do it. Something told him to wait.

That’s when you turned around. By the way you kept taking pictures, you hadn’t seen him. It wasn’t until you lowered the camera to review the film did you freeze. And you weren’t the only one.

Something in Minseok’s world snapped when he saw your face. His muscles contracted, shivered and ached.

Go! an inner voice urged. He tried to turn his body in the opposite direction of you, but failed. Not that way! He had no choice but to obey. So he stepped closer to you. Your eyes snapped up, meeting his own. In his chest, his heart accelerated. What was this? What was going on?

Slightly fighting each movement, Minseok broke out from the tree line and into the clearing. It was obvious you were frightened. And he was breaking all the rules by revealing himself. Logic could not win, however. He kept walking. Even after you fell backwards, he was only able to pause for a brief second. Your rapidly beating heart was loud in his own sensitive ears. But he wasn’t so sure that it was completely out of fear. He needed to be closer. So closer he went. The whiskers of his muzzle brushed against your cheek, sending a lightning bolt through his body. He took in your scent and reeled back.

You smelled human. You were human. But… there’s something different about you and he couldn’t fathom what it might be.

“I guess you’re not hungry then?” you said oddly.

Minseok laughed. Well, as much as he could with this ribcage and these vocal cords. Overwhelmed, he adjusted to a more comfortable position. The feeling in his chest was almost all consuming and it weighed him down. He’d seen plenty of humans on his runs, but this had never happened before. Was this something that would only happen because he was in his wolf form? Or would he still feel like this if he saw you on two legs?

With a glimmer in your eye, you sighed, “You’re a strange creature.”

Taking that as sign, he tested the waters and pulled himself across the grass with his front paws, closing the gap between you.

A song suddenly cut through the air and forced him to a stop before he could rest his head in your lap - an action that he was itching to try out. You jumped up with a gasp and ran to the bags resting at the bottom of a tree. Frantically, you searched the pockets until you found the source of the noise, answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, where are you?” asked a female voice on the other end.

“I, um,” you glanced over him, making him jump to his feet. Will you tell your friend the truth? “I got bored so I’m just out driving around. Why?”

He almost let out a sigh from relief. Talk of an overly friendly wolf would be bad, especially if it spread through town and more people ventured into the woods to try and encounter him.

“Jiyoung called and asked last second to switch shifts at the coffee shop and so I’m free for the evening. And I’m hungry.”

You laughed. “Alright. Give me twenty minutes to get back to the dorm. How does brick oven pizza sound?”

“Like heaven.”

“Okay, then. See you soon.” You hung up the call and met his eyes again. Impulsively, you took one last picture of him, which he didn’t shy away from. “I’ll be back,” you promised softly.

Minseok could no longer feel the ground beneath him. He just stood there, watching as you ran through the trees in the direction of the road. When his senses came back to him, he noticed a small brown square hidden among the tan grass. He went closer to inspect what the object was. It was a notebook.

It must be yours.

Scooping the leather-bound book in his mouth, he took off after you. Following your scent through the forest was easy – it stood out like a pink flower in a sea of green grass. But he wasn’t quick enough. He caught the sight of your tail lights far down the road. He would have to keep a hold of the notebook until he saw you again. You did say that you would be back.

Or you could track her down?

Minseok shook that thought away. How would he ever explain that without giving away his true nature?

Giving up for the time being, he turned around and decided to head back to the house. There was no way he could find the others now. And with you gone, the elated feeling disappeared, leaving him weighted as if he were being dragged down into the earth. Each step was anchored down. It took him much longer to get back to the farm house.

Several other members were scattered about the house, either working on their studies or clowning around. Your notebook tucked between his clothes and held close to his chest, he headed up to his room. After a quick shower, he got dressed once again and sat on the end of his bed. In his hands, he flipped the notebook over and over. He contemplated opening it. But that would be invading, wouldn’t it? But he wanted to find out about you.

So he pulled open the cover.

Inside, in the top right hand corner of the first page was your name. He smiled, saying it softly over and over. It felt… right on his lips. Your face hovered in his mind. It fit you so well, like a jacket tailored with perfection.

The nature of wolves was an odd kind. There was a constant urge to belong. To belong to a pack and then… to belong to a person.

Ever since he was young, he was told about how someday he find that special person whose soul was connected to his. Fate predetermined who that person would be and no one could ever fill the void that existed until that person came along. Ordinary humans would never experience that kind of feeling, that kind of love. The type of love for the wolf that could only be given by one person.

A mate.

Was that what you were? None of his brothers were mated. They were all free – some taking more advantage of the situation than others. Occasionally, they would joke about who would be first. Some thought it might be Yixing, given his soft heart and the genuine warmth he radiated. Others liked to joke that it would be Baekhyun or Jongin, the big serial daters of the pack. Minseok, though, had his money set on Jongdae. That wolf had barely been able to give in to the call of the pack when he first joined them all. He was verbally against the idea of mating, more so than anyone else. Opening up to people was not a strong suit of the younger wolf and Minseok couldn’t wait to see what kind of journey that would be once he was forced to.

Minseok would have been the last person on everyone’s mind for the mated list. Not for any malicious reasons, just because he didn’t venture out very much beyond school so the odds of meeting someone new were low. Or so he thought. He liked being out at the house, being home. He was the very definition of “homebody”. Ironic that he ended up meeting you out here.

Knock, knock, knock.

He looked up and quickly hid the notebook beneath his pillows, just in time before Junmyeon, the alpha, peaked his head in. “Minseok?”

“Yeah?”

Junmyeon looked back towards the hallway. “Yeah, he’s in here!” he yelled. “Tell Jongdae to stop worrying!”

Minseok laughed. Naturally, they leave him behind but then they get worried. He was the eldest, always looking after the others. And yet, oftentimes, it didn’t feel like that.

Where he thought that might be the end of the checkup, Junmyeon, instead, closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed beside him.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Minseok nodded. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

“I saw the look on your face when you came in,” Junmyeon explained. “You looked troubled.”

The two of them weren’t the closet out of the whole pack. In fact, there were times where it was awkward between them, the role of the alpha and the role of eldest clashing at times. But other times, he was the best one to turn to.

“What do you know about the mating aspect of us?”

Junmyeon pursed his lips, thinking. “The mating aspect? Only the basics, really. That when you meet that one person, that’s it. And you’re supposed to live happily ever after.” He laughed at the cheesy line, releasing some of the tension.

Minseok couldn’t help but laugh along. It died out soon, though, as his mind went back to his current dilemma. “They always say you just know after one look. Do you think that’s right?”

“Yes, I do,” the alpha confirmed. “That’s all it takes. You feel it in here.” He tapped his chest, right about his heart. “Minseok? Why are you asking about this?”

He weighed his options. If this wasn’t what he thought it was and the others found out, he would never hear the end of it from them. But having someone validate his theory would ease some of the strain.

“I think I found her.”

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #minseok x reader #kim minseok #xiumin #exo werewolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo series #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo supernatural au #untamed wolf universe #Catching Rain

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jincherie · 6 years ago

Text

fox rain | intro

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 9.9k • ☽ — rating: sfw? • ☽ — warnings: this is PRIME crackheadery and headassery, this is literally such a mess fuckk, anyway-- accidental voyeurism, extreme amounts of stress, sleep deprivation (uni life amirite) • ☽ — notes: lets get it miss FOX RAIN!!!!!!!! also: links will be put in at a later date

— posted; 04.05.2019

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well... maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterlist | intro | next • —

Living as a University student paddling through your second year means that, as one would expect, you aren’t exactly a poster-girl for good decision-making—especially when it comes to things like sleep and time management. Those two areas in particular are probably your biggest weakness, but at least, you think as you pass through the brief lawn that marks the beginning of your University campus and join the throng of tired, yawning students, you are not alone in your suffering. Inability to catch the recommended hours of sleep and manage your time is a common trait among the student population.

It is your poor strength in these areas that landed you where you are now; dead-tired and still dealing with a delayed stress response that was lingering from yesterday’s deadline. You were up stupidly late last night, running on probably about four hours of sleep across three days, and barely coherent as you hastily emailed one of your assignments to your professor. It wasn’t all that hard for you, but you’d forgotten and by the time you realised the deadline was looming so close it was practically on top of you. You’re pretty impressed with yourself that you managed to make it, in all honesty.

You aren’t unfamiliar with this particular state of exhaustion, but thankfully aren’t as completely out of it as you feared you might be when you finally allowed yourself to sleep last night—or rather, this morning. Which you feel might be a good thing, because if you were any more tired than you are right now then you probably wouldn’t have noticed the change in the air as you amble deeper into campus.

Chatter isn’t uncommon in the people you pass on your way to class most mornings, but currently the air is buzzing. A sense of excitement, anxiety and trepidation mixes together within you, a cocktail with a taste eerily similar to fear, as you push forward. The people are excited, animated… you don’t like it. What is there to be so hyped up about at 8AM on a Friday morning? You decide to ignore the buzz and continue to plod on as intended.

You don’t get too far before your ears are catching excited gossip and hushed whispers exchanged between friends, despite your best efforts.

“…who though? Do you think its someone we know? I really…”

Your ears burn with the effort it takes to strain them, but you’re still walking and now too far to catch anything more from them. The next few people you pass do an excellent job of filling in the blanks one by one, offering their own jigsaw pieces to complete the mystery in your mind. Each new thing you hear stirs a certain sense of paranoia in your mind, the voice that always whispers, is this about you? Usually dismissing it is easy, but the more you hear, the more a tendril of dread begins to twirl within you and entwine around your bones.

“… do they know it’s been leaked? I feel so bad for them…”

“… apparently it was sent to their whole class? That’s so embarrassing…”

Oh god, is it you? Something was leaked? Was it nudes? Wait—you don’t have any nudes to leak. Well, not digital ones anyway. You do your best to ignore the paranoid voice in your head that tells you the poor person everyone is so fussed about is you, hastening your pace and heading towards the building that houses your Music Composition class with renewed vigour.

The people you pass in the halls seem to be abuzz with the same news that everyone else was, and it’s at this point that the dread curling within you is joined by a powerful, burning curiosity. You want to know, god do you want to know what everyone is whispering about. What the hell happened that has everyone like this? How had you not heard anything by now?

More snippets of conversations brush your ears as you near your room, something useful finally brought to light as you hear someone mention an infamous facebook page made by students of the university. Perhaps that is where you will find the answer to the questions flitting across your mind. The morsel of excitement within you is squashed suddenly as you catch something else.

“… what an idiot, to accidentally email everyone. I mean, it’s something I’d probably do, but still…”

You almost trip as your legs freeze and your spine goes rigid, one very important detail surfacing from the depths of your memory. That sounds like something you would do too, and the realisation that just last night you were emailing something particularly sensitive has a horrified sensation sliding down your spine. Suddenly very, very worried, you bolt over the remaining distance between you and the classroom doors.

Your increased speed from before has landed you there much earlier than usual, and the few students that are normally there at this hour shoot you mild looks of alarm before returning to whatever they were talking about before you burst through the doors in your dishevelled, panting state. The teacher isn’t here yet and to your momentary delight there is much more space available, leaving you a wider spread of choices for your seat that what you usually have. You decide to plop your ass in a seat against the wall in the middle-back of the room, quickly pulling out the necessary items for the class and then whipping your phone out, nearly yanking your earphones out by accident in the process.

Hastily, with speed and agility you didn’t even know your fingers possess, you pull up the email app you have hooked up to your private and university emails and slam your fingertip onto the ‘sent’ tab. It takes a second to load, the duration of which you spend resisting the urge to vault yourself over the desk and flee, but when it does you feel your heart drop through your stomach in horror.

The first thing you notice is the abundance of typos and poor grammar that litter the very brief but very incriminating body of the email, and you internally die a bit as you take them all in. The second thing that catches your eye, to your absolute horror, is the actual email address you sent it from. You feel your cheeks catch fire, flooding with heat that spreads all the way to the tips of your ears, and you have never regretted not deleting that stupid, stupid email address you made when you were twelve, more than you did in this moment. You’d not even come anywhere near partly to terms with those first two observations, when you unwittingly make your third, and arguably the worst, observation.

‘bcc: Jodi, Yuki, Jacob… and 423 others’

On god, you’d fucking emailed your heartfelt poem-turned-assessment piece to the entirety of your creative writing course.

You sit in horror for a moment, brain producing some sort of static in the absence of intelligent thought. You feel kind of faint, would it be very alarming to your classmates if you suddenly passed out? Probably—you slap a hand to your cheek, the person in front of you jumping and turning around in alarm at the noise. You don’t even have the presence of mind to assuage their worries because your embarrassment meter is completely fucking maxed out and if you make eye contact with another human being in the next few minutes you know for sure you’re going to combust. God, oh god this is literally your worst nightmare—you’ve had nightmares about shit like this since the night before your first day in high school. Is this karma? You can’t think of anything you’ve done in your meagre years on this earth that would be atrocious enough to warrant a fate like this.

It is in the midst of your current humiliation-fueled crisis that you remember some of the people you passed mentioning a certain facebook page that the university students here held dear— CCU Love Letters, a page where shy individuals could anonymously submit love letters or other such media for the page to post without it being linked back to them. A new shade of horror begins to paint your insides and it’s almost at double speed that you bring up the app on your phone and search for the page in question. It takes a moment to load, but when it does you’re once more stuck fighting the urge to throw yourself over the desk and run away.

There, for all to see, is the poem you’d spilt part of your heart into and submitted as what was supposed to be a confidential assignment piece.

The sight of how many likes, reactions and comments there are already alarms you, but it is as you’re avoiding the comment section that you notice, with an incredible feeling of relief, that nothing like your name or anything similar is present to possibly link it to you. Pausing, you switch apps and go back to the email, scanning it to confirm your suspicions. The great gust of relief that passes your lips has a few heads turning as more people enter the room but you don’t even care, too busy trying not to cry as you console yourself.

Sleep-deprived and incoherent as you were, by some serendipitous miracle you’d forgotten to tack on your name or anything that identified you in the original email, aside from your student number. Even then, the only way someone would be able to link that back to you would be if they find your student card or hack the school systems or something. You’re really about to weep in relief right before your class starts, resting your face in your hands. Have you ever been so close to death that you could almost taste it before? The answer is that you haven’t, but today you almost glimpsed the ruler of the heavens and you’re not keen to repeat the experience.

Attempting to quell the remaining anxiety and humiliation swirling within you, you give yourself a pep talk of sorts. It’s fine, everything is fine. There is no way that anyone would know it was you, and yeah a private poem meant only for your eyes and the eyes of your teacher— perhaps even the person you had in mind while writing it— had been shared to a very public platform where the entire student population could view and read it, but it’s fine. Why? Because they have no way of knowing it’s you who wrote it. A shuddering breath leaves you as you attempt some sort of abridged form of meditation. Fine, it’s fine. You know what? You bet that by the end of your class, no one will even be talking about it anymore. It’s probably old news already, you doubt the mass of student that have better things to worry about than a leaked poem are going to keep being so fussed about it.

Yes, you reassure yourself as the teacher finally enters the room and you begin to prepare the necessary items. By the time your class is over this humiliating incident will be long gone and forgotten in the minds of the student populus, and everything will be fine— just fine.

x x x x x x x

Sweet cheese and bacon rolls, things are not just fine as you leave your classroom two hours later and return to the halls that are now ten times more busy and bustling than earlier. You’d stayed in the room long past the time your class was over, using the excuse of studying on the spot, but now you can no longer avoid leaving as the next class’ students begin to filter in and you dart out.

The buzz is worse, everyone is still talking about it and even though it kind of makes you want to throw yourself into the lake on campus you keep self-soothing with the reminder that no one knows the author of the poem is you. Slapping a half-assed smile onto your face in an effort to convince yourself and think a better mood into existence, you leave the building and head towards the food court. You’re in need of comfort and food mightn’t be the best answer but at least it’s better than letting loose a blood-curdling scream in the middle of the road.

Twenty minutes later finds you sitting at a table in the outside area of the food court with newly bought coffee and a big kebab, dissociating as you attempt to ignore the obnoxious chatter about you know what that floats around you. It’s to no avail, evidently, and you pout as you finally reach for the kebab that’s been sitting there for the past few minutes, untouched but still warm.

“... Are you eating a kebab?”

You don’t even jump at the sudden sound of a voice to your side, remaining in your seat and facing forward as the owner comes around to sit across from you, seat scraping the ground. The familiar sight of your best friend as she gets comfortable in front of you makes the urge to spill your current troubles to her rise within you, but just barely you resist. It’s already a mess enough as it is, you don’t need to add to it.

“And if I am?” you ask, raising a brow in challenge. If she’s surprised you’re getting defensive over food that is clearly a very indulgent choice, then she doesn’t show it.

Sera instead laughs, her eyes closing in her mirth as she sweeps her hair over her shoulder and out of her face. “Seriously? It’s almost ten in the morning, you didn’t want something a bit lighter to munch on? Lunchtime isn’t that far away.”

You grumble incoherently, taking a generous bite of the food in question and glaring at the sweet chilli sauce that threatens to drip down your hand as a result. She simply smiles at you, taking out the container of fruit she likely cut up and packed the night before along with a fork, and digging in. This is a bit of a ritual, since your classes align every second day or so— the two of you usually meet after the first class of the morning for something to munch on and chat over. You both eat in silence for a while before she speaks up again, the chatter of a nearby couple apparently reminding her of something she had to say.

“Oh!” she bursts around a mouthful of kiwi fruit, pointing her fork at you as her eyes widen almost comically. If you weren’t busy attempting to chew and not choke on an alarmingly sized mouthful of meat and lettuce, you might have laughed. “Did you see?!”

Ignoring the feeling of apprehension beginning to seep into your abdomen, you tilt your head in question, prompting her to continue. Thankfully, the overly excited girl takes a moment to finish chewing what is currently in her mouth before she speaks once more.

“Did you see?!” Sera repeats, with just as much zest as before. She quickly amends her statement at the perseverance of your questioning gaze. “Or rather, did you hear? Everyone is talking about it!”

The feeling of apprehension in your tummy grows heavier, weighing it down further, but you can only continue to chew your food with a sense of resignation as the girl reaches into her bag for her phone, pretty, manicured fingernails tapping against the screen with a satisfying sound once it has been retrieved from the depths. Her fingers fly across the screen a few times, metal bangles around her wrist tinkling as their charms collide, before she is setting it down and sliding it over to you. Just as you had expected, what she is showing you is the CCU Love Letter post that displays the entirety of your shamefully romantic poem. You swear, the one time you let yourself be a sap and it gets plastered all over the internet for the entire campus to see.

A part of you is thankful you’d figured it out and seen it earlier in the day, because you know that if the first time you saw it was when Sera showed you then your following reaction would have given you away instantly as the author. Of course, you didn’t know why that would be a bad thing— she was your best friend, this was the kind of shit you should be telling each other. You supposed you just weren’t emotionally prepared enough for the embarrassment that would follow your recount of events. So, it is a confession that can wait until another day when you’re less… vulnerable.

Eyes narrowing at the post displayed before you, you glare at the number that displays reactions and comments. It’s gotten bigger, much bigger, since you last checked, and you don’t like that at all. A sense of betrayal fills you at the thought of the student population doing you dirty like this— are you not bros in suffering? Where is the solidarity? The sisterhood? The brotherhood? The sting of this betrayal is not one that you will forget anytime soon.

You make a discontented noise around the food in your mouth, one that Sera misinterprets as one of incredulity and interest, and wallow in a distinct feeling of regret as she immediately takes it as a signal to let her building excitement flow. This is probably the most interesting thing that has happened for her all semester, you don’t doubt she’s going to hold onto it for a while— you can only hope and pray the same won’t be the case for everyone else.

“Some poor soul in our writing course accidentally emailed their assignment to the entire cohort, and then from there someone must have leaked it and submitted it to the CCU Love Letter page,” Sera whispers, as though she’s spilling trade secrets to you. Her words make it seem like she feels sorry for the idiot that has messed up so badly— little did she know that idiot is you— but the expression displayed on her elfish features is anything but sympathetic. It is excitement and a tinge of something else that gleams in her eyes, but you choose not to dwell on it for the sake of your sanity. You feel like you’re going to implode.

“God,” you begin after finally swallowing the gargantuan mouthful you’d taken before, like the idiot you’re gradually proving yourself to be. “That’s so… I feel so bad for them, whoever they are…”

Sera doesn’t even notice the awkward nature of your weak attempt at contributing to conversation, too busy scrolling through her phone— a quick peek tells you she is reading through the comments on the post. You resist the urge to smack the phone out of her hands. You’re a rational being, you’re above such caveman instincts.

“It sucks for them,” she agrees, once more completely unsympathetic. You can’t say you’re surprised; Sera is the type to develop tunnel vision of sorts whenever it comes to the latest bit of gossip or news across campus. “But god, it’s so juicy… I wonder who shared it— I wonder who wrote it?”

Wisely, you choose this moment to take another, perhaps unwisely-sized, bite of your second breakfast. Sera drums her fingers against the flesh of her cheek as she skims through the comments once more, making a sliver of irritation prick your insides.

“Is this what everyone is talking about?” you query, unable to help your next line of questioning. “Why is everyone so hyped up about it?”

Sera hums, bright eyes flicking from her screen to meet your own. You think she looks perhaps a bit too gleeful considering her best friend is suffering immensely at this current point in time, but then again… it’s not like she knows.

“Don’t you see it?” she asks, tinted lips curling. She pauses only to flick her finger over her screen, scrolling through the ridiculous plethora of comments under the post. “It’s like a modern-day rom-com storyline! Everyone is rooting for the mystery author and their ‘one true love’, and the fairytale ending that is bound to result… I’m pretty sure if people had any idea who the author was there would be OTPs and ships already, to be honest.”

Her words have a shudder of horror rolling down your spine before you can stop it, but thankfully her attention is otherwise occupied with the comments once more.

“Touching…” you attempt to smile but can feel it come as more of a grimace, the panic from earlier beginning to return at even the slightest mention of a hypothetical situation where your identity is revealed. “I suppose that would be kind of romantic…”

Sera hums, nodding, and spears the juice-box you didn’t even realise she had with an alarming amount of vigour. Her grin bunches her cheeks as she faces you again. “I’m dying to find out who the author is and who they wrote the poem about, though!”

With a slightly sickening feeling in your stomach, you take another hasty bite of your food. “Mmhm, me too.”

Is it too late to flee the country?

x x x

By the time your ‘brunch’ with Sera ends and you’re making your way to your next class, you’re fighting the imminent return of the anxiety and panic from earlier. You feel a little high-strung, admittedly, and you’re sure that anyone who passes you in the halls must get the message to give you a wide berth. Resiliently, you continue to console yourself with the fact that no matter your paranoia and fear, no one knows it was you who wrote it. You cling to this a bit like a lifeline, and while a part of you acknowledges that isn’t a very healthy way of dealing with the situation the other parts are living la vida fucking loca and dancing on the precipice of a cliff, the edge of which reveals the possibility of a minor mental breakdown. You’re far too tired to be dealing with this shit but karma got its kiss for you, you guess. What the hell did you even do to deserve this again?

It’s as you near the room where you attend your History of Music class that your attention is wrought from your depressing inner monologue and drawn to a slight commotion in the small seating area to the side. Unsurprisingly, the first person you see is the tall noodle of a man that usually haunts the halls of the musical arts building— surprisingly, the second thing you see is that he’s currently surrounded by a gaggle of girls and guys alike, who flock around him in a manner not all that dissimilar to the way reporters yap at people walking up the steps to a courthouse. You squint, wondering if you were seeing things— since when was Kim Namjoon this popular? Did he commit some blasphemous act forbidden to university students? You once heard he attempted to cut a fruit with the blunt side of a knife, but you didn’t think that counted as a crime against the university— that was more of a crime against common sense sort of thing.

As you walk past, pace quickening because that is one mess you most certainly want no part in from the looks of it, you catch a few of the words thrown into the air. Brows furrowing in confusion, you hasten your steps even more in accordance with the sudden shred of alarm tickling your ribs. The questions the students, who in all honesty look like a bunch of first-years, are throwing at him are all about the moon, and to the odd stranger nearby probably sound like nonsense. To you though… let’s just say that after the events of today so far you have a healthy dose of fear already coursing through yours system and aren’t about to risk your face being caught anywhere near that line of questioning no matter how ridiculously paranoid it made you seem.

“Hey, not to be rude but, uh, I kind of have somewhere to go…” you catch Namjoon’s low register as you zoom past, unable to resist the urge to spare him a brief glance out of curiosity. There are men and women grabbing at his clothes like lost children and he has a look of complete and utter alarm, mixed with a bit of befuddlement, as he attempts to pry their grip off. “Please… my reputation is at stake— HEY, WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TOUCHING—”

Unfortunately for you, your haste to leave the scene means that you’re entering your classroom, the door clicking shut behind you and muffling the sounds of the ensuing struggle, before you can catch what happens next. Angry at yourself for moving too fast for once, you move to your usual seat in a similar manner to a sulking toddler and settle in for the lesson. The teacher arrives soon after and you wish you could say your attention was stolen from the scene you’d just witnessed but alas, today was not the day your poor, weathered professor finally received your complete and undivided attention.

For once, the lesson that usually drags on passes quickly, although you think this probably has something to do with the fact that you weren’t paying attention like, at all. Which for you wasn’t unusual, but you were particularly distracted today— understandably so— and you were in all honesty surprised that your teacher hadn’t called you back to earth at any point in the lesson.

Pointedly ignoring the chatter and topic that is becoming so hauntingly familiar to you as the day wears on, you attempt to reassure yourself again as you depart the room once the class has ended. Everything is fine, this is just a temporary fad, a brief trend. It will die down soon like all trends do, surely.

You aren’t sure if you could have really convinced yourself of that completely, but the further into the day you get the wearier you become. As the day continues, you also begin to notice an increasing number of weird incidences. You haven’t touched your phone since this morning and, quite frankly, refuse to until you get home— at which point you will clear your alarms and attempt to sleep through your problems and the entire weekend. Just barely do you resist the urge to pull out your phone when, on the way to your next class, you see a large gathering of people in the lush, green courtyard area outside the older part of the campus. Slightly concerned, you eye the group when you catch sight of them in between columns, the fact that you’re a little pressed for time being the only thing stopping you from halting in the middle of the path and squinting to see better.

You nearly stumble in your steps though, when you finally discern what is going on. What you thought might have been a pop-up food stall or a club gathering was actually a tall male— who you quickly recognised as one of the campus heartthrobs, Kim Seokjin— who appeared to be holding court over the small mass of people that had gathered before him. You couldn’t shut your mouth it dropped so far open in incredulity at what you were seeing as the male yelled something indiscernible and stepped up onto— onto a stool?— and began gesturing emphatically, as though he was a fresh hire presenting his first pitch in front of company executives.

Coming back to your senses somewhat, you try to shut your mouth and turn on your heel, returning to your original path, as quickly as possible. You’re pretty sure his brand of idiot is contagious and you aren’t willing to hang around and find out if it’s airborne. A part of you desperately wants to know what the theatre major is being so dramatic over, but the remainder reminds you that he’s a theatre major and therefore prone to being dramatic about anything and everything he can get his hands on. You pointedly ignore the tiny minority in your mind that whispers suspiciously that god, what if he was talking about the poem?

Nope, he isn’t. Not a chance. You’re safe because the poem is in writing and you’re eighty-five percent certain Seokjin doesn’t know how to read.

Your next class passes in a little bit more of an anxious haze than the last, and you should be relieved because it’s technically your last class of the day but, unfortunately, your current source of income takes the form of tutoring sessions that occur three days of the week and are held in the closest library to the edge of campus that you leave from. Considering that, despite your two hour block of tutoring that you have yet to get through, you have finished classes for the day, your mood is considerably lifted. As well as that, you’ve either grown very good at blocking the voices out or people have finally stopped gossiping about your stupid poem. Regrettably and unbeknownst to you, the part of you that deep down knows the latter is most definitely not the case would soon be proven right.

The soft scent of vanilla and caramel isn’t one you’d traditionally associate with a library, but thanks to the soft-spoken library worker that resides in the one you frequent it’s a scent that greets you often. The young student enjoys having a nice-smelling work environment and you’re not one to complain; while you like the smell of books and paperback you hate the musty undertones that accompany it in libraries. The second you step foot into the library, somewhat early for your first session, your gaze first zeroes in on the table you usually take, free for you to plop your ass in once more, and second onto the tall form of the boy behind the front desk. You decide to throw him a quick greeting on your way over, for once momentarily distracted from the prominent problem that has followed you through the day.

“Hey, Koo!” you throw a smile over your shoulder as you pass the desk, missing the way the boy startles and drops the thick textbooks in his hold all over the desk. You hear the noise though, and when you turn back the boy, Jungkook, is flushed bright blossom pink and hurrying to bend and gather the scattered tomes. Embarrassed that you scared him so badly he dropped absolutely everything in his grasp, you hurry to take your seat and duck out of view. God, can you please just catch a break today? You’re not asking for much, just a little reprieve from the all-encompassing humiliation that’s been dragging after you like a second shadow all day.

Settling into your seat and avoiding looking back to the front desk like the plague, you bring out the books and materials you’ll need— your first client is a bright-eyed, bright-smiling boy whose name the whole campus pretty much knows thanks to a somewhat hilarious incident that ensued in his first year and had you instantly very easily convinced to stay away from moonshine when looking to get drunk off your face. His sunshine-y disposition meant that what would have been crippling for the social wellbeing of anyone else, had actually turned him into one of the most well-known and popular students that attended the university. It is incredible and you are in awe of it, but have yet to crack the code of exactly how he did it. In all honesty at this point you’re willing to accept that it was just part of his nature that had people loving him unconditionally.

The peace and quiet of the library is more than welcome at this point, and you are able to enjoy it without qualm for a good few minutes before your still-racing mind begins to get antsy. You’re not one that deals well with boredom or being patient for extended periods of time, and you got here early enough before the session that its too much time to pass quickly and not enough to spend doing anything meaningful, like studying. You consider your options for a moment, pondering your last resort. It isn’t the most appealing idea right now, but the thought of sitting in boredom for another however-long-it-took-Hoseok-to arrive is even more unappealing. It is for this reason that you finally cave and reach into your bag, pulling out the phone that has remained untouched since early morning. The screen lights up and regrettably unlocks before you can read the notifs, thanks to the over-eager facial recognition feature your phone has. Deciding to just bite the bullet, you open facebook and click the post to survey the damage so far.

Instantly, you are filled with regret. You don’t know how but the stupid thing has become even more popular since the last time you saw it, and to your absolute horror not only has the reactions and comments increased but also the number of shares. Wincing and regretting your choice of schooling, you allow your finger to press somewhat shakily onto the ‘view more’ option in the comments. Your screen adjusts to fit more into view and you don’t get very far before you’re freezing in your seat, heart stuttering anxiously. There, in the body of the most popular comment, is a link— your stomach sinks as you press it, swallowing heavily. What are you about to see, did someone post a response to your poem? Are people making fun of you? Of your shitty, sappy writing? You wait with bated breath as the page finally loads.

You nearly throw your phone.

Just as you feared, the link leads to a post made in a forum on one of the most popular sites that students at this university used to keep up to date on things that were usually dumb or none of their business, aptly named ‘CCU Campus Stalker Space’. It is the first post in a subforum labelled, “Mystery Moon Author & Their Mystery Muse”, and a feeling of nausea begins to rise within you before you even read the first word.

‘posted by u/triceratops [12:36PM]:

unless you’ve been living under a rock all day, you’re bound to have seen or heard about the latest drama to take the campus by storm. it has been learnt from various sources that in the early hours of this morning a poem was sent to the entire cohort of a creative writing course, presumably by accident, and then leaked to the CCU Love Letters page where it has since taken off and gone viral among the students. the questions on everyone’s minds right now are no doubt the same— who is the author, and who is the subject of this lovely poem? well, that’s what we aim to find out, and that’s what i have dedicated some time to figuring out this fine friday. this thread will be dedicated to getting to the bottom of this mystery, and finding the answers we all want, as well as bringing about the happy ending we’re all rooting for! now, please find below my analysis on the poem and the situation, and the connections i have been able to make thus far ^^’

Distantly, you feel your breath quickening slightly as your chest begins to pinch, wide eyes locked on the screen as you continue to read as though in a trance. Your fingers grip the pen in your hold so hard that it threatens to snap and still, you can’t stop reading— even as abject horror begins to seep into your abdomen and slide over your insides like slick ichor and oil.

‘after analysing the poem extensively, there is one clear theme that surfaces frequently throughout; that of the sky, the stars, but most importantly— the moon. evidence and instances of this will be attached in the post below this, but before that i will say that, taking into consideration the various personalities and reputations attending this university, i have been able to narrow potential subjects/muses of the poem down to seven people. each of them is tied to the moon in some form or another, leading me to include them in this shortlist— i will include my reasoning in the post below this along with the other information. without further ado, here are the seven people i believe to be strong candidates for possible subjects of the poem by our mystery author;’

You want nothing more than to stop reading, to throw your phone and flee the scene, yet you cannot stop— each word your eyes rake over hammers home a feeling of dread and horror that swirls with the distinct sensation of regret within you. One after the other, the names listed below the paragraph you just finished punch out the remaining shards of your sanity and ground them to bits.

‘Kim Seokjin’

Your teeth sink into your lip, gripping at the flesh anxiously.

‘Min Yoongi’

You feel kind of faint, hints of the panic from earlier in the day brushing your senses.

‘Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon’

The slightest sting of pain registers in the back of your mind from the pressure with which your fingers are gripping the table increases, knuckles turning white.

‘Kim Taehyung’

Each name your eyes pass over brings you closer to the section that has an undercurrent of fear thrumming in your veins.

‘Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook’

Your brain almost refuses to let you read the next part, still reeling over the information it just recieved, but as though you’re in a haze your eyes continue to roll down the screen anyway, thumb scrolling absently.

‘these are the candidates i believe most likely to be the subject of the poem. before we explore further on that, i will list those i have narrowed down as potential authors. the list of students in the writing course is vast, but i have been able to discern the most likely few— only 115 of the 423 students in the course submitted their assignments by email, and of those only 12 were in the class that had the deadline that aligns with the time the author’s email was sent. here are the possible authors of the poem;

Jodi Figuro Lee Melody Sarna Sinter Lee Sera…’

Impatient and desperate to prove yourself and your worst suspicions wrong, your eyes skip ahead, scanning frantically. To your absolute horror, you find exactly what you were looking for, exactly what you feared.

‘and finally; y/n l/n.’

For a moment your mind is silent, buzzing almost like a fluorescent light in a classroom, and then the information fully registers and you kind of want to hurl. The last of your sense and sanity is thrown out the window, food for dogs, and you shoot from your seat, cramming your belongings back in your bag. Oh god oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no—

This can’t be happening— it is happening, oh good lord you’re a good person why is this happening to you? You shouldn’t have sent that stupid email in the state you were in, hell you probably shouldn’t have even written that poem in the first place. Now it’s a mess, a big, massive mess and oh god you can’t even console yourself because now you’re a suspect! Now people think you might be the one who wrote the poem! And you are! But people cannot know that! You nearly trip over the chair in your haste to flee. You want to go home, oh lord do you want to dive beneath your covers and perish in the suffocating comfort of their embrace. Is that too much to ask? You really don’t feel like you’re asking too much—

“Hey, y-y/n are you okay—”

You jump so badly at the sound of a voice behind you that you nearly throw your bag into their poor, undeserving face. The abrupt spin you perform on your heels has you facing who you quickly realise is Jungkook, who you rationally know works here and has likely come over out of concern, but all your brain can think at the sight of him is SUSPECT and suddenly your fight or flight instinct is decisively engaged.

“No! Y-yes!” your brain isn’t fast enough to catch up to your mouth, brain cells on their absolute last fucking legs. “It’s not you!”

Poor Jungkook stares at you with a look of complete and utter befuddlement, whipping out the puppy eyes that usually have you caving when he asks for help sorting textbooks at the desk but right now you’re a shell of a woman, a ghost of who you were this morning before all of this, and you can barely summon coherent thought let alone carry a conversation.

“I— what?” the boy is stuttering but you’re three seconds away from a mental breakdown wherein you scream and dig a hole to shove your head in the dirt like a disillusioned ostrich and you can’t handle this right now.

Your brain is running on a loop and the sad truth is that your speech isn’t much better. “Not!” you almost yell, voice at an absolutely inappropriate volume and pitch for a library. “Not you! It’s not you!”

You then have the sense of mind to flee while you can, and without further ado spin and bolt out of the library. If you can just get home in one piece you can gorge yourself on ice-cream, the expensive shit, and pretend none of this ever happened. Head in the sand, that’s where you want to be.

Unfortunately for you, it seems the universe has other plans. You don’t even make it out of the library before you run into the next person to push you closer to a mental breakdown.

“Woah, y/n, where are you going?” the alarm riddling Hoseok’s tone might have touched your heart on any other day, but right now you were too focused on your escape to appreciate the sentimental value of the moment. “We have a session right now? Hey, are you okay?”

You go to tell him that no, you are not, in fact, ‘okay’, but all that escapes you for a moment is a choked sound from the depths of your larynx. You don’t think Hoseok has ever looked as concerned for another person’s wellbeing as he does now, dark eyes wide and slightly frightened. Is it you? You feel like your head is about to explode, does it show?

“Nghgh…. Hoseok,” your voice is a little too high and it only serves to alarm the poor redhead even more. “For personal reasons… I will be cancelling away— passing today— away— I will have cancel. I’m s.. I need to go.”

Making the most of his current shocked-senseless state, you turn and begin to dash down the hall once more. Are you acting suspicious? God you hope not—

“y/n, wait—”

“IT’S NOT YOU!” you squawk in a mismatched response, scurrying down the hall as fast as your wobbly legs will take you. Each step you take is a step closer to home, each step you take is a step closer to home—

Careening around the corner of the library hall, only metres away from the glass double doors that mark the entrance, the last thing you expect is to almost run into two of the other people who are on that god forsaken list.

Kim Taehyung, with his artistically messy mop of light honey hair, is leaning against the wall that houses the vending machines. He appears to be mid-discussion with the shorter red-haired male before him that you know to be his friend, Park Jimin, who in all honesty you don’t think even goes here? You’re so close to the exit that you’re almost frothing at the mouth in relief yet you can’t help the way your eavesdropping little ears pick up on their conversation.

“Have you ever heard of this dude, Kim Nam— what was it? Kim Nam-Moom? Nam-Moon?” It is Jimin that is currently talking, gestures wild and emphasised as he shifts his weight and cocks the hip that has his hand on it. “Anyway whatever his name is that bitch has gotta go, there can only be one winning protagonist in this romcom and it’s gonna be me.”

Taehyung, who thankfully hasn’t seemed to catch sight of your wired form yet, slaps a hand to his chest as his mouth drops open. The part of you that isn’t running around and bouncing against the walls of your skull like a headless chicken thinks that he’d probably do pretty well in your Tuesday morning drama class, he has that sort of air.

“I’m on the list too?” he says, and points a finger at his friend, brows raising. You think the effect he is looking for with his expression is somewhere between heartbroken and accusatory and, oddly enough, he achieves it for the most part. His voice drips with challenge. “Are you gonna kill me, Jimothy, after all I’ve done for you?”

Admittedly, a particularly-wired part of you wants to burst into borderline hysterical laughter at hearing the male call Jimin, who is actually the second student you tutor every other day after Hoseok, something like ‘Jimothy’, but your instincts are still stuck on fight or flight and your poor brain gets stuck choosing between them. The end result is like when you can’t choose whether to say ‘have a good day’ and ‘goodbye’ and end up saying ‘have a goodbye’ instead.

Your first bet is to dart past and hope they don’t see you, but when you embark on that journey it takes all of a second for their gazes to move to you and for you to be, regrettably, caught out. Panicking, you halt to point at both of them and present your winning argument.

“It’s not either of you!” It comes out a garbled mess and you want to shrivel up and die already, but somewhat productively choose to instead channel that energy into your prompt escape from the scene.

Before either of them can even open their mouths and ask what you mean or, better yet, if you’re alright, you’re already bolting to the glass doors and darting through the first narrow gap big enough to fit you through it as they automatically open.

Realistically, you know that everyone is looking at you because you give off the energy that you’re about to have a mental breakdown and not because they know, or even suspect you’re the author. Even so, it feels as though everyone’s eyes are on you at once and you suddenly feel extremely paranoid, making the executive decision to shortcut through a building in an effort to escape the weight of their gaze.

Lady Luck has truly scorned you and thrown you to the dogs, you know this because the second you step foot into the building, the glass door not even having time to slide shut behind you, you’re being pulled to the side and hands are gripping your shoulders.

“y/n! Please tell me I need to know.” To your utter shock and horror it’s Namjoon that has you in a panicked death-grip and you want to fall back and let the wind carry you away to a place where none of this is happening to you. You’ve hardly come to terms with the fact you’ve managed to so far run into five of the seven candidates mentioned in that stupid post when he continues, shaking you a little. His eyes are wide and filled to the brim with concern, but for what you will never know.

“Do I look like a Nam-boob to you?”

A scream bubbles in your throat before you have the presence of mind and self-control to stop it, and you yank yourself from his hold with a shriek. You don’t even have the capacity to process how dumb what he just said is, nor the energy for the incredulity that would follow. All you can manage, mind stuck on the fact that he was listed as a possible candidate and you cannot have him thinking he is the subject of the poem, is a sharp, warbled, “IT’S NOT YOU, EITHER!”

With that, you leave him standing in place, wide-eyed and slightly scared as you tear off down the hall like a madwoman. In your haste to flee and the result of your poor decision-making earlier, you don’t even realise you’ve entered a building you’re completely unfamiliar with until it’s too late. Relief floods you as you find an exit, finally, and you bolt from the building as quick as your legs can take you.

You emerge onto the grassy area that you’d passed by earlier, bag slipping from your shoulder almost as you register the throng of people dispersing from the centre of the area— you choose to ignore it for the sake of your current mental state. Perhaps unwisely, you take this as a moment to catch your breath and adjust your bag, but evidently it is a moment too long because barely a split-second later there is another all-too-familiar voice greeting your ears and making you jump five feet into the air.

“y/n?” The voice is coloured with surprise and you turn, a knowing horror lurking in the pit of your abdomen, to see the one and only Kim Seokjin standing before you. His eyebrows shoot up at the sight of your face and the confirmation it is, indeed you. He is apparently blind to your frazzled appearance, you note this because he immediately continues like nothing is amiss in your current high-strung presentation.

“Aw, y/n, you literally just missed the greatest TEDtalk of my career, perhaps even all time,” his plush lips are tugging into a shit-eating grin and you can feel your last brain cells, the final frontier, depleting just looking at him. “You see, I just brought around thirty-something people to see the light on why I am the true subject of the moon poem. Don’t worry though, the next session will start soon, you didn’t miss out. I’m actually booked out until about eight PM so you’re kind of lucky—”

A muted sound, awfully akin to a sob, escapes you, but the pink-haired male doesn’t even notice, too busy enjoying the sound of himself talking. He turns to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. Compassion drips from his features, brows furrowed as he places a hand on his heart.

“I understand you must have heard the news late and rushed straight here to hear my piece… fear not young padawan for I am nothing if not a humanitarian always willing to help those in need.”

“You’re so stupid,” you finally manage to dislodge the incredulity holding your tongue in place and your words come out in a sob. You slap your hand to your face as your eyes genuinely sting with tears. “You’re so— so stupid oh my god, I’m going to kill you—”

It’s like the fucker is deaf to anything that isn’t praise and compliments because he’s not even remotely phased by your words. The simper that curls his lips kind of makes you want to throw your fist in his face but instead you turn on your heel, choosing to be the bigger woman.

The sensible thing to do would be head in the direction you need to go to get home, but you’re currently too focused on the need to escape and instead end up darting across the field into another building. If the universe won’t let you go home then you guess you’ll just lock yourself up in a janitor’s closet or something for some reprieve. You hear Seokjin yelling after you as you make a hasty retreat, despite your best efforts to block him out.

“Should I book you in for a later session? y/n? HEY COME BACK YOU KNOW I NEED PRAISE AND VALIDATION DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE WITHOUT GIVING IT TO ME—”

The firm thud of the next building’s doors closing behind you might just be the best sound you’ve heard all evening. Eager to put even more distance between you and Seokjin, you start to move once more. Idly, you recognise the building as the one next to the engineering centre— the architecture building? You know this part of campus is actually close to the dorms you used to stay in, but the realisation isn’t as comforting as you wish it was.

Feeling like an absolute shell of a woman at your complete and utter witt’s end, you scrape your feet down the halls with all the energy of a tired victorian-era ghost. Closet, or a classroom? Which is a better place to have a mental breakdown? If you don’t cry soon you’re worried the suppressed tears are going to leak out your pores, and you really don’t want to look or feel like you’re sweating a monsoon’s worth of tears. Realising that classrooms come with the risk of students entering whenever they please, you settle on the next closet you see embedded into the wall. It’s a room deep into the bowels of the building, not too far from the bathrooms you accidentally stumbled upon last time you were here. The sight of it brings a morsel of hope amongst the trauma the day has brought you and you think any minute now you’re really going to cry from the stress. The thin plaque near the top of the door informs you that this particular closet houses cleaning supplies and you’re not really in a position to be picky so you take what you can get.

Eager for the next best thing besides the sweet release of death— complete and utter solitude, for anyone wondering— you waste no time in gripping the handle and yanking the door open. Usually you’d rather tear your own toes off and feed them to the monstrous fish in the lake than trespass into a cleaning closet but you’re truly a hair’s breadth away from total mental collapse and at this point in time you could care less. You should have known that the universe wasn’t going to let you choose a damn closet in peace.

As you swing the door open with enough force that the hinges squeak, there are several things that come immediately and alarmingly to your attention. First, is the light hanging from the ceiling which is already on and humming softly. Second, is the tall old-school mop leant against one of the walls in the small space, a pair of mismatched googly eyes slapped onto the twisted bundles of thread that hang limply, despondently, on the side of the mop not pressed against the wall. Third, the closet reeks of must and sweat and a sneeze is already building in your nostrils when you realise the fourth and fifth, arguably the most alarming, details about the closet.

You’re not alone in the space and the male standing kind of slumped against the wall, momentarily frozen and staring at you with wide eyes, is someone very familiar to you. Min Yoongi, your old RA from when you were staying in the dorms last year, stands like a deer caught in headlights before you— your gaze trailing the length of his pale arm leads you to the fifth and final discovery that, arguably, is probably the one that finally pushes you over the edge. Your brain flatlines and heat floods your face so unbearably you feel like your head is about to tip off your shoulders.

It would seem as though you’ve walked in on Min Yoongi having a bit of good, old-fashioned one-on-one time with Min Jr.

The two of you stand in silence for a few seconds as the situation sinks in, your eyes unable to remove themselves from where they are fixed on his Min Sceptre until you forcibly tear them away. It’s only as your cheeks burn and your gaze flicks shamefully between his face and where his hand stays frozen mid-stroke that Yoongi seems to realise you’re not an apparition and indeed he’s been caught with his literal hand down his literal pants— well, they’re open and halfway down his legs but you get the idea.

For some reason, the male doesn’t think to tuck away his junk before he begins speaking in defence of himself and his actions. It hangs loud and proud still engaged and engorged, ready for battle, as he sputters in an attempt to form a response.

“It’s not- not what it looks like— actually,” the shamed expression that had contorted his features quickly twisted into one of indignance; shamefully you note that he’s still full-mast and not looking like he’s about to lower any time soon. “It’s exactly what it looks like. What, you want me to say sorry? Can’t a man jerk his gherkin in peace? I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

Your mouth drops open, brain still decisively flatlining and out of commission for probably the next few days, and the male continues on, his free hand flying into the air to gesture emphatically while the other remains in a trusty grip around the long balloon that still— still— doesn’t look like it’s going to deflate anytime soon. “I just need five minutes— five minutes! — without a freshman asking me for some god damn fucking TOILET paper, alright?”

You really can’t help but wonder, how is it that he’s still got such impressive blood flow to his lower region despite the situation and his rapid, indignant defence. He drops into silence for a moment, dark eyes looking at you expectantly. You’re still speechless.

“Well?” he prompts, his free hand resting on his hip in a posture similar to that of a middle-aged mother with a can-I-speak-to-your-manager haircut scolding her misbehaving child. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I…” you feel kind of faint, too much blood rushing to you head, and struggle to formulate a fitting response— and really, what the hell can you say in response to this? He’s still standing there with his dick out! His DONG-saeng! His home-grown churro! Is he not embarrassed, at all? How is he still fully pumped and rearing to go?! “Y… p-pee- peen—”

“Go on, do you have anything to say about rudely walking in on me at such a crucial moment? Mop-ssi here was about to get to the good stuff, do you have any idea—”

For the first time since you’d entered the closet, Yoongi releases his grip on his ramrod serpent and your gaze is caught, once more, as it bounces heavily in the air. All the remaining blood in your body rushes to your head and you have a moment of realisation that you’re about to literally pass out, right before you do. At least, you think as your vision fades to black and the last thing you see is Min Jr winking at you salaciously, at least you were finally getting some reprieve from the nightmare this friday turned into. When you wake everything will be fine, this will be just a dream. It’s fine, it’s all over now.

Unfortunately for you it is, in fact, not over.

— • masterlist | intro | next • —

[please like & rb and pls pls pls let us know what you think!! <3 thank u for reading!]

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projectsoleil · 4 years ago

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Healers Adjust | AI-T | Trial 4.2 | Re: Ana, Leo | Attn: Ana

It’s stupid, really, how much they’ve come to care about Ana.

After all, they hated each other in the beginning. As soon as they figured each other’s identities, the two were at each other’s throats. And yet miraculously, they somehow became friends anyway.

...However, as soon as Ana’s confession leaves her lips, they start to wonder if their bond is more a curse than a miracle.

Her being the culprit makes far more sense than Shougo, that’s for sure. But that doesn’t make it any less painful. For better or worse (most likely worse, at this point), Ana’s someone who Papillon has come to not only enjoy spending time with, but someone they can depend on too. They’re not wont to openly admit how similar they are to her, but there’s something to be said for birds of a feather. Having a friend who’s just as awkward and brash as they are has proved to be nice, especially when they have such similar hobbies and interests. Which is why they felt they could confide in her in whatever about dumb thoughts they had, and she’d be honest in her judgment of them. Usually this led to her getting exasperated, but in a lighthearted way more often than not. Her bluntness has always been a quality Papillon admired… until now.

Now they’re wishing she had kept quiet, if only for a few minutes longer.

But of course Ana spoke up. It’s just another example of how similar she and Papillon are. Content with keeping secrets until someone else’s safety is in jeopardy. Her stepping in to keep people from ganging up on Shougo is eerily reminiscent of what happened with themselves and Gabi last trial. At least this time there are no swords — although they aren’t sure if Nate will be as willing to protect Ana as he had been Shougo.

In an effort to avoid addressing Ana directly, Papillon turns to glower at Leo. Their stare is just as pointed, with a fiery anger behind it. They might not have a sword, but at least they can direct attention away from Ana in their own way.

“I thought rats were supposed to have good ears, Leo. Didn’t you fucking hear her say it was to stop the goddamn motive? Going after Min ‘cause of revenge wasn’t even her main goal. Min was just a good target, ‘cause it’s not like anyone else had it coming more than her. And yeah, it’s fucked up Ana killed her, but maybe it just means she has guts for not mentally tapping out after her brother died.”

They slam their hands against their podium. The resulting sound is louder than they’d been expecting, and they flinch at their own intensity.

“And— and don’t you or anyone else fucking dare say she’s too selfish to kill for the rest of us. Ana’s annoying as shit, yeah, and she’s obnoxious and childish and a major pain in the ass, but she’s a lotta good things too. She’s smart and determined, and if she thinks someone else isn’t gonna do something important, she’ll take on the responsibility herself no matter how risky it is. Also she’s funny and chill, and for some really fucked up reason she’s my friend. So at least give her the goddamn respect she deserves for doing something nobody else was willing to do.”

Finally Papillon turns to look over at Ana. When they do, the fire in their eyes is all but extinguished in an instant. Despite their big talk just now, the pained smile they give her reveals just how betrayed they’re feeling too.

“Ana…”

There’s so many questions they want to ask her, both about the case (Are you certain who did the killing blow? Why did Shougo try to cover for you?) and in general (Have you and Rina gone on a date yet? Do you wanna have a slumber party sometime?) — none of which they know how to ask. And that’s because there are questions crowding their mind that fall into neither of these two categories:

Questions there’s probably no point in asking anymore.

(What will you do once we escape murder island? Why did Nate imply you might go to jail? Will you want to still hang out? Would you be down if I visited you? Would you want to visit me instead?)

…

(Will we still be friends?)

In the end, the only question they manage to ask is one they’re unsure Ana — or anyone else, for that matter — can answer.

“...Who’s gonna be my tank now?”

#ch 4 #ai-t #submission

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vagrantblvrd · 5 years ago

Text

Thinking about werebear Michael again?

(Because reasons.)

And like.

That one fantasy-ish AU where Ryan’s Some Dude wandering around? Something of a mercenary/former mercenary who just.

Wanders.

(A vagabond, if you will.)

Here and there and knows a little bit of magic - small spells that don’t account for much up against properly trained mages or other magic users but handy all the same, right?

(Can make the business of starting a campfire easier after a long day on the road when the sun starts to set and the cold comes rolling in. Keeps him from freezing when he’s in the mountains or up north. Other little tricks like that.)

And there are monsters out there too, right? Ghosties and ghoulies and he’s learned (the hard way) how to kill the ones trying to kill him. How to leave the ones going about their own business alone and so on. (And sometimes what his fellow humans call monsters are better people than they could ever hope to be and all that.)

Anyway.

Wanderer Ryan who comes to a small mountain town somewhere and realizes something is Wrong.

Comes to find out there’s a monster in the woods surrounding the town that’s been plaguing them for some time now.

The townspeople have put up a bounty for its head, hefty reward offered by the people and more than a few people who have gone there hoping to claim it.

Ryan’s not really interested because he’s still got money from recent jobs he’s taken. (And not all that keen about venturing into unfamiliar woods after some unknown beastie and all that.)

But!

He’s got this look to him, seems confident and capable and the mayor makes a convincing case.

Missing livestock and attacks that injured/maimed several townspeople. Worries that it might get bold enough to poke around town, attack the townspeople and children and so on and so forth. (Sweeten the pot with promise of more money after he supplies proof of the creature’s death. Its head or pelt or something else along those lines.)

And Ryan.

He can tell he won’t get a moment’s peace until he agrees to accept, so he does. (Can’t hurt to have a little extra coin and such.)

Ryan doesn’t go looking right away, though. For one it’s late and he’s tired when the mayor “convinces” him. For another, something is weird?

(There’s a figure in a corner of the tavern, travel cloak with the hood pulled up and he knows he’s being watched.)

Also.

The mayor was all weird about this monster in their woods?

So.

He says yes when the mayor asks if he’ll deal with the monster in their woods and then finishes his meal and dirnk and goes to bed. (Tries to ignore the feeling of eyes on his back as he heads up the stairs to the room he��s paid for for the next few nights.)

The next morning he does a little poking around town under the guise of resupplying and such.

Buys food and whatnot for his travels. Gets new shoes for his horse and chats idly with the blacksmith about things.

Man’s had similar talks with other mercenaries and the like passing through, the handful who took up the bounty Ryan’s after now. Idiots and blowhards for the most part, jumped up on their own self-importance and none of them properly kitted out to deal with whatever they might come across in the woods.

All steel and iron and not a sliver of silver among them, he says.

Ryan listens and buys a pretty little knife off the blacksmith. Delicate thing, bright and shiny and not the best when pitted against solid steel but monsters are real and there’s some truth the old stories and all that.

(Feels like a frivolous purchase, but Ryan lost a knife like it some time back. Stuck it in the heart of a monster haunting another small town and always meant to get it replaced.)

ANYWAY.

He wanders the town all day seeing to errands and such he’s meant to get to but hasn’t and chatting with the locals.

Hears a few things that don’t quite mesh with the story the mayor told him, but nothing unduly worrying.

The monster’s appearance was sudden, unexpected. Took a while before anyone noticed it had taken up residence since it seemed content to keep to itself. But as the weather grew colder and game scarcer it went after easier prey, and livestock went missing and then people went looking and things went on from there until a bounty was decided on and here Ryan is.

People are a bit furtive about it all, but not in a way that sets off alarm bells in the back of his head and Ryan decides he’ll go looking the next day. (No sense in looking for the damn thing at night, after all.)

AND.

While he’s eating his dinner that night, same quiet table in the tavern that figure in the travel cloak sits down across from him and gives him a once-over.

Nothing hostile to it, if anything the man looks curious.

Lean figure with messy hair and this faint smirk and something amused (tired) in his eyes.

Asks Ryan if he’s there for the reward, and Ryan not seeing a reason to lie, tells him it wasn’t his intent.

But.

An annoyingly insistent mayor and maybe Ryan’s an idiot for saying yes, but the children here are unbearably adorable and sweet and Ryan’s seen instances like this turn ugly if left untended, so.

Better to take up the bounty than leave things as they are and hope for the best. (Doesn’t say for who, though, because some people don’t understand.)

That gets him a look, curious, thoughtful, and the figure laughs.

Quiet thing, and wishes him luck with his little hunt as they head out.

Ryan watches them leave and sighs because something tells him that’s not the last he’ll be seeing of them and hopes things don’t turn out messily the way they tend to in his experience.

...They do, though.

(So. Much.)

When he sets out to hunt down the monster that’s been prowling the woods he finds old tracks and all that. (Strange ones mixed in. Human to monstrous and baffling and that bad feeling of his again.)

Follows them best he can and finds the places where previous encounters with the monster must have taken place.

Old bloodstains and torn up ground and greenery and other things - broken weapons beginning to rust after being left out in the elements for so long and so on.

Realizes whatever this monster the quiet little town has, it’s bigger than he thought. (They usually are, though, so. Yes.)

Sighs and forges on and after a few hours realizes the woods around him have gone quiet.

Eerily so.

No birds, small animals.

Early winter and he’s high up enough there’s a couple of inches of snow on the ground and that quiet, muffled quality to the world around him it brings.

The tracks or whatever he’s been following have led him to a clearing and the opening of a cave and this awful feeling, because there’s blood on the snow here.

Signs of something big disturbing the snow, bloody tracks and heavy whuffling breathing somewhere behind him. Crunch of snow underfoot (underpaw?) and he turns to see the quiet little town’s monster shuffling towards him.

Big old bastard, and if Ryan didn’t know better he’d think it was just some overgrown animal walking towards him and not something else. (Other.)

But he does know better, and has time to swear under his breath because of course - and then the wind shifts. Carries his scent to the monster and Ryan sees it realize he’s there, nostrils flaring as its massive head lifts and spots him.

And then the fighting starts, because of course it does.

Monster rearing back on its hind legs and roaring at him, deadly fangs and claws and Ryan is so very small in comparison. (He’s faced worse, though. Managed to survive in spite of everything.)

Strangely, oddly, the fight isn’t like the ones he’s been in before.

The monster bellows and roars, bares it teeth and swipes at him with huge paws, but Ryan manages to evade it easily enough.

Dodges and rolls and blocks with his sword. Makes his own little attacks, and watches the way it watches him,

Angry, furious, really.

Snapping and growling and knocking his sword aside but instead of rushing in to crush him with those paws before he recovers his sword or gets back to his feet...it doesn’t.

Or rather it doesn’t kill him.

(Sends him tumbling, rolling a time or two. Scratches and bruises where there should be rents and gouges and broken bone, a dead idiot blood soaking into the snow and mud.)

Forces him away from that cave with the chunred up snow and mud and blood, and that’s when Ryan sees it. (Broken off blade in its side, glint of metal peeking through bloodstained fur and flesh and careful to keep that side away from Ryan’s attacks.)

An arrow lodged in one huge shoulder and other injuries and Ryan backs up a step, two. (More.)

Waits to see what the monster will do, if it will follow him or retreat.

It does neither.

Just watches him, alert and wary and bleeding into the snow and Ryan pauses -

“I see you still haven’t learned any manners,” Ryan hears, and turns to look to the side where that odd figure in the travel cloak is standing at the edge of the clearing.

Hands on his hips and this look on their face.

Annoyed? Exasperated?

Something like that.

The monster cocks its head, makes this curious little grumbling noise that almost wants to be a growl.

And that figure, slight and fragile in the way people tend to be, rolls their eyes.

Walks right up to the monster who snarls and growls and snaps their teeth at them right up until it doesn’t.

Looks almost alarmed as that slight figure keeps coming, backs it up against cave entrance.

Whuffles and chuffs and - to Ryan’s surprise and faint amusement - looks to him like it thinks he might intervene.

He doesn’t.

Just watches as that slight figure scowls up at the monster and lectures it?

No.

Mocks it.

Affects an accent as he looks the monster over. Eyes narrowing as he sees the same injuries Ryan had, breath hissing through his teeth and -

“You stupid bastard,” he finishes, sounding tired.

Exhausted.

Hands dropping to hang by his side as his head lowers, and Ryan starts to take a step forward when the monster whines.

Makes this odd noise it sways towards the slight figure, noses at his shoulder.

Ryan stops, stares as the figure laughs - that quiet little thing of his again - and looks up at the monster.

Edge of a wry smile on his face as he looks up it, and Ryan is very confused because this is not how things like this tend to go.

(Usually there’s more screaming and blood and flashing steel and silver, not. This.)

And then that slight figure sighs, fondness and exasperation as the monster whuffs, pressing its head against his shoulder and he hugs it.

Ryan watches, because odd, and after several moments go by in which no one is horribly killed, wipes the blood off his sword and sheathes it.

Clears his throat because it’s obvious they’ve forgotten about him, and he almost - almost - laughs when they starts and look over at him.

Hides a smile at the small, silent, fight between the two of them trying to shove the other behind them in case Ryan’s a threat - honestly.

The monster is the size of a small shed and -

Well.

It’s ridiculous, really, is the thing. The sight of that slight figure trying to push the monster behind him and vice versa and Ryan realizes whatever is going on here it’s bound to be a long story.

...it is.

Dear God is it ever.

Something, something, something a warrior and a bard (or so Gavin claims to be) and a series of missteps that ended in a curse, a spell, some bit of magic and idiots being idiots.

Protective idiots, in this warrior fearing the curse would take away his human reasoning, make him no better than a wild animal - a monster - and dangerous to anyone around it. (A loved one.)

So he’d run.

A curse/spell affected by the phases of the moon and those odd tracks Ryan had found. (Human leading to monstrous and baffling.)

(And run and run and run as far as he could until he felt he was somewhere safe, somewhere he wouldn’t come across anyone else and pose a threat to others.)

But then winter has started to set in and a lean year and he’d been forced to hunt too close to a quiet little mountain town.

Drawn attention he didn’t need in the townspeople and the mercenaries they hired and on and on and on until Ryan happened along.

And all this time, all this time Gavin following what whispers and rumors he could to find his idiot. Chasing smoke, and being turned around a time or two until he ended up in a certain quiet mountain town and just.

“And you call me an idiot,” he mutters, tending to Michael’s injuries with Ryan’s assistance.

Annoyed, obviously, and worried and scared and Ryan has a feeling he’s gotten himself inolved with another troublesome incident. (There have been so many over the years, but none so bafflingly odd.)

He could, he knows, go back down the mountain to the small town and continue on his way. Tell the mayor he didn’t find a thing up here and to keep his money as he continued on his way, but.

The monster - not so much much a monster as the idiot Gavin claims him to be.

Head resting on his paws as he watches Gavin like he never thought he’d see him again. (Follows him with his eyes as Gavin moves about the cave he’s been living in for the past few weeks, months?, seeing to his wounds and such.)

Closes his eyes when Gavin pauses to lay a hand on his head, a brief moment of respite before he gets back to work.

Complaining about the hardships he’s had to endure chasing after Michael and how unbearable it was (a pun, perhaps?) and how Michael owes him and on and on and no heat to any of it.

Ryan watches the two of them and smothers a sigh because he’s the soft touch Meg always tells him he is. (Soft-hearted and stupid with it, and it’s gotten him in trouble more times than he cares to think about.)

(And then, like. Shenanigans in which Ryan falls in for Gavin and Michael, when he’s in his human form between full moons and a Quest to break the curse/reverse the spell and just.

Lots of shenanigans and Michael and Gavin being wary of him at first - because of course - but the fact he didn’t kill Michael when he had the chance and so on has them willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and like.

Shenanigans?

ALSO.

Realizing there’s no way to break the curse/reverse the spell but that’s fine, it’s okay.

Having a huge fucking werebear on your side who’s figured out how to control where/when he shifts from human to fuck-off huge bear and back is a handy thing indeed.

...:D????

#ragehappy #mavin #mavinwood #idek #/o\#technically not a fic #vagrant fic #werebear michael fantasy au

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kagehinataboke · 5 years ago

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only time will tell - chapter 5

For several reasons, Todoroki thinks he’s dreaming when he walks into class. For one, he didn’t sleep through his alarm this morning, which never happens. He also let Fuyumi convince him to eat breakfast with her, which is an even rarer occurrence. But, to top it all off, Todoroki is staring at the Bakugou Katsuki he expected to see on the first day of class.

His piercings are all gone, his shirt—which is usually barely attached to his body—is almost completely buttoned, and his hair is the same blond it is in the photos scattered across Todoroki’s bedroom floor. He still has no uniform jacket, but one can only expect so much, even in a dream.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” He scowls, shattering the illusion a little. But only a little.

Todoroki isn’t sure if the question is directed at him, since most of their classmates are also staring at him, but he answers anyway. “Your hair.”

It might be his imagination again, but Katsuki’s face goes a bit red. “Don't you dare read anything into this, you damn bastard. Aizawa was just getting on my back about it: that’s all.” He glares at the people who are still staring, and they all quickly look away. He’s still got his reputation, it seems.

Todoroki says nothing, passing him to reach his seat. He can feel Katsuki’s gaze on him, and they lock eyes when he sits down. Todoroki raises a brow questionly. Katsuki’s scowl deepens. He seems as if he’s going to pull him into the hallway for another kabedon, but Aizawa enters the classroom before he can.

“Settle down, would you? If you’re all so wound up in the morning, don’t come to school.”

“...Should you really be saying that, sensei?”

“Quiet. Take out your textbooks.” Aizawa turns to the board and starts writing book pages. While everyone else unloads their things, Todoroki stares at the back of Katsuki’s head. His hair… He washed all the dye out of it. Todoroki can still see some black left at the roots.

Did he really only do it because Aizawa’s been nagging him? It’s true that he doesn’t approve of Katsuki’s look, but after a month into the semester, it’s strange that Katsuki would finally decide to listen to him now. After their talk yesterday, it seems even more suspicious.

He does look good, though. Todoroki can’t seem to stop staring at him. He’s startlingly similar to his past self now—minus the height and the muscles and the personality change. Okay, maybe not so similar, after all. He does seem to be acting differently lately, though. There are more and more ‘soft occurrences,’ as Todoroki’s been calling them: times when Katsuki’s demeanor changes, even for an instant, into something less tyrannical—something almost gentle.

If he’s being honest, Todoroki is a bit scared of that gentleness. Not because he doesn’t like it: no, it’s all he wants, really. It’s because it confuses the hell out of him. Katsuki was so adamant about them staying away from each other, and now he’s contradicting himself. Todoroki is happy about it, of course, but it also pisses him off. It’s a ton of crossed wires and mixed signals that are too hard to unravel.

What was the advice Shigaraki gave him? Be persistent, annoying, and ‘cute.’ How exactly those three things go together, Todoroki has no idea. Should he try them all separately? It seems stupid. Maybe Shigaraki was messing with him.

Oh, no. Katsuki noticed he’s been staring. There’s no way Todoroki can pretend he wasn’t: he took too long to react. He’s definitely going to get yelled at as soon as lunch break comes. Whether they’re fake or not, he’ll have to try out some of Shigaraki’s tactics and see if they can save him. Improve, adapt, overcome, as they say.

* * * * * *

“You had a damn stupid look on your face all morning,” Katsuki accuses.

He says something else, but Todoroki is only half-listening. He’s been kabedonned again—this time in the stairwell leading to the roof—and from this position, it’s very obvious that Katsuki has well-developed biceps. Is it from playing basketball? Todoroki found out from the team captain—who tried to recruit him a while ago—that he’s a shooting guard. It’s apparently a very important position.

“Oi, are you fucking listening to me?” Katsuki snaps his fingers loudly, and Todoroki slowly blinks himself back into the conversation.

“Oh, sorry. What?”

“You damn dumbass.” Katsuki clicks his tongue. “I said you’re being stupid. Why can’t you give up on being friends with me? I just don’t fucking get you.”

Step number one: be persistent.

“I won’t ever give up.” Todoroki straightens his back, making their height difference more apparent. He’s got a few inches on Katsuki, and he might as well use them. “I want to be friends again.”

Katsuki’s face shows raw surprise for a second before he expertly hides it with a scowl. “You still don’t get it, do you?” He slams his fist into the wall beside Todoroki’s head hard enough to make him flinch. “I’m not a good guy, you dipshit. I’m involved with the wrong people. Hanging around me isn’t good for you. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull already?”

“Because I don’t believe it!” Todoroki knocks his arm away irritably. He wasn’t going to tell Katsuki about Shigaraki, but he has less of a filter when he’s irritated. “I met one of these ‘wrong people’ yesterday, and he seemed completely—“

“What did you just say?” Katsuki interrupts, backing him into the wall again. His eyes are serious enough to shut Todoroki up. They’re almost burning. “Who did you meet?”

“...Shigaraki.” Todoroki shifts, suddenly feeling small. He’s never seen Katsuki so angry before. “He… said you were supposed to meet up last night, and when you didn’t show up, he asked me to go instead—“

“Bullshit,” Katsuki snaps, his fist slamming into the wall again. “Meet up? I’d never fucking meet up with that bastard. Why else did he say? Did you go with him?”

“We just went to a café—“ Todoroki flinches again when Katsuki’s hand moves to grip his shoulder.

He releases him almost immediately, taking a conscious half-step back, but anger still simmers in his tone. “Listen… Don’t fucking go near that guy, you hear me? Don’t talk to him, and don’t listen to a word he says.”

“But—“

“Quiet.” Katsuki gives him a dark, intense look that sends chills down Todoroki’s spine. This truly is someone he doesn’t know—someone who is very different from his childhood friend. If Todoroki didn’t know better, he’d think this person wasn’t really Bakugou Katsuki. But the harsh reality is this: “This is the last time I’ll say it: keep the fuck away from me, or else.”

Katsuki disappears through the door on their left, leaving Todoroki alone in the stairwell. His hands are shaking. Even though he knows Katsuki wouldn’t hurt him, his body still reacts to every harsh touch in the same way. He wonders if he’ll ever get over that.

It doesn’t matter right now. Lunch break will be over soon, and after school, Todoroki has an interview to run to before the remedial lesson. Which Katsuki will be at. Ugh. Things will be so awkward…

Maybe he should pretend to be sick. He might not even have to pretend: he’s been feeling under the weather lately. But if he doesn’t show up, Katsuki will only get angrier. Besides; Todoroki is curious now. What’s so bad about Shigaraki? And what on earth is Katsuki trying so hard to hide from him?

* * * * * *

It’s dark in the house. It’s eerily quiet, too. The only sound to fill the silence is the tick of the clock on the far wall. There are footsteps now, too, moving slowly down the hall. Each one seems louder than a gunshot in the black and quiet void.

Todoroki’s body won't stop trembling. His shaking knees bump against the wall in sync with the footsteps. Tap, tap, tap. Todoroki is too big to be hugging his knees to his chest, but he does it anyway, just to keep them from moving. He always gets found in the end, but the longer he can stay hidden, the better.

The door clicks open right as he’s convinced himself this time will be different. He buries his head between his knees, making himself as small as possible even though he knows it will achieve nothing. It will do nothing to stop the icy grip that curls around his wrist and squeezes in a way that will leave impossible-to-hide bruises.

“What have I told you about hiding from me, Shouto?”

Todoroki jolts upright in bed so quickly that he throws off his comforter. He’s breathing as if he’s just run a marathon, and there’s a cold sweat coating his skin.

It’s been a while since he had a nightmare. He almost forgot what they do to him—how they put him right back in that house; how they make him feel powerless.

His limbs are still shaking. It takes him several tries to get up, and several more to open his bedroom door. Fresh air. He needs fresh air. In Tokyo, there was nowhere to go. There was no freedom. But here, he can run anywhere he wants.

There’s this old park he used to go to when he was a kid. It still looks the same even now, so many years in the future. There’s a set of swings, a jungle gym, and a huge structure with slides and ropes and other things. Whenever he was upset, Todoroki would climb into this long tunnel hanging above the whole thing. You have to climb a ladder to get to it, so you can’t see in from the ground. The perfect place to hide. Todoroki almost wishes he’d had something like it back in Tokyo.

He scales the ladder and sits in the middle with his knees pulled to his chest, staring at his reflection in the shiny warped pink plastic. They haven’t replaced it. When Todoroki tilts his head back, he quickly finds what he’s looking for: T.S.+B.K. They carved it there when they were kids—he and Katsuki. It was after Todoroki got in an argument with Natsuo and ran off to the park.

Katsuki was the one person who could always find him. The one person who he didn’t mind finding him. Todoroki feels calmer already just imagining the way Katsuki would distract him with something, anything, until he forgot what he was upset about in the first place. The name carving was one of said distractions.

“Now we’ll be here forever, and nobody will know it except for us,” he’d said proudly. Todoroki had been amazed by such a small, simple thing. Carving their names together seemed binding to him, as if they’d be stuck together. That little plus sign meant they were an item—a pair. Shouto + Katsuki. It made Todoroki feel inexplicably warm.

“Oi, is that you up there, Half n’ Half?”

Todoroki’s heart skips a beat. Of course Katsuki would show up. Thinking about him always seems to make him appear. “...Last time I checked, this was a public park.” His voice is unsteady. He’s still a little shaken from the nightmare.

There’s a long pause. “I’m coming up.” Footsteps echo on metal, and then Katsuki slides in next to him feet-first. “Fuck,” he says when he’s settled, hugging his knees to his chest. “We really can’t fit in here anymore.”

Todoroki stays quiet. He looks at his feet, which are kicked up against the side of the tube. It’s better than staring at their carved names, or at Katsuki’s face. The memories are almost too bittersweet to stomach.

“You always used to come up here when we were kids, remember? When you were mad, I had to come talk you down.” Katsuki tilts his head back and gives a long sigh. “What, not talking? I’m guessing you’re waiting for me to ask what’s wrong?”

Asshole. Todoroki would be pissed if he had the strength. He’s so exhausted that he might fall asleep any second. “Why’d you come here?”

“Last time I checked, this was a public park,” Katsuki drones, mocking his earlier words. He relaxes a bit, sliding down so they’re nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. “Kidding. I like to come here sometimes.”

Todoroki faintly wonders if Katsuki comes here for the same reason he did tonight, but he doesn’t ask. It’s better not to scare him off. “I thought coming here would help me,” he says instead. It’s the truth. A small part of it, anyway.

Katsuki doesn’t ask questions, either. He just nods, as if he somehow understands. His fingers tap an uneven rhythm against his kneecap. He’s wearing ripped jeans. Isn’t he cold like that? “You can talk about it,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “If you want to.”

“It’s a long story.” Todoroki hugs his arms to his chest. He ran out of Fuyumi’s apartment in his pajamas—a T-shirt and shorts—like an idiot. Even though it’s September, it’s getting cold already. Cold enough to make him shiver. “Also, I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I don’t. But I never said I wouldn’t listen to you.”

Todoroki scoffs, shaking his head softly. Katsuki really is a piece of work. “I’d rather just be alone, then.”

“The fact that you’re saying that after supergluing yourself to me over the past month tells me not to leave you alone.” Katsuki takes off the red track jacket he’s wearing and throws it over Todoroki’s head. “Geez. Put this on, fuckhead. Your shivering is annoying as hell.”

Instead of arguing, Todoroki pulls on the jacket gratefully. Katsuki is still kind in some ways, at least. Which only begs the question: “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Katsuki shrugs noncommittally. When he tilts his head back, the skin of his throat stretches out and seems to glow as it reflects off the walls of the plastic tube. “Maybe I just felt like it. Are you going to talk or not? Haven’t you been begging to spill your guts to me since school started?”

He’s right. Todoroki isn’t exactly sure why he’s hesitating now. Isn’t this what he wants? Katsuki is like a ghost that’s been haunting him for ten years. He wanted to clear things up with him. That was his only goal when moving back to Hosu. Has it changed?

Todoroki stares at Katsuki for a long time, searching for the person who’s grown to hate him over the past month. But instead, all he can see is his old childhood friend. His old childhood friend who came out here for a reason he doesn’t understand, lent him a jacket, and asked him to talk.

Yes. This is exactly what he’s been wanting. It’s just taken so long to get to this point that the truth of it finally happening completely flew over Todoroki’s head. This is his chance. Katsuki will listen to everything he has to say. With this one conversation, maybe—just maybe—things will finally start to change.

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#calla.txt #todobaku #tdbk #bnha #my writing #model au

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