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commonguttersnipe · 1 year ago

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Baggy Trousers Down Python Road

Chapter 1: Get ‘em while they're young, eh?

Summary: Mr Chapman, MacNaughton's new Maths teacher, is introduced to the faculty... with varying reactions.

Warnings: One swear word. That's all.

(Quick note: Eileen Gibbet is the fictional counterpart of Helen Gibbins, who sadly passed away in early May, 2023. I've renamed her out of respect)

Sunlight dripped through the windows of MacNaughton boarding school, filling each deserted corridor in an orange glow which rippled its way throughout the classrooms. Rhythmic footsteps echoed off the walls, as Headmaster Milligan paced the floors of his kingdom, humming an unfamiliar tune to himself. He wasn’t going to be alone for too much longer. Soon the blue and yellow buses slowly slunk their way through the gates, each carrying its own litter of youth.

The class of September, 1969.

As the morning went on, the Elizabethan building slowly became more and more full, becoming busy with the head-splitting shrieks and shouts from both students and faculty. In the middle of this chaos stood Mr Graham Chapman. A good-looking young man, dressed in a russet brown suit, blowing steadily through his pipe, absorbing the chaos surrounding him. Surfing through the jam-packed hall, Headmaster Milligan approached the thin man, quietly swearing under his breath.

“Ah Chapman. Welcome to MacNaughton School! I do apologize for the raucous introduction. First day and all that”

Graham said nothing. Instead, he just glanced over the bubbling bedlam that was slowly dispersing into separate rooms.

“Your reputation precedes you” Milligan continued “It’s an honour to have you here”

Graham grunted. Did the man ever speak?

“Here, I’ll give you a walk around the grounds, let you get to know the faculty and layout?” Milligan offered, though it was phrased more like a question.

“That would be nice. Thank you.” The blond man politely said, finally breaking what seemed to have been his unannounced vow of silence. With a warm smile, Milligan guided the new teacher up the pine staircase for his own private tour…

“Bloody hell Drydant! You’ve literally just stepped into the lab and you have already broken a vital health and safety rule!”

“I just had some water, sir…”

“Do you know what has been spilt on these desks? Acid, boy! Your jaw could be rotting away as we speak!” An angry yell rang throughout the science department, and much to Graham’s dislike, they were heading straight for the room it had come from. Milligan knocked gently upon the door, and opened it, revealing a group of around 30 students all looking to the front of the class with the fear of death in their eyes. Towering over a snotty nosed little boy, was a tall, dark-haired man who could almost be considered handsome. From the intrusion, the man looked up, his hazel eyes widening. Graham just stood there, scared to break eye contact, for the threat that he might be screamed at too.

“Hello Class 6M!” Milligan welcomed.

“Hello Mr Milliga…” the students' voices had faded by the end of his name.

“Hello Mr Cleese!”

This Cleese fellow’s demeanor changed almost immediately, his harsh, rigid posture almost melting away, as he held out his hand for Graham to shake.

“Right Drydant, back to your seat.” He commanded in his loud voice, the poor boy scuttling back to his assigned bench, while Milligan closed the door.

“That’s John. He’s quite… Intense. For lack of a better word…”

“He’s a prick.”

“Yes.” Milligan admitted “But he’s actually quite endearing”

Graham raised an eyebrow.

“Sometimes.”

Soon, they had reached the Humanities classrooms, each door covered with art which seemed to have been drawn by a six-year-old with a blindfold on. In the brimming History classroom, a dark-haired man sat upon his desk, hastily shuffling paper into many binders and throwing stray ones to the floor. Sensing that Mr Chapman was a shy fellow, Milligan decided on not introducing him to each and every one of the teachers and decided upon giving him the run-down of the school instead. He would meet them all in the faculty lounge anyway.

“We really do have an incredible Humanities department Mr Chapman. Our members of staff are very knowledgeable and quite popular with the students.”

He then mumbled a sentence that started with ‘especially’ but Graham didn’t catch the end of it and assumed he wasn’t supposed to.

Milligan indicated to the History classroom they had just passed.

“That’s Mr Jones’ terrain. Wonderful man, Terry. He isn’t a fan of the syllabus though. In fact, sometimes he outright refuses to teach it, stating that it's quote-on-quote boring! I think we’ve just come across him deciding what he thought was worth was teaching this year...”

Graham smiled to himself. He and Terry were going to get on. A little further up the corridor, they came past the Geography classroom. Inside, there were no students, but two teachers; One was gently puffing on a cigarette while seeming to be in deep thought and the other was flicking through a tattered book, leaning her slender frame on the chalkboard. Milligan had got distracted by two truant students coming out of toilets, so while he went to reprimand them, Graham took the opportunity to eavesdrop on the teachers’ conversation.

“God, I hate doing Romeo & Juliet” The short haired woman proclaimed, staring at the book in her hand

“Why is that darling?” The man asked, focusing on the puffs of smoke he was creating.

“The students don’t appreciate the meaning and complexity. All they get from it is that ‘teen sex is bad’ and 'love at first sight is foolish and ill-conceived'”

“It worked for us, darling.”

“Yes, I know that Michael.” She smiled softly to whom Graham assumed was her husband. Michael looked up in a lovesick haze at his wife, his smile widening as she kissed him on his forehead.

“But anyway” She continued “They don’t perceive that it’s a tragedy. By the time the play was finished, my last class was a Juliet Hate Club. Say, what are you thinking about?”

“Hmm, oh nothing Eileen. Just wondering how this new year is going to go, that’s all”

His voice had an oddly calming effect on Graham, who was broken out of his eavesdropping by Headmaster Milligan, keen to continue the tour. He looked back at the two lovers, Eileen now playing with Michael's hair, and smiled to himself.

"Music has a very important place in MacNaughton's. Our choir is known for miles around!"

What he didn't mention that it wasn't necessarily for the right reasons...

The music department consisted of a large room with a wood piano in the nearest corner, with a jumble of instruments leaning against the walls. The students sat in front of a large window which spilled early autumn sunlight onto their desks. The teacher did not look like the other ones he had seen. He had longer hair, was dressed in a t-shirt and denim jeans and had this immature giddiness which made him strangely approachable. Upon noticing the headmaster outside the door, he invited him inside, his large smile making Graham feel even more awkward than he already did.

"Hello Headmaster! The class are just settling down. I'm going through the rules and school policies at the moment"

"Ah good. May i introduce you to Graham Chapman, our new maths teacher? Graham, this is Eric Idle. He's our head music teacher and is not responsible for our choir"

The clumsy introduction was met by a confused glance from Eric. Ah, so he was responsible for the choir. Was it really so bad, that the headmaster had to lie about the identity of the choral director? Apparently so.

"Hey Graham! How's it going? Going to have to have a proper chat over tea and custard creams! I love your tie by the way!"

The man was so bubbly, Graham felt personally threatened.

"Thanks. We must." He blurted back, trying to smile.

"Well it's been a pleasure meeting you but unfortunately, i'm half way through the rules of drug and alcohol possession and judging by some of these lot, they need a reminder!" Eric joked, which earnt him a couple of giggles from the class. Graham nodded and turned to leave, before running into two blonde women.

After several sorries had been exchanged, the slightly taller lady peeped into the classroom

"Hey, Eric. You still going to be covering my class period 4?" She asked, with a hopeful shimmer in her eyes.

"Sure thing Connie!"

She thanked him and turned to her friend, who seemed to be almost bursting with glee, as they both shot down the corridor.

"That was Miss Booth and Miss Cleveland, heads of PE and Drama respectably. I think they have a talk later but i'm not entirely sure." Milligan explained as they approached the Art department "They are very nice women...and single" he winked.

Graham hummed in response. He wasn't really interested.

The art department was ironically grey and institutional with the only colour being the blue overalls splattered with paint hanging up outside the door. A thin, sweet-looking man was flicking through a large box of pencils, tossing the broken ones aside. He noticed the pair and paced towards them, making x signs with his arms.

"Don't come in. Gilliam is going through the rules while also displaying his art. If you throw him off, he might lose it and destroy everything and everybody in his path." Noticing the new face, he added "He has a vision."

The Maths classrooms now beckoned Graham forward, welcoming the traveller to his new home. He entered his empty form room, the desks empty with ghosts and sat at his chair. After a while, he realised that Milligan hadn't followed him in. Perhaps he had become distracted. Confident in the fact that he was alone, Graham spun round and round on his office chair, each spin becoming more childishly delightful. After perhaps his 8th spin, he noticed a tall figure in the doorway. He stopped hastily, making his brain briefly fuzzy.

"Ah... you spin on your chair too" The man spoke. Graham recognized the voice as belonging to the cranky science teacher he had met earlier.

"Just came to introduce myself properly. You kind of caught me in an unfortunate position."

Graham stood up, his head spinning.

"It's fine. I'm Graham"

"John."

The two stood in a silence which both of the men wanted to break but neither had the courage to do so.

"Hey, Chapman I-" Miss Booth strode into the room, her large smile faltering when she saw Mr Cleese. Taking the opportunity, he shuffled out of the room and out of sight.

After glaring at the door for a few seconds, Connie turned to Graham with a huge grin.

"Are you ready for your speech?" Her american accent clear and determined.

"I'm, i'm sorry?"

"Assembly at 12:05. You're giving a speech to introduce yourself to the school!"

He was silent.

"What time is it now?"

"11:58"

"Fuck."

The school hall was around a hundred years old, the ceiling engraved with saints and sinners from years past. Graham particularly enjoyed these details as they distracted him from the agonizing embarrassment he was about to endure. When the hall had become full, Milligan began to welcome everyone to the new school year. He quoted some book no one had read (apart from himself and Mr Jones), and stated the blatantly obvious tips to success. Graham wasn't focusing on details. The headmaster was then followed by head boy, Enid Gumby, who grunted the majority of his speech, and head of houses, Tallulah Blanc and Jocasta Mange, who spent the majority of their talk promoting the lunchtime tennis club. The four new house captains were announced and then it was Graham's turn.

How was he even more nervous than the students before him? 28 and sweating over talking to teenagers. Pitiful.

He stood up and took center-stage as scattered claps greeted him.

"Hello. My name is Chapman, Mr Chapman and i'll be a Maths teacher to many of you during umm this year-"

He was wondering why the earth wasn't swallowing him up yet. Give it a minute.

"I hope that all of the aspiring mathematicians in here will find my lessons helpful and the less keen students will at least find them...entertaining?"

He was making this up as he went along. Everyone could tell. He stared at the row of teachers, the majority of which were nodding their heads in encouragement. Without any other finish, he blurted out a bye and left to go back to his seat and work out the least painful way to jump off the nearest building. The rest of the assembly was pretty forgettable, with the exception of Michael (Mr Palin to everyone else), excitedly going through all the clubs. Graham was due to be hosting the medicine society on Thursday lunchtimes and he was looking forward to it.

Afterwards, the crowd dispersed, apart from Graham, Miss Booth and Mr Idle. The latter two teachers began to stack up the chairs which Graham later helped with. 20 minutes later, the columns of chairs were piled against the wall and Connie had to leave for her talk (which was apparently about women and their roles in classic novels).

"You want a pint?" Eric asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"You want a pint? There's a pub nearby. Just off Python Lane"

"Aren't you covering for Connie's lesson?"

"No. Eileen is. I lied."

"Oh."

"So?"

"Yeah sure. I don't have any classes today."

"Great! So where were you before this place?"

"Well..." Graham began, as the pair left the hall and strolled off campus.

The year at MacNaughton School had officially begun.

#monty python #monty python fanfiction #monty python’s flying circus #life of brian #graham chapman #eric idle #michael palin #john cleese #terry jones #70s

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wallacetheentertainer · 1 year ago

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"Let's do a friendly, SFW RP blog for a change!" I said, then immediately created a spin-off of my grossest fanon character interpretation ever.

This'll just be a low-interaction in-character blog to figure out the life & exploits of Mundane Human AU Wallace as a "fandomless OC" for my own amusement. I cannot imagine anyone wanting to roleplay with such an offputting little bastard so for the moment considering this a semi-private blog, but future threads aren't off the table entirely depending on how attached I get to this loser shithead.

🎃 @coffinbreath

🎭🎭🎭

Wallace James Punch

Alternate stage moniker: Wally DeLarge

Birthday: 5/22/1993

Voice: if Genesis P-Orridge constantly smoked cigarillos, with a little Sid Vicious

5'/145 lbs/stereotypical angry redhead/fishbelly pale/cold dead blue eyes/terrifying smile/trash fashion sense/trashier tattoos

Basics

A shock-comedy "performance artist" born in Cheshire, England, Wallace Punch's Variety Act has been described by the few critics brave enough to stomach its entirety as "a one-man pantomime of The Aristocrats"---to paraphrase the sex-shop owner in Se7en, "the sort of guy who pisses in a cup on stage and then drinks it". Lots of prop-based humor and dead baby jokes, once landed himself in the hospital with salmonella after biting the head off a plucked dead chicken, another time was banned from the premises for bleeding all over the place when he pierced his nipples with safety pins. He has a small but dedicated fanbase of edgy groupies and is notorious for being mediocre in the sack whenever he does bed them; while not an outright rapist his incel energy is OFF THE CHARTS and if he starts joking about roofies that unfortunately means he likes you. Surprisingly not a drinker given his hair-trigger temper, Wallace prefers club drugs and is very casual about being hooked on amphetamines, definitely not above buying adderall from teenagers despite his age---very "Hello fellow youths" at whatever party he's crashing.

Though as crass and lecherous as his puppet blueprint, Wallace Punch is a complete 180 in other aspects---melancholic as opposed to violent, masking his insecurities with deranged jokes and a pathological need to have all eyes on him, secretly terrified of most animals because for some reason they tend to attack him, masochistic to a point that he's almost too kinky to torture and charismatic in a skanky way that keeps him surrounded by similarly-othered people, topped off with the type of personality disorder that no matter the size of the crowd egging him on, he tends to feel like the loneliest man in the world. Puts the "bi" in "bipolar"---eh, probably, there may not be a straightforward diagnosis for what's wrong with him, and he had a normal-enough childhood that there's no Freudian excuse for his antisocial behavior. Perhaps Wallace is just what happens when a mildly emotionally neglected 10 year old with unsupervised internet access starts stealing his mom's cigarettes and finds that negative attention is better than none.

Backstory, Etc.

The first major turning point in his life was being arrested at age 20 for assault with a weapon, and Wallace was lucky to only spend a year in prison for breaking his flatmate's jaw with a metal juggling torch as soon as he walked in the door---the judge was very lenient, taking into consideration that Wallace's motive was finding "fucked up photos of kids" while snooping through the guy's room for weed; however the case brought so much negative publicity to the Punch name & family restaurant that his father Harold disowned him, with the final comment "you always ran with a bad crowd, why don't you stick with them". This insult on top of the injury of a very rough stay in Wormwood Scrubs broke something in Wallace (it's the one aspect of his criminal history he won't brag about) and led him to start ramping up the show's indecency while using his real name as if to send the message that he wouldn't be so easily forgotten; beyond that he's a registered sex offender due to the number of times he's stripped on stage or taken a leak in public, had to crowdfund bail from fans when he was arrested for soliciting a prostitute while touring the United States, been fined for possession and public intoxication multiple times, regularly steals and engages in prostitution himself despite being quite comfortable from his eccentric aunt's inheritance "because it's fun", and had his license revoked for reckless driving because he's near-sighted yet refuses to wear glasses.

Despite these charges and the general misogynistic bent of his humor, there are quite enough women willing to ignore his many red flags out of sheer curiosity from the rumors (and video clips) that circulate. He's more popular with men, seeming to take pride in making other guys question their sexuality and having lost track of how many times he's heard "you look like a girl from the back"---with his short stature, alto voice, fat ass and flamboyant wardrobe the question as to his sex occasionally comes up, which he'll happily answer with a visual demonstration. Trans fans give him the t-slur pass because for all that he refuses to label himself, he does seem to have quite a fondness for skirts, stockings and tacky jewellery, and while he's definitely chaser-y about it his admiration for transsexuals' "commitment to the bit" in his words is genuine. Wallace isn't particularly bigoted towards one group more than others and will use whatever derogatory language comes to mind first, defaulting towards homophobia (because irony) and antisemitism (because I'm Jewish & comfortable "reclaiming" that, plus I think he'd say some funny shit about us controlling the entertainment industry) or just trash-talking a target's appearance ("Ya call that a moustache? It looks like you're eating a rat!") if sexual and racist epithets don't stick. He gets real enjoyment from audience members heckling him right back, seeming to consider a show a failure if there hasn't been at least one argument or disgusted walk-out.

#notes #thoughts #heyyy it's me #<- in-character screenshots/''selfie'' tag #out of character #to be updated

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violenceviolence-rp · 1 year ago

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Totally Mundane Human AU Wally that I'm itching to properly doodle now, have some thoughts about Wallace the Entertainer:

Voiceclaim: if Genesis P-Orridge was a heavy smoker, because Throbbing Gristle means the world to me

Height/Body type: short for a dude but not where it matters to him, "petite" bone structure, wiry lightly-muscled frame of a stimulant addict

A shock-comedy "performance artist" born in Cheshire, England, Wallace Punch's Variety Act has been described by the few critics brave enough to stomach its entirety as "a one-man pantomime of The Aristocrats"--to paraphrase the sex-shop owner in Se7en, "the sort of guy who pisses in a cup on stage and then drinks it". Lots of prop-based humor and dead baby jokes, once landed himself in the hospital with salmonella after biting the head off a plucked dead chicken, another time was banned from the premises for bleeding all over the place when he pierced his nipples with safety pins. He has a small but dedicated fanbase of edgy groupies and is notorious for being mediocre in the sack whenever he does bed them; while this version of Wally isn't implied to be an outright rapist his incel energy is OFF THE CHARTS and if he starts joking about roofies that unfortunately means he likes you. Surprisingly not a drinker given his hair-trigger temper, Wallace prefers club drugs and is very casual about being hooked on amphetamines, definitely not above buying adderall from teenagers despite being 30-something--very "Hello fellow youths" at whatever party he's crashing.

While not a remotely capable puppeteer, Wallace's favorite prop is an antique, one-of-a-kind ventriloquist dummy that he found for dirt cheap in a Midwestern pawn shop--for whatever reason, the dealer was eager to get rid of it, probably because its lifelike venom-green eyes and chipped red smile are incredibly creepy. The fans love when he hauls out Jude Wood's paint-splattered trunk because that means things are about to get extra vulgar--one legendary show that may still circulate as a grainy recording on weird websites veered into x-rated territory when Wallace, high on ecstasy and having just hit an audience member's meth pipe, used Jude's hand to masturbate to a spectacular finish (and applause). Ever since that performance Wallace has felt an attachment to Jude that surpasses anything he's felt for a possession, animal, and honestly most people--"agalmatophilia" isn't a word in his vocabulary but that's precisely what it is; MDMA is a funny drug. Because he acquired the puppet while on tour across the pond he gives it a "stupid Yank accent" (a raspy, poor approximation of my Jimmy's voice) that he only seems to be able to do when he's actually holding Jude; regardless of in-universe gags if I ever actually write something terrible with this man, Jude is a completely inanimate object* being subjected to one-sided conversations and Wallace should probably lay off the ketamine (which he regularly stores inside of Jude, along with other drug paraphernalia, a skin mag and a balisong).

Being Mundane Human AU, while a transgressive, ornery, destructive, nasty bastard, Wallace Punch is not a murderer, doesn't pose any particular threat to animals (outside of yelling at his flatmate's dog Jamesy whenever it gets in his room) and will actually take "no" for an answer (which happens a lot). Other than the Obligatory Puppetfuckery and likely exhibitionism (as is the case with everyone who pursues fame) I'm not sure what he's into, nothing illegal or deadly though. In another departure from the usual bullshit he doesn't have any body-image issues or particularly weird ideas about gender roles, you know, beyond typical male misogyny--sometimes he wants to wear a fuckin dress because it's cute, doesn't make him anything other than a dude in a dress. He also has shitty stick-n-poke tattoos and self-done piercings but I haven't decided what those are yet.

Is this just an excuse to explore an explicitly British and extra-pathetic version of Wallace? Probably.

* Although. Wouldn't It Be Funny If this actually takes place in the same Unfamiliar timeline where Jimmy ends up besting Slappy, who goes permanently dormant after he dies as intended, and Wallace Punch really is Mr Wood reincarnated as a human with no memories of his past life, forever fated to seek out the custom-built partner unable to return his affections. That's such an unnecessary tangle in the narrative lemniscate. How fitting for a hagfish. Sure why not.

#not exactly #meaty wally #wallace the entertainer #an au for an au? sure why not!#character notes #self indulgent as fuck #this whole premise is hilarious to me i do kind of want to write something extra awful #out of character #doodle

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aroace-poly-show · 1 year ago

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*sigh*

This is my second time typing this bc tumblr is a bitch. Therefore, no pretty bullet points or fonts, I'm just gonna use dashes, then copy paste from my notes app.

Anyway, YOU ASKED FOR SONG RECS, HERE ARE SOME!

I tried to not go too mainstream so you'd get plenty of new stuff. Many of these artists have plenty of other good songs too so if you particularly like one, check their other stuff!

Be aware some of these are violent and/or sexual as well as containing other potentially upsetting material, lmk if you need individual content warnings

- Belladonna Melodrama by Charming Disaster

- Constellation by Powderpaint

- Sex With A Ghost by Teddy Hyde

- The Woods by Sam Fermin

- The Fine Print by The Stupendium

- Sometimes by Nick Lutsko

- Farewell Wanderlust by The Amazing Devil

- Hell's Coming With Me by Poor Man's Poison

- The Haunted Phonograph by ThouShaltNot

- I/Me/Myself by Will Wood

- Love You Like An Alcoholic by The Taxpayers

- Scavenger by Shonalika (one of the members of Powderpaint from the second rec but i love them ok)

- Animal by Olivia Olson

- Falling Apart by Kim Boekbinder

- The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid

- Rule #4 - Fish In A Birdcage by Fish In A Birdcage (from the album Fish In A Birdcage lmao)

- Fire Drills by Dessa

- Achilles Come Down by Gang Of Youths

- Six Feet by Mike's Dead

- Beautiful by Sopor Aeternus & The Ensemble Of Shadows

- Baby by Bishop Briggs

- Who I Am by Dope Saint Jude

- Fire With Fire by AlicebanD

- broken by lovelytheband

- Hello My Old Heart by Oh The Hellos

- Take All The Time You Need by Oh Honey

- Battle Cry by Shayfer James

- Dear Fellow Traveller by Sea Wolf

- Ship In A Bottle by Steffan Argus (I think)

- Dirty Night Clowns by Chris Garneau

- iT by Christine And The Queens

- This Is Love by Air Traffic Controller

and finally, and I think this is the most mainstream one but I feel like they're not as well known anymore as they used to be

- Brass Goggles by Steam Powered Giraffe (i prefer the 2009 version)

Bonus (if you speak German and/or don't mind music you don't understand): Antifascista by ZSK

I swear my music taste is usually more varied (and upbeat lmao) but I've been having The Depression

Hope you like a few of them!

I FORGOT ABOUT THIS IN MY DRAFTS OOPS FDKJHGHG

i didn’t end up listening to all of them, i fell out of the wanting to listen to new music mood, maybe some other time i’ll finish them all but here’s what i listened to so far:

gonna categorize these songs cause its a lot kjfshjg, i will add my comments if i have any about songs in particular 👍

already in my library:

sex with a ghost, i/me/myself, achilles come down

i haven’t listened to sex with a ghost in FOREVERRR, i/me/myself and achilles come down are in a previous main playlist but i got kinda tired of them and i’m on a new main playlist at the moment. i did relisten to them just for the sake of it. i might add them back to my main playlist :)

couldn’t listen all the way through:

animal

sorry i wanted to finish the whole thing but it really just isn’t my thing… its not bad just not for me

not my thing:

i love you like an alcoholic, animal

i have kind of mixed feelings about love you like an alcoholic tbh.

it’s okay:

broken, the woods, beautiful

the woods feels like that one vflower song to me, boccalla de verita? whatever its called, where it took me a while to get used to and now i actually really like it. i feel like i’ll probably like it eventually

beautiful is nice but its so long and i can tell i’ll get bored of it really quickly. its a bit boring for me tbh. its nice though i might listen to it occasionally :)

kinda catchy:

falling apart, belladonna melodrama, fire drills, constellations, the fine print, baby

ok i really like this:

dear fellow traveler, dirty night clowns, take all the time you need, haunted phonograph, battle cry, iT, rule 4 - fish in a birdcage,

downloading immediately:

antifascista, hello my old heart, hell’s coming with me

i never mind songs in other languages even if i don’t understand them!! as you can probably guess i have a ton of japanese (usually vocaloid) songs, and i had some other german song in my playlist at one point but i think i removed it from there and i can’t remember the name 💔

anyway antifascista FUCKS i like this a lot going into my main playlist immediately it’s loud and they yell and its a good pace i fucking love it

#asks #anon #music recs #TYY ANON BTW!!! ILY FOR THIS #hope you feel better btw :)

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shawol9196 · 5 years ago

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Off-Air (Oneshot; Jongho; ~2.2k)

When Jinki drives Jonghyun home from the radio station meeting, he learns a little more about his off-air life than he’s expecting.

“So why do you dislike that Choi guy so much?” one of the other DJs asks as Jinki sits down next to Jonghyun.

It’s weird for them to all be here together: a huge gathering of DJs and radio staff all gathered into a tiny bar. But Jinki’s excited for a night out without having to be on interacting-with-consumers behavior, so he figures he’ll let it unfold as it will.

Jonghyun takes a sip of whatever soju concoction he’d ordered before looking over.

“Well first off he’s my number one competitor for my time slot.”

“You know you don’t own the hours of 12-2am, right?” Jinki teases.

Jonghyun glares and Jinki isn’t sure if it’s at the comment or the interruption. “Second, it’s annoying to have listeners calling in to talk about another DJ while you’re DJing, if you didn’t know. His music is too broad in genre. Like I get it’s a show of soundtracks but I’m not and never will be emotionally ready to switch from “My Heart Will Go On” right into “Footloose.” Also he’s too damn tall.”

Jinki nearly spits out his drink at the last item in the list. The other DJ had wandered off halfway through the spiel, but now Jinki’s interest was piqued.

“Too tall?”

“He’s 6’2” and that’s too tall.”

“And that matters...?”

“Jinki I know you’re my boss and you know I cherish you in that way and also in a friendly way but you’re too tall to understand my feelings about people who are too tall. Your complete averageness in terms of height prevents you from understanding the full plight I speak of.”

“First off I’m the show producer not your boss. Second of all I’m only two inches taller than you, tops. I thought you had to be under 5’4” to complain about height. Third, how do you know his exact height?”

Jonghyun ignores his comments in favor of finishing his drink. As silence falls between them, Jinki finds himself reminiscing of the now locally famous Choi-Kim radio rivalry.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this purple dusk radio?”

“Yes it is. I’m DJ Jonghyun and you’re lucky caller number 4!”

“Oh my goodness!”

“What’s your name?”

“Miyoung.”

“I’ve got the prize package right here for you, Miyoung, all ready to go, I just need you to do one thing for me alright? Just tell me one thing you enjoy about purple dusk radio.”

“Well, to be honest, normally I listen to silver screen on channel 99...but I just happened to tune in to this station for the first time tonight and it really fits in with my music taste.”

“So what I’m hearing is purple dusk has a better selection than silver screen does?”

“It fits better with my likes, yes.”

“Well congratulations, Miyoung, you won! Just promise me you’ll stay tuned in to the better midnight show, okay?”

Jinki listens as the girl on the phone starts squealing in excitement and Jonghyun signs off for the commercial break. Once the “ON AIR” sign is deluminated, Jinki laughs at Jonghyun’s little victory wiggle.

“Did you hear that, Jinki? We saved another poor soul from having to listen to silver screen!”

Jinki jumps at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. It’s Kim Kibum, producer for silver screen. The rivalry between DJs didn’t extend to them -- mostly due to graduating from the same college program.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

“You looked pretty far away there for a second, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, not at all. I was just remembering an old show.”

Kibum slides into the seat that previously held Jonghyun.

“Any particular show? I mean you’ve only been on this show for six years now.”

“A particular one but for no particular reason.”

The conversation is interrupted by the bartender appearing. Jinki waits for Kibum to order, turning around to glance around the restaurant for Jonghyun. He finds him at another table with a few other DJs from their station.

“Minho’s got a significant other but he won’t tell me about them.” Kibum huffs once he gets his beer.

“If he won’t tell you about them how do you know he has one?”

“I overheard him on the phone and ‘I love you, honeybun’ doesn’t seem like something you’d say to everyone, now does it? Also he has a new ring, one of those ones that leaves an impression of a heart when you take it off.”

“Kibum, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; you make a great producer but you would’ve been a great detective.”

Kibum laughs before sipping his beer.

“So how are things at PYQK, besides the fact that Minho won’t share all the naughty details of his love life with you?”

“I never said I wanted the naughty details; even some sweet vagues would be nice. The station’s doing well. And at PYXQ?”

“Basically the same. Why doesn’t Minho ever come to these, besides the fact that Jonghyun’s here?”

Kibum scoffs as he puts down his beer. “He goes to work out after the show finishes like some kind of weirdo.”

“To each his own, I guess.” Jinki goes to take a sip of his drink, but pauses. “Weird question that I’ll explain the context of afterwards, but how tall is he?”

“Who? Minho? Bit over 6’ I’d say. Why?”

“Someone was asking Jonghyun why he doesn’t like Minho and one of the reasons was he’s too tall, but he said a very specific height, which I thought was a bit odd.”

“I think Jonghyun may be trying to get in on that sort of experience,” Kibum says with a giggle, pointing to where Jonghyun’s begun standing on a barstool and thanking people for coming to the party that he absolutely did not partake in planning.

“Oh jeez...I’ll see you later, dude.”

Jinki makes his way over to Jonghyun quick as he can; persuading him to come down off the stool isn’t easy but eventually he manages.

“I just wanted to make sure that everyone could see me!” Jonghyun explains with a hiccup as Jinki pulls him out towards the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” Jonghyun slurs, clutching Jinki’s arm to help steady himself.

“I’m going to drop you off at your house since you’re in no condition to drive.”

“How do you know that?”

Jinki gives him a stern look and continues guiding Jonghyun to his car. It takes Jonghyun a few minutes to remember his address to punch into the GPS but soon enough they’re on their way.

It surprises Jinki to realize he’s never been to Jonghyun’s house. The latter had visited him many times for holiday parties and garden dinners but not once in the four years they’ve worked together on purple dusk had he ever gone to -- or been invited to -- Jonghyun’s place. The house isn’t that big, but it has a pretty little garden in front and there’s something charming about it that seems perfectly Jonghyun. As they walk up the driveway, Jonghyun seems to perk up and Jinki is somewhat relieved to see a light through the living room window.

“My house!”

“Well I’m glad you recognize it.”

Just as quickly as it appeared, the perky feeling dissipates and Jonghyun stops in his tracks.

“I don’t have people over at my house.”

“I just want to make sure you can get in, I’ll leave right after okay?”

“I...don’t want...can’t let people know about him.”

“About who?”

“Him.”

“Come on, I just want to make sure you can get in.”

Begrudgingly he starts walking again, searching his pockets for his keys. Eventually he finds them but after four attempts to unlock the door it's clear he’s too drunk for such a delicate operation. Just as Jinki goes to offer to try, the door opens.

If Jonghyun revealed himself to be an alien at this very moment, it wouldn’t surprise him more than seeing Choi Minho standing in Jonghyun’s doorway.

“Oh, hello, Jinki. I...wasn’t expecting anyone to be with him.”

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here either, least of all you.”

It takes Jonghyun a moment to process that the door is open but once he does he immediately wraps himself around Minho, seemingly forgetting about Jinki’s existence.

“Baby I had fun at the party and I missed you.”

Minho’s cheeks turn pink as Jinki’s jaw drops to the floor.

“Do you...why don’t you come in for a bit so we can talk?”

“I...if that’s fine with Jjong I’d like that.”

It takes a few minutes of fussing and denied kisses for Minho to send Jonghyun off to shower. He joins Jinki in the living room after a moment, sitting opposite him.

“Don’t the two of you hate each other?” Jinki asks before Minho has a chance to say anything.

An odd smile crosses Minho’s face. “Only publicly. We’re very affectionate at home, as you can see.”

“How long have...”

“Have we been together?”

“I was going to say be friendly but yeah that’s also included in the question I guess.”

“We met in college, partnered for a project in a journalism elective.”

“Really. Did you get unpartnered for bad behavior or something?”

“No, actually-”

Minho’s interrupted by Jonghyun unceremoniously plopping on the couch with the highest amount of dramatic flair he can muster, still oblivious to Jinki’s continued presence. He’s snuggled up to Minho and asleep before he can even react. As confused as Jinki is, it’s a warming sight.

“As I was saying, we actually got along really well. Got bonus points on the project for being cooperative. We got into the habit of hanging out and things just...kinda went from there. We’ve been living here since I graduated. Sleepy here inherited it from his grandparents.”

“So wait...why the rivalry? Like we all legitimately thought that you two hate each other.”

Minho chuckles, but Jinki can’t tell if it's in amusement or in sadness.

“It was his idea, oddly enough. I don’t know if you remember the predecessor to silver screen, but it was... to put it kinder than Kibum would, it was a mess. So when I got hired, it was made very clear that if I didn’t make it successful, I would get fired, Yunho -- the producer that pitched it -- would probably get fired, and the station would basically have to resort to playing ads and royalty free spa music during that slot. Jjong had already got purple dusk comfortable by that point so he was trying to give me pointers and things. It didn’t really help though; Kibum always said it wasn’t my hosting that was driving people away, it was the bad taste left from the old show. Obviously he couldn’t just give me a shoutout, being on different stations at the same time and all, so he came up with hyping the competition. I always thought that we should’ve included you guys on it, but he said it’d make it feel manufactured if you all knew and also tried to play it up.”

“Oh, so that’s why I’ve had to hear Kibum complain about not knowing about your love life for two years now.” Jinki teases.

“Oh man, he’s got you hooked in on that too? I swear I can’t make a personal call at the station without at least 4 people scooting as close as they think they can get away with to eavesdrop.”

“If it makes you feel better, he was just as inquisitive about when I started dating my now-wife back in college.”

“I am not surprised in the least.”

An awkward silence falls between the two as Jonghyun starts to snore and Jinki struggles to process.

“It was hard to get used to the act, when we first started it. We’d both come home all apologetic -- ‘I know I said you sound grating but your tone was so nice today’ or ‘I’m sorry I was so mean today, but how can you not be mean when the theme of the show is noir films’, that kind of thing. Now it’s just a bit of a game. I always listen to the podcast recording when I go to the gym and come home telling him he’s recycled insults.”

Jinki chuckles and checks his phone. There’s a few messages from Kibum, asking him where he’s headed off to and if he took Jonghyun home.

“I suppose you should probably be heading home now. I know we live the night life already but I’m sure your wife would appreciate you coming home before the sun.” Minho says as he tries to wiggle his way out of Jonghyun’s grasp.

“You’re probably right. We don’t have the luxury of the same working hours like some people do.”

They walk to the door and Jinki half expects Jonghyun to wake up, but he doesn’t.

“Thanks for bringing him home. While it is amusing that such a lightweight enjoys gatherings so much, I do worry about him getting home in one piece.”

“Oh it’s no trouble. Even if it was, this dramatic turn of events made it worth it. Good luck with your show tomorrow and surviving Sherlock Holmes- I mean Kibum’s investigations.”

Minho cracks a smile and nods a thank you, waiting til Jinki gets into his car to close the front door. Through the living room window he can see him carrying Jonghyun to bed. His phone pings again, Kibum continuing to be nosy. For a brief moment he thinks to share the news with Kibum but instead closes his phone and heads home. What Jonghyun and Minho do in their off-air time really isn’t any of his concern; plus, he’d grown fond of Kibum’s investigations being thwarted.

#hello fellow youths its been a while #this is just...........a thing #my idea was a bit different but this is how it turned out and ive missed writing so here it is #jongho #1 shot 2 shot just for 1

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deepdarkdelights · 4 years ago

Text

Run Little Red (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Werewolf Namjoon, Stalking, Obsession, Forced Relationships, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of discovering dead bodies, People going missing, Devious Intentions, Depictions of Guns, Mourning, Wolf Courtship Rituals

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

<<Forbidden Fables Masterlist>>

Preview: A calm life in a small village was all you ever knew, your days spent in the bakery and keeping to yourself. You liked the quiet and gentle nature of your life, but one day a wolf stands outside of your window, a stranger arrives, and people begin to go missing. Do you dare don your red coat and enter the forest?

A/N: Hello babes! My fellow authors and myself decided to change up the order of our release dates for our Forbidden Fables Collab! And, since I recently finished this little beauty, I get to release it first. yay! Now I can sit back and savor the delectable writings of my fellow authors 💜 I hope you enjoy Run Little Red it was fun to make! I can’t wait to read the comments and asks 💜

There was a wolf outside your window.

It’s eyes gleaming in the early morning light like molten gold with silver fur that melted into the snow.

You sat up in bed, wrapping your patchwork quilt around your shoulders as you scooted to the foot of the bed. It was staring at you, that much you were sure of. And that startled you, the almost human like appearance to its gaze was intense and unsettling. It was an animal, but it appeared to be far more intelligent than you had first anticipated.

Maybe it was hungry, perhaps that was why it was so intent on peering through your window.

No, it certainly wasn’t, that was evident. What you had missed before was glaringly obvious now, its silver muzzle was stained in red. It had made a fresh kill before it had wandered over to your cottage mere feet from the woods.

So, if it wasn’t hungry, why was it here?

You watched in morbid fascination as its tongue slipped out of its mouth and laved over the fresh, thick, crimson blood that decorated its muzzle. You could see the rows of sharp canines hidden within its maw for mere seconds before the wolf clenched its jaw shut and settled on its hindlegs in the drift of snow.

“My, what big teeth you have.” You whispered to yourself, your voice seemingly louder in the empty room.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it had made it’s meal. Perhaps a deer, or a squirrel, maybe a bird, or even a small, innocent, little rabbit.

That would have been ideal. But, you knew it was most likely one of the poor farmer’s livestock. Your village was small and self sufficient, rarely reaching out to its neighboring villages and rarely receiving visitors of its own. So, when the cattle and the goats began to disappear, only their entrails remaining, the town quickly became suspicious.

It was either one of two things, rebellious teenagers making a hassle for everyone, or a wolf amongst you.

If only you had known what was to come.

You stared back warily out the window at the creature, suddenly realizing just how easily it could bust through your flimsy window if it wanted to. This wolf was probably the largest you had ever seen, it was almost the size of a pony, with long limbs that held thick muscle from the time it spent chasing down its prey. You were certain a simple snap of its jaws would kill you in an instant if it desired to do so.

It’s gaze had not left you, petrifying you to your very spot. You felt like the two of you were playing a game, waiting to see who would be the one to make the first move.

The call of your mother’s voice was the tie breaker.

You rose to your feet, your bare skin brushing over the cool wood of the floor as you retreated through your door, back first.

“Yes?” You replied, angling your neck to the hallway for a moment.

“Hurry, sweetheart! You’re going to be late!” She called back from the kitchen.

The bakery had been in your family for the past three generations now, starting with your grandfather, then your mother, and now you. Your mother was showing signs of her age now, her hands were unsteady and unreliable creating more of a mess than a sellable meal. So, it was your turn now. It was the only thing you could do for her, besides be married off and you weren’t quite ready for that. No one was.

At least that was the gentle way of putting it, in reality you had made yourself quite the social pariah. You were a determined woman, one who liked to keep to herself, one who liked owning the bakery and not having to sign over the ownership to a husband. You had your mother to care for, a business to run, and a grandmother that lived deep in the woods to fret over.

It didn’t really matter what you wanted, you did what was necessary to stay afloat.

“Just a minute!” You called once more before slinking back into your room.

There was a noticeable difference about the space now, the wolf was gone. The only sign he had ever been there being the large dip in the snow that his form had disrupted and a track of paw prints headed into the forest. How strange.

You shook your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts, you didn’t want to think about what you would have to do if the creature returned. The shotgun looming over you from above the front door said enough.

You couldn’t allow a predator to get comfy around your home, that would only invite trouble into your life.

You dressed yourself quickly that morning in as many layers as you could. The walk to the bakery wasn’t a far one, but it was a frigid one. You made sure to wear your wool stockings and your leather boots, the snow looked to be thick and you didn’t fancy the idea of wet feet all day while you worked.

You leaned over the side of your bed, scooping up your bag and throwing the keys inside of it in one motion. The extra sleep you had gotten the night before had cost you the time you needed in the morning to ready yourself.

Once you gave yourself a quick look over and ran through your mental checklist, you rushed out of your room and into the main room of the house. Your house was more like a cottage, it was incredibly small. With only your mother’s room, your room, and the kitchen in one corner with the fireplace in the other it made for a quaint and cozy home. Albeit a cramped one.

“Your breakfast is on the table.” Your mother said, smoothing a stray hair behind her ear with trembling hands.

You could see her cleaning up the mess she had made that morning in an attempt to show you kindness. Normally, you were the one to wake early and prepare the both of you for the day ahead. But she had also told you many times before that she was your mother and she was supposed to take care of you as well.

You eyed the bowl of steaming porridge that sat upon the rickety table. “I don’t think I’ll have the time to eat it.”

“Then you’ll make the time.” She huffed, wiping a wet rag over the counter in two swipes.

“I shouldn’t have overslept.” You sighed, resting your bag on the floor as you took a seat.

“You needed the rest, dear. You’re up every morning at the crack of dawn and you don’t come home until nightfall. You don’t need to work that much.” She chided you, smoothing her hands over your hair in a fond manner.

“I do, for you and for Grandmother.” You reminded her. The cost of living was not cheap.

“And what about you? You should be spending time with people your age, not working yourself to the bone.”

“I don’t need anyone but you, and Grandmother.” You smiled before sipping at your spoon quickly, hissing as you burned the tip of your tongue in your haste.

“Youth is wasted on the young.” She chided under her breath, spurring a giggle from your throat.

You finished your food as quickly as you could before excusing yourself from the table and heading for the door.

“Your cloak, dear!” Your mother called as you pulled the door open, the chill of the snow seeping into your bones.

“Yes, mother!” You chirped with an amused roll of your eyes as you curled your fingers around the crimson fabric of the cloak. Your grandmother had made it herself two winters ago, as much as you loved it and her you had to admit it was a tad ostentatious and you weren’t exactly one for attention. But it was warm and it served its purpose well.

The door creaked shut behind you, squeaking softly as it settled back into the frame. The snow had fallen much higher than you had previously anticipated. You tightened the ties of your cloak and delicately flipped the large hood over your head before gripping your layers of skirts and hiking them up as you began your journey.

It was rather slippery that day, you couldn’t restrain the slight squeals that fell from your parted lips each time the heel of your boot found a patch of ice and sent you sliding. You were certain you should have caught the attention of a few passerbys, but to your surprise a large group of them had become preoccupied.

There were about fourteen of them, all in one great circle fervently discussing something. They seemed to be worried, panicked even. It had caught your attention now that the group was made up mostly of men excluding the butcher’s wife and daughter. Both’s cheeks were stained red, their eyes brimming with unshed tears as they held onto each other tight in the crisp air.

Your face tensed in confusion as you approached the bakery, the group not too far away from you.

“Oh, poor Sarah.” A tender voice cooed worriedly from next door. It was the tailor, she and her apprentice were stood outside, thick shawls wrapped around the both of them.

You occupied yourself by rifling through your leather satchel, pretending to look for the shop keys you held in that very hand. You knew that eavesdropping wasn’t very polite, but you also were the curious sort, and that curiosity demanded to be satiated.

“Don’t worry, miss. I’m sure they’ll find him soon, you know how the young ones are.” The apprentice said, her hand resting on the tailor’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

“It’s not like William though, he’s a sweet boy. It doesn’t make any sense for him to go up and missing at the crack of dawn.” She replied, her dark eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I just find it funny is all, that a stranger shows up here the same day that Sarah’s boy disappears.”

“Coincidence isn’t evidence.” The apprentice hummed, pulling her shawl tighter around herself as she began to back up against the shop door, aggravated by the chilly air. “I’m sure he’ll turn up, with a search party that size he’ll be back home in no time.”

With that, you finally retrieved your “missing” keys and unlocked the door, sliding into the safety of the bakery. You knew William as well, he really was a sweet kid...to most. Your heart did go out to Sarah though, you didn’t know the pain of a missing child but you could empathize. The sight of her broken face remained burned into your mind as you readied the shop, lighting the hearth and preparing your materials to start your first batch of bread for the day. Your late start was going to nip you in the behind, most of the women arrived by noon to get their first pick of goods and the two hours it would take to make your batches was going to loom over your head the entire time.

You were mid kneading your dough when the familiar tinkle of the bell above the shop door demanded your attention. You paused for a moment, your aching arms thanking you for the short reprieve. Almost immediately your breath was caught in your throat. You had been expecting one of the regular mothers wandering their way in, or perhaps even one of their children running errands. Not this man that stood before you.

This was most obviously the stranger the tailor had been referring to moments earlier, there was no mistake. Your village was small, everyone knew everyone and this stranger looked nothing like any of the people in your town.

He was so much taller than anybody else, broader too. But most astonishing was his pure silver hair and the deep honey shade of his eyes. You had never seen anyone as young as him with hair that light, it surely wasn’t grey, the shade far too bright to be mistaken with something that dull. He was damn near ethereal and unfairly attractive. His looks had almost distracted you from his attire but now that you were paying attention, he was severely underdressed for the weather. He had to be freezing cold.

“Hello, can I help you?” You asked softly, patting your hands against your apron to remove the excess flour from your skin.

He had a rather confident stance, like he was the owner of the shop instead of you, you who was slightly cowering and thrumming with anxiety.

He sent you a wide grin, his teeth were pearly white and for some unknown reason that sent your heart crashing into your stomach. You could have sworn they even looked slightly pointy at the ends, not unlike those of the creature you had seen outside your window that morning. You had almost been distracted by the sweet dimples that rested in his cheeks. What duality he had.

He tilted his head back slightly, peering down at you from above, “Hm, I’m looking for something sweet.” He hummed.

“Sweet?” You mumbled to yourself, resting your hand on your hip in thought.

“Oh! I made some sweet rolls yesterday, how about that?” You said with a snap of your fingers, retreating further into the shop without a response from him.

Now in work mode you busied yourself with preparing the stranger’s order. You couldn’t help but wonder why he had arrived, what his reason for being there was. Barely anybody passed through your village, and they certainly didn’t stay as long as he had.

Once you had retrieved the tray of rolls you set them on the counter before grabbing a pot of freshly warmed icing and gently drizzling it over top. Once each roll had been thoroughly coated, you set the pot aside and headed to the cupboard to retrieve a bag for them.

“Perfect.” You sighed in irritation, craning your neck back to see the top of the shelf.

Normally, you had endless amounts of bags and never needed the ones stored on the top shelf. But this winter had been far more difficult than past ones and your stock had not been refilled in quite a while.

Desperately not wanting to search for your wooden stool, you stubbornly resorted to balancing on the tips of your toes, your fingers just barely brushing against the material of the bags. You groaned in frustration, bouncing up slightly only to knock the bags back further on the shelf and worsen the ache in your shoulder.

Just as you were about to give up and resort to looking for your rickety stool, you felt a hand settle on your waist and a chest press against your back as the stranger reached up and grabbed the bags for you. He was incredibly warm, so warm you thought he may even be sick. He felt as warm as the heat emanating from a fire of fresh coals and that was incredibly alarming, but also explained his state of dress.

You flinched in surprise as you felt him set the bags aside and settle his other hand on your shoulder. It was deathly quiet, the only sounds being his slow, steady breaths underlying your panicked ones accompanied by the calm rise and fall of his chest against your back. You had never been this close to anyone before, it was incredibly uncomfortable.

You felt much like a rabbit, cornered, panicking, and believing that if you stayed still enough he wouldn’t see you and would go away.

He gently rested his forehead against your hair, nuzzling from side to side before reaching up and playing with a stray strand. You could feel him taking a deeper breath this time, humming softly like he was pleased.

“Sweet.” He mumbled to himself.

Oh. Oh, no. Who did this man think he was? You were not on the menu. You shuddered in fear before jerking away, smacking his hands off of you.

You turned on your heel, backing away from him as you fixed him with an annoyed glare. The look he gave you was one of clear confusion, a layer of hurt and frustration buried beneath.

“I’m not sure how things work where you come from, but normally you ask for permission before you go touching someone you don’t know.” You huffed, slamming the empty bag on the counter as you began to package the rolls.

It didn’t matter if he was attractive or not, you were not going to let him touch you as he pleased or get the wrong message that you weren’t even conveying in the first place.

The stranger rounded the counter, the block of wood effectively separating the two of you, making you feel a little safer. His eyes looked darker than before, less like honey and more like amber.

His confident demeanor had returned, effectively confusing you even more.

“Forgive me,” He said, another smile gracing his lips as he rested his forearms on the countertop, “It seems we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot? My name is Namjoon, and yours?”

So, he did have the capability to be somewhat of a gentleman. He was rather well spoken, and his strange mannerisms and quiet demeanor had all but disappeared in a flash.

So, begrudgingly, you replied with your name.

He repeated it after you, his tongue swiping over the full flesh of his lower lip like he was tasting it, sending a chill down your spine.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, you were correct in assuming where I come from we do greetings a little differently.” He said with a soft chuckle, his amber eyes tracing every movement you made.

You did feel a little bad now for how you had lashed out at him. Normally, you weren’t one who was quick to anger, but that still didn’t excuse what he had done.

“It’s alright,” You said, slowly, “You need to be more careful though, if that had been anyone else I don’t think you would have gone unscathed.”

“Are most of your people so quick to violence?” He asked, titling his head slowly, a strong sense of intrigue exuding from his form.

“I wouldn’t say so normally, but we’re all a little on edge as of late. Our livestock has been attacked and just this morning one of us went missing.”

“Missing?” He asked, a new glow to eyes.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. The butcher’s son hasn’t been seen all day, it’s very unlike him.” You said, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, unsure if you should tell him more. But, considering it concerned him you felt maybe it was in his best interest to tell him.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t stick around for too long. Some find it suspicious you turned up the same day that William went missing.”

“And what if I don’t feel like leaving just yet?” He asked, disregarding the information you had just given him as if he had no reason to be worried.

You had no answer for him, truly you didn’t. The packaged rolls sat between the two of you and a long stretch of silence as he stared at you and waited for a response that didn’t come. And, without another word, he dropped a few too many coins on the counter, gathered up the bag, and headed for the front door.

He stopped for only a moment, his fingers gently stroking at your red cloak you had hung up beside the door. His amber gaze trailed over each stitch as he lightly grazed the material a few more times.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, little red.”

~~~~~~~

After he had left, your day had not gotten any easier. Just as you had expected, it had been another busy day. You had managed to satisfy all of your customers, despite that late start you had made.

There were a few upsides to the job you had, one being that it allowed you to tune into any gossip you would normally miss out on. You were more of a hit with the older women of the village, the people your age finding you to be a tad strange and off putting.

That day your shop had been filled with hushed whispers of what had come to pass, the search party still had not returned from their trip to recover William. The outlook was not in the boy’s favor, not with the increase in predator activity you had been receiving as of late. You weren’t so sure you would be seeing William walking back into town any time soon.

Once the day had come to an end, the sun dipping just below the tree line and casting shades of red over the snow, you had extinguished the lights of your shop and were locking up, your hood drawn over your head. That was when you found out the horrible truth.

As you slid the shop keys into your bag and turned on your heel, you saw the search party emerging from the woods. And with them, you could see a blanketed form lying in the snow, the sheet swaddling the body slowing turning red.

You swallowed harshly, turning as quickly as you could and beginning to make your way through the snow and away from what you knew was coming. You didn’t want to see the look on Sarah’s face, you didn’t want to watch her go boneless in the arms of her husband. But it didn’t matter what you saw or didn’t see, you would never forget the sound of her screams piercing the crisp, snowy air.

Your breath was visible in hot puffs in front of your face as you felt the burn of tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. It didn’t matter if you didn’t care for William, it didn’t matter if you knew what he was really like, there was nothing quite like the sound of a mother’s heartbreak. It was enough to send anybody down to their knees.

Your numb fingers wiped away the warm tears rushing down your cheeks, and amidst your blurry vision you could have sworn you saw a familiar figure slinking off into the woods, a flash of silver hair that just barely materialized. You could have sworn that that was Namjoon disappearing like a ghost into the frigid depths of the forest.

You shook your head, you shouldn’t bother yourself with what he was doing, your main goal should be getting home before the sun completely dips below the horizon and plunges you into darkness. So, with that thought, you rushed home.

Once you entered the cottage, things didn’t get any better. Your mother was stood there, waiting anxiously for your arrival. As soon as you had stepped foot inside she whipped the door shut and helped you remove your cloak as you toed your boots off.

“No more working late, do you hear me?” She said, gripping your shoulders to get you to look at her. “It’s not safe out there.”

“Word travels fast then?” You asked humorlessly.

“It’s a shame what happened to that boy, and I’ll be damned if that happens to you.” She replied sternly.

“And what about Grandmother then? What do we do about her? She’s out there, all alone, with no one to protect her.”

“She has the lumberjack-”

“And he only checks on her every two weeks.” You interrupted, “Let me go out tomorrow and bring her back to us. I’ll go first thing in the morning.”

Your mother bit her lip, her hands shakily settling on her hips as she thought to herself. “I’ll go with you then.”

“No, you can’t possibly think you’ll be able to make the trip. The snow is thick and it’s a long walk there, you’ll exhaust yourself. It’ll be better if I go, faster too.” You said as you approached the fireplace, raising your hands to the flames to warm them.

“And your grandmother, you think she’ll be able to make it back through the snow?” She probed, raising her eyebrow.

She had a point, if you were saying she wouldn’t be able to make it there how would you expect your grandmother to make it back with you?

You rested your hand on the back of your neck, pacing the floor and causing your layers of skirts to swirl around your ankles. You came to a sudden stop, your eyes settling on the shotgun that was mounted above your front door. Idea.

You didn’t like the thought of her being out there all alone, but if you knew she had something to protect her from the wild animals that would make you feel much better.

“Alright, what if I bring her some supplies instead? I’ll grab some things that’ll last her a good while and I’ll show her how to use the shotgun. I’ve saved up some money of my own, I could purchase us a new one.” You mused out loud.

You loved your grandmother, she was the last living member of your father’s side of the family, she was the only connection you had to him at this point. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing her just yet, not when you could prevent it from those creatures that were beginning to terrorize your people.

Your mother was silent once more, her thumb settled between her lips as she nervously chewed at the nail. She didn’t like the idea of you headed out into the woods alone, but she was comforted by the thought of you taking the shotgun with you, that much you were certain of.

“We don’t know when the next storm will hit, and the last thing we need is for her to be stuck out there, all alone, with no food, surrounded by the wild. Let me go.”

And that was enough to break her resilience.

“Promise me, promise me that you’ll come back.” She whispered, her body visibly sagging as those words left her lips.

“It goes without saying.” You murmured, wrapping her up in your embrace.

It was easier this way, you didn’t want to make a promise you had no certainty in keeping.

The air in the cottage had lost all tension, everything was much calmer than before. But your peace could only last for so long. It was when you entered your bedroom that you realized something else was wrong.

The room was positively frigid, and upon further inspection you realized that your window had been pried open, the cold winter air surging forth and snuffing out any traces of heat.

You surged forward and grasped the window, attempting to swing it shut as quickly as you could to try and insulate whatever warmth was left. But the thick scent of copper quickly stalled your movements. Instead of closing the window, you found yourself leaning forward into the brisk air, sniffing intently as you tried to make out where the scent was emanating from. You didn’t have to look far.

Your hands sealed themselves over your mouth, smothering the scream that threatened to break through them.

Sitting in the snow where the wolf had once laid, was a human heart. The snow seemed to sizzle around it, the organ still warm and slick with blood that carved rivers and valleys into the pure ice.

You could feel bile rising up your throat, your vision shaking so violently it made it appear that the heart was vibrating with steady pumps like it was still alive.

And, to your horror, you could make out a form a few feet back in the snow. The only thing that was visible in the pitch black were it’s molten gold eyes, shining back at you in recognition before it scuttled away into the darkness.

You frantically slammed the window shut and drew the curtains closed tight.

There was no mistake now, someone or something had been following you.

~~~~~~~

When you awoke the next morning from a restless sleep, you elected to keep your discovery to yourself.

Although you were incredibly frightened by what you had seen, the last thing you needed was to scare your already frail mother. Your grandmother was still in need of assistance, and you couldn’t allow your mother to halt your plans. You had a mission to accomplish, and you were set on completing it with a shotgun slung over your arm and a picnic basket on the other.

So, you shakily grasped your red cloak and wrapped it around your shoulders in haste, your fingers struggling to do up the ties at the base of your throat. Once you had completed the normally easy task, you slipped your basket onto the inside of your elbow and pulled down the shotgun from its resting place above the door.

You regularly cleaned it, a task your father had enjoyed teaching you at a young age, so you were certain it wouldn’t jam if you needed to use it in a hurry. You slid a box of ammunition into your pocket, one for you, and another box into the picnic basket, one for your grandmother.

And then you were off, bidding your mother goodbye with a hug and a swift kiss to her cheek, and an unspoken promise tittering on the edges of your lips saying that you would be home for supper. But those words were better left unspoken.

The sun was just barely peeking through the thick clouds overhead, you were certain a blizzard was brewing. This only urged you to move quicker through the cleared paths.

But the clouds weren’t the only foreboding message that morning, it was the mother’s wailing in the town square. There were three more now, holding each other in a comforting manner as they wept into each other’s shoulders.

More children had been snatched from their mothers.

Sarah sat by herself, of her own volition, an obsidian mourning veil obscuring her tear stained features. A chill ran down your back as you urged yourself to walk by them quicker, she looked more like an executioner than she did a mourner, surrounded by a choir of weeping women.

You could still hear the echoes of her cries in the back of your mind, the raw chords striking your ears once more.

You tightened your grip on the strap of your shotgun, your pace slowing as you reached the bridge that led you into the forest. You felt like you could breathe now, despite the knowledge that people your own age had lost their lives in the thick overgrowth before you. The relief that you felt from the women in the square outweighed your fear.

The bridge creaked in protest as your boots tapped against the wood. It would need to be repaired come spring.

“Little red!” A voice called from the treeline causing you to suddenly stop, snow kicking up beneath your boots.

Moments later, a familiar figure emerged from the frost coated trees, tall, ash hair, and honey eyes. Namjoon.

“Where are you off to, little red?” He cooed, his voice low with a sultry edge that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t tell if they were delighted or terrified chills.

“My grandmother’s, what are you doing here?” You asked, your body tense and defensive.

He drew nearer now, a wide grin gracing his lips with a set of teeth so white they resembled the snow beneath your boots. The closer he got the more you noticed about him. His perfect white teeth seemed a little sharper than most, and the clothes he wore were once more, not suited for the frigid weather.

“I caught sight of this old thing,” He hummed, his finger tracing over your cloak and the strap of your shotgun as he slowly circled you, “And couldn’t help but see you.”

You stepped back hesitantly, his presence was unnerving. Without saying anything more you pulled away from his reach and began to walk by him briskly, headed into the woods.

“Leaving so soon? We only just met.” He laughed, it would have been a nice contagious laughter had you not heard the bitter edge to it.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time to dawdle, Namjoon. I need to reach her before the storm hits.”

“Well then, won’t you let me accompany you?”

“I don’t need an escort, I know my way just fine, thank you very much.”

“And what about the beasts then?” He asked from beside you, sending you halting to a stop.

“Beasts?” You asked slowly, gazing up at him from beneath the cover of your hood.

“Well, surely you know?” He asked in a patronizing tone, his honey eyes narrowing. “Four people from your village have gone missing, red. Surely you know that wasn’t an accident. Great beasts have roamed this forest for centuries and they don’t take kindly to intruders. It would be much safer if I came with you.”

You stood there for a moment in silence, contemplating his words. He was not wrong, two people were much safer than just one.

So, begrudgingly, you accepted his offer.

His hand quickly captured your own, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pressed his side tightly to your own with a grin. How bold. You were struck once more by the fact that he was incredibly warm, it was no wonder why he wasn’t bundled up like you were. It felt like he had struck a fever.

Namjoon filled the silence between the two of you surprisingly well, telling you stories of the great beasts that roamed the woods, effectively scaring you and holding your attention. He had a way of speaking that drew people in, like a siren from the stories your father had read to you.

It was easy to forget with him, easy to forget why you had been frightened in the first place, easy to sink into his side as his warmth seeped into your flesh, and easy to get lost in his voice.

That was of course, until you felt him pulling you off of the path.

You dug your heels into the snow, tugging at his hand violently. “Namjoon!”

“Yes?” He asked.

“What are you doing? Her cottage is this way, we stay on the path, we never leave the path.” You said, gesturing towards the dirt pathway beneath the two of you.

That was a spoken rule in your village, never go off of the path.

“That’s ridiculous,” He chuckled, “If we continue the way you were going, that doubles the time it takes to get there, it’s better we take the shortcut.”

“No.” You sternly said.

“And why not?”

“Because, there’s predators out there! Mountain lions, bears, wolves!”

A mischievous smirk pulled at the corners of his lips, “Are you scared of wolves, little red?”

“I’m scared of anything that wants to eat me.” You replied with a dry tone.

“Well you do smell very sweet-”

“Namjoon!”

He took a deep breath, his eyes darting between you and the shortcut. “I promise you, nothing will hurt you while I’m here. Besides, did you know some flowers bloom in the winter?”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“I am, there’s a field of flowers this way, all different breeds that bloom in the dead of winter. Don’t you think your grandmother would enjoy those?”

You chewed at your lip uneasily. He knew exactly what to say to make you question your own actions. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to see what he was talking about, and you knew that yes, your grandmother would be elated by something so cheery in the bleak winter months.

So, after a few moments of consideration, you agreed.

And Namjoon had not been lying. After a few minutes of trekking through the deep snow the two of you emerged into a clearing, and just like he said, it was filled with flowers of all different breeds.

You found yourself crouching down into the field, your fingers trailing over each velvety petal that had somehow found a way to survive in the clutches of an icy death. Your favorites were the deep red roses. They were a dead match for your cloak, a beautiful color that was delicately dusted with soft flakes of snow.

You couldn’t help but greedily pluck several blossoms from the foliage, slipping them into your basket.

And, amidst your excitement, you hadn’t noticed just how close your companion had gotten until you felt him. That incredible warmth had returned as he crouched down behind you, and just like he had in the bakery, you felt him lightly nuzzling your head and breathing in your scent as he pressed himself closer to you, his arms winding around your body in an attempt to pull you even tighter to him.

You froze, your finger mid pull on the rose’s stem causing you to slice the appendage on a stray thorn. You hissed in pain as you watched the blood drip from the tip of your finger before rolling down your wrist and carving a pool into the snow beneath you.

And, without a thought, Namjoon’s hand encircled your wrist and yanked it up to his face.

His once honey eyes appeared brighter than before, his long lashes fluttering as his warm breath misted over your skin. And before you could stop him, he licked a line up your wrist, collecting the blood, and pressed your finger to his lips swiping his tongue over the wound.

You yelped in surprise, wrenching your hand free from his grip as your heart pounded violently. You rose to your feet and stumbled backwards through the snow.

Namjoon remained where he was crouched, a sudden hunger evident in his honey gaze, a gaze that was not so unfamiliar.

“We-we need to go!” You stuttered, turning on your heel and retreating from whatever had just happened.

You held your hand close to your chest as you walked, frightened by what had just transpired. A part of you suddenly wished you had made your journey alone as you had previously intended.

But the harsh crunch of snow behind you reminded you of the choice you made, and the molten glare digging into your back exemplified it.

~~~~~~~

The rest of your journey was made in complete silence, a new tension had settled between the two of you. And, true to Namjoon’s word, the way he had taken you was indeed a shortcut. So, you felt no remorse as you sprinted toward the cottage ahead of you and threw a weak thank you over your shoulder.

You couldn’t stand the awkward tension anymore, you couldn’t stand being in his presence any longer than you needed to.

As soon as you approached the front door, you threw it open and let it shut behind you. You leaned against the door for a moment to catch your breath before you shrugged the shotgun off of your shoulder and strung it up on the hook beside the front door.

“Grandmother!” You called as you began to approach the kitchen door, “I’m here!”

And upon opening it, a blood curdling scream broke free from your lips.

The sight before you could only be described as a massacre. Your hands desperately tried to cover your eyes, but the damage had already been done. There was blood, so much blood amongst other things laid out atop the counter.

You fell backwards, your body sliding down the wall as hoarse screams raked through your throat. The unmistakable scent of blood was thick in the kitchen sending your stomach churning in your gut. You knew that scent, it was clear as day whatever had remained in that room had once been human.

“Sweetheart?” A familiar voice called out to you.

And upon opening your eyes, you saw your grandmother standing before you. The sudden feeling of elation surging through your body at the sight of her alive quickly died out. She wore a leather apron stained with blood, both fresh and old, and her hands were gloved. You quickly stood and began to back away from her, your sense of self preservation suddenly kicking in, your eyes zeroing in on the meat cleaver she held in her left hand.

“Sweetheart, calm down.” She whispered softly, carefully setting the blade down on the counter beside the gorey mess.

Your eyes were darting everywhere but her, panicked breaths leaving your parted lips. Your gaze finally settled in the corner of the room where a pile of clothing sat and a familiar axe. The lumberjack, she had murdered the lumberjack.

“Why?” You cried, trembling as if you had been drenched to the bone. “Why did you do it?!”

“I had too sweetie, I have to feed them.”

“Them? Who?” You asked, backing out of the kitchen as she followed your trail, her face soft with sympathy despite the flecks of blood that decorated her cheeks.

“The wolves, of course. I made a deal with them long ago, if I fed them in the winter I could stay here.” She replied, her voice alarmingly calm. “The lumberjack was a sweet man but this winter was a rough one, not many travelers I’m afraid.”

“You’ve gone mad.” You whispered.

“I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s best if you listen to me darling. Your grandfather was one of them, he courted me and then we had your father and your uncles. It’s always tricky with litters, you never know who is going to take after who. Your father though, he was the most human out of all of them. Poor thing couldn’t even shift.” She sighed, her eyes glazing over.

“You need help, you’re not well.” You tried again, doing your best to keep distance between the two of you.

“I know you’re a bit shaken up, but you need to listen to me, it’s in your best interest.” She sighed, untying the leather apron from around her waist.

“That cloak you’re wearing, it’s a symbol that you’ve come of age and Namjoon has had every intention of courting you. He’s been rather obvious really, he’s becoming quite frustrated with you.”

You suddenly became still, your mind flashing through every time Namjoon had ever touched the very item you were wearing. What she was saying, although deluded, had some semblance of truth.

“I-I have to go.” You mumbled, your throat tightening from the copper scent and smell of flesh that hung heavily in the air. You needed to get home and far away from her before she killed you too.

A deep sadness spread over her features as her head hung low, shaking from side to side. “Don’t run,” She breathed, “They find the chase seductive.”

All this time you had been slowly backing away from the person you loved the most, and now you had been stopped by the feeling of a solid form behind you. You quickly spun around, a shriek of horror escaping you as you met the bright, gold eyes of your escort, Namjoon.

And, without thinking, you ran.

Your cloak was fluttering behind you rapidly in the harsh, cold winds, the snow coming down thicker than it ever had before. And, to your absolute horror, a loud howl was echoing throughout the trees.

You peered over your shoulder as you sprinted to the best of your ability through the snow drifts. The wolf that had sat outside your window days before had returned and was chasing you down. Now that there was nothing separating you from the creature you were terrified, it was massive and hunting you down. It had the clear advantage, you were inevitably going to die. You were never going home again, another child was going to be ripped from their mother.

Tears were pouring down your cheeks like waterfalls as you blindly ran, unsure as to where you were going. You knew that you didn’t have time, four legs were faster than two and you were greatly impaired by the weather.

With no goal in mind, no destination in sight, you ran in hopes you would be able to live for a little longer. You did your best to weave between the trees, slide down hills of snow, and keep running for your life. Your lungs burned and your legs ached but still you ran, even as you heard the loud steps of the wolf coming nearer and nearer.

And, just as you had lost all hope, an outcropping of rocks became visible at the base of a snowy hill. And with every intention to save your life, you recklessly threw yourself down the hill allowing gravity to take over for you.

The second you felt yourself cease rolling, you rose to your unsteady legs and dizzily stumbled into the cluster of rocks, pulling yourself into the shelter away from the blizzard.

But your hope was fleeting as you came to a realization. The shelter was a den, one that had clearly been in use. It was littered with furs, blankets, books, and materials for a fire. The creature had been corralling you to this very location.

You turned as another burst of adrenaline shot through your body only to be stunted by the sight of the silver wolf blocking the exit to the den.

It’s bright eyes stared back at you with a gleam of satisfaction as it crouched down, shimming it’s way into the den and backing you up further into its depths.

You watched, horrified, as the wolf began to whimper, it’s body shaking violently as the sound of bones beginning to snap and crunch echoed throughout the space, reforming and distorting themselves into vaguely familiar shapes as it’s fur began to melt away.

Those bright golden eyes faded to a recognizable honey shade, and the silver fur disappeared and showed itself as ashen hair. On the floor of the den sat Namjoon in the place of where the powerful wolf had once stood.

He carefully rolled his head from side to side, his neck cracking loudly in response as he rose to his feet. A mischievous smirk pulled at his lips, a triumphant gleam to his eyes as he confidently approached your trembling form.

A broken cry escaped from your throat as you felt him press his forehead to your own, lightly nuzzling his head against yours. His strange behavior now made sense, he had been courting you in a way that was unfamiliar to you, but natural to him.

All of the people that had gone missing were male’s your age, he had been wiping out the competition.

And the bloody organ he had left outside of your window, had been a horrific present. A show of his dominance and his twisted affection.

You were crying uncontrollably now, everything you had experienced suddenly crashing down on you. You flinched in terror as you felt his fingers grip your jaw, his lips just brushing against your own and he hummed happily.

“You have nowhere left to run, little red.”

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scream-bag · 2 years ago

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Hello, I hope that you're doing well! If its alright, may I please request a oneshot with Kurenai and female reader? Where Kurenai and Reader have been dating for a while, but it seems like Asuma didn't get the memo and persists in trying to get a date from Kurenai despite the constent rejections and everyone telling him to give up. Until reader has enough and decides to pick up Kurenai bridal style and run off but not before glaring and yelling out to Asuma that Kurenai is hers.

Thank you so much for the quest anon! I hope you like this :) I’m a bit rusty, so forgive me on that

Won’t Asuma just piss off already???

The little voice in your head was done, DONE, with the density of your fellow Jounin. You were really just ready to shove a shuriken down his throat, as long as it meant that he’d shut the hell up. As much as you cared about your friend; you honestly just had enough of the sheer obliviousness that he managed to have. Kurenai had been clear that she was not interested in dating him and that she was interested in “someone else”. Though you two were not officially a couple to the public, word had spread about the two of you after Kotetsu and Izumo had come across you and your girlfriend on what was clearly a date. Everyone knew about it at this point, or as it seemed, everyone but Asuma.

Bro really didn’t get the memo…

Kakashi was the third to catch on. Of course, he was; with his superhuman sense and judgment, he could tell that you were more than just “friends” and that it was not just a rumor. He tried his best to get Asuma to lay off whilst trying to be discrete. Being the romance snob that he was, he didn’t wan’t Asuma messing with his ship. No one tries to sink Kakashi’s ships. You were glad that he was trying to help whilst respecting the privacy of your relationship. Gai quickly caught on as well. “Move on, Asuma! You’ll find true love elsewhere, my youthful colleague!” The green onesie-clad shinobi had told the Sarutobi.

You know what? Kurenai and I have had enough

Up from the top of Hokage Mountain, you spied your ever-beautiful girlfriend looking a bit troubled in the presence of Asuma. You let out a sigh and ran on down to see if she needed any help. Recently, the two of you had talked and decided that it was finally time to come out and allow their relationship to be public. With that thought in your head, you grinned and knew just what to do.

“Hey, Babe!” You called out to Kurenai, “I’ve been looking for you! How’s your day been?” You asked her, not even sparing Asuma any attention or acknowledging his presence. Immediately his jaw dropped. “Babe?” He asked, clearly confused. Kurenai flashed you a look of confusion but then quickly caught on. “Exactly, Asuma,” She grinned, pressing a kiss onto your lips. Both of you were bright red as Asuma just stood there, dumbstruck. You grinned as Kurenai jumped up into your arms, “She’s mine, Asuma!” You cackled, running off unto the distance with your lovely girlfriend, leaving him in the dust.

Well that sure was one way to come out 🤷🏽‍♀️

#fanfic #wlw #wlw fic #Naruto fic #anon ask #ask anu #kurenai x reader #Kurenai x f!reader #Kurenai fic #lesbian kurenai #bisexual kurenai #queer fic #anime fic #queer anime

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suddenlystolen · 3 years ago

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Hi! I discovered your name metas and am hooked. (Maybe it’s my background in Tolkien fandom - I can’t resist this stuff.) I saw you allude to the character arc in Jiang Cheng/Wanyin’s name. Have you written more fully about him? Or do you plan to? :3

Hello fellow Tolkien fan :D There are already a good handful of name metas for Jiang Wanyin out there, which is why I just casually alluded to Jiang Cheng/Wanyin’s character arc being embedded in his names in one of my metas. But I’ll just throw out my very quick take on his name, while trying to focus more on where my interpretation differs from what’s already been written.

Jiang Cheng (江澄)

Cheng 澄 refers to waters that are clear because they are tranquil. Jiang 江 itself means river. This image of clear, still river waters…isn’t it the opposite of Jiang Cheng’s nature and the course of his life — that is instead so turbulent?

From, his youth he’s pitted against Wei Wuxian by his own mother, feeling inferior to him as well as less deserving of his own father’s love. Then, since the seminal tragedy of the Sunshot campaign, he loses almost everyone he ever loved in his family except Jin Ling. He’s burdened with the duty of bringing the Jiang Sect from the brink to its former glory. Through it all, he’s deceived time and again. The waters are muddied for him so he’s more easily taken advantaged of, or as the saying in Chinese goes, 浑水摸鱼 — muddy the waters so you can capture the fish. The deceptions he’s caught in are born both out of goodwill (such as Wei Wuxian lying to him about his golden core), but also out of ill-intent (such as the circumstances of his sister’s death). Thus, it’s lies that Jiang Cheng lives by for the longest time. It is only at the end of the story that Jiang Cheng gains any sort of clarity about the arc of his life, and the motivations of the people around him. But it feels almost excruciatingly ironic — because by the time the dust has settled the damage has already been done, especially to his relationship with Wei Wuxian… Jiang Cheng can thus feel very poignant as a personal name…

Jiang Wanyin (晚吟)

Then his courtesy name — Jiang Wanyin 晚吟. Both words have multiple meanings. Wan (晚) means late or night. Yin 吟 has more meanings, and I’ll get to them one by one.

The most common interpretation I’ve seen of the courtesy name Wanyin, reads the word yin 吟 the way I think it is more commonly used — to refer to a moan or a groan, typically in pain or regret (as in the phrase shen yin 呻吟). Altogether, it would mean groan of the night, or a late groan. Perhaps at the end of MDZS, Jiang Cheng is full of regret that cannot be truly put into words, only let out in a sound.

Thus, where wan 晚 is interpreted to mean night, the image is of him crying out in a sleepless night.

Alternatively, where wan 晚 means late, it’s almost an indictment of his choices in his life — where by the time he knows to feel regret, to bemoan the decisions he made at critical junctures — it is already too late to salvage things, especially with Wei Wuxian.

But that begs the question — what did the person who gave Jiang Wanyin his courtesy name actually want for him? Surely neither Jiang Fengmian or Yu Ziyuan would give him an inherently tragic name.

This brings us to the other literary meanings of yin 吟, and how wan yin 晚吟 is used in premodern chinese poems.

Yin 吟 can also mean to chant or recite with rhythmic cadence — as in the phrase yin song 吟诵.

Or yin 吟 can be like onomatopoeia for the crying sound made by insects or the wind. Yin feng 吟风 for instance is the cry of the wind.

(One day I might get around to trying to translate a number of ancient chinese poems that use the phrase wan yin in these different ways, if it helps conveys the image of it better).

At any rate, 晚吟 wan yin is found as a phrase or even in the title of poems that are more subdued, wistful, contemplative; or even melancholic and regretful, because of the connotations of nightfall.

My personal theory is thus that the courtesy name Wanyin was given to Jiang Cheng to signify comfort through the vicissitudes of life — the way chanting or reciting a poem, or listening to the steady susurration of cicadas or the wind — can be a soothing accompaniment while one is staying up late. I’d interpret it as a realistic acknowledgement on the part of the giver of this courtesy name that there will definitely be dark times in Jiang Wanyin’s life. But also as their expression of hope that Jiang Wanyin will still manage to find some solace at the end of the day.

This, I believe, would be a kinder read on Jiang Cheng/Wanyin’s situation at the end of the story. He’s lost so much. But at long last his personal name has turned from a cruel irony to a reality — where now at least he has clarity and can move forward to fix things……and his courtesy name suggests he will be able to sustain himself through his newfound sorrows.

But yeah I would definitely be interested to hear other takes on why Wanyin might be given as a courtesy name :3

(PS: For those who can read chinese, this website is v useful for finding poems with particular phrases in premodern chinese poetry. Go knock yourself out looking for all the wan yins and the jiang chengs and how they’re used in different poems :3)

#mdzs meta #MDZS name meta #Jiang Cheng #Jiang Wanyin

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studiocutepet · 3 years ago

Text

Kurvy - Rough Draft: Full Process.

Original Date: 12/06/2016

Artist: Ecchi-Star!

Music:

Moonstruck Blossom (Jazz Ballad Remix)

Artist:

くふ

---

Notes:

Hello everyone, Ecchi here. I haven't been around these parts in a while, and by these parts, I mean online. 2020 and 2021, quite the pair of years. You'd think that as a shut-in type of artist, I'd be in my element during a catastrophe that necessitates the avoidance of any and all social contact. For me, a day during the Corona plague could have been just another day in the studio, another day spent happily huddled over my monitor, drawing pretty cartoon girls. But during these bleak, nearly 730 days, circumstances have made my carefully crafted artworker's paradise a distant dream whose shores I rarely visit.

These have been trying years for ole Ecchi. No art and so many responsibilities. So many for whom to care. It seemed the self-centered time of my youth, with its carefree spilling of creative juices on the digital canvas, had come to an end.

Nevertheless, here I am two years later, alive, older, and fatter (or thinner, depending on the era). Though I've barely picked up a pencil, or turned on my work PC during these two years, the inner fire, no matter how many times life has conspired to snuff or suppress it, that drive and desire to create art still burns away within.

As part of reconnecting with my passions, I've been doing some deep cleaning in my head, my surroundings, and on my computer. When it comes to digital files though, the word "reminiscing" might be more accurate. As I plumbed the depths of directories long forgotten, I happened upon a cache of recordings from several years back, during my golden time of artistic productivity… A time (mostly) before kids, before Coronavirus, and before people around me started dying or needing constant care.

This is a video from that archive, a simple screen capture, a partial process. As I rediscovered and rewatched the archive, I thought, I may as well share anything interesting. I've watched my fair share of art process videos over the years and learned a good amount along the way. Perhaps this is useful for someone?

About the video:

The original capture was about 40 minutes, during which I broke down and rebuilt the thumbnail's geometry. For ease of watching the playback is set to 16X throughout most of the length.

Unfortunately, for whatever reason, I stopped recording after the rough draft. This is all I have for Kurvy. Regardless, I wouldn't have been able to post any of the more...developed work… here. Creating hentai art and staying within the boundaries of YouTube's content guidelines is sure to prove a challenge. We'll see what's possible.

So, in full knowledge that this video is nothing special, I wanted to edit it together and post it anyway. It's a new start.

See you later friends and fellow travelers,

--Ecchi

#video #art process #art video #art process video

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todoscript · 4 years ago

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Syndicate — [ 1 ]

Parts | one ; two ; three

Genre | Mafia AU / Anti-Villain AU.

Pairing(s) | MafiaBosses!TodoBakuDeku x Fem!Reader

Rating | Mature

Words | 5.2k+

Summary | Being the lover of, not one, but three influential young men, who are the leaders of the most wanted crime syndicate in Japan, it is no surprise that other eyes are watching you beyond the three’s own.

Warnings | Violence. Cursing/crude language. Guns. Mafia talk/“negotiating”. Lots of fighting. Reader is inspired by the femme fatale archetype. Polyamorous relationship. Characters are aged-up. Sexual undertones/implied sexual content. Possessiveness. Heavily self-indulgent. Written in 3rd POV. Shouto’s “codename” is Mercury (b/c the planet is both half-hot and half-cold lol).

Author’s Notes | Hello all! This is the first ever fanfic I’ve posted on tumblr! Sorry, the idea was lingering in my head until I suddenly felt the burst of energy to start writing this out of nowhere in the dead of 3AM. I’ve written fanfiction before but I’ve never published anything for tumblr so this is exciting.

The air is still, nearly silent apart from the nocturnal creatures that scurry and prowl through alleys, navigating over the dewy darkness between the seams. The moon graces the gloom of the night with its luster across desolated areas in Japan. Business hours have longed past as services are halted until the next coming day. Civilians are nowhere to be found, tucked away in their homes with their lights flickered off.

What remains alive in Japan during this hour is the wind cast through the streets, the scamper of animals in the nocturne, and a low hum of an ebony vehicle driven down roads of street lights.

“Whatever the fuck Overhaul wants better be worth my fucking time, Deku,” hisses a peeved Katsuki Bakugou, leaning against the window of their sleek automobile and looking highly uninterested during the ride. Izuku Midoriya, the young man with the head of unruly verdant hair, nods his head. His expression is mild at his friend’s usual discontented tone.

“Kai Chisaki—the head boss of the Shie Hassaikai yakuza—wants to negotiate with us, Kacchan. Surely it would be advantageous for us to hear him out. If anything we’ll manage to at least squeak some intel from him to reference for later on.” A glint rises in the male’s eyes.

“‘Some intel’ ain’t enough. If they’re gonna drag all three of us out here, then it better be for something good, or else I might have to let off some explosions to satisfy my boredom.” Bakugou’s quirk begins to pop and crack around his palms at the idea of letting loose.

Shouto Todoroki—the third of the trio—sighs exasperatingly at his fellow inflamed mafia boss, running his hand through his red and white tresses.

“Bakugou, I’d advise against it. Knowing the location we’re heading to, your explosions would only cause a ruckus in the area that’d get the annoying heroes involved. I’ve had enough dealing with those fools as it is and we also don’t need the men in blue following after our trail.”

“Shut up Icy-Hot! If this ‘negotiation’ isn’t beneficial to us, I’ll find my own way to make them pay for wasting our damn time!” Bakugou yells.

These three young men—Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, and Shouto Todoroki—are known as the bosses of one of Japan’s most powerful organized crime syndicates.

Notorious, ruthless, and authoritative, these three, despite their youth, have secured a name for themselves within the underground crime world. Aside from their tenacity and skill, the strength of each of their quirks played a large factor in their rise among the rivaling crime groups. They easily snuffed out the weak competition without so much as a sweat, and working under them are other strong combatants, each of them possessing their own unique and powerful quirks.

With everything at their disposal, the Yuuei mafia group quickly obtained a vast, large territory within the capital of Japan—the epicenter of where all the shady deals and disputes occur.

“We didn’t even bring Angel Face with us. What a drag.” Bakugou gruffs. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed, and cushioned behind his head as the lamps flicker past them, the dim lights splayed across the endless road.

“Letting ____ rest was the least we could do after her successful infiltration at the political officials gala,” the middle of the three states matter-a-factly.

“Especially after the rounds she endured even after her mission,” Todoroki adds, vividly remembering the gala dress cascading down her skin and clinging to her body that night, as well as their antics that ensued afterward.

He recalls the beautiful, red formal gown she wore for the occasion, the material hugging her figure perfectly and accentuating her curves in all the right places. God, he prayed that something within him wouldn’t stir at the thought of it again.

They all remembered it quite clearly. It made their fingers itch the very evening of the event, yearning to touch all the dips and arcs that sculpted her body. Her hair, styled up and tied with a matching silk red ribbon, kept the skin of her neck bare and begging to be marked while gold lined her wrists and collar bones. To say she was a goddess that night would be an understatement. The three could barely keep their hands off her before she even left the mansion, let alone attend the gala. But once her mission was complete, she arrived home to be thoroughly loved and lusted, with three young and hungry men indulging in all the divine fruits this celestial being had to offer to them.

The girl they speak of is not only their right-hand woman but also the three’s beloved paramour. Since their journey into coming to power, ____ has been with them through thick and thin and has become an influential asset in attaining their position.

Beautiful, yet dangerous, she proved to be an incredibly powerful fighter in many forms of combat in combination with her quirk, along with having a gift for deception that allowed her to climb her way to the top of the pack. Naturally, the trio found themselves drawn to her, not just for her strength and beauty, but also her passion and ability to mend the spirits of those around her. If it weren’t her, the Yuuei mafia group would not be as intact and well-oiled as it is today.

“Besides, we have some of our best following in the car behind us in case anything suspicious happens,” Midoriya gestures to the similar-looking sleek and dark-tinted car trailing behind their own.

“I very much doubt we need them, but it’s best not to worry Angel too much while she’s resting,” Todoroki murmurs, crossing his legs.

A few more turns and they’ve eventually entered the area of a vacant warehouse located on the edge of Japan near the shore.

The moment their vehicle is directed to a stop, the three bosses exit. Bakugou vehemently slams his door, eyeing the building with a vexing glare.

“Let’s get this shit show over with. This better be good.”

The warehouse is eerily quiet in the dead of the night and smells of salt from the ocean behind it. Spotting them walking to the entrance, the watchmen of the Shie Hassaikai yakuza hastily open the doors enclosing the warehouse. The hinges bear an uncomfortable creaking sound that jars through the silence.

“Oh, he’s here! He’s here! My cute little Izuku is here!” hollers a shrill voice belonging to an all-too-energetic head of messy, bunned-up blonde hair. The said boy blinks twice at her enthusiasm as they approach the lone wooden table situated in the center of the warehouse.

Uh, do I know her? He ponders for a second before dismissing the thought.

A pale man with gloved hands and shaggy auburn hair holds a hand out to halt the girl behind him. “Calm down Toga, we haven’t spoken of negotiations yet, so I need you to be quiet.”

Toga pouts, nearly grasping a silver blade at her side but stills herself for now. In the meantime, she opts to fidget with the tubular machine wrapped around her body.

The three look up to view a small group illuminated by the light fixed above the wooden table. Their eyes swiftly count seven or eight of them surrounding that area, including the ringleader, and likely more hidden somewhere in the darkness around them. After all, any fine and experienced villainous group would know better than to invite the bosses of the most dangerous crime syndicate without being thoroughly prepared for a possible scuffle to occur.

However, for now, they all advance with the notion to talk first before unleashing quirks and violence (well most of them anyway).

“Welcome, welcome. I see you made it to this place without much trouble; you’re right on time,” Overhaul greets the three young men mildly, “Deku, Ground Zero, and Mercury.”

Midoriya walks forward as the center of their entourage to return the cordial greeting. “Yes, it’s nice to finally meet you, Kai Chisaki of the Shie Hassaikai yakuza. Otherwise known as Overhaul.”

“Ah, so you know of me and my cause. It seems our reputation precedes us.”

“Of course. The Shie Hassaikai yakuza has long been in business in the crime world…” Midoriya muses, “Though they’ve wrung out past their former glory. Having since been pushed back into the underground after the rise of heroes.”

Bakugou smirks, close to letting out a snicker at the backhanded comment.

It’s true. While the Shie Hassaikai were one of the main criminal groups running the yakuza underground, that all soon fell and crumbled as the surge of heroes came into society. It was only after the former boss’ grandson, Kai Chisaki, came into power and took leadership that their name grew back into prominence once again, albeit little by little.

“Why you little–” A man donning a long white raincoat and plague doctor mask swiftly appears with a pistol pointed in Midoriya’s direction, none too amused by the remark. However, he’s cut off by a wall of ice erected at Midoriya’s side.

“Watch where you point those toys you little rat,” Todoroki sneers, and the tone of his voice nearly exposes chills to the air.

“Calm down, Chrono. We’re the ones that invited them as guests, thus we need to treat them like so.”

The white-haired subordinate withdraws at the words of his leader, retracting the gun back into the pocket of his coat.

“I apologize, he’s simply on edge over the fact we have some pretty powerful people at our doorstep. You’ll have to excuse him.”

“It’s quite all–”

“Did we come here to talk, or did we come here to fight?” Bakugou barges through, shoving past Midoriya with no restraint.

“I thought this was a fucking negotiation, not an apology fess. If one of your dogs is so edgy, I’d be happy to give him a good thrashing to satiate him if you want,” his raised hand sparks and flickers in the dark, “If not then get to it, Overhaul,” he threatens. Midoriya sighs.

“I think we’re simply all… piqued as to why this meeting was demanded out of nowhere and scheduled for the dead of the night no less, but I’m sure you have some important matters to discuss with us right, Overhaul?” Midoriya reasons, a sly grin on his lips.

“Right, let's get to it shall we?” Approaching closer to the table separating them, Overhaul continues, “First off, I must congratulate you on successfully infiltrating that gala the other night. Not many crime organizations can sneak into a party of that caliber. Especially when it’s so heavily guarded and kept secretive to all suspicious eyes of the dark,” he commends, digging a hand into the pocket of his jacket.

The three exchange quick, wary glances from the corner of their eyes that the opposite party misses.

“You were there?” Todoroki questions bluntly in which Overhaul hums in response.

“Hm, yes. But for different reasons, I’m sure. You see, I’ve been… examining little details of the Yuuei mafia group recently. It fascinates me how well-oiled and efficient you are at running your organization, so I began to ponder: ‘How do they do it?’ Little did I know, the answer all became more than clear to me from what I saw at that gala,” the auburn-haired man drawls, finally plucking out a photo from his pocket and sliding it across the wood under the light.

The moment the three recognized the image, their eyes widened, soon shifting into visages of sheer hostility at the next statement pronounced.

“This girl here? I want her.”

Within the confines of the paper is ____, dressed in the red gown she wore the very night of the gala, a masquerade mask over her features with the purpose to obscure herself in the throng.

The three before Overhaul seethe vessels of wrath.

“What did you just say? Do you even know what you’re asking of us?” Todoroki feels icy and heated atmospheres form on his opposing left and right sides upon hearing Overhaul’s words, sensing the tension rising around his fellow partners as well.

“The girl, I must say, does excellent work at her job. She’s skilled and tactical, having infiltrated many influential organizations and assassinated several powerful faces getting in the way of your mafia group. Such precision, efficiency, and beauty makes her the perfect woman, wouldn’t you agree?” He picks up the picture, bringing it up next to him.

Given the deadly pressure in the air, the next words he utters might be the final nail in his coffin.

“Well, I want you to hand her over to me.”

The nail is hit. There’s a lingering silence before hell nearly breaks loose and the next motions could deliver his soul down the River of Styx.

Fueled by blood-boiling anger and annoyance, Bakugou charges forward to land an explosive hit on the yakuza boss. “LIKE HELL WE WOULD, YA FUCKING BASTARD!” He’s thwarted by a yellow barrier emerging to shield the leader from the attack, courtesy of a henchman at his left side. The blonde jumps back, his hands still crackling and his rage not dissipating anytime soon. “Don’t go spewing a bunch of shit outta your mouth!”

“Now… let’s be rational or you’ll start getting dirt everywhere...” Overhaul dusts off his shoulder before resuming the conversation nonchalantly, “Of course I’ll provide you with compensation. I wouldn’t be so naive as to expect to be given something so valuable without offering payment after all.”

With a snap of his fingers a large, bulky man promptly lays a silver briefcase on the table. The locks click open to reveal wads of cash layering the case to the brim, enough to flabbergast and entice any common citizen in Japan.

“If this amount isn’t enough, I have another briefcase with—”

A jolting sound of the wooden table and metal briefcase breaking beneath Midoriya’s foot is enough to diminish the rest of Overhaul’s remark, signifying their blunt answer to his offer.

“What a waste of a night it’s been. Presenting money to us in hopes that we’d simply hand over our beloved like she’s some prostitute for sale? You're more of a fool than I took you for, Kai Chisaki,” Each word that rolls off Midoriya’s tongue is laced with venom. Such malice is enough to paralyze those who hear it, as if it would be the last statement they’ll ever listen to before hitting the concrete dead.

Reasoning with the trio any further is equivalent to bargaining with the god of the underworld, offering nothing but your knees on the floor and a sad pleading voice, only to be whisked back to the deepest, darkest chambers of hell.

Overhaul simply pauses before following with a long, testy sigh.

“A no then? Alright. Toga.”

The bun-headed blonde pounces forward at the command almost instantaneously, knife in her grasp and ready to swing. Midoriya moves to the side with ease, evading the blade as well as dodging a puncture from a needle. His agility is manifested in green electric currents of aura.

“Ooh, I finally get to cut up and obtain cute Izuku’s yummy blood!” She grins psychotically, keeping both eyes trained on the green-haired boy. “Heehee, I’ve been waiting for this day! Ever since I saw that photo of you all bruised up in a fight, I had to have you all to myself! I just love a man all red and bloodied!” Toga exclaims in utter glee, giggling like a schoolgirl meeting her celebrity idol.

Midoriya grimaces, nearly shivering at her excitement over announcing her neurotic confession to him. Her contorted facade is not earning her any points either. Taking notice of the wary expression that crosses his brows, Toga grins wider.

“It’s OK, even if you don’t like me now, you’ll definitely like me when I get a drop of that girl’s blood and transform into her! We’ll look so much alike, you’ll have heart-eyes for me too!” Her features curve into a look of pure hysteric that leaves Midoriya speechless, so much so it takes a loud blast hurled past him to finally bring his senses back to the conflict.

“Move it, Deku!” Bakugou’s attacks are relentless and powerful, but Toga’s nimbleness prevents her from getting hit.

“Deku, Ground Zero, back up,” Todoroki raises his left hand, the corresponding side flaring with heat before quickly igniting into bright hot flames enough to cover his entire arm. “You lot have some nerve to call us and arrange this abhorrent deal under the guise of a ‘negotiation.’ I’ll incinerate you all for even thinking you could take her from us.”

His quirk is unleashed in a flurry of fire that’s launched toward his enemies.

“Dabi,” Overhaul signals and a lanky man with patched, burnt scars and skin held together by staples and stitches steps forward, triggering his blue blazes to combat the red-orange ones. The infernos collide into a firestorm that soon scatters and disperses due to a power struggle.

“Tch,” Todoroki narrows his brows, annoyed.

“Hm, the brat’s not all talk after all,” Dabi’s expression remains stoic while his hand hovers in front of him, still swallowed by his azure flames. Wordlessly he releases his blazes once more only to be countered by Todoroki’s wall of ice diminishing the onslaught of fire.

On their end, Midoriya and Bakugou are in pursuit of the head honcho Overhaul himself, while attempting to throw blows at Toga along the way.

Now enveloped in energy that increases his strength and dexterity tenfold, it isn’t long until the green-haired young man catches up to crafty Toga’s momentum. With a grunt, Midoriya kicks forward, swinging his foot into the girl’s direction with tremendous force that’s too quick for her to avoid.

Toga braces herself for the impact but the attack never meets. Instead, a yellow shield materializes in front of her to take the blow, a crack now evident on the surface of the saffron safeguard. “Oooh! Izuku’s really out for blood! How thrilling!” she squeals, licking her lips.

“It’s that fucking barrier bastard again! Move over, I’ll kill him!” yells a pissed Bakugou who jumps over Midoriya’s head, running across the top of the manifested barrier. From there, he spots his offender.

Gritting his teeth, he dashes off the shield before it can disappear and uses it to propel himself forward. His palms glow and envelope themselves with heat as he holds them outward.

“Rappa! I can’t conduct another shield so quickly, get him!” Tengai, the one with the barrier quirk, hastens his partner. Rappa zealously swoops in front of him with iron-knuckle gloves ready.

“Oh no, you don’t! Try and fucking dodge this!” Bakugou brings his hands forward while still in midair, “Stun Grenade!” A radiant, gleaming light emits from his palms, effectively blinding all those within his vicinity.

Rappa and Tengai have no choice but to cover their eyes from the intensity of the light, leaving them wide open to strike!

Without hesitation, the ash-blonde creates two more explosions to launch himself forward, spinning in the air and gathering momentum before firing his attack encased in an explosive tornado.

“Howitzer Impact!!”

In an instance, a flash exudes in a fiery burst of nuclear reaction, which releases violent discharges of kinetic energy towards his enemies. The attack hits home, covering a chuck of the area with debris and rubble, and producing a hole on the right side of the warehouse.

Tengai and Rappa are incapacitated.

“Kac— Ground Zero, you went all out didn’t you…” Midoriya mutters while holding Toga down despite all her fidgeting. In a last-ditch effort, the girl draws out the spare knife tucked away in her utility belt, however the young man on top of her knocks it away before she can react any further.

“Toga, am I correct? I suggest you stand down, or I may have to break something to make you cooperate.” Midoriya’s warning exudes a menacing tone, in contrast to his former courteous character and the gentle features adorning his face. Yet Toga does not seem fazed by this.

“Heehee, you’re so cute when you make threats like that…” she giggles, shifting her head ever so slightly to catch glimpses of the male’s appearance. He’s quite disheveled down to his wrinkled suit, unbuttoned collar, sweat glistening on his forehead, and what’s this?

Toga peeks at a single crimson line split on the skin of his cheek with dilated pupils.

“Even though you were so fast, I at least managed to graze you just a teeny-tiny bit! That scarlet cut looks so nice on you, Izuku, aw how I wish I can give you more!” She prattles on and on, beaming over every utterance spoken past her lips. “I did say red is the best color on you, after all!”

Midoriya’s eyes narrow at her behavior, fists clenched and apt to deliver a silencing blow.

“Although… blue wouldn’t look half bad either.”

Unable to express confusion at her remark, he soon perceives a blast of cerulean blue flames aimed and released in his direction, forcing him to jump up to dodge the attack. Toga makes her escape after the fire diffuses, withdrawing next to Dabi. The patched man continues his onslaught on Todoroki and Midoriya.

“They’ve managed to defeat our spear and shield, and nearly took out Toga,” Overhaul’s stance is methodical and calculating, overseeing the fight from the back lines of his unit with a gloved hand beneath his chin. “I suppose it’s time to use that,” he declares.

Chrono briefly glances at him before reaching for a gun in the pocket of his coat—a different weapon from the pistol he pointed at Midoriya earlier. In a container held behind him, he produces a peculiarly shaped bullet, one that takes on the form of a cartridge with a hypodermic needle sticking out on one end.

“Dabi, when these bullets hit, that will be your chance to burn them all away,” orders the auburn-haired man. He raises an arm to prep for the signal as Chrono readies the gun wielded in his hand, positioning his target onto the spiky blonde mafia boss.

“Ha! You think a pathetic little gun is going to stop me?!” While Bakugou exudes confidence and arrogance, his dual-haired comrade is not as keen about the situation at hand.

Why would those fools try to use such a primitive method of fighting at this point? They saw how useless that gun was earlier… ponders Todoroki in the heat of battle, Unless…

“Ground Zero! Be careful! There’s something fishy about that weapon they’re using!” he warns, making the blonde’s expression fix into an irritated glare.

“Shut up Icy-Hot; I know what I’m doing! Why don’t you pay attention to patchwork over there before you get another scar!” Bakugou quips back, eyes never leaving Overhaul. “I’m gonna make this washout yakuza leader regret ever giving us a call to this useless negotiation.”

The man is impassive at the blonde’s threats, lips remaining in a fine line underneath his mask. His arm stays raised next to him for Chrono to acknowledge.

At once, Bakugou’s body launches back into action like a jet engine propelling a rocket. His movements gather more and more sweat to strengthen himself for another devastating assault.

“Pesky thing won’t stop moving…” mutters Chrono, hand continually shifting aim at Bakugou’s unpredictable tumbling. “I’ll just make you sit still!”

On command, arrow-shaped hair pierces through the fabric of his hood and extends straight to Bakugou. His quirk’s versatility and quick instincts allow him to evade the attack to the left with ease. However, it seems Chrono was waiting for that very moment as the blonde is now within his gun’s line of sight.

Overhaul draws his hand down, giving Chrono the signal to finally pull the trigger. A crack of a sonic boom resonates within the single millisecond it is shot. The dart is fired.

The gunshot rings throughout the space of the warehouse. Todoroki and Midoriya can barely register the shot in time to yell out to Bakugou, whose head turns toward the capsule’s velocity in almost slow motion.

Crap..! he curses, unable to move away to escape the bullet in time and preparing to embrace the shot.

However, it never makes its mark.

“Boss! Watch out!”

A gruff voice suddenly makes its debut within the fray, taking everyone by surprise as the newcomer throws himself in front of Bakugou, hardened arms crossed.

“What the—!”

Chrono watches in despair. The bullet ricochets right off the rock-like body of a man with spiked tufts of crimson red hair.

“What the hell? Red Riot?!” sputters a bewildered Bakugou at Kirishima’s abrupt entrance.

“D-Dammit!” Chrono tries to fire again to rectify his failure, but his attempt is in vain. Something muscly wraps around his arm tightly, tossing him away.

“Froppy!” Midoriya calls out to the girl as she retracts her froggy tongue, currently clung to the wall, and camouflaged into her surroundings. She reveals herself into the battle with a small “ribbit.”

“While you guys were inside, a bunch of their goons started surrounding our cars. We knew something shady was up, especially when we heard explosions coming from inside, so we busted our way in here right past them!” Kirishima explains, now standing back-to-back against Bakugou, “Seems like you’re fighting a battle too!”

“I see, so they planned on ambushing all of us if we didn’t comply with their deal,” says Todoroki. He fires more flames in their direction. “How pathetic. They were woefully unprepared.”

“Agreed! Ambushing is no way to fight! Real men would come at us head-on!” Kirishima emphasizes his fierceness through clanking his hardened fists against each other, jagged edges sparking.

“Red Riot! Froppy!” exclaims Midoriya, “Where are the others?”

Asui ribbits before answering, “They’re handling the rest of the—”

“L-Leader..! Leader!” a frantic voice shouts from the entrance of the warehouse, where a ragged up Shie Hassaikai henchman tries to pry inside.

“T-The girl..! She isn’t h-here, she isn’t— GAH!”

His message is interrupted. A menacing shadowy figure looms over the goon like a monster hiding within the dark and throws him back to the struggle outside, proceeding to rampage across the battlefield. Desperate cries leak out but to no avail.

Overhaul discerns the sputtered message:

The girl he so desired was not with them to begin with.

To his dismay, this fight was pointless. If what he sought could not be forcibly taken right then and there, then there is no reason to continue the battle. There was no prize to be won by the end of it all.

Now, he must adjust his plans due to the unfavorable news. How tragic.

At the thought of having lost time, energy, and resources, the yakuza leader pinches the bridge of his nose, utterly furious. There’s a pause in which Overhaul seethes an aura of killing intent over this frustration.

But it eventually simmers and subsides. What happens now cannot be changed, no matter how enraged he is. So he must take logical steps to preserve and remedy the repercussions, which to him was simple:

“We’re withdrawing.”

“What?” Dabi looks at him incredulously, “After all this?”

“Yes, they've taken down our spear and shield, and have wiped out the majority of the soldiers. If what we want isn’t here, then there is no point in staying,” Overhaul’s husky tone bears weight and authority at every word.

“Nemoto, grab Chrono from wherever he was thrown.”

“Yes, Overhaul. What about Rappa and Tengai?”

The auburn-haired man doesn’t so much as spare a glance toward his two defeated subordinates lying on the ground, “Leave them. They’re expendable to me.”

Nemoto nods, going to gather a knocked out Chrono thrown across the warehouse and now lying unconscious atop broken wooden crates.

Midoriya’s fists clenched tightly at the scene, realizing what the yakuza’s next plan of action was going to be.

“They’re trying to escape!”

“Oh, the fuck they are. I won’t let a single one of you bastards leave!” Bakugou bursts into the air, propelled by the explosions from his palms in hot pursuit, with Midoriya catching up thanks to his heightened speeds.

“Sorry boys, party’s over!” Toga intercepts the two using twin knives flung in their direction, catching them off guard. Dabi follows the diversion by gathering a massive amount of flames into his hands before swiftly releasing the kindled energy to erect a blue wall of fire throughout his surroundings.

“Bye Izuku~!” a feminine voice shrills from behind the fiery wall, becoming the last words they hear as they wait for the flames to dissipate, ultimately revealing that their enemies had already fled.

“Those fuckers couldn’t have gone far,” Bakugou doesn’t relent, poised on finding them and having them pay the full consequences of their actions. Midoriya grasps his shoulder, stopping him.

“Let them go, Kacchan. Considering the location they decided for this meeting, they likely fled by boat. We have no way of following them at the moment.”

Todoroki agrees, adding on, “Besides, there are more important things to worry about right now,” he casts his gaze to the wooden table Midoriya had broken prior to the fight transpiring. “For one, they’re after ____ and are willing to go to any lengths to get her. We need to head back to the mansion to make sure she’s safe.” There’s slight urgency evident in his tone. Despite their tenacity, the idea of having their beloved wrenched away is enough to render them even a little bit fearful. Had she been present in the conflict, there’s no telling what could have happened.

“And two,” Todoroki walks off to another site of the warehouse, picking up something dropped on the floor, “we need to figure out what this is.” In his hand, he holds the small capsule bullet that is now slightly dented thanks to the impact against Kirishima’s hardened skin.

The other two examine the capsule briefly until Bakugou decides to take it from Todoroki’s fingers for closer inspection. If Overhaul was so keen on using a gun to do away with them all, despite how inferior it was, then this must be no ordinary bullet.

The three decide to contain the item for further examination for now as they, Kirishima, and Asui make their way outside again. There, bodies of Shie Hassaikai thugs littered the floor after having been thoroughly beaten into submission. Tokoyami, Yaoyorozu, Uraraka, and Kaminari lean against the cars casually but remain attentive after the fight.

“It was quite an ill-planned move to dare to attack us in the night,” Tokoyami’s eyes closed in thought at the havoc he wreaked thanks to the amplified powers of his quirk. Kaminari snickers and boasts with an electric snap of his fingers, “Yakuza didn’t know what hit them, the mafia always stays on top.”

“Excellent work everyone, it seems the henchmen were of no trouble to you,” Midoriya commends the squad, “Now, we must leave before the police arrive on the scene to assess the damage.”

Their six combatants all nod at the order, about to gather back in their vehicle until Bakugou huffs with a final statement before they make their getaway.

“Know that the next time we see those Shie Hassaikai bastards, we will take them down,” He narrows his eyes at the ocean, the moon still hanging above the sky and basking the waters in moonlight,

“without hesitation.”

Ending Notes | Whew.. thanks for reading! For the next part I was considering writing it in 2nd POV since the reader will actually be physically present during the events of the story now, but I’m not sure yet. Please let me know your thoughts and follow if you’re interested in this series <3

2K notes · View notes

hotdogct · 4 years ago

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as dreamers do ||| n.jm

pairing: na jaemin x reader genre: fluff words: 2.2k a/n: hello!!! this is my first piece of writing in a very long time, so apologies if its all over the place/makes no sense!!! obviously this is all a work of fiction, disclaimer, blablabla, idk what i’m doing i just wanted to write drabbles about nct lmao, so with that being said!!!! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you trust me?”

You roll your eyes in the direction of your coworker, Jaemin, who was sitting across from you in the fluorescent lit break room located just behind Splash Mountain’s gift shop and exit. The two of you were part of the massive workforce of college aged youth that Disney recruited every year to staff their theme parks and resorts. While you weren’t initially thrilled with your role as a custodian, you learned to appreciate its quirks - and that included the unique cast of characters otherwise known as your coworkers. From the full-timers that did their best to ignore your presence, knowing another semester would just bring a fresh wave of new faces, to your fellow program cohorts - Jaemin being one of them.

Assuming he was just quoting Aladdin at you, you offer no response to Jaemin’s initial query and continue scrolling through your phone, shoveling the few remaining cheese crackers from the nearby vending machine down your throat, intending on savoring the remaining minutes of your last break for the evening.

Your thoughts wandered back to your fellow cast members. There was Daehwi, sheltered and away from home for the first time, affectionately nicknamed ‘baby’ by everyone he befriended. Wendy, with her melodic voice and cheerful disposition, eager to break into song at a moments notice. Lucas, who might’ve come to Florida to party first, but worked equally hard. Hani, who arrived a few weeks after you, always the first to come help when you radio that your restroom has overflowed, again. Even Jinho, who had initially fooled you with his youthful looks before revealing this was his third time through the program, had somehow wormed his way into your heart. But nobody had been as captivating as Jaemin. When you first met him in passing in the cramped break room, you were convinced casting had made a mistake, that he was lost on his way to costuming for entertainment. He certainly looked like a prince - perfectly straight teeth, boyishly handsome good looks. A few days later he was assigned to clean the same bathrooms as you - “bathroom buddies” as everyone affectionately would call the practice. There, in the shared stockrooms, you learned who Jaemin was beyond his beautiful face - how his friends back home called him Nana, that he was studying photography in college, that he was an only child, a helluva flirt. Even your music tastes were similar, a fact you discovered on one of the many cramped, late night bus rides back to program housing where the two of you stood packed shoulder to shoulder, like sardines in a can. Jaemin interacted with guests both young and young at heart with an effortless charm and grace. Your managers loved him immediately, and before you knew it, you found yourself incredibly enamored with him too.

It wasn’t until his hand suddenly broke through your field of vision, blocking sight of your phone, that you realized Jaemin had stood up and was now standing directly in front of you. His head covered the harshest of the overhead lights, casting a soft halo glow around his black, messy hair and broad shoulders. He smiles down at you, innocently, and you feel your heartbeat accelerate when your eyes meet his own.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, again. This time, without thought, you place your hand firmly in his.

******

Jaemin leads you out of the blinding light of the break room silently, into the dark of the early winter evening. Eyes still adjusting, you follow behind him, thankful that your corner of the park was mostly deserted - Splash Mountain still closed for the season, only a few stragglers were coming and going to use the restroom in the area. You vaguely remember that Jaemin had been assigned a nearby zone to clean that evening - which was it again…?

He leads you up a flight up stairs, then, and that’s when it hits you. Train Zone. The Frontierland Railroad Station. It was an easy zone to clean, as the railroad shut down early each night before the fireworks display. Gathering the trash in an empty zone like this was a godsend, especially when compared to the other ride queues you had to clean, oftentimes fighting constant guest traffic like a fish swimming upstream.

Lost in your thoughts, you follow behind Jaemin as he completes his task diligently, making sure each trash can within the train station is empty and re-bagged for the next morning. It had been a few days since the two of you had worked in neighboring areas, and you often found yourself tongue tied when around him. The background music loop of Frontierland was noticeably absent, the speakers within the station shut off for the night. This led to Jaemin singing nonsense songs while tying up trash bags and wiping down surfaces, dancing lightly on his feet.

Turkey leg-g-g

At the train

D-d-d-driving me insane~

All you could do was laugh at his antics, and before you knew it, the nearby banana boat parked at the exit ramp was full of trash bags. Satisfied with the results of your hard work, you were about to begin the walk to backstage, where the dumpsters were located, when Jaemin turned about face, walking instead towards the train station.

“What are you doing?!” you hiss, not wanting to shout but needing to stress your confusion at his actions. Jaemin stops at the gate, unlatches it, before turning around, beckoning you over with a smile.

“I asked you if you trusted me, didn’t I?” his voice low in your ear upon your arrival at his side, banana boat now parked safely out of any guest traffic. Jaemin unlocks the gate for you, both of you falling silent on your walk back up into the depths of the train station - no more cute, silly songs spilling from his lips.

“Are you sure we aren’t going to get caught?” your voice carries louder than intended across the empty room as you go through the turnstile, and you wince.

Jaemin’s boisterous laugh took you by surprise, followed a moment later by his hand ruffling the top of your head, messing up your hair. As if to say, foolish.

“Getting the trash from up here is technically our responsibility. So what if it took us a little long?”

He was right - the best part of your job was the agency it provided. Sure, you were cleaning up garbage and bathrooms and vomit, but you could walk around freely. Explore hidden corners and crevices of the park. You knew all too well the allures of the shared hallway between the Frontierland restrooms, the stock closet next to the Veranda breezeway, the dumpster behind the Haunted Mansion - places the rest of your desperately horny coworkers had used to hook up in weeks prior. As you follow Jaemin around a corner towards the front of the station, through an open passageway, you wonder if that’s what he has in mind. That is, until you see the view in front of you.

Jaemin had led you to a small balcony that overlooked the whole expanse of Frontierland. From above you could spot guests walking about the park to and fro, the Rivers of America flowing gently behind them in the distance. Bits and pieces of Cinderella’s Castle were visible through the tree line, shining bright in multicolor as the nightly projection show proceeded to play.

“Jaem, it’s….”

“Nice, isn’t it?” He finishes your thought for you, his hand brushing over the staged decorations of fake barrels and crates against the wall of the balcony that seemed perfect to sit upon. Moments later, Jaemin plops down with a satisfied smile on his face and pats the space beside him, silently asking you to join him.

“Nice is an understatement” you offer in reply. A small laugh leaves his lips, a breeze rolls through. For just a moment, it is quiet and still.

“I’ve been wanting to show you this place for a while, but the stars just never aligned right until tonight.”

“You mean, the computer system that automates scheduling and staffing didn’t randomly place us in neighboring areas of the park until to-” Jaemin’s stiff elbow into your side lets you know to drop the wit. That you could do, but a question lingered in your mind, still, and you did have to voice your sole concern.

“How do you not get caught up here?”

Jaemin turns around, points to the solitary light on the balcony, and it’s then that you notice the bulb is off. You might feel exposed looking down upon everyone, but quickly realize that nobody is looking up at the closed train station - let alone looking for two cast members in white uniforms in the dark, goofing off on a weeknight.

Fooling around…

You were thankful for the cover of darkness in that moment, as you felt your cheeks turn crimson at the thought. Being alone, with Jaemin, this close, in the dark...This all seemed very sudden, despite everyone knowing about your big crush on Nana - he had to know too?

“So,” Jaemin’s voice cuts through your ever-racing thoughts, and your chest goes cold. “A little birdie told me there’s something you really, really like…”

If jumping off the balcony was a safe option, in that moment, you would’ve taken it. A confirmation of your worst fears - that Jaemin was aware of your ridiculous, schoolgirl like crush on him. You are speechless, sunken, pulse racing, and terrified.

Without the usual cue of area music, caught up in the last hour, you had missed your usual clues. A loud boom caused you to jump in your seat, out of your brain, head immediately turning towards Jaemin - only to make eye contact with him, bright lights reflecting off the surface, who smiles and motions for you to turn around. Of course.

If you were known for one thing amongst your cohorts, it was that you loved fireworks. Even on the most hectic of nights you found a way to make sure you were outside during the nightly display, never taking for granted that you were being paid to watch the sky light up in time to music. You had your favorite spots to watch from, but had never once considered the train station. From the corner of Frontierland, it felt like the fireworks were almost on top of you - cascading down upon Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, the expanse of empty night sky providing the perfect canvas. As the speakers above you were silent, there was no accompanying soundtrack, but it didn’t matter - you knew the whole show by heart. You were unaware of how long your mouth had been hanging open in blissful, childlike wonder, only noticing when Jaemin gently pressed his finger up against your chin, closing the space between your upper and lower lip through simple momentum. Moments later, his hand brushed over yours, testing the waters, and finding no complaint, interlocked his fingers with yours, and gravity pulls your head to his shoulder. A soft, steady hum leaves his lips, as you settle into this newfound bliss.

The rest of the fireworks show plays out in front of the two of you - two white ghosts in a dark shadow, illuminated by glowing streaks and bursts of color from the night sky. You’re working at the most magical place on earth, sure, but this felt like the most magical moment of your life.

Before you know it, the sky calms again, signaling the end of the show. You remain frozen for a moment, not wanting to leave. When you finally stand back up, awkwardly untangling yourself from Jaemin’s frame in a rushed manner, you can almost feel yourself floating back down to the ground, back to reality. Jaemin, your co-worker, Jaemin the flirt. He brought you up here just to watch the fireworks after all. Had you been a bit more outgoing, a bit less awkward, maybe...

Taking a few steps towards the entryway, a sudden hand on your wrist pulls you against the wall - thankfully, out of sight of any guests, but now engulfing your entire body in shadow. And it’s here in the darkness that Jaemin’s hand releases itself from your wrist, finds its way up to your cheek. Here, he leans in and kisses you - pressing his chapped lips against yours gently, but with enough intent and purpose that you swear you were seeing stars after a few moments. It doesn’t last long, as all fairytales would tell you. When you part, Jaemin rests his forehead against yours, both slightly damp from the Florida humidity, and you can feel him smile against you, somehow breathless, letting out a low chuckle, before asking,

“Did you think I was talking about the fireworks?”

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