#i say 'animator mode' when in reality i need to draw So many backgrounds | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fang-wife · 4 years ago

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voyeur | m. izuku

➳ tags ;; sub!izuku, dom!reader, watching hentai together?, reader is mean and nice </3, quirkless college au!izuku, corruption kink/religious guilt, unprotected sex/creampies, established relationship, afab reader

➳ wc ;; 2.1k

➳ a /n ;; @/sems-diarie made a post abt this a while ago n my brain wouldn’t let it be so. here we are </3

➳ plot ;; izuku didn’t sneak you into your dorm to watch.. this with you. but he has a habit of letting you do what you like.

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This is embarassing.

He knows this is embarassing - more embarassing than he really cares to admit to. He should really know better by now then to let you do as you please. You’re always stringing him along with your schemes and plans and he loses sight of his morals. His standards.

Then again, he doesn’t have any at this point. The point of him paying for this single dorm was so that he could have space to focus. It wasn’t to sneak you in when his R.A. wasnt looking. Even more then that, it wasn’t to do.. whatever this was.

It’d be one thing if he was having sex. That’s a normal thing to do in college, to sneak your partner in and smash. But you’re you, and all you ever seem to have planned for him are hair-brained schemes. It’s what this feels like - when you sit on his twin size bed and pat the empty space next to you. The distrust in his expression makes you laugh.. He sighs and does what you’ve asked.

“What’re you doing?”

He sounds exasperated. You laugh - too pleasantly for him to be comfortable. You type something into the search bar. Green eyes widen, skin warm and blushing.

“Wh-what’re you doing?”

You laugh as you prop the computer on the bed. You grin at him, tucking yourself under his arm. The website mocks him, all black background and animated women with huge tits covering the screen edge to edge.

“You know something, after you’re done using incognito mode - you’re supposed to switch out to regular search, you know,” you explain. Your hand rests on his thigh. Deku freezes.

The sound of your voice has always been something of a vice. It gets a little raspy like this - sultry in a way that has him squirming. He doesn’t know what to do. He can feel the heat of your body.

“Would you know my surprise when I borrow your phone to look up when the convience store closes,” you inch closer, press further “only to see..”

He knows what you saw before you announce it. His skin feels like it’s on fire, tuning out whatever description you’ve been giving of what he chose to watch.

Maybe it was the way he was raised - but he always had such a specific sort of guilt towards pornography. Always told himself he shouldn’t watch things like that, shouldn’t touch himself. Izuku had always been a good, well-behaved boy. Done the right thing even when it was hard.

Meeting you had changed that, changed him. He found his body craving you when he couldn’t control it and he ended up here - watching porn and jerking off with his shirt in his mouth. It’s all come back to haunt him, really.

“I’m not mad, y’know,” ― and your tone goes soft - it’s assuring enough that Izuku can whimper out an okay, but you’re not done ― “I’m just curious. Can’t we watch it together?,”

“That’s ― !”

You flutter your lashes him.

“That’s?”

He has a million words that he can say. That he should say. Bad, wrong, immoral. Words that belong at the end of the sentence to describe what he’s doing with you and what he’s considering.

None of that comes out.

“That’s.. too much”

You grin at him.

“Do you not want too?”

“..I didn’t say that, it’s just -”

Your hand squeezes his thigh until your stiletto's dig into them. Your mouth trails his jaw with hot, open mouth kisses until your turning his head to face you. A hand splayed on his face, tongue deep in his mouth. French kissing makes him pant - hands twitching eagerly to touch you. He watches, dazed - the spit trail of saliva that stretches between you two.

He’s so easy, it’s cute. You press forward with a chaste kiss.

“Show me what you were watching, Izuku,”

His hand trembles as he leans forward. He remembers the title - doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. Within seconds, it shows up and he clicks. You lean forward too, observing the tags with a small smile on your face.

“Milf, NTR, Gangbang,”

“S-stop reading them!”

You giggle.

Without warning - you press play. Izuku finds himself frantic. Worried about the sound, the time, all of it - but you don’t seem to care. The AD comes on and you skip that too. It’s on. A familiar arousal blooms in his chest, the memory of what he’d seen appearing. You settle between his legs, your back pressed to his chest. You bring his hands around your waist.

“Let’s watch ~”

Izuku face twists with displeasure. The plot nothing to ride home about - a lonely housewife goes out to a club and finds someone to take care of her needs. At first it’s just one stranger at the club - then two, then she’s surrounded and its too much.

Izuku assumes you’re gonna find him disgusting, but when he looks at your face - you’re smiling, heart-beating in your chest. His eyes blow wide when you take his hand between your legs. You’re wet and you’re letting him touch you and he’s trying his hardest not to show how much he’s shaking.

A little sigh of pleasure leaves your mouth when Izuku very carefully rubs your clit. It throbs under the pressure of big fingers - you hold his wrist and moan. He can hear the porn in the background but it doesn’t serve to distract him from you.

“You want me to go n’ get fucked by a bunch of strangers, ‘zuku?”

He shakes his head furiously.

“Then you just like watching depraved shit, huh?”

Unable to argue with you or with the the way his cock twitches and jumps in his jeans, he opts to whine. You can feel his it against your lower-back, the little wet-spot that presses to your thin tshirt. He’s too turned onto think properly - watching the way your body jerks and twitches.

The woman on screen is stuffed to the brim with cock - it’s all over exaggerated he knows, but he thinks that’s why he likes it. Maybe he just likes the idea of fucking someone that stuffed fulled of cum, how it leaks and pours onto every surface and the way her cunt just seems to take it. And Izuku is such a good, well behaved boy - it’s never crossed his mind to think about doing it to you.

And no, he doesn’t really want to see you get fucked by so many men but if there were more than one of him he’d be more than inclined to let you. His chest feels tight forgetting to breath.

He thinks maybe you’re some kind of witch because you always seem to know what he wants before he does. The right way to push all of his buttons.

“Oh, I see’ ― and he’s afraid of whatever words come out of your mouth next ― “you wanna fuck me full of your cum, Izuku? Wanna know how it feels raw?”

He moans - loud and shameless and needy against your ear. A breathless laugh leaves your mouth because that’s exactly what he wants. He wants to fuck you full of cum, just picturing how good it might feel.

You sit up on your knees and bend over a little - pulling short-shorts beneath the curve of your ass and thickest parts of your thigh. Your panties are drenched, clinging to your folds. He inhales sharply, frozen till as you lean forward - pulling them to one side.

“Take your cock out ‘n fuck me then, baby” ― you challenge, dark and dangerous. Everything about you is so sinful and too tempting for him to ignore. His cock aches ― “Do your best”

His body moves before he has a proper chance to feel shame. Whatever devils been whispering in his ear (read: you) has won whatever leftover dignity he has left. Without a proper word, his cock stands to attention. His hands are fidgety but they mange to settle on your waist. He guides you down on his dick, bottom lipped pulled between his teeth hard enough to draw blood.

“Oh, fuck”

He’s going to cum right away if he doesn’t take a breather. This is the first time he’s feeling you, and it feels so much better than he could understand. The lingering thoughts of the dangerous act silence by how tight and how wet and how willing your pussy is for him. The way your walls twitch - ache shamelessly around his cock. He’s fucking sliding in and out of you - it feels like a special privilege he’s done nothing to earn.

He’s shivering, over and over. When he looks down, he’s not all the way in. He’s not sure if he’s praying to god for the right reason - for forgiveness. All he can think about is how good it feels to be inside and how he absolutely doesn’t want to do anything else.

“How’s it feel, Izuku?”

He groans at the sound of your voice, the way you clench down on him and stretch so tightly around his shaft. He’s too wrapped up in the feeling of your cunt - like heaven and silk.

“F-feels so, so good”

Part of you thinks you should ride him, but another part of you is more interested in seeing how he fucks you. You snap the laptop closed and push it to the other side of the bed, before flipping around and laying on your back. His cock slips out and he snaps into reality - the way you have your legs in the air and your arms out.

“I’ll let you fuck me as many times as you want today,” ― your legs reach and wrap around his waist, easily forcing his cock back inside ― “go on,”

Izuku is a mess, really. His pants are only half-way pulled down and he’s wearing a nerdy graphic t-shirt. He’s borderline in hysterics over how good your pussy feels and can’t do anything other than thank you repeatedly and fuck you with an animalistic need. It’s clumsy like you’d expect, but he makes up for it with sheer enthusiasm.

His cock is long and pretty - hits every spot you need it too. Izuku fucks you with shallow, sloppy thrusts - so needy and chasing his orgasm. Selfish and inexperienced. Every time he pushes forward, you can feel he’s throbbing. Aching to cum inside and unload.

You reach a hand between the two of you to finish on your own time - planning on cumming before him. He doesn’t seem to care.

“Ngh, ohh my god, feel’s’good”

“Yeah? Gonna cum inside me, handsome? Makin’ such a pretty face for me”

His stomach churns at the way you call him pretty. It sounds so sweet and adoring - but he knows that you’re a bully. He knows that about but fucks you with all his strength anyways - overly frustrated and fucked out of his mind by the feeling. Like a drug. He likes you so much he feels stupid over it.

“Yeah, yeah ‘m gonna”

Your own orgasm washes over you in a pleasant wave, squeezing his cock with force. He gasp and goes faster - all the thoughts washed away from his head. He needs to finish more than he needs anything. More than he needs to sleep for his 6am work-out and 8am class. More than he needs to be quiet because the walls of his dorm are paper thin. More than he needs to exercise self-control, he needs to cum so fuckin bad.

“Look at me,”

He follows your command, like always - and you look amused and fucked out just like he is. And Izuku has really never been this into anyone before so seeing you evokes feelings he can’t understand.

“Oh, fuuck“

Briefly he understands that he really just came by looking at you, but nothing really makes sense to him. His eyes are heavy and he’s drooling onto your shoulder, spasming and clinging to your body with the most needy little whimpers. It’s so lewd, how he can feel his cum spurt out and coat your insides and his cock. It’s all so sinful but it feels so good, he can’t bring himself to care.

“So,” ― you smile, full of mischief ― “if you want to be like that, we’ve got a few rounds to go”

Izuku splutters at your comment and you laugh. He knows you’re not joking and he whines. You really are a bad influence on him. But with the way his cock is twitching to life again..

He might not be any better.

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#deku x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #deku x y/n #deku x you #gonna post first w/o tags then add them in #knk ;; [ unprotected ]#sub!bnha #sub!izuku #knk ;; [ corruption ]

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uwuwriting · 4 years ago

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Road trip w/ Kaminari, Shinsou and Bakugou

Request: Shinso, Kami, and Bakugou on a long trip/plane ride with their S/o? Happy holidays bb! - 🥐

I wish I could go on a trip. I need Christmas break to last longer, I’m not ready to go back to school and study for uni, I’m not emotionally capable. I hate it here.💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: fluff

Kaminari Denki

-You have a mini fight about who gets to drive at first.

-You don’t trust him because he is dumb and bisexual and he believes that you’ll fall asleep ont he wheel cuz you stayed up until like 2 am the previous day downloading music and making playlists for the journey.

-He gets to drive the first shift and it goes relatively well.

-You get some extra sleep, he enjoys his time behind the wheel and boom you’re now at a gas station having brunch before hitting the road again.

-Karaoke driving.

-I think that’s all I have to say about your road trip with this guy.

-HE will ignore the playlists with the soft songs because he needs to vibe at first.

-Kills it with the Shakira impressions like you start wondering what would happen if he suddenly decides to follow a music career like Jiro.

-So many bathroom stops.

-Does this man have a prostate problem because damn.

-He can’t go for more than an hour without stopping to pee.

-The one time you ask to stop at a gas station for a bathroom break he suggests just stopping at the side of the road and you could pee there.

- “I do it so you can too.”

-Denki honey I don’t have a dick to wip out…...I need essentials.

-May or may not have taken the wrong exit at some point and you took a thirty minute detour.

-At least you got some nice photos out of it.

-Speaking of photos.

-Your camera roll will be filled with selfies, stupid videos of Kami hyping himself up at a red light.

-Races with other cars at said red lights.

-You fear for your life most of the time, grasping the door handle like your life depended on it because in reality it kinda did.

-You beg him to take over and drive for a little bit but he brushes you off.

- “You seem tired baby, let me drive for a bit.”

- “Nope I’m perfectly fine Y/N. Gonna get us to the hotel so fucking fast.”

- “Denki no-”

-He calms down after a while, and he lets you put on your soft playlist so you could both just vibe.

-His hand is resting on your thigh, giving it a few firm squeezes every now and then.

-He likes drumming the beat of the song on your skin.

-You start random conversations about anything and everything and if you’re being honest you love these types of moments.

-There are no villains to fight, no danger in the horizon *apart from his driving* and you get to enjoy the tranquility while enjoying the ride.

-Denki starts telling you about adopting a dog and you joke that he would be a horrible dog dad.

- “Maybe cats are better for you babe.”

-You are no longer heroes.

-You are just a couple going on a road trip, away from all your troubles and worries just you and him.

-You reach the hotel later than you expected though…..it was those damn bathroom breaks!!!

Shinsou Hitoshi

-The trip is spontaneous.

-You were both chillin in your apartment when he popped the question.

- “Wanna go on a trip? I’m bored.”

-You never expected him to pick a place this far away, you weren’t complaining though.

-Road trips with him are immaculate.

-He helps you pack your bags in no time, picking your favorite outfits out and placing them in your travel bags along with a bunch of snacks and a fluffy blanket.

-You hit the road in less than an hour.

-It’s still dark out when you start your trip and Hitoshi insists you take a nap, get your beauty sleep while he drives.

- “Don’t worry we won’t crash, I hope.”

-You do take a nap eventually but not for long and you wake up just in time to watch the sunrise with your boyfriend.

-He will pull over and take pictures with the sunrise as your background.

-He says he needs a new wallpaper on his phone and there’s an empty picture frame at his desk back at work.

-He needs to fill them somehow.

-Around noon he brings the fluffy blanket in the front seat, wrapping it around you so you can snuggle and possibly fall asleep again.

-In reality he wants to take more pictures of you with drool dripping down your chin for blackmail purposes but you will not yield !!!

-The trip is mainly filled with music and low humming coming from the both of you.

-Though when a love song that reminds him of you comes on he will lean over and grip your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze, a blush blooming on his cheeks.

-Makes many stops in spots that look great for photos or having an amazing view.

-Definitely has prepared a picnic basket and before you know it you are munching down on some sandwiches he made while your feet are dangling over a small cliff you happened to come across.

-Shares random facts about nature and animals with you.

-Shinsou strikes me as a guy who watches a lot of documentaries and animal planet shows, so he has obtained random information and now he is explaining the mating cycle of penguins.

-Would definitely prefer to sleep in the car and not rent a room.

-He wants to stay outside looking at the stars for as long as possible and then snuggle up with you in the driver's seat, your head against his chest and his hand buried in your hair.

-If you want to go to a hotel because you feel more comfortable, he won’t complain.

-As long as he gets to cuddle you anything is fine in his book.

-He puts on YOUR song while you are looking at the sky and invites you to dance with him.

-Wraps his arms around your waist and slowly sways you back and forth, following the rhythm of the song as he looks into your eyes.

-He loves capturing the moment so expect many photos to be taken and a bunch of videos of you two dancing.

-He has his crackhead moments though so you can expect to be shoved into the water if you’re near a lake or at the beach.

-He might draw a mustache on you while you sleep but don’t worry you get payback when he is asleep.

Bakugou Katsuki

-Whines while you back everything.

-And when I say whines I mean he grumbles under his breath about this stupid shirt that he can’t seem to fold correctly.

-Anyways once you hit the road he is more relaxed than usual.

-He keeps this tight, aggressive persona out in public you sometimes forget that this man, this amazing partner is also a pro hero who is known for his rough edges.

-Sure, his explosive behavior doesn’t disappear when he is with you but he is a lot tamer and calm around you.

-During the car ride he makes small talk with you, sharing random events from his patrols and stupid shit his “squad” have done while out in public.

-When he comes home every night he is just so tired that many details slip his mind as he recounts his day to you, seeing him right now a genuine smile gracing his lips as his only focus is the road in front of him really warms your heart.

-He becomes more affectionate.

-Hand gripping yours while he drives or his palm on your thigh, rubbing your soft skin as he hums along with the music.

-Even if he needs to switch gears he won’t let go.

-Surprisingly he is the type to put on an audio book after a while.

-Usually it's after your wedding song is over or soon after that.

-Your song is like a trigger and suddenly sophisticated Bakugou emerges asking you to pick an audiobook from his collection and put it on.

-Gets really invested in the story and pauses it every five minutes so you can discuss it.

- “She could have escaped through the window why the fuck did she let herself get caught?”

- “No Katsu!!! She needs to make sure the prince is alive!!”

- “That’s fucking dumb!”

-Let’s you take candid pictures of him and won’t complain when you coo over how pretty he looks with the sun behind him.

-Don’t worry he is plotting to fill his gallery of pics of you sleeping.

-When you actually fall asleep he will turn the radio down and hum softly under his breath.

-If it starts raining heavily he will pull over and wait for it to calm down a bit.

-My personal headcanon is that Katsuki has a car with a skylight *if that’s what its called* so he brings the seats down and you lay there admiring the rain falling onto the glass.

-He likes talking about more serious matters when you are like this.

-From your future to what pet your future kids could have.

-If you get cold while waiting for the rain to calm down, he has a blanket on the ready.

-He places you on his chest and drapes the blanket over you, enjoying your warmth and the filling of your pulse under his fingertips.

-Might get a little emotional if a slow song is playing.

-He is just too overwhelmed by his emotions at times like these, when he can hold you and feel the pure love and adoration flow between the two of you like water.

-I love you’s are exchanged and many kisses.

-When he starts driving again he is so refreshed, it’s like a completely different person.

-Gas station stops and bathroom breaks are a nightmare cuz he keeps hyping himself up in order to go into Bakugou public mode.

-You just want your Katsuki, the cuddly Katsuki.

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @storage11037 @ezoyscorner @letscheereachotheron @wolfkid22 @dark-thoughts-and-red-roses @threeamwriting @ysatrap @yashinosakura

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antialiasis · 3 years ago

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Worldbuilding June (Pokémon edition), Days 8-12

Whoops forgot to post these for a couple of days, too busy with a load of Things as always.

8. Who rules in your world?

TQftL never brings up government, but each region has its own human government, generally just standard representative democracies similar to what we have in the modern world. Ouen has an elected parliament and president. It's a fairly utopian world with little scarcity and politics play kind of a background role - they keep things running, they have some different parties, but there's low polarization and usually they work pretty smoothly together and have little conflict. The situation in other regions is similar - movement is very free and conflict between them is rare and minor in the grand scheme of things.

QftLverse Pokémon, once again, have their own societies and are not subject to human rule except in a limited way while they're with a trainer, as per the Agreement, an all-encompassing contract dictating how the relationship between humans and Pokémon should work. Different Pokémon species govern themselves differently, but their societies are generally based on smaller self-governing groups. The Scyther society has a single leader, who is meant to be the simply strongest in the swarm, and anyone can challenge them to a duel to the death to take their place at any time.

The Morphicverse is once again close to Earth, with different countries having different modes of government. The Poké-USA's politicical climate resembles the actual USA's political climate in ~2007, but if I ever wrote references to the current president I wouldn't make him an outright Bush expy or anything, beyond being from the conservative one of the two highly polarized parties.

9. What religions and myths/legends exist in your world?

The QftLverse's human society is basically post-religious. Legendary Pokémon are revered, but not worshipped - people don't pray to them, ascribe natural phenomena to them, expect them to watch over them personally, perform symbolic rituals associated with them, etc. That said, humans do have myths concerning them - not always accurate ones. The story describes the human myth behind one set of legendaries early on before the reality much later turns out to have been fairly different, for instance.

QftLverse Pokémon have their own myths, legends, religions and beliefs. The Scyther society explored in the spin-offs has a bit of a vague mythology going on explaining the sun, moon, stars and clouds, but it's not very important to them, more of a just-so story. Meanwhile, they live by a system of ethics known as the Code that they consider sacred and all-important, though it doesn't have a godly figure behind it as the source of it, only a philosophy. Other Pokémon might variously have straight-up religion (whether worshipping legendary Pokémon or something else), be entirely areligious, or something in between; most will have myths and legends in some form, though.

The Morphicverse has a form of Christianity, which is functionally a lot like ours; this also means they had a version of Judaism. Other specific religions don't come up, but they'd at the very least be as varied as real-world religions. Like in real life, there are many sects and variants, and as many individual interpretations of faiths as there are people. The villain cult in particular has fringe views that in no way resemble the mainstream. And like in real life, many people nominally believe but don't really practice their religion, and many are agnostic or atheist.

Legendary Pokémon in the Morphicverse are cryptids - there are myths and legends about them, and people think they're neat, write fiction and make movies about them all the time, but in the modern day, actually-for-real believing that they exist out there ranges from mildly eccentric to entirely unthinkable. Worship of legendary Pokémon exists, but in the way that modern neo-Paganism does. It's not remotely mainstream, generally seen as a weird hippie thing, and the notion of Arceus appearing in the flesh one day and declaring he created the universe is about as fantastical to most people as the notion of the Norse pantheon doing the same in our world.

10. What traditions are observed in your world?

QftLverse human traditions are mostly just secular holidays - commemorations of important days in the region's history, etc. It's tradition for most children to go out on a Pokémon journey the spring after they turn ten years old, and participate in a First-Timers' League in the autumn if they manage to stick it out for the whole journey and collect all the badges - there are kids who don't, but it's rare for them to not want to, and other kids may see them as no fun.

Every year in Green Town, there is a Pokémon Festival originally built around the legendary Pokémon Chaletwo's yearly brief visit to the outskirts of the city (which may or may not be ditched in the next revision); it hosts a number of Pokémon-themed events over several days. One of them is a starter Pokémon giveaway, where most kids go to get official starter Pokémon, who have specifically volunteered and been trained to work with beginning trainers - though many kids have had Pokémon as pets/partners since they were young and journey with them instead, or their parents otherwise get them a Pokémon who's up for a beginning trainer. (Many Pokémon kind of like the idea of journeying with a beginning trainer, in the way that many people like the idea of getting a kitten rather than an adult cat - just something special about having been with them from the start. Though getting a starter who's actually been trained to deal with kids is recommended over just finding any random enthusiastic Pokémon.)

Pokémon have all kinds of different traditions. The Scyther society as explored in the spin-offs has a number of traditions and rituals, including a sort of blood baptism of new hatchlings, the leader of the swarm teaching all the adolescent Scyther about the Code, and First Prey, where each of the adolescents is sent out to hunt prey on their own for the first time, with a male and female witness following, so they can prove their ability to kill and to feed themselves. Afterwards, they're expected to publicly offer a symbolic piece of the meat of their first prey to some members of the swarm, and doing so signals respect; you don't technically have to, but in practice everyone always offers it to the leader and not doing so would be taken as outright disrespect.

The Morphicverse is once again culturally similar to the real world and has mostly similar sorts of traditions. Pokémon training is less culturally ingrained there, but still a very common hobby for kids.

11. What are some ways people communicate with pokémon in your world, or pokémon with each other?

In the QftLverse, humans learn to understand Pokémon speech as a mandatory subject at school. Pokémon inherently understand human speech, but they speak anime-style, usually in syllables of their species' name (which is what the species are named after). They share one language, which is not based on exactly what the syllables are but the tone and the way they're combined, hence why it works regardless of the species.

In the current version of the fic, this is pure handwave worldbuilding: it's established that it happens at school at the beginning, and then we just move on to the story, where every human simply understands what Pokémon are saying at all times. In the next revision I'd give a bit more proper worldbuilding attention to it - let the language barrier be a little more present, humans vary in exactly how good they are at it (luckily it's already the main character's best subject at school), and otherwise treat it less like it's just an excuse to act like Pokémon speak English.

In the Morphicverse, Pokémon do communicate but they don't do complex communication - instead, it's closer to the sort of communication most animals do in the real world. They can express how they're feeling, draw attention to something interesting, sound the alarm about something scary, ask another Pokémon to follow, and can do this in a somewhat more efficient and intelligent way than most animals generally do. But one way or another, they don't communicate complicated abstract ideas, neither to humans nor to one another. Pokémon don't automatically understand human speech here, though they're very quick learners when it comes to commands, and they can pick up a fair amount just by being around humans, allowing them to get the gist of basic statements and requests without being explicitly taught them, though anything abstract would still be entirely lost on them. You could tell a Pokémon you've lived with for years "I lost my hat, can you help me find it" and they'll go look for your hat, but they'd be lost if you tried to ask them for anything much more complicated than that.

12. What is the gym circuit or adventuring organization like in your world?

In the QftLverse, gyms are meant to be taken on in a specific order and gym leaders are accordingly expected to keep their Pokémon below a certain level. To be officially sanctioned by the League, a gym needs to have a theme - usually a type, although Rick got away with a legendary theme because he gets away with everything because he is hypnotizing League officials with his Mewtwo super-clone I was twelve years old. Every year there's a First-Timers' League in the autumn in each region, where new trainers who have collected all eight badges of their region face off (except for the bit where I somehow made a guy who'd been training for years be part of it without thinking about it properly). There's also a global Old-Timers' League for more experienced trainers, which crowns a world champion; this doesn't involve badges and is just a tournament. Trainers are advised to stick to official routes, while Pokémon who want a trainer seek out the routes and others avoid them; going off-route has the potential to lead to run-ins with Pokémon who are more hostile to humans. It's not forbidden but it's drilled into kids' heads that you're not supposed to.

The Morphicverse's gym circuit is not too dissimilar to that, but gym leaders are expected to carry a variety of Pokémon teams to take on challengers of different skill levels, who can take on the gyms of their circuit in any order. Kid trainers are strictly meant to travel only along official routes, which are thoroughly monitored to be safe, and often take public trainer transportation; when they're eighteen they can get an adult trainer license with which they can take their Pokémon anywhere they like, at their own risk. Mostly kids do it as a hobby, and many young children dream of being professional trainers, but only a fraction are actually good enough to make money off it, so most either quit it after a few summers on realizing it's not for them (they might release their Pokémon or keep them as pets, depending on how high-maintenance they are), or continue to do it as a side hobby. There exist college-level training schools for those who really want to dedicate their lives to it, but by that point in time most people will have dropped their pro trainer dreams.

#tqftl #morphic #worldbuilding june #pokemon

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vampwrrrmistresslist · 6 years ago

Text

No Such Thing

There is no such thing as gwishin.

All your life, you had seen things. Things that people called gwishin. You called them “echoes”. When people thought of gwishin, they thought of the sentient spirit, of someone who had died, who could behave autonomously.

This was not the case.

In reality, what people called “gwishin” were mere imprints on time, created under the proper atmospheric conditions, along with strong enough emotion, replaying for however long the the conditions stayed optimal, given the strength of the emotion.

Some “recordings” played a few times, and then were never seen again. And then there were some, which still played, centuries later.

But walk up to any of these “apparitions” and try to have a conversation, and you would come away unsatisfied. They continued along their recorded track, never deviating. They weren’t gwishin. They were merely echoes a person left behind, simultaneously as tangible and as ephemeral as their scent, and just as paranormal.

You didn’t like talking about these things, however. A newly-minted grad student, entering university to attain your Ph.D in biochem, you were a scientist who believed in observable, replicable phenomena, not ghoulies, and ghaesties, and long-legged baesties.

Fortunately, you had a full ride, but unfortunately, you couldn’t take advantage of the free room and board. You had a horrid track record for roommates, and you had drawn the short end of the stick in the housing lottery, so by the time you went to choose a dorm, all of the singles had been taken. Not about to possibly risk your degree trying to deal with another obnoxious, inconsiderate moron, you decided to live off campus.

Your freshman roommate had disliked you on sight. The highlights of her depredations had included locking you out, mocking you constantly in front of her friends and boyfriend for not being as sexually advanced, and suddenly becoming as loud as possible–and desperately needing as much light as possible–any time you were trying to sleep.

Your sophomore roommate had been from a desert clime, and had vociferously protested, constantly, about the humid heat of your summer. You had no A/C in that particular dorm, and yet would constantly come home to a stuffy room, because she closed the windows, whenever you left, complaining “It’s so wet! Even my paper is limp!” On top of that, her alarm clock, which she had on snooze, was a police siren, so every morning gave you a heart attack as you awoke (repeatedly) to the sound of an impending police shootout. Lastly, she never returned the raincoat you had let her borrow during one surprise spring shower. Sticky fingered git.

Your junior roommate decided that classes weren’t for her, and stayed at the room any time she wasn’t out drinking at pojangmachas and host clubs. Of course, it wasn’t just her in the room. Oh, no. It was also her boyfriend, whom she loved. Loudly. And often. Even while you were awake, with the lights on. You could only assume that they thought you so engrossed in your homework, that you didn’t notice, or that the comforter they threw over their heads was some sort of soundproof barrier, but considering the fact that they were four feet away, both conjectures were thoroughly incorrect. That, combined with the questionable substances in the shower and used condoms tossed in random places, made you begin to consider homicide.

Your senior roommate was actually the best, but was just a bit…different. She was obsessed with knick knacks, placing them on every available horizontal surface, until you were afraid to breathe for fear of knocking over a skull candle, or plastic dinosaur, or ceramic cat. She insisted on brushing her teeth in the kitchen sink (only at night, though–admittedly–she never smelled of morning breath), left (unfortunately identifiable) smears in the toilet after handling her business, never washed her hands after using the bathroom, and had a tendency of blowing up the bathroom (which was in your shared bedroom) while you were studying, and then leaving the bathroom door open, but closing your bedroom door after she left, thus leaving you in a miasma of fetid derriere air. At least she was nice. And killed the spiders. And took out the trash. Really, it was kind of like living with a guy.

So, you had decided to take the money allocated for your on-campus housing, and use it to find an apartment nearby. After a few weeks of searching, you found a gem. It was within walking distance of campus, in a charming older building that looked as if it had been around since the early 1900s. The fully-furnished apartment was cozy–darling–and at $300 per month, (minus utilities, but plus free wifi!), you couldn’t say no.

When you asked the elderly landlady why it was so inexpensive, a shadow passed her face, before it brightened back into its former sprightly expression. “Oh, I have plenty of money, dear, I just enjoy having young people around. You’re all so helpful, and pleasant, and I learn so much. Besides, all of my children are out of the nest, and with my husband gone, I have no one to feed. I’m used to cooking for a family of six, so it’s nice to have people who will take the odd batch of soup, or rice cakes off my hands.

“Yes, but aren’t the other apartments $500?”

She sighed. “Well, dear,” she started carefully, “there has been talk of the apartment being rather…haunted.”

You snorted. “Oh, is that all? I’ll take it.”

***

You conscripted your oppa, Chanyeol, to help you move. He didn’t agree with your living off campus, but he had to agree that this was a pretty safe-looking neighbourhood, with most of your neighbours being either elderly, or other university students. Still, he never turned off big brother mode, and was bitterly complaining as he helped you put away your dishes and cutlery in the kitchen.

“I know that you haven’t had the best luck with roommates, but isn’t this a bit drastic?

“Isn’t this conversation a bit moot? I’ve already signed the contract, and paid for the year.”

“It’s never too late to find a roomma–”

You threw him a look.

“Ah! Aaah…roooom-y wardrobe. For all your clothes. Aigoo, why do you have so many clothes?” He wandered off toward your bedroom to start unpacking said clothes, and hanging them up in the closet.

***

The next morning, he said his goodbyes, as you gave him a kiss, and the code to your door lock. “Call me every night. And be careful when you’re walking home in the dark. Don’t stay up too late. And remember to eat properly–you always skip meals–”

“Get out, you’re worse than Oemma!”

“It’s my job!”

You slowly closed the door on him, smiling. “Goodbye, oppa!”

“And don’t bring home any strange boys!” he yelled through the door, his deep voice muffled.

You grinned as you leaned against the closed door. As if you had the time for that. “I said bye, oppa!”

“Ungrateful brat,” he muttered as he walked away.

Throwing open the door you stuck out your tongue at him. “I love you, too,” you said, smiling happily, then closing the door before he could react.

***

The next several days, before classes started, were blissful. It rained almost every day, and you opened the windows to let in the sweet-smelling air, and cool breezes. The patter of rain was a perfect background for you to catch up on your leisure reading, as you curled up on one of the overstuffed velvet armchairs. You cooked elaborate, if small meals, baked constantly, and made friendly with the neighbours by giving away all of the treats that you couldn’t eat.

One morning you awoke, stretching deliciously as cool air wafted from the windows above and beside your bed, over your body. You had never bothered with pajamas when you were alone, opting to sleep in your underwear, and any old comfortable shirt you could find.

I need a cat, you thought to yourself. Or two. Or three. Smiling to yourself, you decided that would be your mission for the day. Breakfast first, though.

Wandering into the kitchen, after washing your face, you walked to the fridge to grab a packet of gim to have with your rice and stew. Reaching up, you realized that your oppa had put it just out of reach. “Why is he so uselessly tall?” you muttered to yourself as you stretched. Chanyeol always teased you, for talking to yourself, saying that it was a sign that you were getting old, but it’s a habit that you had had your entire life.

Suddenly, the packet slid toward your hand, moving at least six inches. “Hm. House must be on the incline. As expected, with such an old building.” Trundling toward the rice cooker, you went about with your day.

***

True to your word, you walked to the animal shelter, and picked up a cat. You decided to start with one, so that you could bond with it, before introducing any other cats. The kittens had been cute, but something about this old queen had called to you. She was a grey striped tuxedo cat–twenty years old, according to the shelter–with lambent peridot eyes. She held herself elegantly, despite the fact that her fur was a bit thin in places, and not quite sleek–in the way of older cats. As soon as you had looked at her, however, she had walked to the edge of her cage, and poked out her nose at you, not retreating until you nuzzled her back, and your heart was lost. Her name was Bubba, and she owned you as soon as she laid eyes on you.

On the way home, you picked up a heating pad, to add to the collection of feline accoutrements that you had already purchased, so that she would always have something warm on which she could rest her old bones.

Upon her release from the rolling cat carrier, she trotted regally through your apartment, sniffing, and rubbing herself against everything. Before you could become too distracted, you headed to the bathroom to set up her litter situation, and upon your return, she was sitting on the couch, stretching and purring, almost as if someone were stroking her back.

“What a darling you are!” you cooed, drawing close to rub her. As you reached out your hand, it brushed against…something. Snatching it back, you blinked, but Bubba continued to purr and flirt, as if nothing were awry. “Hm. That halmoni’s words must be getting to me,” you chuckled, turning to kitchen to set up her food and water dishes.

***

Soon school began, and you were thrown into the thick of it. Your program was actually one that combined a master’s and a Ph.D, and though you had more leisure time than you had in undergrad, the work, when you had it, was a lot more intense. On top of classes, you were also a research assistant to the head of the chemistry department, as well as a teaching assistant to one of the biology professors. You may have had a full ride, but they were going to get their money’s worth out of you.

Many was the night that you dragged yourself home past midnight, exhausted, Excel formulas, statistics, and lesson plans swirling through your head in an endless maelstrom. Despite how many times you could have sworn that you fell asleep on the couch, you always awoke in your bed, under the covers.

Other, odd things also started to happen. Nothing scary, just things that made you wonder if holding so much scholastic knowledge in your mind was making you forgetful in other areas of your life.

There were the times that you were at school, and realized that you had forgotten to feed Bubba, only to come home at lunch to find her bowl full. Or the fact that, whenever you lost something, if you started talking to yourself about it–”Now, where did I put my keys (phone, purse)?”– you’d find it within minutes, sometimes in a place that you were sure that you had already searched. Furthermore, many was the time that you came home to what sounded like a man’s voice on the other side of the door, sometimes talking, sometimes singing in a shimmering, clear tenor, but when you opened the door, no one was there.

“Hm,” you muttered the first time it happened. “I guess sound travels really well in an old, unsound-proofed building.” Now, you just ignored it, having explained it away satisfactorily, to yourself.

You were a pragmatic sort, even despite being able to see what most of the world couldn’t, and could explain away all of the phenomena without losing a single drop of sleep. Besides, it was hard to be scared when the place gave you such a safe feeling. And it wasn’t just the apartment. Sometimes, that safe feeling followed you for most, and occasionally all, of the day. You would be walking home from a late night grocery run, or deposit to the off-campus ATM which was, admittedly, not in the best neighbourhood, but you would feel as secure as if someone were there with you, watching over you until you were safely back home.

One Friday night, you came home late from a celebratory night out at the local pojangmacha. Singing softly to yourself, you almost didn’t notice the way that your door was cracked open. Almost. Before you could react, you felt something brush past, and the door opened even wider, causing you to retreat in surprise. After a moment with no further activity, however, you cautiously entered.

Maybe if you had been sober, you would have been smarter, stayed outside, and called someone. But you weren’t, so you went inside.

Turning on the light, your eyes swept the living room. Nothing out of place. Tiptoeing to the kitchen, a quick glance told you that no one was in there, either. Heading toward the bedroom, you opened the door to see that it was also clear. Gathering your bravery, you quickly opened your closet, but nothing stared back at you, but your clothes. The bathroom was similarly clear. That just left…oh, crap, the hallway closet.

Emerging from your bedroom, a glance around showed you that the living room, and kitchen were still clear. Sidling toward the hall closet with trepidation, you steeled yourself, and ripped open the door to find–

Nothing. At least nothing human-sized. A fat, sassy moth escaped, and fluttered toward the ceiling, letting you know that it was time to stock up on mothballs, lest you wanted your woolen garments to have that chic, unsought-after moth-eaten look.

Kicking off your shoes, you closed your front door, and hung up your jacket. Peeling off your top as you headed toward your bedroom, you tossed it into the laundry basket, and sat down on your bed, thinking. Something was still awry.

Bubba! Where was Bubba?! You panicked–you had been gone all day, so if she had left, she could be anywhere. You leapt up to redress and start the search, when something wrapped around your ankle and tugged roughly, sending you crashing to the floor, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

You stared up at the ceiling, stars in your eyes, for you had hit your head on the side of your dresser on the way down. A sharp, sick pain wrapped around your lungs as they struggled to take a breath, a hot miasma of agony slowly blooming inside, and you just lay there in silent torment, unthinking as your body’s autonomous systems worked to return you to homeostasis.

This seemed to take forever, but in reality, the process only took a handful of seconds. It was enough time, however, for a dark figure to come creeping from underneath your bed to climb over you, straddling your prone body.

Before you could orient on his face, however, you were pulled backwards, your upper body lifting as your legs slid along the floor, until your back hit the wall. The stranger was gaping at you in surprise, when his head snapped to the side, his body quickly following suit to collapse on the floor.

He flailed, but within moments, it went from aimless flailing to purposeful struggling, as if he were fighting against an opponent that neither of you could see. He curled into a ball to protect himself from what seemed to be invisible kicks and stomps to his abdomen, and head. Kicking out, he seemed to make contact with the invisible entity, as items suddenly swept off of your dresser, and a loud crash was heard, as if a muscular body had fallen to the floor.

You watched all of this in a daze, still too out of it to feel anything other than detached curiousity.

The stranger kicked again, and you heard a sickening thump, and a groan, before the stranger was flipped over, and bowed backwards. His eyes were on yours, his red face straining, veins popping, and eyes bugging out of his sockets as he reached for you.

With a start, you realized that he was suffocating. Whatever it was, it was on his back, and it was choking him. Finally coming to your senses, you crawled out of the room toward your purse to grab your phone, and call the police. While you were on the call, the fight spilled into your living room.

The stranger had grabbed your broomstick, and when he spun around, putting his body weight into the spin, it whapped into something that sounded solid, yet soft, and you heard a pained cry. Suddenly, there was a roar of anger, and…and…

You looked up, your mouth falling open.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you still there? Ma’am, can you hear me? Ma’am, please answer me. The police are on their way, are you hurt?”

Your unfeeling fingers dropped the phone as you stared.

For in front of you…in front of you…

…was another man. Another man who hadn’t been there a second ago. A man who had appeared out of thin air. He wasn’t tall, but his body was compact with lithe muscle, like a panther’s. He had rich black hair, and thick, shining black brows which arched toward his hairline like raven’s wings, preparing for flight. His small mouth was screwed up in fury, and his dark brown eyes burned with a cold rage as he stared down at the stranger who lay prone, at his feet.

His legs were encased in ripped black jeans, and he wore a black tee with a large black coat of arms in relief on the chest, and a fitted black leather jacket with vertical zippers on the breast and moulded epaulets. Hearing the clatter of the phone, the man’s expression faltered, and he looked up to see you staring at him in unadulterated shock.

He started toward you, when suddenly, you all heard sirens approaching in the distance. The stranger started to scramble away, but the man standing delivered a swift kick to his temple, dazing the prone man, and then crouched over his body, grabbing his shirt, and holding him down.

The stranger still struggled weakly, but the jean-clad man, though not too much taller than you, was clearly very strong. Finally, you heard feet rushing up the stairs, and the man in the leather jacket looked up at you, and slowly brought a finger to his lips.

Then he disappeared.

Police officers rushed inside, taking in the scene, at a glance. One crouched in front of you, putting a hand on your shoulder, and asking you a question. You stared off into the distance, just past his shoulder, where the leather-clad man had vanished

The officer kept trying to ask you something, but all you could hear was a soft rushing in your ears, like the tide. Finally orienting on the officer, it clicked that he was asking you questions. You opened your mouth to answer, but the light in the room was dimming at the edges, everything slowly darkening until there was only a pinpoint of light in front of your face. Then, there was nothing.

***

You awoke at the hospital, with your oppa sitting beside you, though his head was resting on your bed, and one of his hands was entwined with yours. You tried to call him, but your throat was so dry. It was so hard to speak. You swallowed, and tried again, but still, nothing came. Giving up, you squeezed his hand.

Chanyeol lifted his head, eyes immediately on yours. “Oemma!” he called.

Your oemma rushed into the room, wrapping her arms around you, pulling you up from the bed to cuddle you against her bosom. A doctor followed close behind.

You tapped weakly against her arm. “Oemma! Oemma! I can’t–I can’t breathe!”

“Oh! Oemma’s sorry!” she said, backing up, laying you back down on the bed.

“It’s alright. I’m oka–” you huffed as Chanyeol leaned down to squeeze you so tightly that your lungs almost completely deflated. “Yah! Oppa!” you weakly scolded. “Get off of me, you’re squeezing too hard!”

“I’m sorry, I’m just so glad you’re–” his voice broke. You looked at him properly. He had dark circles under red-rimmed eyes that shone with unshed tears, and his jawline told you that he hadn’t shaved in days. He had three whole new hairs.

The doctor came forward–her nameplate named her as Dr. Kim–took out a penlight and, after asking your permission, shone it in your eyes to assess your pupillary response. Satisfied with what she found, she asked you a few questions–your name, the year the name of the president and of the country, and whether you remembered what happened. When you answered her questions to her satisfaction, and indicated that your pain level was at a 3 out of 10, she nodded, and left, saying that she would send a nurse to have you discharged.

“Water?” you asked plaintively.

“Yes!” your oemma said, reaching for the picture beside your bed, and filling the small, adjacent cup.

You drank down the cool water in a few gulps, then another. And another. Starting to feel better on your fourth cup, you slowed down, looking over it to see both your oemma, and your brother looking at you with hopeful, expectant looks, almost as if you were about to perform a magic trick. “Where’s appa?” you queried, looking around.

“Appa had just left on a flight for Shanghai, when I received the call about you,” your oemma explained. Your father was an architect, and was often called out of the country to work. “We haven’t told him, yet. We wanted to wait until you were out of the woods, to keep from worrying him. You know how he is.”

You nodded. If your brother was overprotective, then your father was ten times, so. “What happened?” you asked, your voice considerably stronger.

“From what the police could determine, some man broke into your apartment a few nights ago, and you beat the crap out of him!” Chanyeol answered, reaching up to ruffle your hair, but stopping just short of touching your head.

Seeing his reticence, you reached up to feel a bandage on the back of your head, and another against your temple.

“You have a moderate concussion, and some bruised ribs, but other than that, you’re fine,” your oemma said in answer to your unspoken question. “I talked to your landlady. She’s going to install a coded lock on the front door of the building, so that something like this won’t happen again.”

“What happened to the guy?” you asked.

“Turns out that he had been breaking into girl’s apartments all over the city. Hadn’t you heard about it?”

“No?” you answered honestly. “I’ve been too busy studying to pay any attention to the news.”

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings!” Chanyeol scolded.

“Not now, Chanyeollah,” your oemma gently remonstrated, leaning forward to stroke your forehead. “He’s in custody, and he’s going to be going to jail for a very long time. You caught him! My baby’s a hero!” Your face dropped and your oemma, misinterpreting your expression said, “Don’t you waste another second thinking about him! Do you need oemma to help you get dressed?”

“No, I think I can manage,” you responded. By the time you had finished dressing yourself, your oemma had filled out your discharge papers and taken charge of your medications, and you were cleared to leave, albeit, embarrassingly enough, in a wheelchair, which Chanyeol gleefully pushed for you.

You were ordered to lie down when they reached your apartment. A new, heavier-duty lock had been installed on your door, the code for which, your oemma already had from the landlady. You emailed your professors, telling them that you would be out for the upcoming week, took some pain medication, and fell asleep.

When you awoke, Chanyeol and your oemma had straightened your apartment, but the real joy is the surprise that your oppa had for you.

“That halmoni found this,” he said, opening your bedroom door.

“Bubba!” you cried, reaching out to embrace your cat. “How did she find her?”

“Funny story, that. She said that she heard a knock on the door, and when she opened it, there was your cat. Someone must have decided to drop her off at the landlady’s door, figuring that she would know to whom the cat belonged.”

“Mm, someone,” you echoed. “What’s that smell?” you asked.

“What do you think?” Chanyeol said archly. “Oemma has been ordering me back and forth to at least four different stores for the ingredients that she needs to make…everything.”

You grinned, eyes twinkling. “Had I known that all I had to do to get homemade food delivered was be viciously attacked, I would have done it a lot sooner. What’s it looking like?”

“Your fridge is literally stuffed, from top to bottom with side dishes, soups, and stews. I’m jealous. I’m about to break into my own apartment, and beat myself up.”

Smiling, you laid back against your pillows.

“Here, let me clean your wounds,” he said, grabbing your kit from the hospital, removing your gauze, and going to work. When he was done, and had replaced the bandages, he took you by the hand. “My sweet little dongsaeng,” he started, looking at you affectionately, lightly brushing your hand across his dimpled cheek. “Little aegiya…what really happened?”

You looked up at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve known you for your entire life, and you’ve shown no propensity for turning into a superhero. I saw the guy, and I know my little sister. You’re the softest, gentlest person I know. That guy looked like he had been through a meat grinder. What happened?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Do it anyway.”

Taking a breath, you thought about it for a moment. Your oppa had always been on your side, even when you were children. When your friend’s older brothers were busy being mean to them, or avoiding them, he had always been your best friend, your protector. Once, when a teacher thought that you had stolen a laptop, he spent the evening tearing the school upside down until he found it, in the teacher’s lounge, in a closet. You had been in detention the entire time, so no one could say that you had snuck it back in there. He confronted your accuser, upbraiding her in front of everyone who gathered to figure out why the tall, booming voiced boy was yelling at a teacher.

Chanyeol had almost been suspended. Being a superlative student, however, who had heretofore not been in any trouble, he got off with only a month of detention. Yes, your brother had always been your defender, even sometimes against your parents, even going so far as to take the blame for things that you had accidentally done, such as breaking an expensive vase while running, or knocking over a gallon of paint on the newly finished hardwood floors.

Chanyeol also knew about what you had always seen, growing up, and had never questioned what you saw. Your oppa knew you better than he knew his own mind, and he knew that you weren’t a liar.

“Oppa,” you whispered tremulously, “it was gwishin.”

He looked worried, briefly glancing at the bandage on your temple, before indicating that you should continue.

So, you did. You told him the entire story, from the mysterious touches, to the odd coincidences, the incidences of things moving, the sounds, the way you always found what was lost, and always awoke in your bed, no matter where you fell asleep in the apartment.

He listened to it all, without saying a word. When you were finished, he asked hesitantly, “Is he…here, now?”

“I don’t know,” you replied. “I can’t see him.”

Chanyeol nodded. “Well, then…let’s get you something to eat. Come on,” he said, helping you out of bed. “Do you need a piggyback ride?”

You slapped him on the arm, as you sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not an invalid.”

“Yes, well…better safe, than sorry!” he boomed, turning, and hoisting you up on his back.

“Yah, idiot! You’re going to break your back! I’m not twelve anymore!”

“You’re not much bigger than a twelve year old,” he teased, causing you to grab him by the ears, using them like reins.

“Go forth!” you giggled, pressing your thighs against his sides like a jockey.

He neighed, pawed the ground, and trotted out of your room.

Your oemma rolled her eyes when she saw you. “Will you two ever grow up?”

“No–” you started.

“–never!” he finished.

They stayed for the next couple of days, with your oemma sleeping with you, and your oppa crumpled on your loveseat, a fact over which he bitterly complained, asking why you hadn’t considered him when buying the furniture.

When you reminded him that the apartment came already furnished, he complained about the fact that you had rented a place with such small furniture. “It’s like you never even thought of me when you were picking out a place for yourself!”

Your oemma soon had to leave, so that she could go back to work, but since Chanyeol was also still in school, having decided to go into the military before he entered university, his schedule was considerably less rigid.

Almost before the door had closed on your oemma, your oppa was spinning to you. “Okay. Call him.”

You wanted to play dumb, but you knew exactly what he was talking about. “He’s not a dog! Besides, I don’t know his name.”

“Just try.”

“Why?”

“We need to get to the bottom of this.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your oppa, and I say so.”

“That’s not a real reason.”

“Don’t make me do it.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“Oppa!” you whined.

Chanyeol pulled out his phone, and navigated to your appa’s number. “I wonder how long you’ll be living here once Aboeji knows that you were attacked…”

“Okay! Put down the phone, and walk away!” you yelled, arms in front of you like you were trying to talk down a madman.

He put the phone on your coffee table, and took a step back. “I can get to it before you can, so don’t even think about it. Just do it.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “Although, if he is here, then he just witnessed this little exchange, and he might be offended that you want him to materialize like a trick pony.”

“I’m not offended.”

You shrieked, and leapt across the room into Chanyeol’s arms. He was trying to be brave, but you could feel him shaking. Looking up, you saw that all the blood had drained from his face. While he had believed the stories you had told him your entire life, there was a huge difference between being told, and seeing with one’s own eyes. You could feel his heart pounding behind your back, and his breathing was shallow as it rasped past your ear. “You can see him, too?” you asked incredulously.

Chanyeol just nodded weakly, not taking his eyes off the other man.

Realizing that it would probably be best if you took the lead, you tried to take a step forward, only to quickly be snatched back into your brother’s arms.

“I won’t hurt her,” the man said, looking apologetic.

“What about me?” Chanyeol squeaked.

The man laughed. “I’m not going to hurt anybody!”

Looking up at Chanyeol and nodding, you once more started forward, gently wresting your arm from his clutches. Cautiously, you approached the man, until you were close enough to reach out and touch him, but far enough away that you could run behind your brother, if need be. Your big, tall, strong brother, who currently looked as if he were on the verge of passing out. “What’s your name?” you queried, proud that your voice sounded steadier than your quivering insides.

“You can call me Xiumin. I’m…still surprised that you can see me, though.” He cocked his head pensively, and said, almost to himself, “No one else has been able to see me…”

“Ah, yes. Well, ah, Xiumin-sshi, ah…why…are you here?”

“I live here,” he responded simply.

“Mm, yes. Live?”

“Well, figuratively speaking. I lived here. I guess. I think.”

“You guess? You think?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I assume so. To be honest, I don’t remember. All I know is that I woke up one day, and I was here. I don’t even remember my real name.”

“Ohhh,” you said sympathetically. “Well…ah…have you…been here…the entire time?”

Xiumin looked down apologetically, nodding.

“So…you’re the haunting?”

He nodded again.

“So…all of those things that I thought were odd little coincidences, and–”

“Those were all…me…”

“Oh. I see. Well…thank you for saving my life.”

Brightening, Xiumin looked back up at you. “I had to! I wasn’t going to let some pervert do something weird to you! I may be dead, but I’m still a gentleman!”

“Heh. Heheh. Heheheheheh,” you laughed nervously. “You might be dead, but you’re still…heheheheheheheheheh…”

“Alright?” Chanyeol asked warily.

“I’m fine,” you gasped, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves.

“I don’t mean to make you nervous. I’m sorry,” Xiumin said softly.

“So, how long have you been watching my sister?!” Chanyeol queried aggressively.

“Oppa!” you gasped, shocked.

Xiumin’s face turned red. “Yah, I’m not a weird guy! I just leave when she’s in the bathroom, or changing!”

You blushed, but he had brought up a good point. “You can leave?”

Xiumin turned his attention back to you. “Yes. I can go wherever I like, but the further I go, the weaker I feel, and if I ever pass out, I wake up back here.”

“How far is too far?” you asked.

He considered. “About…10 kilometres?”

“You’ve gone that far?”

Shrugging, Xiumin nodded. “I don’t have anything else better to do. You’re the first people who have been able see me. I can touch things, move small things, but it’s tiring. The only time it’s not hard is if…” he hesitated.

“If what?” you pressed.

“If I feel really strongly about something. Like that night. I was only able to do what I did because I was so angry.”

“Well, I’m grateful,” you nodded. “Thank you, again.”

“Well, I don’t like it!” Chanyeol muttered. “But, still…thank you…for saving my annoying little sister’s life. I guess.”

Without looking, you leaned back, and punched your oppa in the stomach.

He dramatically keeled over onto his knees, and you rolled your eyes.

“So…what happens now?” you inquired.

What happens now, indeed?

***

After the conversation was over, and after much protesting, you eventually convinced Chanyeol to return home. Once he was gone, you sat on the couch. “Xiumin-sshi?” you called.

He appeared beside you on the couch. “Hey,” he said shyly.

“Hey,” you answered. “So…we have to live together…”

Xiumin rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassment colouring his entire aspect. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, there’s nothing that can be done for it, so there’s no need to be sorry. I have to say, so far, you’ve been the best roommate I’ve ever had.”

He stared at you, shocked. “Really?!”

“Really-really.” You proceeded to tell him about your track record, causing him to guffaw when you started telling him anecdotes about some of your prior roommates’ more ridiculous antics.

“So, I come home after a hard day of class, and I’m tired, right? So, I walk in the door, and there she is, lying on her bed, and sobbing into the phone, “Just let me love you, oppa! Just let me love you! All you need is love!”

“I tell you, I didn’t even turn around, I just backed up, closed the door, and went to sleep over my friend’s dorm. A day may have come when I would have wanted to be witness to the dramatic meltdown that was her life, but it was not that day!”

Xiumin laughed, and you looked away. His smile was so bright and warm. If he had been alive, your heart would flutter. It was just too bad.

“So…is there anything that I can do to make your life easier?” you asked.

He pondered. “If you left your laptop on when you aren’t using it, that would be nice. I miss my dramas.”

You laughed. “Do you want me to buy a TV?”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that!”

“Why not?!” You gestured between the two of you. Then, indicating him, “Saved my life, remember? I owe you. The least I can do is buy a TV, so that you can watch your romances. I mean, it won’t be a huge expensive TV, but it will work. Deal?”

Xiumin nodded decisively. “Deal.”

A/N: This is chapter 1 of a finished miniseries, the rest of which can be found on my mistresslist. If you want to follow me, then please do so at my main blog @vampwrrr, as I always update there, first.

#minseok fluff #minseok angst #minseok scenarios #exo fluff #exo angst #exo scenarios #xiumin fluff #xiumin angst #xiumin scenarios #ghost xiumin #exo fanfic #minseok fanfic #xiumin fanfic #exo fanfiction #xiumin fanfiction #minseok fanfiction

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operationrainfall · 5 years ago

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Title My Friend Pedro Developer Deadtoast Publisher Devolver Digital Release Date June 20th, 2019 Genre Bullet Ballet Platform Steam, Nintendo Switch Age Rating T for Teen – Blood, Violence, Language Official Website

I’ve been looking forward to My Friend Pedro since I demoed it last year at PAX West. It’s not often you see a concept so wacky nor a control scheme so ambitious. In many ways, this is the closest we’ll probably get to a true Deadpool videogame, and that’s something developer Deadtoast seems to be very aware of. They play with reality as you progress, as well as poke fun at gamers and the industry at large. The simple question then is this: was My Friend Pedro worth the wait? Or was this banana not quite ripe yet?