#schools been killing me so slight inactivity but here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asterekmess · 3 years

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Been seeing you getting hate mail and while I absolutely can't understand why anyone would go to all the trouble to make some one else feel bad... I also kinda really love the discourse on Scott? Like YOUR RANTS oh man. On point. Always. Tbh I tried giving Scott a chance... He is the main char after all... But I was like??? Wtf? That dude does nothing but refute others and does whatever he wants. And this was when I didn't particularly like Stiles either (first time watching Teen Wolf). But then I got to know more of him and like Tony he went asshole to lovable asshole—seriously, Stiles might not be the ‘nicest’ but he tries and his heart is in good place—while Scott is just... self-righteous. Someone pointed out that he sees people as possessions and that irks me too that I can actually see it being true. The dude has literally nothing going on except for being the one that gets bitten. And the Romeo-and-Juliet-esque romance he has.

Okay, okay, where was I going with this?? Right. LOVE YOUR RANTS. People need to understand that Scott not being liked isn't because of his race or anything trivial like it—he just happens to be—but because of his actions. Or inactions, as it were. *remembers the pool scene and Scott saying he's busy and resists the urge to chuck a shoe at him*

Basically, love you, love your work, and love your words! ❤️

I've talked with some friends about it, and our number one issue sort of...boiled down to the hypocrisy of the show? I....sort of rant a lot here, and I would add a Read More, but I can't find the option anymore?? I fucking hate Tumblr. EDIT: I found a post that told me how to do it!

So, since he's the character I focus on the most, let's talk about Stiles' morality. Because, you're right. Stiles is an asshole. He does some fucking awful shit in the first season, and even if he had a Reason to do it, it was still bad. And I still don't like it. But I understand it.

Stiles' lack of shits about what is 'lawful' is literally established in the first ten seconds of the show. He's a sheriff's son who sneaks onto people's roofs in the middle of the night bc they aren't answering his calls, who listens in on his dad's work conversations and is willing to fuck up a crime scene because he's so excited about getting to see a dead body. He doesn't care about laws. He doesn't even care about most basic manners (invasion of privacy much, with having Scott sniff Lydia to see if she liked him?). He's a dickhead, even to the people he cares about sometimes. But personality and morality aren't the same. Stiles' entire actual morality system is based around whatever he needs to do to keep the people he loves safe and happy. Lying to his dad so he doesn't get murdered by hunters? Totally fine. Telling Scott that it was "Jackson's own fault" that Scott attacked him with superstrength and dislocated his shoulder, so Scott doesn't feel like an asshole? That's just best friend duties! He will lie, steal, cheat, and he will kill to keep his loved ones safe (let's not forget this boy threw molotovs at Peter, knowing damn well what they would do to him). We can headcanon all we want about all the different people who are in this group of loved ones, but the list is canonically very short: Scott, his dad, and Lydia. Later on, like, past s3B? It includes Derek. Canonically. Stiles puts his life and the lives of others he cares about on the line while he lies to the matriarch of the Calavera hunter clan, to save Derek Hale. Derek is just canonically a part of that group now, and he fucking knows it bc Stiles is his anchor (that's canon too bb). End of Story, Sterek or no Sterek. It's why we get that insane number of lookbacks when Derek is dying before his evolution. Because Stiles is being forced to choose between two people who are BOTH in his ride-or-die group. He Cannot Pick between Scott and Derek, until Derek begs him to leave.

SO, yes, Stiles does fuckface things, and I don't always agree with what he does, but it is ACCURATE TO HIS CHARACTER. He is morally grey. He NEVER CLAIMS to be pure or good or just or righteous. Stiles knows who he is, and he stays true to himself. And I love him for that.

The same goes for a bunch of other characters! For Peter, who is strikingly similar to Stiles, in that family goes above literally everything. Screw the idea that he was following Derek around waiting for the chance to steal back the Alpha spark. That man put his life on the line (his second life, no less) to get the shit beaten out of him until Derek let him help save Derek's life Again and Again. Family Comes First.

Scott's morality is...confusing as fuck. I thought at first he was similar to Stiles, in that family came first, but...while he's protective of his mother, he also does a lot of stuff that puts her at risk without seeming to care/worry (like leaving Peter alone with her once Stiles hits their car, so he can chase Jackson) (or asking her to come to the high school when he's convinced there's a bomber in it)? Seriously, he's more protective over Allison, than his mother. It's very black and white the rest of the time. Very "this bad" "this good." And if you do "bad" then you are bad forever, while if you do "good" you are only good until you do "bad." The Betas were "good" until they asked for the bite, and then they were "Bad." Derek was "bad" when Scott met him and scared him, so after that, no matter how much "good" he did, he remained "bad." But only when it suits him. Allison is good even when she does bad, because he wants her to be good. Chris is good even though he's done mountains of bad, because of the minuscule amount of good that Scott has seen him do, because Scott wants him to be good. Even DEUCALION is good, despite the crazy CRAZY amount of bad he's done and despite having seen him do NO GOOD, just because Scott wants him to be good. Lying to those closest to you is bad, unless Scott is doing it, and then it's good, because he knows HE is good. Killing people is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Letting villains go is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Biting people is bad, unless Scott is doing it. Protecting family is good even if it requires killing or lying, unless it's not Scott doing it. Revenge for past slights is good, unless it's not SCOTT doing it. And you try to understand it! You try to say, okay, then he's morally grey, got it. He plays with the rules to suit his own morality, whatever. Except that Scott, the other characters, and THE SHOW ITSELF, are all telling you otherwise! They all say that Scott is morally pure. That he is good and righteous and lawful. That he always does the "right" thing, and that when he does "bad" things, it's justified and he had to. THE HEAVENS THEMSELVES say Scott is somehow better or more righteous than the other characters by MAKING HIM AN ALPHA OUT OF NOWHERE. (I'm talking abt canon here, not going into deaton conspiracy theories) It's like....Like in the hate mail response I did, where I pointed out that Every Single Thing people get angry at Derek for doing, Scott did too. Lying, killing (or at least attempting it), attacking innocents, losing his temper, keeping secrets, refusing to work with someone who could help, etc etc etc. Everything Derek has done that is morally "wrong," Scott has also done. And that's okay! Doing a bad thing doesn't make you a bad person, and even if it did, Scott is ALLOWED to be bad! GO FOR IT.

Except that he is sinless. It isn't that he learns from the bad things he does, it's that they aren't treated like bad things in the first place. Because Scott did it, and Scott always does the right thing.

Derek's behavior is reprehensible at times, but the show ADMITS that and frames it as bad. Frames it as him doing a bad thing when he scares Isaac or throws Peter or tells Erica who to date. And that's fine, because Derek is established as not being morally pure.

But SCOTT IS. And because they were so desperate to make him continue being "Pure" they didn't frame the things he did as wrong, or if they did, they absolved him of it immediately, using the exact same reasoning that works for Derek's situations, but this time Actually Accepting it.

He scares Stiles, well it's because he's scared. He throws Isaac, it's because he's upset. He attacks Jackson well it's because Jackson was being a dick. He orders Allison to date Matt, well he had a goal to accomplish. Every reason is treated like a fucking doctor's note that erases the bad things he does.

Being scared, or angry, or retaliating to someone being an asshole, or trying to protect himself, was NEVER a good enough reason for Derek to do ANYTHING "Bad." It was never an acceptable excuse.

IF IT WERE: If the show were making a statement about how fallable people are, how they do bad things, but they do them for a REASON. How people will do wild and terrible things out of fear, and how that doesn't make it less bad, but it makes it understandable, so don't demonize them out of nowhere. If that were the case, I would HAVE BEEN FINE WITH IT.

Scott is held to COMPLETELY different standards than everyone else in the show! And I DON'T mean that people held him to higher ones. They dropped that bar so fucking low. Anything was allowed, and any excuse was good enough.

He made out with a girl who was dating someone else, who his best friend was in love with? It's just the full moon, he's angsty about losing Allison. He ducttapes Liam to a bathtub and starts throwing random phrases at him that he hated Derek for saying to him? He's freaked out! He doesn't know what to do with a bitten wolf! It was an accident! He works with a mass murderer behind people's backs without telling them the whole story? Am I talking about Gerard or Deucalion? Who fucking knows. Either way, it's okay, because he was protecting his family. He plots to murder a cancer patient slowly and painfully by replacing meds that likely included painkillers with mountain ash, and the uses someone else's body to deliver the killing blow, and it's okay because he was just being smart! He was just working ten steps ahead! He was saving his mom and the whole town! Who cares if it DIDN"T WORK?

He walks into his ex-girlfriend's hotel room and scares the SHIT out of her while she's naked and alone in the shower? It was the wolfsbane. It doesn't matter that no one else's impulses included HARASSING someone. He lies to his girlfriend's face about her own life because he doesn't think it's important enough for her to know (who am I talking about, come on, take a guess, which one is it? Allison or Kira? Trick question: it's both). He was just being kind! He didn't want to worry her! He didn't want to make her feel bad! She didn't need to know!

I'm so far off track it's not even funny. My point was that Everything the other characters in the show are demonized for or framed as evil or bad or wrong for doing, Scott is shown to do and it's treated like at minimum a comedy, if not a Perfect Brilliant Strategic Move.

God, fucking hell. I mean, the PARALLELS you see in this show, between Scott and others. The scene of Alexander Argent going to the hotel after being bit? That bit where he pulls his shirt up in the mirror? It's a near PERFECT replica of Scott looking at his bite at Deaton's. They paralleled SCOTT MCCALL with AN ARGENT. Deaton has this whole line in S2 where he's bitching at Derek about "the person you should trust the most doesn't trust you at all" And then seasons later, we have Scott look his best friend in the eye and refuse to trust him, only to get upset later because Stiles doesn't want to work with him anymore and he "lost them." Scott goes running into Derek's house in S1 to accuse him of killing the bus driver, and when he can't get a real response, he EGGS HIM ON by accusing him of Murdering his SISTER, just to get Derek to react. Which is the EXACT same thing Kate did when she showed up and wanted Derek to lose his temper. Scott is CONSTANTLY paralleled with villains and assholes, and constantly does the things that others are persecuted for. But instead of feeling regret or learning something from it, instead of growing AT ALL. Those actions are treated as good. We are told they are righteous. And clever. That they are what heroes do. AND YES: There are parallels between Derek and Stiles' behaviors and villains/morally grey characters! Of course there are!

BUT THEY AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THE TRUE ALPHA MAIN CHARACTER. SCOTT IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE GOOD GUY. HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO MIMIC/EMULATE THE VILLAINS, AND HE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE REWARDED WHEN HE DOES IT ANYWAY.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again; I understand the urge to think that the Teen Wolf writers did all of this on purpose. That they built Scott up as an unreliable narrator, so that we're forced to come to terms with a protagonist who isn't good, and we watch them fall into a villainous role while thinking all the while they are a hero. That all these parallels are intentional and the writers just couldn't Tell us what was going on bc they didn't have enough power.

And sometimes I play into it. I will lie to myself about Scott being the 'narrator' of the entire show, and that we're seeing it all through his eyes so of course things are biased and conflicting, just so I can actually Enjoy watching it.

But I think it's absolute bullshit that this was done on purpose. It wasn't. The parallels appeared because they Wanted Scott to do the badass things that they had all the villains doing, throwing people and being sneaky and clever, and stopping the bad guy, and they didn't want to deal with the fact that they were having him do bad things. So they just pretended he wasn't and refused to acknowledge that they'd already punished other people for doing the same exact shit, but somehow Scott was getting rewarded. They wanted Scott to be the hero, so they made him the hero, and screw everybody else.

#personal #anti-Scott McCall #go for it #love mail #meta ramblings #rant #long post #WHERE IS THE READ MORE BUTTON HALP

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doctors-star · 3 years

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hi its me im back again #43 for lister/rimmer? (a non-cowboy alternative)

“I’ve never met a more stubborn person in my life.” “You like it.” “Do I?”

Lister taps his fingers against the iron girder. It’s painted the same red as the Dwarf, but chipping and loose - probably also like the Dwarf, only he’s not been out to have a gander in a while. Always seems to be something else to do these days.

He sighs heavily. Picks a flake of paint loose. Resists the urge to fidget.

“I spy-”

“Oh, Christ, we’re not that bored already are we?” Rimmer whines, and Lister allows his head to loll to his right. It puts his face within inches of Rimmer’s cheek, and though it makes him go a little cross-eyed to do so he can clearly see that yes, Rimmer is that bored.

“Well, we’re trapped for the foreseeable future in a pile of rubble and girders in an abandoned derelict, with no comms and no hope of rescue until Krytes and Cat can be bothered to come lookin’,” Lister points out calmly. “We can play fortunately-unfortunately instead if you want, but I don’t think this is going to get less boring quickly.”

Rimmer sniffs and glowers at the ceiling of their weird rubble igloo. It had, of course, been heart-stoppingly terrifying for a while; Lister had smacked the door release idly with the side of his fist, the doors had opened, and he and Rimmer had entered, bickering all the while so enthusiastically that what had happened after that was still a mystery to Lister. The upshot, crucially, had been that the ceiling had fallen in in a shower of sparks and trailing wires and laid them both out flat under slabs of metal panelling, chunks of what looked like concrete, and a few girders for colour. One is neatly pinning Lister’s hips to the floor, there’s a large amount of concrete on his ankles, and Rimmer is buried in metal sheeting up to his sternum, but on the bright side they can both breathe and nothing seems to be broken. Not that Rimmer could break, anyway, being as he is entirely made of solid light.

This had not stopped Lister from being apocalyptically terrified for a good thirty seconds after impact.

“Is it rubble?” Rimmer asks at last, with a tone of deep dissatisfaction.

“I didn’t even tell you the first letter,” Lister says, trying not to grin at Rimmer.

Rimmer shifts his head to gaze, unimpressed, at Lister.

“It was, though, yeah.”

Rimmer looks as though he wants to laugh, and also to despair of him; it makes his face twitch like a ferret in a sack. Lister presses forward an inch to drop a kiss on the end of his nose, because that usually makes the twitching worse. “Menace,” Rimmer says, flinching back to glare, cross-eyed, down his nose at Lister. But, you know, affectionately. Lister beams. “I can’t believe we’re stuck here waiting for two mentally-incompetents to rescue us,” Rimmer sighs. He fidgets his shoulders, shifting the panelling, and winces.

“Stop moving, man,” Lister says in a voice which he hopes is calming.

It isn’t; Rimmer thrashes about a bit like he’s being electrocuted, which makes the whole rubble pile shake in a deeply worrying fashion. He does, however, manage to work his left arm free and shake it triumphantly in the air. “Dead arm,” he says in explanation - and then, very casually, so subtly that the motion occurs in neon with bells on, he rests the hand on top of Lister’s girder. Next to Lister’s fingers. And then Rimmer doesn’t look at his hand, the girder, or in Lister’s direction at all, so Lister takes the hint.

“Dead everything, mate,” he says helpfully, sliding his fingers under Rimmer’s palm and giving his hand a squeeze. Rimmer’s frame relaxes ever so slightly, as though that threatened slight rejection had worried him more than the whole mild peril of their situation. Neurotic bastard. “Speaking of,” Lister adds, rubbing his thumb over the back of Rimmer’s hand, “you don’t have to wait for Kryten and Cat. You could go softlight, wriggle on out, and go get ‘em.”

Rimmer’s hand tightens briefly on his before carefully relaxing. “No-o,” he says with forced casualness, “I’ll wait.”

Lister nods. “Very helpful. You just wait here to avoid the walk. Can’t have you tirin’ yourself out. If I starve to death, I want the lightbee every two weeks, alright?”

“I am not arranging a timeshare with our afterlife!” Rimmer objects sharply.

“You smegging well are,” Lister corrects cheerfully. “If you kill me through inaction, you owe me at least some of your time. You promised, remember-” he says smugly, pressing as close as he can until his nose is pressed into Rimmer’s cheekbone. “Spend the rest of our time together, forever-”

“Exactly,” Rimmer sputters, face turning a very impressive red at the reference to their little...agreement. “Together - which we won’t be, if only one of us exists at a time.”

“You’d better go an’ fetch us some rescue then, eh?” Lister says, smiling into Rimmer’s jaw to make him squirm. “Or else.”

He can feel the muscles in Rimmer’s face twitch slightly with the effort not to turn into Lister’s ministrations and give up on the argument - only that would mean losing said argument, and that usually requires more attention than Lister can give with his body pinned to the floor. By something that isn’t Rimmer, that is. “Ah, but you said we’d stay together,” Rimmer points out firmly, voice only ticking up half an octave when Lister starts kissing at the hinge of his jaw. “Death do us part, you said.”

Lister grins and picks up their joined hands, nudging them towards the small gap in the ceiling that a lightbee, and corresponding intangible human shape, could easily fit through. “An’ you’ve already kicked it, so off you pop,” he says brightly.

Rimmer sputters indignantly for a bit, but makes no move. After a moment, the grumbling resumes, and Lister can’t help a sigh. “Where are those two, anyway? Even they ought to have noticed by now-”

“Rimmer, mate you literally don’t need to be here,” Lister says, impatience bleeding into his tone as he pulls back slightly. He doesn’t miss how Rimmer shifts minutely into his space before reversing quickly.

“Well, I’m not going,” Rimmer says, fingers tightening around Lister’s.

He shakes his head and lies back, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve never met a more stubborn person in my life,” he says.

“You like it,” Rimmer retorts immediately.

“Do I?” he replies, voice tired and dry. But he rolls his head back to face Rimmer. He knows Rimmer better than anyone in the entire universe; of course he had caught the wheedling note in Rimmer’s voice, the flash of insecurity, the minute increase in the grip on his hand. And sure enough, Rimmer’s eyes are wide and slightly worried, and then his face turns quickly away, schooled into something snide. He wishes Rimmer wouldn’t do that; has no hope that he’ll ever stop. Lister picks up their joined hands and gently knocks their knuckles against the girder three times. “Well, it’s still annoying,” he says eventually. “But as long as I don’t starve here, I’d still rather have you with me than not. So.”

Rimmer waves a hand idly. “Eat your own leg, or something.”

Lister gives him a thumbs-up. “Will do.”

They lie quietly for a while, listening to the rubble creak and groan, and to a mysterious dripping sound which, every third drop, fizzes with a decidedly electrical sound. There’s a lump of something digging into his spine, and his foot is rapidly going numb, but Rimmer’s hand is pleasantly warm and solid in his own, his breathing regular and steady in the half-light, and it is - god help his standards for living - not half bad. Lister is, despite himself, quite glad that Rimmer is more stubborn than a bull-headed pig when he wants to be.

He’s glad, too, to be something Rimmer gets so stubborn over.

He is quite bored, though.

“I spy-” he begins again.

“It’s girder this time, I know it,” Rimmer says quickly. “I am not playing this with you.” Lister closes his mouth. “It was panel, actually - and look, what do you want to do? Arguing didn’t take up as much time as I had hoped-”

“You picked a fight to pass the time?!”

“Yeah, only, it was a really rubbish argument. Unfortunately.”

“Well,” Rimmer says, sounding as self-important as a man can when being crushed by sheets of metal, “fortunately, we love each other far too well to ever argue.”

“Unfortunately,” Lister says, grinning at the barefaced lie, “no-one with an IQ over seven would believe that.”

“Fortunately, I know my audience,” Rimmer says smugly, eyes dancing and smile so cheerfully obnoxious that Lister has to laugh, he just has to, not least for the way it makes Rimmer’s whole face soften into something gentler, and more fond.

He squeezes Rimmer’s hand and feels it squeeze back. “Unfortunately, you’re stuck with him,” he murmurs, eyes dropping helplessly to Rimmer’s lips.

Rimmer smiles, small and genuine. “I’ll survive,” he says.

#rimmer and lister need to discover cabin pressure flight deck games #only they would both be dreadful at them #can you believe! i've emptied my inbox of prompts. holy shit.#they've been there so long.#i am compelled to obtain more.#red dwarf #arnold rimmer #dave lister #lister/rimmer #this is your captain speaking

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magicrowiswritingstuff · 4 years

Text

Part 2: “Dead Trickster” – Gabriel x female!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 (you’re here!) | Part 3 | ...

Summary: This is the second part of “Dead Trickster”! So it ties into its story line which now takes place roughly during Season 2/3. The Reader is sure that the trickster couldn’t have been defeated so easily. Even though nobody believes you, you decide to keep an eye out just in case. It seems for a good reason when strange occurrences start to happen around you.

Warning: swear words, violence/fighting mentioned, slight suggestive themes (if any)

Category: general rating

Words: about 4.000

Note: I’m so sorry for not posting anything and my general inactivity. I’m having a very rough time and trouble concentrating on writing. 2020 is an absolute shit year and I feel like I’m constantly having a mental break down for the last couple of days. Fun :) On a brighter note, I finally managed to finish this chapter and the third is already in the works. Let’s pray I can get my shit together.

Note 2: Also! We almost hit 100 Follower ... I really can’t believe this. Thank you all so much for enjoying the little pieces I managed to post. Now I feel even more bad for not being that active ... Should I do something if we hit the milestone? I feel like not many people are activly responding to my writing so I’m asking directly: Is there something you want me to write? Something I can focus on to stop my thoughts? Just let me know ...

_________________________________

Part 2 “Dead Trickster” – Gabriel x fem!reader

It has been many months now, maybe about half a year, after Dean had killed the trickster in that school and even though you had been so sure about it then, you slowly doubted if he really was still alive. Nothing out of the ordinary happened since then. Maybe he really did die that day. Or he was really good at laying low. You had stopped actively looking for any signs and just concentrated on the current hunts with Sam and Dean because you noticed you would get very grumpy after staying awake nights on end, trying to find any signs that weren’t there.

At the moment you were stuck in some small town in another motel room with Sam and Dean sharing the one next to yours. Apparently, there was a ghost in town that forced people to kill themselves just like the ghost had. You had stayed behind in your room researching the towns history, trying to figure out who the ghost might be while Sam and Dean had drove to the latest killing scene. You weren’t really in the mood to leave the small room so you had volunteered to stay behind. You texted Dean the last bits of information before turning off your laptop, setting it down on the coffee table and walking to the small bathroom. You refreshed your face with cold water, it was too damn warm in this town. You had bought some ice cream -another reason why you stayed behind today, you wanted to eat it without worrying Dean would steal it- and you were more than looking forward to it. But when you opened the small fridge you found nothing but the empty packaging there. Furrowing your brows, you froze. “What the hell” you whispered, grabbed the packaging and threw it in the trash. So much for your ice cream. Had Dean found it after all? But how?

Your phone rang before you could think more about it. You looked at the name on the display. “Perfect timing” you laughed and accepted the call. “Hey, (Y/N). Quick question: Are you sure-“ Dean started but got interrupted by you. “Dean, did you eat my ice cream?” you asked and sat down on the small couch. “What?” Dean sounded genuinely confused. “The ice cream I hid in the motel fridge?” you pressed. “You had ice cream? And you were hiding it from me?!” So, it wasn’t Dean then. “Dean, give me Sam” you demanded, interrupting his playfully offended speech. “Alright, but I’ll remember this, (Y/N). I won’t ever share my fries with you again, this is treason.” You chuckled: “Yeah, yeah. I’ll remind you when I’m stealing them again.”

Then the line went silent for a few seconds before you could hear Sam’s confused voice. “(Y/N), what’s the matter?” “Did you eat my ice cream?” you came straight to the point. “Ehm, no. What ice cream?” Sam also sounded genuine. How could it not be one of them? You paused. How could anyone steal your ice cream when the only time you left your room since you bought them was when you had gone to the bathroom just now? Sweet-tooth … “Never mind” you slowly said and absentmindedly stood up from the small sofa. You rotated around your own axis, inspecting the whole motel room. “Call me if you need me there” you canceled the phone call after that, completely forgetting that Dean had called to ask you a question (but he seemed to have forgotten it too) and put your phone into your pocket. Just when you thought you would never find any prove …

“I know it was you, trickster” you spoke into the empty room, feeling only the slightest bit silly because of it. Tricksters were sweet-tooths and how should have anyone else stole your sweet snack right under your nose when you had been in the room all day. “I knew you weren’t dead” you said, not able to suppress the smirk stretching your lips slightly. You waited a few moments but nothing moved, no one spoke up. But you knew it was the only plausible option. And even if you wouldn’t catch him now, he would show up again. He was a trickster after all and he wanted to play. You just had to wait.

_______________

“So, where exactly is the supposed vampire nest? Not just in the middle of this town, right?” you asked Dean. He had got a phone call from a hunter earlier that day who had told him that a new vampire nest had settled down somewhere here. The older Winchester shook his head. “No, it’s in a barn a few miles from this city” he explained and left the car without another word. You looked at Sam who only shrugged his shoulders and also got up to follow his brother. You sighed, grabbed your backpack and were about to leave the car as well when you felt the ghost of a hand on your shoulder. Flinching you spun around. But there was no one there since you were in the backseat. Furrowing your brows, you hastily jumped out of the car, trying to shake your paranoia off. You were here for a vampire nest and not a ghost hunt. You must still be a little spooked by the last one. You had seen many ghosts in your hunter life but that one had been the most terrifying looking yet. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the images. “Why are we here then? And not searching for the barn?” you asked after you had closed the car door behind you, jogging after Sam and Dean. “I need something to eat” Dean explained. You laughed when you caught up with them. “I should have guessed.”

The three of you walked into the dinner Dean had been eyeing all the time. The establishment was rather full but luckily someone left his seat just when you were standing in the door. They brushed past you which made you look up at them, meeting their golden gaze. You froze, letting the small backpack fall from your hands and to the ground. Your eyes followed the sound and when you looked up … he was gone. You looked around but he was nowhere to be seen and the door leading outside was untouched, still closed and no bell sound signaling that someone had just left. But you hadn’t imagined this. No, it had been him. You were sure. You remembered those eyes. “(Y/N)?” You tore your gaze away from the windows and turned to face Sam who gestured you to sit down beside him. You grabbed your bag and forced your feet to move. “Please tell me you saw him” you begged when you had sat down and suppressed the shivers of your body by tensing up. “Who?” Dean asked, looking up from the menu he had snatched from Sam. “The trickster!” you whisper-shouted. Sam and Dean shared one glance before looking at you again. “I saw him, I swear. He just left!” “I think you’re still spooked by the last hunt. There weren’t any alien sightings for months now, (Y/N)” Dean chuckled, putting the menu back on the table. You threw him an angry glance. “No!” you huffed. “I know what I saw. I told you that he wasn’t dead!” “Order some food and relax, (Y/N)” the older Winchester pushed the menu out of Sam’s reach and over to you. “You’ve been on edge ever since we left that school.” You rolled your eyes, shoving the menu to Sam and put your head on your palm, looking out of the window. You opened your mouth, about to give Dean a piece of your mind when you paused. A wide grin flashed threw a crowd of people, honey colored eyes starring right at you and the only thing you were able to do was to stare right back with your mouth wide open. A few people walked by the window and when they were gone the brown-haired trickster had vanished once more. Pressing your lips into a thin line you moved away from the window, muttering angrily under your breath. “Bullshit.”

“Not so happy to see me? I thought you were keeping an eye out for me.”

You flinched, looking over your left shoulder but the only one near enough who could have said something was the waitress walking to your table. But that hadn’t been her voice, you knew that cheerful tone that had whispered in your ear. When you glanced at Sam and Dean, they seemed unbothered. They hadn’t heard a thing. Oh, so that was how he wanted to play? Making you lose your mind trying to convince Sam and Dean about his presence when they weren’t able to see and hear him. You bit your tongue. “Fuck you” you whispered under your breath. “What?” You turned around to face Sam and waved him off. “Nothing. Just tired.”

The vampire nest had been dealt with the next day. They hadn’t begun turning the people yet, so it was rather easy to get rid of them all. Now you were back on the backseat of Dean’s car with your arms crossed before your chest and looking bored out of the window. The three of you had been on the road for about three days again. “Found anything interesting yet?” you asked Sam and leaned forward, putting your arms on the back of his seat. He slightly turned around in his seat. “Not yet, but you can help me if you want?” You eagerly nodded, anything to keep your mind occupied. You grabbed the newspaper Sam had bought at a gas station and was now handing to you. You leaned back in your seat again.

“What about these three deaths? Only a few days apart and all in the same part of a town” you suggested but Sam shook his head. “Already checked that one. They all died differently. No ghostly activity anywhere near there, no vampire nests or werewolf packs. No witchcraft or anything else” Sam threw the papers he had been reading on the floor and grabbed another newspaper. “Just ordinary deaths.” You sighed and got back to reading. Nothing really caught your attention so you just read an article to not get bored again. You don’t even know what it was really about, only paying half attention to the words on the paper. That was until one sentence suddenly stopped. Wait, hadn’t there been an article on that page? You blinked. The whole side was white. You turned over a page and then another and another. The whole newspaper was white and empty now. Except for one sentence. “Having fun yet?”

Your mouth fell open and you let the papers fall to the ground. You didn’t even notice that you were mumbling something until Sam turned around in his seat to face you with one eyebrow raised in question. “Did you find something?” You looked up from the newspapers whose pages were now covered by that one sentence. Shaking your head, you swallowed hard. “No-o” you cleared your throat. “Nothing unusual.” The younger Winchester only nodded and turned back around. Your eyes wandered almost automatically back to the papers on the car floor.

“Having fun yet? Having fun yet? Having fun yet? Having fun yet? Having fun yet? Havin-“ The words seemed to blur in your mind, hugging your knees to your chest you sticked out your tongue.

“Oh, I’m starting to have fun, sugar.”

You flinched, looking over your shoulder but just like the last time there was no one there. Maybe you shouldn’t have challenged him so openly.

_______________

You weren’t having fun. Not at all.

The next prank he played on you made you shiver only looking back at it. For a good week almost every water bottle you opened would have a surprise for you. The most frequent was salt water but not limited to it.

The first time it happened you opened one and took a big sip (you had been running around all night because of a hunt) you immediately spit everything out, coughing for five minutes, leaving behind a huge mess in the impala. Dean had stepped on the breaks in an instant. With terrified faces, thinking the witch they had just killed had cursed you, they turned around to look at you. “It’s salt water!” you shrieked still coughing and handed Dean the bottle. He looked at it confused but took a sip. His eyes immediately darkened. “It’s regular, old water, (Y/N).” You shook your head in disbelieve and snatched the bottle back, warily taking another small sip. Your eyes widen in horror and confusion. “Tha-that’s not possible” you shook your head. “It was salty only seconds ago, I swear!” But Dean was right, it tasted like regular water again. The older Winchester looked at the water on the backseats and sprinkled on the front window and console before turning his gaze back to you. The death glare Dean had shot you made you shrink down in your seat (he made you thoroughly clean Baby the next day). Furious you looked at the bottle, while Dean sped up again, cursing the trickster under your breath until you saw something strange written on the label. “You’re the salt to my sugar, honey.” You cringed, opened the car window next to you and threw the bottle out while Baby was driving on full speed down the empty highway. You ignored the irritated glances from Sam and Dean.

This prank repeated over and over again though. Sometimes it was salt water, other times it was the most disgusting liquid you didn’t even dare to describe because you didn’t want to think about what might have been in it. Rarely it was normal water. You thought you were going insane because whenever you made the Winchesters try it, the water was completely normal again. You grew more frustrated the more it happened. On top of that the golden-eyed trickster had the audacity to show his face to you on more than one occasion. You could always see only a glint of him whenever you were in a town. Sometimes he even brushed past you but whenever you would turn around, he was already gone. And Sam and Dean were still unable to see him. It annoyed your greatly. You cursed yourself for calling him out for his illusion back in that school. Why hadn’t you just shut your mouth and waited for something to happen in silence? You could have kept an eye out for him without announcing it to him but oh no, you just had to make it obvious.

“Oh, I’m starting to have fun, sugar.”

You groaned. His words still echoing in your mind after weeks of pranks and annoyances. You weren’t having fun. You could barely concentrate on the hunts you were on anymore. Just like the one you were on now. Sam had gone into a library, searching for information about the old alleged haunted house of the city, while Dean and you questioned three teenagers who were the last ones to step a foot into the house. “I swear I saw something take Beth down the stairs!” a blond boy said, looking at his friends for reassurance. A dark-haired girl nodded: “I saw it, too.”

“What exactly did you see? A man?” you asked, still playing your FBI role. “A ghost!” the boy yelped. “A … ghost?” you slowly asked and looked at Dean knowingly. Normally you couldn’t really trust confessions about a ghost-sighting because there was always the change that it was just a shadow or their imagination filling up the gaps but since a girl had vanished two days ago after going into the house with her friends you had to believe them just for her sake. “Yes! Please, you have to believe me” the boy begged. “I saw it drag her down the stairs to the basement but-“ “But when we went down to look for her there was nothing in there” a dark-haired boy interrupted. “The room was empty!” “So, where exactly is that ‘haunted’ house?” Dean asked, sounding unconvinced by their statements. The girl of the group stood up from the bench she was sitting on and pointed down a street branching off from the market place you were at, at the moment. “Down there, the very last house.” You nodded and smiled sympathetically. “Thank you, when you remember anything else just call me, alright?” You handed them your number and then turned to Dean who was already walking back to his car with his phone in his hand, probably calling Sam. You were following him, passing through a crowd of people when you heard the voice again. “They can get your number, so what about me, sugar?”

You spun around to see chestnut-colored hair vanishing around the corner of a house. Without thinking you took one step in that direction but were stopped by a hand on your shoulder. You turned to face Dean. “What are you doing? We have to get to the haunted house.” You freed yourself from Dean’s light grip and nodded. “I just-“ you looked back at the corner the trickster vanished behind. He was probably long gone already. Sighing you turned and walked past Dean and to the car. “Never mind, let’s go. We need to get to the girl.”

You and Dean managed to distract the ghost while Sam dug up its body in the house’s backyard (the ghost was already so old that when the person had died his relatives just buried him there). Or rather, Dean fought against the ghost while you searched for the entrance to a secret room in the basement Sam had read about in the library. If the girl was still alive, she should be in there. However, searching for it in the darkness of the basement -the lights were broken down there and the ghost had flung you around the room and you must have lost your flashlight at some point- was hard. You let out a frustrated growl as you paused and held your head between your hands. “Where is the most plausible place to hid the entrance?”

“Need some help, sugar?”

You jumped away from the voice with a yelp, hitting the shelve to your right with your hip. A pained groan left your lips as you bend over, rubbing the sore spot that would definitely bruise. When you looked up you met the honey-colored eyes of the trickster, illuminated by your flashlight he held in his hand. “What are you doing here?” you asked confused, completely forgetting your frustrations with him. “Giving you a hint” the trickster said and walked past you to the desk that was standing next to the shelve you had hit. Taking a step back you tried to get more distance between you and him. “Why?” In the small light of your flashlight you saw the trickster roll his eyes and mutter something under his breath. “Because Dean is lying unconscious on the floor upstairs, Sam isn’t done playing ‘Where’s the pirate’s treasure?’ with a dead body and the ghost will be here soon to get his next play buddy.” “Who?” you asked, eyeing the trickster suspiciously. The brown-haired man turned around to face you. “You of course, stupid!” Your eyes widen and your cheeks grew hot as you crossed your arms before your chest. Just when you were about to give him a piece of your mind you heard the door to the basement open and the heavy steps of the ghost. “Shit” you mumbled and locked eyes with the trickster. “What now?” The trickster grinned at you and snapped his fingers, making the table move away from the wall and revealing a secret wooden door, barley large enough for you to kneel down and crawl through. There was no one there once again when you turned to look for the trickster, only your flashlight was lying on the floor. But you had no time left to curse him now, so you just grabbed your light and pried the door open, crawling through. On the other side you saw the girl sitting on a chair, her body slumped over on the table in front of her. You rushed to her and took her pulse, begging to not have arrived too late. There it was, faint but present. She was still alive. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and heaved the girl from the chair. You had to get her out of here but how? Panicking you looked to the hidden door. The ghost would be here any second and there was no other exit. You looked around, trying to find a sign, a weapon or exit, anything. But the only thing your eyes found in the dim light was the trickster standing next to you. Biting your tongue, you tried to stifle the yelp that would have escaped you other ways. “Need a lift?” Before you could answer he grabbed your arm. And after a few blinks you realized that you were standing on the porch of the haunted house with the girl still in your arms and the trickster next to you. Furrowing your brows, you looked at him questioningly. But when you opened your mouth, he only winked at you and then disappeared. For a few seconds you just stared at the spot he had been standing on before shaking your head. You carried the girl to the car and laid her down on the back seat, taking her pulse once more to be sure that everything was still fine. Then you spun around and ran into the garden, helping Sam with the body.

Half an hour later you were standing in front of the city’s hospital, Sam and Dean beside you. You had burned the ghost and then drove there. The girl was immediately brought in for examinations but you were reassured that she was just very dehydrated and would be fine in a few days, at least physically. Now you stood there, leaning against the wall and just took a long, deep breath. “How did you get out of there with her?” Dean questioned after a while. You looked up at him and Sam, asking yourself if you should tell them the truth. But would they even believe you if you told them that the trickster had helped you? You didn’t even really believe it yourself and you were the only one knowing that he was still alive. “I dragged her up the stairs and laid her down in the car” you lied instead. Maybe you should get at the bottom of this first before you put the trickster back on Dean and Sam’s radar. “You didn’t run into the ghost?” the older brother pressed. You shook your head. “Nope, he must have been busy throwing you around” you joked, hoping it would lead to the questions being dropped. Why were you covering for the trickster? Why were you lying? You didn’t want Sam and Dean to get hurt because of you, you told yourself and nodded to reassure yourself. You had to figure out what his plan for you was before you might bring Sam and Dean in even more danger. You let your eyes wander over the street with a sigh only to catch a glimpse of chestnut-colored hair that disappeared immediately. You gulped and forced a smile on your lips as you shifted your attention back to the two brothers. “Let’s just go and find somewhere to sleep, alright?” You wanted to leave this city as fast as possible.

To be continued: Part 3 is here!

_________________________________

#supernatural #supernatural gabriel #supernatural gabriel x reader #gabriel x reader #x reader #x reader image #supernatural image #supernatural dean #supernatural sam #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #female reader

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bnhablessings · 5 years

Text

Love

KiriBaku is the 2nd ship that had won and is meant to be my 200 follower special! This one-shot is supposed to be comedy-fluff (there’s like barely any comedy lol) but I ended up putting a smidge of angst oops Anyway, I want to say thank you to everyone who has followed me! I had said before that I tend to be inactive during the holidays because of sad personal reasons so I am surprised that I managed to even hit the 200 mark in such a short time so thank you. You all mean the world to me. <3 I am a total sap

Kirishima Eijirou x Bakugou Katsuki

Warnings: None (Fluff and a smidge of angst for days), Bakugou gets really soft for a hot sec and I don’t regret it

Words: 1,692

“Sorry.”

The word was grunted out and took Kirishima, who is sat on the floor, by surprise. His head snaps up to the bed to see a sleepy Bakugou already staring down at him. The red-head glances towards the clock to see it’s almost midnight, on a school night, so he’s even more taken back. Bakugou never apologizes, so Bakugou doing so, late at night worries the red-head to no ends.

Kirishima pauses the muted game and places the controller on the floor beside him. He is quick to take a spot on the bed beside Bakugou.

“Why are you apologizing?” Kirishima questions, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

The permanent glare that would usually be on Bakugou’s face is non-existent. Instead, an almost sorrowful look is on his face. His eyes waver as he stares at Kirishima. Silence fills the air as Kirishima waits patiently taking the other’s hand gently.

It takes a while before Bakugou speaks. “Well, you wanted to go to that movie this weekend, didn’t you?” Bakugou questions his gaze suddenly narrowing down at the red-head.

The rest of the question is heard through the silence. Bakugou wanted to add ‘With me?’

It hit Kirishima and he forces a smile on his face as his heart begins to ache. He squeezes Bakugou’s hand and answers, “Well yeah but I told you before it is fine since the others are tagging along. You can take however long you need before we come out to the class.”

Silence once again befalls between the two males. It’s been a full month since they’ve been officially dating in secret. A full month of Kirishima pretending that they are just best bros for Bakugou’s sake. Bakugou doesn’t really care who knows now but he wished it to be a secret because he is one for privacy. That and he really wanted to be sure of his feelings for Kirishima. It is his first relationship and one he never dreamed of having.

Now that he is sure of his feelings, he has surprisingly become gentle around Kirishima. Of course, that hasn’t gone unnoticed by the Bakusquad. They already figured out the two were dating but have said nothing out of respect (besides the slight teasing because it’s the Bakusquad).

“Babe, go back to sleep,” Kirishima murmurs as the forced smile turns into a gentle one upon seeing Bakugou’s tiredness.

Bakugou says in a mumble, “Get the fuck over here.”

Kirishima’s smile lights up the room at that demand. The video game is long forgotten as he cuddles into Bakugou and the two sleep rather soundly.

~*~

The school day went by as normal. Bakugou is already headed for the dorms with the squad in tow. They make it halfway when the squad is stopped by the Dekusquad. All of them ignore the agitated Pomeranian as Uraraka starts the conversation between all of them.

“Sorry to bother you but we were wondering if you would like to accompany us to the arcade? Todoroki has never gone and Iida doesn’t quite understand the gist of it so I figured if we invited you all along you can show them how it’s done!” Uraraka says explaining their situation.

Kirishima immediately lights up at this and answers for himself, “I’ll tag along! That sounds fun!”

A lightbulb seems to turn on in Ashido’s, Sero’s, Kaminari’s, and Jirou’s head. Ashido acts fast as she links arms with Kirishima.

“Yes! We’ll join! I know Kirishima is the manliest here to show you how to be a true gamer!” Ashido says too happily.

Kaminari laughs as he asks Bakugou, “Are you coming with us? You should follow Kirishima’s example-“

“Shut the fuck up. Are we going or not?” Bakugou says with a growl.

~*~

“Whoa, what are you guys doing here?” Kaminari asks.

Hagakure, Shoji, and Mineta are at the arcade as well. Hagakure is the one to answer as she says loudly and cheerfully, “I begged Shoji to come since Tsuyu said you all were coming!”

“I overheard that a few of our lady-friends would be here,” Mineta answers.

Ashido is the one that hits him before proceeding with a plan to ensure that everyone has the most fun. It works for everyone there but Bakugou. He remains a bit away from Kirishima at all times. He’s heavily annoyed that the others are getting close to him but for some reason, it feels like he’s watching Kirishima at one of his brightest moments.

The way his lips move to form a smile or how he encourages others to try the best. It warms his heart. Though he is even more annoyed that his attention is on others than him but it’s understandable considering the situation.

“Kaachan-“

Midoriya stops upon receiving the harshest glare from Bakugou. However, Midoriya’s voice was loud enough to gather the attention of Todoroki, Asui, and Ashido.

Todoroki glares at Bakugou as he asks, “What is it Midoriya?”

“Ah- I didn’t want to make Kaachan mad but I was wondering… Do you like Kirishima?”

The question made him freeze. He didn’t know how to respond and it didn’t help that to him, fucking Deku, was the one asking. With a loud ‘tch’ he leaves the arcade without a word. A few minutes pass as Midoriya wonders if he should go after him.

“What made you ask that?” Todoroki questions with curiosity now that the aggressive male is gone.

Midoriya frowns a bit before he responds, “I was just observing everyone and when I saw Bakugou I noticed the way he was looking at Kiri.”

“What about me? Oh, where did Bakubro go?” Kirishima asks as the others show up in tow.

“He um left.” Deku is awkward about not wanting to bring up what drove him away.

Todoroki is ruthless as he doesn’t hold back the information and says, “Midoriya asked him if he likes you.”

“I don’t think Bakugou is capable of feelings of love. Besides, he’s too focused on becoming the Number 1 Pro Hero,” Tsuyu says full of thought.

The painful ache in Kiri grows. It’s almost unbearable as he tries to laugh it off. The poor boy desperately wants to defend his boyfriend but is unable to. If Bakugou really left at that, then there is no way he is near ready to come out to the class.

“Well, this would be a wonderful time to head back to the dorms in order to make it in a timely manner for dinner!” Iida states.

Ashido is the first to speak from the Bakusquad and says, “You guys go ahead. I actually wanted to get a game in with Kiri.”

Midoriya is the only one who gives Kirishima a concerned look from sensing something else. The others bid the Bakusquad goodbye and Midoriya follows behind a bit reluctant.

“Dude, you okay?” Kaminari questions.

He and Sero put a hand on each of Kirishima’s shoulders. Ashido is peering up at the confused boy who is trying desperately to act like everything is fine. Upon seeing his face, she wants to let out a small inhuman cry because there are tears threatening to pour from his eyes.

“I’m about to go kill hi-“

The arcade door slams open and Bakugou walks. His cheeks are a slight red hue and he is blowing into his hands. His eyes scan the arcade only to stop on the group. He takes large strides to them before boldly reaching for Kirishima’s hand.

“Fuck it’s so damn cold outside.”

Indeed, his words ring true as Bakugou’s cold hand makes Kirishima flinch. His mind turns blank as he realizes that Bakugou is actually holding is hand, in front of their friends, and in public.

“Let’s get out of here before it gets more fucking cold and dark. You- damn extras, find a different route,” Bakugou says as a demand.

He pulls a confused but now happy Kirishima out of the arcade and the two start their slow walk back to campus. Their hands don’t part for a single second. However, their walking speed comes to a halt when Kirishima admits something.

“I’m surprised you came back for me,” He says.

His voice is slightly shaky, forcing Bakugou to tense. Bakugou lets out a heavy sigh as he squeezes Kirishima’s hand.

“I never left. I waited outside until fucking Deku and those extras left.”

It’s silent between the two for a moment until Kirishima says, “I know it’s unmanly of me but you had me worried there for a second. When I heard you left I thought you were, I don’t know, ashamed of others even thinking we’re together.”

When more silence follows, Kirishima gets a bit nervous. He lets out a forced chuckle but before he can even utter a word out or make a joke of it, Bakugou wraps his arms around him. The sudden embrace makes all train of thought leave and Kirishima slowly but snugly returns the hug.

“Never, Dumbass. I love you.”

The way Bakugou says this is sort of choked. It shows how emotionally stumped he is from how much energy it took to say it but also proves that he meant it in full. That is all Kirishima needs to know that the love they have is real. That Bakugou is ready to come out to the class and Kirishima couldn’t be happier.

Bonus scene:

“PFFT What do your shirts say?!” Sero asks with a big smile on his face.

Ashido and Kaminari are already howling with laughter. Most of the class that had decided to go to the movies with the Bakusquad watch with amusement and awe. Bakugou growls like a vicious animal as his hold on Kirishima tightens.

“You can fucking read, can’t you?”

Indeed, everyone there reads the shirts in their head once more. Bakugou’s shirt says “I’m With Stupid” while Kirishima’s shirt says “Guess I’m Stupid”. Somehow, Kirishima had managed to get Bakugou to wear this since he agreed to go to the movies last minute.

The condition?

Kirishima wears the “Guess I’m Stupid” shirt and then they will burn the shirts after the movie is over. Love at its finest.

#boko no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #oneshot #kiribaku #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x kirishima #fluff #angst #eijirou x katsuki #anime #manga #cute #bakugou katsuki x kirishima eijirou

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phantasmct · 6 years

Text

| Spy!AU Johnny |

starring: Johnny/ Suh Youngho

genre: AU, fluff (?)

word count: 3.6k

summary : Your favorite librarian is hiding way more secrets than you’re thinking.

author’s note: Honestly I thought about making it into a real scenario but I was lazy and thought that making into a bulleted one would help...but oh look I’m over 3k words, so you know what? Nevermind just enjoy.

Your head between the two palms of your hands felt heavier and heavier as you tried to push back the boredness that seemed to start to drench your body. Your eyes fixed aimlessly at one of the dirty and old walls of your school premises for a while now, from time to time your tongue darted outside to wetten your dry lips. You'd lie if you say you ever been this passive and inactive in your life; and yet you were getting paid.From the corner of your eyes, you could see the light of your colleague his cellphone reflecting on his face. He smiled stupidly at the little device as he kept scrolling on it endlessly. Suddenly his eyes darted momentarily to look at you.

"Hey, you sure you don't wanna get in-" he started but you cut him sharply "No, I've already told you, quit trying. You won't make me bulge".

He watched sadly at the lockers behind you once more. You knew that, in fact, he didn't want you to leave with him, no he actually wanted you to stay here; while he leaves to get some fun at the party that was happening few meters away from you. The both of you were paid to make this job so there was no way you'd do all the work, stay sat on this uncomfortable chair watching over those meaningless bags and whatsoever, while he gets his part of the fun. No way unless...A smile crept across your lips before you tried to get his attention back turning your pivoting chair abruptly to him.

"Well I could actually let you go you know," he raised his eyebrows at you intrigued "but only if you give 20% of your pay." you deadpan stated.

You saw his face fell and raise himself up as he yelled your name in disapproval, as a response you simply crossed your arms over your chest taunting him. It was calm for a short moment just to let your brains focus again on the music coming from the freshmen's party.

"Fine." he growled taking off his cap and armband before putting them on the desk before you "Deal."

You didn't even have time to express your joy as you watched him leave the room that he started to stag walking back into it. You intended to ask him if he changed his mind when you noticed his frightened face looking straight at the door, he called this time softly your name.You followed his gaze and your eyes opened slightly at your intruder. He wore an all-black outfit and hood, he indeed looked scary. His figure seemed to make your male colleague powerless against him and soon enough his feline eyes met yours, as he walked into the room. You finally raised yourself as he followed closely your moves.

"What do you want?" you find yourself asking,"Briefcase. No.52. Quickly."

You couldn't believe that you had the bravery to initiate a conversation with him. But it was indeed his deep and suave voice that just answered you now. You peeped the gun at his waist and furrowed your brows, obviously, he didn't miss anything of that since he turned himself slightly sideways to hide it from your eyes. What the hell is going on?

"I said quickly." he reminded you sternly bringing your attention to his face even though you could only see his deep brown eyes. "Fine, I will just need the token."

You were sure that you literally heard him snicker under the black and opaque fabric. But your colleague him seemed less pleased as you saw him mouthing you 'What are you doing?!'

"Too bad, I don't have one." you could sense the amusement in his voice as he stared down on you coming closer, "Too bad, no token, no briefcase." your daring answer opposed your demeanor as you find yourself taking steps backward.

He stopped and reached for the gun at his waist startling you. You closed your eyes scared to face the cold metallic object aimed at you but rapidly opened them back at the high pitched shrieks emanating from your comrade. Surprisingly he aimed it at him.

"I won't hesitate," he said calling your name lightly. "Give him the damn bag, I don't want to die please-" your mate begged you, "You heard him." the culprit seconded.

You rushed to the board where all the keys were fixed before grabbing the needed one and instantly spotted the locker no. 52. As you hurried to open it you started to get alarmed of a fuss going on outside. You should have slowed your actions and prayed for help to come, but you didn't. You harshly opened the locker and handed quickly the said briefcase to the odd guy.Your hand brushed against the cold leather of his gloves when he grasped it from you, he hung his head to the side and said to you his last words.

"Thank you."

He left quickly the room as if he never was in there in the first place. If it wasn't for your breathless colleague now sat on the frigid floor holding up his chest, you wouldn't believe none of this actually happened, and you're sure no one would have too.

"Are you out of your mind?" he screamed at you "He knew my name." you stated not even acknowledging his scolding, "He could have killed me right there! In this stupid university! Because of a stupid bag-" "How does he even know my name?" you continued, "How can I know, huh?! Wait what did you just say-"

You stomped right before him getting hurriedly out of the room too. But you soon met a group of 5 men that you assumed caused the uproar outside a few minutes ago.

"Wait we need to call the police!" he called you back. "We're already here." one of the men answered showing you his plate. You simply nodded and gulped while your still stoned friend got up to face them,"He was just here!" he exclaimed still in shock "He just left after threatening me with a gun and-" you cut him "He wanted a bag. I gave it to him." they looked at you suspiciously and some of them proceeded to head towards were the supposed thief just left.

It’s been a month since the assault, but it felt just like yesterday and you still had vivid dreams about it. Strangely they were not particularly scary, they were, in fact, intriguing it always ended up with you nearly taking off the assailant his hood to reveal his identity.You were aware that the persistent occurring of those dreams was because you had a lot of questions left not answered. What was inside the suitcase? Where did he go? What was he planning to do with? Who was he? And most importantly how did he knew your name? You found yourself thinking a lot since then trying to answer those questions, just like now.

''Hey, are you listening to me? Where did-'' your best friend interrupted your thoughts waving her hand in front of you. ''You know I keep thinking about this day,'' you started and you saw her face starting to dropped slightly '' and I have so many questions, like- '' '' Stop torturing yourself. I know it's hard but it will do no good to you-'' she answered calmly trying to reason you '' You don't understand, like...he knew my name. ''

Your friend’s eyes opened in sudden shock as she tried to assimilate what you just said to her. She looked at you confusedly.

''What did you say? What do you mean he knew your name?'' she asked worriedly ''I don't know, he just said it.'' you answered confused too. ''Did you tell the police about that?''.

You shook your head lost in thoughts munching on your pencil as your books remained in front of you useless. You gazed at one of the shelves of the library before focusing once again on her.

''No, I didn't. I mean the fact that he knows my name means-'' she cut you suddenly ''Is just unfortunate. The fact that he knows your name is just unfortunate, that's all. It doesn't mean anything. You did right not saying it to the police, you don't need to be assimilated to a thief like him.'' she sighed '' come on let's focus on that, hum?'' she ended the conversation pointing at your homework.

You sighed in return before excusing yourself to look out for a book.

"I thought we had enough sources..." your friend complained "I know but I heard the teacher talk about this specific book..." you protested,"I will be back in a minute I promise." you smiled at her pouting face before leaving her at the desk.

You were wandering in the aisles when you finally found what you've been looking for. As you picked the heavy book in your hands a voice was heard in your back.

"Lucky. We only have one copy of this one, if I recall correctly." For an odd reason, the voice sent an electric feel all over your skin for a minute. But you abruptly turned yourself to face the owner of it; Youngho. "Is that so? We've all been assigned on the same subject, it's a miracle that no one picked it up yet," you commented as you smiled lightly at him.

He returned yours with one of his warm smiles that you memorized by now. You took a moment to look at his handsome features. Your eyes scanned first his, a light brown to seemed to deep in the confine of the bark library but complimented well the feline aspect of them, then went directly to his particular shaped rosy lips that you admire so much...they were, as usual, slightly curved, giving him this unfamous welcoming feeling. Your gaze quickly went up to his luscious hair as his hand started combing through the brown strands. But you were also quick to notice how his eyebrows raised suddenly at you, scanning once again his face you noticed a faint of worry in it and it brought you back to reality. You cleaned your throat.

"I was just thinking that...it's been quite a time since I saw you around." or that you might have a slight crush on him but he didn't need to know that, his face relaxed a little at your words "Really? It's weird though-" his words were cut as one of your classmates interrupted him rudely to hand you a piece of paper. You looked at the newcomer puzzled "We decided to organize a bonfire this Friday. Make sure to come!" he explained before passing by you rapidly, you looked at the flyer still intrigued. "You're planning to go?" Youngho asked you unsure leaning casually on the shelf arms crossed on his torso, the worry was clear in his voice, "I don't know yet. And You?" you asked curious now," I would like not to." your eyebrows scrunched at his answer "You should go, I think I saw your friend looking for you." he stated leaving you.

You ended up going to the bonfire, of course. Your friend, that was now holding your arm for dear life, pretexted that it was the perfect way to relax and that maybe you'd get to see 'your sexy librarian friend' as she liked to call him despite your complain. And you were indeed here because of him, your friend's words didn't do much to convince you actually, but the odd dream you had the night before and the strange feeling at the library a few days ago brought you here. You didn't know how Youngho ended up being tangled with the mess that happened last month ago from now, and how it happened while you were in la la land yesterday, but it did and you decided to come here for answers. But now that you watched the huge crowd around you, you lost all hope to even find him there...if he did end up coming.

"Gosh it's hot in there honestly!" your friend complained again, fanning herself with her hands, you were about to scold her for letting go of your hand when she suddenly disappeared swept away by the mass.

Your anxiety showed up instantly as you started to scream her name looking for her head somewhere. You never had a particular problem with crowding but since the incident, you seemed more conscious and stressed despite what people were thinking. You reached hastily for your phone in your pocket and dialed her number. Nervously you waited and hoped that she'd hear her phone and pick up. Fortunately, she did after a few seconds.

"Where are you? Let's meet at the entry," you screamed in the device, her answer came out as gibberish and you concluded that he was probably the same case for you. "Wait. I'm texting you-" your last word came as a plaint since you felt someone grab your ass.

Startled and disgusted you ended the call quickly, to face the owner of the rude hand. You met two malicious brown eyes when you turned, the boy smiled to you before laughing in the most disposable way he could before leaning onto you.

"You seems to have lost your friends, don't worry if you want we can have fun together." you noticed the strong alcohol odor emanating as he half yelled the words to you.

You were pondering how to get away from him as a strong hand came between your bodies swaying away from the guy from you. Your eyes looked up to meet your savior.

"Youngho?" you called his name softly in confusion but he still heard you as he grabbed your hand in his with a disapproval look."Hey-" the annoying perpetrator started to complain at him, but he stopped right away changing his discourse on how he should watch out better for his girlfriend -you.

You found yourself gulping hard at the death glare that Youngho sent him. You almost found yourself sorry, as he looked at him this way. Suddenly you let go of the part-time librarian's hand like in a trance. You came to a strange realization as the scene in front of you looked oddly too familiar to your liking. Youngho turned abruptly to you alarmed by your sudden action, he tried to find your eyes for any signs that helped him to understand your behaviour, but you made the task hard for him since you only gazed at his great figure dressed entirely in black up and down repeatedly, you were trying hard to not look at his face so you could avoid picturing a hood on him. The only item left to bring you back to this unfortunate night. He called your name before you felt his hands at your shoulders shaking you a little trying to bring your attention back to him.

"It was you."

The three words left your mouth and you saw him freeze upon your eyes as he met yours. But he quickly recovered grabbing once again your hand. You didn't budge as he tried to make you, he called your name once again this time slightly annoyed.

"It was you, right? That night when-" "I have no idea what you're talking about right now. Let's just leave you're not safe here." he lied avoiding your gaze." You really think I'm a fool, don't you? It was fun to watch me freak out all this time, huh? And now you're lying to my face-" he turned promptly to face you with what seemed to be a genuine concern on his face."Let me just bring you to a safer place, and I promise we'll talk-" it was your turn now to cut him "And I should believe that I'm actually safe with you? Especially after all of this? Why?" you snickered "Because I saved your life. Twice." he stated his voice more serious than it ever been knocking you out in the process.

You watched the fire animate itself as the students threw whatever they could at it happily. From the rooftop of the building where Youngho brought you the bonfire actually seemed fun, at least to watch. You didn't bother to ask him how he managed to bring you up here you'd like to think it was due to the fact that he just knew the campus better than you did. But truthfully you knew it had probably something to do with his ways. Your phone lit up as your received a message from your friend reassuring you that she went back home safely just like you told her too, and you sighed out of relief. You heard your companion open a can as the gas hushed at the top before he handed it to you; you grabbed it the coldness and his soft hands sent chills to your body as you watched him reiterate his action this time for himself. He gulped the beverage and you looked at his Adam's apple moves of its own.

"You sure do have a weird way to save people." you simply stated hoping he would open more without you forcing him, he licked the remaining of the sweet liquid on his plump lips and raised an eyebrow at you. 'Why it's suddenly so hot in here?' you silently questioned yourself. "You were ready to shot at my colleague last time...and now what about that guy? You were going to...punch him?" you harshly said to him, "You think I was really going to kill him last time? You think I'd really do that?" he responded as his defense.

Of course no you didn't, in a weird you trusted him, but you couldn't tell him that that's not how you'd normally react.

"I don't know, Youngho. Afterall I don't know you, at least not the way I thought I did. I don't who you are, what you are." your gaze was watching the scenery once again as you left the words slipped between your lips. You should've stayed that way because when you decided to face the silent boy you felt yourself falling apart, just like him. He looked at you sadness evident in his eyes."What I mean-" you started trying fix your words worried "I'm not a bad person...I'm still that library boy who just can't wait to see you and help you out, because that's probably my favorite thing to do, you know?" he watched your expression widen slightly as he suddenly felt himself getting embarrassed.

You were indeed surprised where the discussion seemed to lead, and you wanted to reassure him to go on by placing your hand on his shoulder but decided against it because it was probably not the right time to do so.

"What kind of 'not bad actions' for a 'not bad person' like you require a gun and a hood?" you mused and fortunately you saw a faint of a smile appear on his face as he eased up.

He didn't answer right away as he gazed just like you the crowd dancing. You didn't rush him as you started drinking your beverage, you knew it was probably not easy for him, in fact, you didn't know anything too personal about him and what you asked him to reveal seemed like something even more than personal. So you simply waited relaxed and as you compelled in the safety in bring to you, you knew you'd get an answer sooner or later.

"Maybe because I'm a spy." you sighed relieved as you faced him. "Okay." you answered, it was his turn to look at you completely dumbfounded "What?" you asked him not bothered at all "I just told you that I was a spy and the only thing you have to say is 'Okay'?" you laughed as his voice went higher trying to imitate you while he shook in a funny way in his long coat."I don't know Youngho. Maybe I'm fine with that," you grabbed your coat getting ready to leave "maybe I trust you because I know you or I don't. I don't know," he scrutinized your actions slowly holding up his breath at your words while he watched you put your coat, you felt hot under his gaze but went on "Maybe it's because I like you." you confessed starting to leave.

He took his hands out of his pockets and you felt their warmth bring you back to him as you collided with his chest. You didn't get to react to his sudden action as you felt his soft lips on yours. They were lightly pressed against yours and he cupped your cheek, he was so not forceful and urgent that you were unsure that he was even kissing you. But you knew that he was waiting for you to tell him he could go on and you gladly did by kissing him back, soon enough his innocent kiss turned into a more heated one as he finally pushed himself from you. He admired your swollen lips smiling at you a cheekily before pecking them as if he was trying to ease them.

"Well...this didn't felt like a maybe," you heard the teasing words vibrate from his torso as he pulled you into his embrace.

#johnny #johnny seo #nct johnny #nct imagine #nct scenarios #johnny scenarios #johnny headcannon #nct 127 #nct #nct fluff #nct smut

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sweetpea-cc · 6 years

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Pieces of Me (Part 6)

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader (ft. Toni Topaz) Warnings: Mild language Word Count: 1.2k+ Note: Part of this is in Sweet Pea’s POV, also, I PROMISE that the next few parts will be FILLED with Sweet Pea x Reader interactions and I hope you guys like it!

Over those six weeks, a lot happened. Although you were never directly involved with it, Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Jughead kept you updated. Betty and Jughead had managed to find Polly who had been unaware of Jason's murder and later ended up escaping from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Honestly, just thought of poor Polly being in that place sent a shiver through your spine, you never did like it and always suspected some type of evil took place there. And when Jughead was detained and questioned, you had skipped class that day to be by his side, soon after that, Jughead moved in with Archie, and you were happy that for once, things were slightly stable.

Despite everything that was going on, you still attended Southside High as an ordinary student. One day the Serpents looked gloomy and were always whispering amongst themselves, but you never knew what about. It was when Toni had suddenly gone radio silence that you started suspecting it had to do something with FP getting arrested, perhaps some were worried about him opening his mouth about God knows what. Days dragged by slowly, but the night that set a strange twist of events into motion, you had just finished your daily training when you got multiple urgent calls from all of your friends, each leaving you a voicemail with the same message.

"Cliff Blossom killed Jason."

It must have only been a few hours later when you walked into your living room where your father was seated on the couch, watching the news. On the screen, you were in for another surprise; Clifford had committed suicide, and his entire business had been revealed as a cover-up for a drug operation.

"Holy shit," you whisper to yourself, slowly stepping forward and standing next to your dad before sitting down. Your dad then wrapped her arm securely around you, and you could tell he was trying his hardest to keep you safe right here and now.

A few days later, Jughead had called you to explain that, while he wasn't guilty of murder, FP was guilty of perjury, mishandling a body, and tampering with evidence just to name a few and was facing nearly twenty years hard time. It was a small victory when FP's sentencing was delayed, so maybe things weren't all that bad but because Jughead's father was incarcerated, his mom was out of state, Jughead's caseworker made movements for him to attend Southside High and live with a foster family by the end of the week.

While you were sad that FP would remain in jail, there was the slight upside that you and your best friend would be attending the same school again. For the first time in two months, there was going to be a little bit of normalcy in your life. You were supposed to meet Jughead in the morning before his first day, but your dad had surprised you out of the blue asking about getting breakfast that same morning. The two of you went to Pop's and chatted for what felt like hours, sharing silly stories and laughs, discussing your fighting techniques and him telling you about his travels.

Around ten in the morning, your dad sent you off to school where you navigated through your classes with ease, and before you knew it, lunch had rolled around. Honestly, this was starting to become your favorite part of the day because you got to observed Southside's finest, allowing you to work on the little investigation of your own that you had started. Today was different because when you arrived, you immediately spotted Jughead sitting at your usual table by himself which wasn't unusual but you kind of figured that he would be sitting with Toni, who you knew had shown him around the school as she did you.

(SP’s POV)

Sweet Pea watched as you walked past the Serpent's area, waving briefly at Toni with a small smile on your face. For a split second, he swore that you had batted your long eyelashes in his direction. In the past two months that he had known you, flirting on the low had become a regular occurrence, and Sweet Pea definitely enjoyed the tantalizing banter.

It was surprising to see you casually walk over to the same table where FP Jones' kid sat and hop on the table, where you commenced in what looked like a joking conversation. He watched as your hand rested on his shoulder and you threw your head back, letting out a genuine laugh. The two of you looked rather cozy together, and Sweet Pea felt a strange sensation tugging at his chest. 'What the fuck?' he thought to himself

"Gotta say, I wasn't expecting that." Sweet Pea heard a voice but didn't fully register who was speaking small hands gentle shoving his arms. He looked down past his shoulder to see Toni looking at him with an arched brow, she had told him how Jughead didn't want anything to do with the Serpent's and planned on keeping his head down. Honestly, Sweet Pea thought he was an idiot. It was the Southside, where it was impossible to keep your head down or remain invisible for there was always someone who wanted to knock a few heads.

"What, Jones cozying up with a Northsider? He might as well be one."

"Shut up, Sweets. Just because you like her doesn't mean you have to be snarky."

"What?"

"It's not that big of a deal, everyone knows you have a crush on her."

"Nice try, Topaz."

Sweet Pea turned his head back in your direction, where you continued to laugh with glee over whatever Jughead had said. So, maybe he did like you a little bit but was it a crush? The idea baffled him because Sweet Pea wasn't precisely one fall for someone that easily, not when they could disappear just as fast they came.

That didn’t stop him from appreciating the different aspect of your body though. He liked the way you stood tall when most would cower down, the way you held your own. You were brave but not in the stupid kind of daring sense. In Sweet Pea’s mind, it often paid to weigh up the pros and cons of action versus inaction, he could quickly think of many instances where the brave choice was to walk away; like on your first day of school, and the ghoulie had harassed you. Yes, his first instinct was that you should have tried with all your might to leave, yet in a split second he saw fire ignite, and it was from that day forward, you often crossed his mind.

It was a known fact that many people avoided Sweet Pea due to his towering height and stoic facial expression that rarely ever vanish. But you, whenever you talked to him, you made quip jokes and never even gave to slightly indication that he made you nervous or scared. You always greeted him with a smile, and it was terrific the way there was a hint of judgment in your eyes when you looked at him.

Every now and then, Sweet Pea would catch your eye and each time, your face would turn a small shade of red. He liked the banter that went on between the two of you, the flirty glances and timid smiles but Sweet Pea never did build up the courage to make a move, or perhaps it wasn't that he was nervous or anything, but instead it was the ingrained idea that a Southsider and Northsider could not be together.

Tag List: @fafulous // @yourwonderbelle // @the-greatt-perhaps // @alexparrsih // @imweirdhowareyou // @wolfpackcreative // @captainstilinskis // @galaticpanda // @astressedwriter // @dammitkatt // @sweetpca // @hellolonelydreamer // @kay18115 // @southsidemistress

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icewindandboringhorror · 6 years

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Thank you for the question! While I disagree that it’s just ‘human nature’ to always misuse power over others*(1), it is still a good premise in general and definitely something that is necessary to think about. (answer is under the read more )

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I guess I’ll just do a bullet point list since I'm trying to keep this as a short casual answer and not be too lengthy with it (it probably won't be since that's impossible for me but, I'm making, An Attempt). Here’s all the stuff I can recall off the top of my head that would generally prevent something like people who can use magic just rising up to take over the world or whatever :

They really have no reason to — Like I explain in the side note at the end of this post, I don’t think people inherently by nature must grab for power just because it’s possible for them to do so. Additionally like I’ve mentioned before, the supernatural realm is incredibly diverse and isolated, people are usually living in their own pocket societies and could care less what happens next door, especially people with magic (magic capable species often have much longer life spans, which probably helps with the kind of, maybe seemingly odd lack of conflict in most areas. But like.. after you’ve been fighting with the same exact fucking dude for 2,000+ years with nothing changing, don’t you eventually just work it out? You either get over it , fix it, or destroy yourselves trying and don’t get to that old age in the first place). Most species in Nanyevimi are existing on wildly different time scales from one another.. If you and all your people are like 800+ years old and some 30 year old comes to try to wreck your stuff, hopefully you have the knowledge and experience at this point to just look at them like a weird little baby and not engage with it .. I would have trouble believing there are many 1,000 year olds out there that are still trying to beat the shit out of everyone who vaguely challenges them and pick petty political fights with all their neighbors. Not to say they all have to be peaceful, there are plenty of ancient societies with ages old beef that may be bitter, but you’ve got to kind of mellow out at some point and realize when large scale conflicts just aren’t worth it lol, leading to significantly more unwillingness to start conflicts, and only having them when you must, and even then to probably give them so much consideration the conflict is over before you’ve decided what to do about it, choosing inaction in most ways. I’d think that most societies where people often live over 500+ years old end up naturally adopting more detached, isolating, and conflict avoidant views, since after a while it’s just not worth it anymore.. like imagine being at war for like 8,000+ years with the same exact people? Again, there are plenty of longstanding conflicts or minor political things like mistrusting another group based on history or etc. etc., but in terms of really SERIOUS like, currently active forms of violence like trying to take down an entire society or invading lands or etc?? A majority of magical/longer living groups wouldn’t even bother. Most frequently warring/conflict heavy societies I think would be more like humans and elves and other generally shorter lived individuals (creatures below the 300 year lifespan threshold or so, at least when thinking about Nanyevimi I usually follow the ‘the older you are the more chill you must have gotten’ rule, with a few exceptions here and there. Since again, after about 700 years of watching history repeat itself I feel like a person or people would eventually either find a different solution or just drop the conflict and self isolate or something.. You can only have the same argument so many times before both sides just give up. Ancient peoples no longer have bloody wars and devastating invasions, merely a few delicately placed resentments and many tightly locked doors.). And even if most magical groups weren’t more chill due to other factors about them, what extra resources or technology or anything would they stand to gain from attacking a group of non magic users in the next village over? If anything the non-magic users are the ones who stand to benefit from allying with or exploiting people who can use magic (which is attempted on occasion), not the other way around. And very rarely do non-magic users ever try to get involved with them like to oppress them or try to attack them or regulate magic or something, so why would magic users have anything against like, regular non-magic people who aren’t doing anything to them? That’s not to say that conflict never happens, obviously in a world that vast there are plenty of land disagreements and etc. but for the most part, magical species and cultures just really don’t stand to gain anything from destroying the entire world anyway, even if they could , which brings me to one of the main reasons they couldn’t …

People who can use magic are not a unified force — it’s not like all the magical people in the world can just band together under one cause. Magic users are a slight majority in Nanyevimi, which means that’s still like… a LOT of people.. All of whom come from entirely different cultures, species, religions, climates, ways of life, speak different languages, have entirely different views on magic and it’s use and significance, etc. (again, in a pretty vast and generally isolated realm, hardly anything is ever uniform). Even if some wild world-ending apocalypse event were to occur that could only be fixed by all magical individuals working together, they still probably wouldn’t be able to cooperate lol, it’d just be too many entirely different groups to really orchestrate well together, let alone trying to get them all to work together just to do something meaningless like kill off all non-magical species or something. They all have vastly different , usually even opposing, motivations and societal attitudes. Which is one reason why ....

Magic capable groups usually regulate other magic capable groups on their own — There would basically never be a situation where it’s split evenly between inherently magical beings and non-magical beings, especially since most species and societies that are magic capable are like.. generally cooperative? Most recognize the position they’re in and make significant efforts to regulate their own communities and even outside of those. Again, it’s not like the non-magic groups are attempting to stifle the magic groups or doing anything else that would give them motivation to rebel, if anything it’s usually magical people mostly trying to have control of other magical people, since they know they’re the only ones with the ability to. I think I’ve mentioned stuff before about like magical task forces that go around to help non-magical groups with any magical folk that are causing them trouble, and stuff like councils of mages that exist to regulate what is taught and used in magical schools, and the variety of groups that exist in Nanyevimi to add balance and mediate any magic vs. non-magic conflicts, and organizations that do stuff like heavily monitor passage into the human realm or other non-magical areas, etc. Even if one group of magic users were like dead set on enslaving all non-magical beings or something, there’d probably be just as many equally powerful magical groups out to break their isolation and get involved to quickly stop them. They’re not uniform, and their motivations are always going to be unique and even contrasting, there will probably always be plenty of magical beings out there monitoring others of their own kind, especially since a negative view of magic is not helpful for anyone. Even if not morally motivated by saving non-magic folk, plenty of magical groups would see it practical for a variety of reasons to get involved in whatever nonsense misuse of magic would be going on at the time, if the active groups that exist SOLELY to take care of that sort of thing hadn’t done something about it already. Though I also don’t want to understate the concept that there are bad magic users, there are definitely people out there who do some wild shit and really try to cause conflicts, but just in terms of any large scale efforts to like, significantly harm the non-magical population or etc., there’s too much self regulation and lack of unity for that to really be something that would take off. Even most of the lone assholes or tiny cults operating on a small scale end up getting thwarted by other magic users. If anything “magic capable group vs. magic capable group” is a MUCH more common and significant conflict than “magic capable group vs. non magical group”. [( Especially since they’re often pretty culturally divided and hardly even exist in the same world as one another (again, elite mage societies full of 9,000 year old ethereal beings are not going to wake up one day and be like "Hey lets go like.. start a fight with that random farming village of non-magical humans that would probably just shoot a few arrows at us before dying of shock the second we whip out a spell because they’ve never seen magic before". Groups in Nanyevimi can sometimes be so varied that they just literally.. could not give less of a shit about each other lol, they’re out of each other’s scope, not even on each other’s radar. Though obviously there are places where magic users and non-magical folk interact with each other and are close enough to understand each other well (like a group of magical elves that has a 150 - 200 yr lifespan and a group of non-magic humans that has an 80 - 100 yr lifespan aren't really that far apart enough for that to be a huge source of cultural divide), a lot of the time it's like.. a group of non-magic humanoid animal forest folk who only live to 50 yrs. that spend their days collecting berries or singing and a group of 5,000 year old blind cave dwellers that spend their days using reality magic to craft realms inside their own minds and travel through them are like... going to be on such different levels culturally that they barely exist to one another. The way that magic typically impacts lifespan (and the way that both magic and lifespan impact the culture of a people) usually creates enough of a divide between magic & non-magic people that they wouldn't even consider each other as an option to war with or etc. )] Organizations that seek to regulate certain things and prevent crimes (like the magical groups mentioned above), international organizations that seek to aid people with stuff like travel and education (like having language translators or cultural experts positioned at popular travel hubs or etc.), the rare Global City areas, and occasional necessary trade of resources between neighbors or outside groups, are really some of the only things in Nanyevimi that give any semblance of connection and cohesion to the groups there. Otherwise, some of the species and cultures and etc. may as well be living on entirely different planets. Without the few global councils and organizations and etc., most of the realm would have nothing to do with one another. Especially magical groups and non-magical groups, who are usually, at the least, on a pretty different life timescale from one another, if not entirely different in many other ways, to the point of both not having much of an interest in the other positively or negatively (or avoiding the other out of fear, or out of elitism, just out of self-absorption with ones own society over others, etc.)

Enchantments and other stuff make magic accessible to most people, at least in the form of defense against magic — like I may have mentioned before in other places, many non inherently magical people can still utilize magic inventions, and some can even learn magic to some degree (it’s just so much more difficult and limited in scope that most don’t), but enchantments are especially common. It’s pretty commonly accepted that even in most non-magical areas, many people are going to enchant their homes to make them immune to magical intrusion, have an enchanted amulet they bought from some elven salesman once that allows them to use light healing magic every once in a while (as long as they recharge the enchantment when it runs out), basically every important building you go to (like prisons, banks, schools, etc.) is going to have a high level magic blocking enchantment either throughout the entire building or just at the entrance (meaning if you try to walk in while using shape shifting magics or something in order to pose as someone else, the magic will be cancelled out and you’ll revert back to your normal appearance, etc.). There are plenty of enchantments that can be used that either limit or entirely block magic in a certain area or etc., and though of course these have to be created by magic users, again, there are plenty of magic users who have motivations that would lead them to create that sort of thing, and distribute them to non-magical groups to help them, or just because they’re getting paid to do so. The hiring of magic users to help create technology and enchantments to inhibit and regulate other magic users, or just to create random magic shit that helps people on an individual level (like a ring that puts a temporary barrier around you in combat or etc.) is incredibly common and you see it everywhere. Most non-magical people can access magic in some way, if not extensively in the form of personal enchantments and technological conveniences, at the very least their village leader will usually hire a mage to set up a barrier around important buildings in their town or something (and even if they do none of that, that’s where the magical task forces and stuff come in that help groups who have never heard of magic in their lives but are being bothered by it.) But for the most part, even a non-magical society, even most societies that actively hate and look down on magic, still are usually at least minorly aware of it’s existence and utilize it in some limited practical everyday applications, at the very least for defensive purposes. Usually it's just stuff like a local group of elves enchanting a few things for some humans, or the leader of a non-magical group venturing out of their isolated forest lands to the nearest travel hub and buying something magical from the market, etc. etc. As most magical and non-magical groups are usually not allied or close friends (again, they mostly mutually ignore each other), it would be rare for a non-magical culture to have like, magic and enchantments and etc. fully integrated into every aspect of their society or something, but a few minor defensive enchantments here and there out of necessity can be pretty common.. Which does present at least some barrier to any magic group that did happen to want to be malicious for whatever reason.

And, the last and most major point…

Magic just plain sucks lol— remember that magic is still varied as hell and dangerous and hard to use and people who are genuinely significantly powerful are absolutely the minority. Probably a good 80% of the magic used in the entire realm is just, mundane small scale battle magic (leaning to shoot a tiny bit of fire from your hands to defend yourself while hunting), basic low level enchantments that do stuff like create barriers or help someone’s baking always turn out well, and random little things like people conjuring food for themselves every once in a while when on a trip , using elemental magic to grow plants in interesting ways, magically repairing household items, or levitating a small distance in order to reach something on shelf, etc. etc. Which I talk more about the actual uses of magic in society and who can use magic in my main post about magic in Nanyevimi, but like most people in the realm absolutely don’t have the time, energy, circumstance, motivation, or innate ability set to be able to become like, wildly magical super beings that could group together to create an uprising. Most magic users are random low level dudes in small villages that occasionally cast enchantments on crops to help their food supply but don’t get any more involved with magical shit than that (not even just because magic itself is generally dangerous, but also over-exertion of magic and draining your energy can have dire consequences, so most don’t use it willy nilly to just do whatever, it’s a high risk limited resource, not a fun happy fix all wave fingers and conjure unlimited sandwiches sort of thing.. even these everyday uses can be detrimental, there's like a 30% chance you'll kill yourself just using a small spell to repair your broken shoes, so even most people who are capable of and trained in magic hardly ever use it for much beyond a few casual low level uses every once in a while when they see it as important enough to risk). Especially since there are different TYPES and levels of magic you can do, and most magic beyond a basic level is fairly inaccessible to a majority of the population, most just sticking within the scope of whatever their species is inherently inclined towards or whatever is relevant to their life/occupation (and still mostly low level within these). And even if people were capable of all types, most would actually not even have information to access it if they could. I write a lot about things like absorption of souls and creation of pocket realities and illusion magics and etc. just because I find it the most interesting in application lol, but out in the actual realm they’re hardly prevalent and you’re really not going to know about their existence unless it’s the expertise area of your species (like how some groups of Jhevona are naturally inclined towards soul magics and it’s use becomes heavily embedded in their culture, or how Verrucalt are the only known species alive to effortlessly do reality magics from birth, etc.), or you’re someone who specifically spends a lot of time studying magic (like a scholar or teacher), in which case you are probably fully aware of the consequences of magic mis-use and would be terrified to really try the magic yourself beyond studying theory without heavy supervision from an experienced Jhevona or something (who would probably dictate careful cultural rules on how you can use it anyway). So, most people don’t even KNOW about many of the actually truly dangerous types of magic, and anyone who does know about it is likely either terrified of it, not terrified of it (meaning they clearly don’t know enough about the consequences of it) and has killed themselves doing a spell, or was raised using it and has a pristine control over it with many culturally imposed limitations in place (usually some of which involve rules like, 'uh hey, don't attack random people, especially not those who can't even use magic to defend themselves'). So in addition to the whole ‘a majority of the population has extremely low level magic skill and can hardly pull off terrifying feats of magic anyway even if they wanted to because they lack the inherent ability necessary just by way of nature’, there’s also the whole ‘even if most people DID have the ability to do these things, it’d probably extremely hard for them to access information and training’ thing to consider. And then in addition to THAT, even if someone did have informational access AND ability to do all types of magic.... (which again, is pretty much unheard of , even most mage scholars can’t legitimately perform most of the skills they have factual information on.. really only some misc groups of Jhevona and ancient demons that have trained for usually 5,000+ years or more can even gain access to all types of magic, let alone perform them correctly (that’d come around the 10,000 year mark perhaps lol)) .... there would still be the issue of like.. magic being ridiculously costly. The number one cause of death in the realm is literally magic use (which of course varies, some societies that use magic all the time have more bad incidents, non-magical or magic-shunning societies have pretty much zero magic caused deaths a year, etc., I’m talking about like GLOBALLY though, if you combine all causes of death in all of Nanyevimi as a whole to an average) lol. There’s good reason most people would never pursue much higher level magic than what is necessary, and don’t explore out of their inherent inclination (elves who have elemental magic come naturally to them only ever using their base skill and not learning soul magics or something, non-magical people not seeking to learn magic even though they technically could do a few minor types with the right training and specific conditions, etc.). Even something as simple as conjuring a tiny flame to light a torch can end up killing or seriously injuring you, not even to mention high level stuff like transferring souls or creating massive explosions or etc. It’s pretty much accepted that like in a mage school with a starting class of 100 students, it’d be fairly regular for 50 to die by the second year, and 100% to receive some form of minor or major injury, usually multiple times (depending on the type and level of magic being taught, but this is more general). It is known: magic will hurt you, it just depends on when and how badly. Rate of death and injury is significantly higher during the initial learning period (obviously), but even like, nearly all-powerful ancient demons who have been studying for 10,000 years will still completely horrifically fuck up from time to time, and in their 10,000 years of experience have probably almost died, mutilated their body, burned down their house, almost fractured their soul, killed someone around them by accident, etc. more times than they could even possibly count. It’s said that without access to healing magic and shape shifting abilities to make up for it, most high level magic users would look like fucking corpses, absolutely covered head to toe with the countless scars from injuries they’ve acquired over the years, disfigured and mangled in various ways to the point of not even looking humanoid anymore. Literally the very first things they have you master in any magic school is healing magic and stuff like the ability to regrow limbs (and ironically, even this, if not used correctly, can kill and injure you lol), so you can have a starting base to more easily recover from your inevitable future life-threatening mistakes. Magic is generally still not understood despite intelligent humanoid societies existing and studying it in Nanyevimi in some form for the past two million years or so. It’s source, the link it seems to have to souls/blood/etc., how to fully control it, why there’s physical side effects to it’s exposure, etc. none of these things have been worked out, and it’s still a very chaotic and dangerous thing to be messing with in general. Luckily there are groups who have worked out ways to do certain things safely these days (like elven and Jhevona(demons) societies who have had magic integrated in their culture for millions of years and have evolved detailed customs and etc. to use it most effectively while minimizing harm), and most minor low level stuff can be done without too much consequence (though still, if you don’t COMPLETELY know what you’re doing, the smallest most baby step day one type of spell can kill you), and things like enchantments have become common place and etc., but magic as a WHOLE, like including all high level stuff and etc., is still broadly inaccessible, misunderstood, and has a ridiculously high death rate among it’s users. So this is probably one of the biggest reasons magic users could never take over the world or whatever, is just .. magic users in Nanyevimi rarely are like, people with some dangerous ultimate power or etc. etc.. A vast majority are merely common people using low level magics very very very carefully to occasionally improve their quality of life or help them with something, or to make enchantments for others or protect their homes from fires or etc, and never messing with it outside of that. While there are some truly formidable groups/individuals out there, and (low level) magic is in some sense very ‘common place’ throughout the realm, as a whole, magic’s difficulty and mystery and extremely high risk means it’s still something most don’t use excessively or to a dangerous amount. So some sort of thing like ‘an entire country of extremely high level mages rise up to overtake the rest of non-magical world, muahaha’ is like, functionally impossible, as if there’d ever be an entire country of high level mages in the first place, who can also somehow all get along, not die from magical exertion, share a common goal, and see non-magical groups as worth messing with lmao, etc. etc.

But anyway, idk this is kind of disorganized but hopefully it’s outlined reasonably enough lol, I kind of just rambled from one topic to the other but those are all I can think of right now.

So in summary, magic users don’t rise up and overtake all non magic users because:

--- they have no reason to do so

--- (and most non-magic users and magic users are so disconnected from each other they don't care to start conflicts across groups anyway, 'magic vs. magic' or 'non-magic vs. non-magic' conflicts are WAY more common than 'non-magic' vs. 'magic', which legit hardly even exists anywhere)

--- magic users are not a unified force who could coordinate something like that anyway

--- most of them disagree with each other and there are plenty of magical groups in place to keep control over other magic users if they were to act up

--- at the least very basic protection magic is widely available in most places even to non-magic groups

--- and most importantly, magic as a whole is also just sucky and risky, so a majority of frequent users of magic only do low level spells and hardly could accomplish anything on the scale of working to enslave an entire society or something.

[ side note 1:

(I put this at the bottom since it's kind of unrelated to anything else)

I think it’s often just a product of the broader societal norms set up by culture and especially enforced by economic systems, or like individual psychology, but I don’t think antagonistic domination over others is inherent to the nature of humanoid beings, especially since from any sort of actual rational survival standpoint, you’re going to need to cooperate at some point, etc., How in many ways adaptations that help us cooperate can be a lot more essential in survival than those that incline us to be fight each other or whatever. In a majority of situations the skills necessary to cooperate and share will help you survive/give you an advantage more than dominance and antagonism, which while that can be helpful in the short term, usually doesn't aid in long form survival, especially if everyone around you is the same way. Even if you're thinking in the most selfish terms possible, adapting to cooperate and share with others at least to some degree is going to be the most advantageous for you if you really think about it and the long term set up and etc. (getting group protection, sharing labor, sharing resources, collective knowledge pool, etc. (which would become dysfunctional and limited if everyone just stole from each other or killed everyone else or tried to hoard resources. etc.)) And looking at the variety of cultures and philosophies and etc. out there, again I think it's just more conditional/individually psychological/cultural than it is like, literally just some ingrained unchangeable permanent way that all humans inherently must be like, etc. etc. If nothing else, humans are very malleable, and can adapt to all different societal organizations and lifestyles.

And also, a majority of the population of Navyete is not human, though I have stated in the past they have pretty humanoid brain structure and likely function similarly in the sense of what cognitive biases and mental things they’re prone to, I could have some merit to argue that even if humans are just Like That, maybe elves or jhevona or etc. are cognitively different somehow, though that’s still more of a cop out and my main answer is still ‘no, humans need not inherently be Like That in the first place’ lol ]

But anyway, idk this is kind of disorganized but hopefully it’s outlined reasonably enough lol, I kind of just rambled from one topic to the other but those are all I can think of right now. Thank for the question, hopefully this was organized enough!!! ghh

#but as always... thanks for any question about stuff like this #lov to... ramble about how magic sucks lol #replies

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jeniiii · 7 years

Text

Clichés and Basketball Games || p.p

Summary: In which Peter falls for the girl behind the counter

Words: 1297

Warnings: A few swears, shit writing if I’m being honest

Comments: I know I’ve been inactive for a long time, but school became a pain in the ass, but I’m back with a sorta decent (not really, lmao) imagine. I just wanted to thank you guys because I have 294 followers and I’m so extremely thankful and confused??? Like, why are you following a loser like me, haha. Just, thank you for following me and supporting me, despite the fact I still suck at using tumblr and am barely on here most of the time. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!

*************

Peter wasn't really one to attend basketball games.

But, after the non stop chiding from Ned (who unfortunately got stuck as the score keeper of the night, thanks to a certain experiment gone wrong in chem and an angry - not to mention blue - science teacher) and the slight taunting from a certain little rich boy, Peter found himself sitting in the bleachers of the Midtown High gymnasium, watching a bunch of sweaty dudes running around and tossing a ball to each other.

It was no surprise that Peter wasn't exactly enjoying himself, barely paying attention to the game and more so on the watch that sat on his wrist. His duties as the one and only masked superhero of New York never seemed to be at rest, leg bouncing at the chance to jump up and save whoever was in danger that night. His watch flashed with nothing but the time. No alerts, no notifications telling him to slip right into his Spidey suit and into the night sky. Nothing. He started to wonder if this watch was of any use to him, as he was still working out the bugs and programs he placed into it the night before.

"Ned, I'm telling you, I tried to get into the police station's radio and connect it to the watch's system, but all I got was some old folk-song french shit. It won't even turn off now and I'm pretty sure May is getting suspicious with the random noises coming from my room."

He shook his head, getting up from his seat and heading down the stairs to the booth Ned currently sat at, watching the boy's leg bounce anxiously under the wooden table in front of him.

"I'm gonna get a snack. You want anything?"

Distracted with keeping track of the points and the many fouls on the court, Ned barely glanced at Peter before replying, "Uh, yeah, could you get me a hot dog? This job is killing me, man. I mean, the rules don't even make sense!"

Letting a laugh slip past his lips, Peter nudged Ned's arm and headed out to find the concession, still glancing at the watch that sat silent on his skin.

*****

Peter stood in line, watching his finger tips play with the many buttons attached to his watch. The line for the concession turned out to be way longer than anticipated, countless minutes spent in an unmoving queue as rowdy teens waited impatiently to finally order their food. Peter didn't mind much. The longer he was away from the sweat and heat that was found in that gymnasium, the happier he was.

A crease formed on his forehead, watching as the object on his wrist lit up, a white light flashing across his face. He smiled, containing his excitement, before lifting his eyes to the line in front of him. Many heads were bouncing up and down, trying to get a closer glimpse as to why the line seemed constantly unmoving for several minutes. Peter grew tired of waiting, him too moving head along with the others. He didn't quite understand why the concession was taking so long. Surely this wasn't their first high school basketball game?

After a few minutes of exasperated sighs and mumbling swears, the queue finally started moving along, teens excitedly singing their orders and waiting off to the side. Soon enough, Peter found himself right in front of the menu, squinting to get a better look at the prices.

"Hi! Sorry the line too so long. Jerry broke the damn popcorn machine again and we had to get the janitor up here to fix it." She let off a nervous laugh, feeling her voice cut off after realizing the boy in front of her had no care for her words. "Um, what would you like?"

Peter barely glanced at the girl speaking to him, totally enraptured in the ridiculous prices pasted above him; five bucks for one hot dog!? That's bullshit.

"Uh, yeah, could I get two hot dogs please? Oh! And a bottled water." His head nodded, glad he didn't completely mess up his order.

"Perfect! That'll be twelve dollars."

Peter scrunched up his nose at the amount of money he had to lose at that very moment, grabbing the money out of his wallet and handing it over to the cashier. After staring at the food items for frankly, more time than necessary, Peter didn't bother to acknowledge the girl who's been serving him the past seven minutes. But when his eyes met hers, he felt his whole body shut down.

She was beautiful; bright and smiling and absolutely gorgeous. Peter didn't know what to say - what to do and soon he found himself just staring into the eyes of the girl in front of him. His hands began to sweat, all social skills flying out his head and into the middle of nowhere. Everything was silent, the two teens sharing a moment of absolute bliss before -

"Il était une Dame Tartine. Dans un beau palais de buerre frais - "

His eyes widened, flying down to the watch sitting on his wrist. The song played loudly, causing many people's attention to be pulled towards the fumbling boy in front of the concession stand.

"What the f - please stop." His teeth nervously gnawed down on his lip, glancing at the girl who, frankly, couldn't help from letting a few giggles pass through her lips.

"Here," she smiled, reaching across the counter and grabbing Peter's wrist. "You just have to press this button."

Soon, the music shut off, relief flooding into his system. "H-How did you do that?"

"My dad has one of those watches too. A smart watch, right?" Peter didn't feel like it was necessary to blab his secret identity to some - absolutely stunning - girl, simply nodding. "Yeah, he had some troubles with it too."

Peter smiled, before he felt a nudge behind him. A man stood, shadowing over him with a scowl painting his lips. He took that as a sign and quickly handed his money off, practically running away from the girl of his dreams without another word.

He didn't want to go back. No, not after he completely embarrassed himself in front of the cashier. But, assuming Ned was starving his ass off in the gym, and he, himself missing dinner and about twelve bucks out of his wallet, he had no choice than to go pick up his order.

A few moments passed by before Peter heard his order, staring down at the ground before going to grab his food. No way was he making anymore eye contact with the girl behind the counter.

"Here are your two hot dogs and a water." He reached out his arms, careful to avoid the eyes of the girl staring back at him."Thanks for ordering, Peter."

His head shot up, wondering how in living hell this girl knew his name. She simply winked, pointing down at his tray before going back to her job. Soon, he found himself searching the tray, looking like absolute madman as he pushed his way through to the bottom. His eyes caught sight of a little piece of paper, small words written across.

'You're pretty cute and smart from what I've seen during the two classes we have together. I'd love to talk more with you. Text me sometime.' Peter felt so stupid, oblivious to the fact the girl he was completely infatuated with was in two goddamn classes with him

Nonetheless, he felt his heart rate pick up and a smile graze his lips, staring down at the number and name scrawled to the bottom of the note.

Maybe he enjoyed basketball game more than he thought.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker oneshot #marvel #spider man #spider man imagines #spider man imagine #spider man one shot #spider man x reader #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot

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copyrightedsnakes · 7 years

Text

Don’t Sleep / Part 1 -- The Author

Title: Don’t Sleep

Length: ~18k (~2.3k for this part)

Summary: No one knew what caused Mark Fischbach to kill those six people. Curious, journalist Sean McLoughlin decided to arrange an interview, hoping to hear his story. He was not prepared for the tale Mark had to tell.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, gore, death wow this sounds fun doesn’t it

A/N: Hi! Here’s a thing. I’ve been wanting to write something with Mark’s egos as characters lately and tadah! here it is. It was planned/written before WKM, so it’s not related to/compliant with that in the slightest. It’s written in the same interview style as the book World War Z, so that was a challenge, and inspired by/paying homage to one of my favorite fics of all time (different fandom, inactive author). Don’t worry about Jack’s name in the summary; this fic is nothing but gen (no shipping at all) he’s just a character. The settings are inspired by horror games Mark has played over the years, some more obvious than others. Happy Halloween!

[ The subject walks into the interview room, looking up at the mirror with an expression that says he knows people are looking back at him. He also looks tired; extremely tired and worn. A dog is at his heels, a flowy golden retriever with soft eyes, its tail waving leisurely from side to side as it looks up at its master. The man sits down at the table, in the cold metal chair closest to the door he entered from, and the dog sits next to him, nudging his hand gently until he raises it to pet its head. I swallow, looking over my questions before opening the door, entering the room with him. The air is cold. ]

Hello. Mark Fischbach, correct? My name is Sean McLoughlin; I’m a journalist.

I figured.

[ I turn my recorder on and set it on the table between us. Mark looks up from his dog--a therapy dog, I assume--and though I could tell he was tired even before entering, he looks so much more so up close that for a moment, I want to suggest a nap. ]

So, you know why I’m here then?

Because it’s been nearly three years. An anniversary piece. You’re hoping to be the journalist that finally cracks how I did it.

Did what, exactly?

How I killed those six people. [ His voice is resigned, but there's a slight bitterness too. ]

No. That’s not what I want. I just want to hear your story. No judgement, no disbelief. Just your version of events.

[ Mark stares at me, stares me fully in the face. His expression is slightly pained, as though I just asked him to do something he’d much rather not. ]

You want the story of a man that’s been locked away for two and a half years? Really?

We don’t have to start today, if you’re not comfortable. We can just talk a little while if you’d like.

[ Mark is still looking at me like maybe I’m the crazy one, but the resignation in his eyes is gone. Instead, I see a small pique of interest. ]

I already know that you won’t believe me.

You have to try me before you say something like that.

[ He looks for a few seconds more before breaking eye contact, his gaze on his hands as he settles himself in his chair. His dog rests its head on his thigh, looking up imploringly until he begins to pet it again. He’s silent for a long time, his face deep in thought, looking unsure of what to say next. I almost try a lead in question, but then his mouth opens. ]

Dreams were never something I put much importance in. I've known people who keep journals, or try look for a deeper meaning, or something like that, but it’s just brainwaves. Once you learn the science behind something, it loses its mystery. I’d had one or two nightmares that stuck with me, but they weren’t really something I needed to worry about. It was just a dream, you know? That's what you tell yourself. Just a dream. But then… This one dream started happening. And it kept happening, over and over and over.

Tell me about it.

[ Mark pauses again. Not for quite as long this time though, swallowing before speaking. ]

It was night. It was always night, and I was always walking through a forest that I'd never seen before. It was incredibly dark, like even the moon had fallen out of the sky, and maybe it had because it was pouring rain, rain as cold as ice that drenched me in seconds. All I had with me was a flashlight, but thanks to the storm I could only see a few feet in front of me. I moved fast, because I didn’t want to stay in this forest and I obviously didn’t want to keep getting rained on, but I didn’t know where to go. One way had to be the way out, right? This forest couldn’t go on forever. So I started walking.

Did you know what direction you were going?

Direction? [ Mark laughs a little. ] I didn't even know where I was. I was walking along, trying to keep water out of my eyes, and then I heard footsteps. Fast footsteps, coming in my direction. I looked, trying to see someone behind me, and there was nothing there. I knew I didn't imagine it. Then hands grabbed at my shirt, twisting and pulling me back, and fuck. [ He laughs again, a completely humorless sound. ] It was terrifying. I just started running. I ran until my lungs burned--the cold air hurt, which should have struck me as odd, because dreams are supposed to be painless, but I didn't notice it. I ran until the forest ended.

What was at the end of the forest?

Well, this time… [ He pauses for a second, thinking. ]

This time?

The first time it was a school. A huge white catholic school, with a big chapel on one end and a cross over the door. It was unlocked, and I ran in and closed the door behind me. Whatever was running after me slams into the door, huge and solid, but then it’s gone. And so was my flashlight, but before I could worry about being able to see or not an overhead light down the hallway clicked on. So I followed it.

How did you know it was a catholic school?

The crosses, for one. Over every doorway. That statue everyone’s familiar with, Jesus dying and bloodied and nailed up. The hallways were lined with lockers, with classrooms. I’ve never been in a catholic school--I’m not very too religious myself--but it was pretty obvious.

Lights kept turning on as I went. I didn’t know if they were just on motion sensors, or what; when you’re dreaming, logistics aren’t really something you think about. It was so incredibly quiet. Everything was spotless too, like the place was brand new and I was the first person to ever set foot inside. I followed the lights into the cafeteria, and that's where the rest of them were.

The rest of them? Who?

If you’ve done your research, you know who. And you look like you have.

The other victims.

[ Mark nods, letting out a long, heavy breath. His dog nudges his hand again. ]

There was six of them. None of them were wet from the rain like I was, and they weren't dressed normally, either; they almost looked like they were here for a costume party. There’s a Doctor, a Newscaster, a Technician, an Entertainer, a Cowboy, and an Author. They looked up at me all at once when I walked in, and god, it unsettled me.

Was there something wrong with them?

All of them had my face. All of them.

But the victims--

I know. But in the dream, for some reason, all six of them looked like me. The cafeteria door slammed closed behind me, and Author said that he supposed that meant we were all here. Then from somewhere--it wasn't from the overhead system or anything--this deep voice spoke. It was so deep I could feel the vibrations of it through the tiled floors. It told us, all of us, that someone was going to die. Really though, it meant all of us. Everyone started panicking a little, muttering to themselves and each other, obviously scared. I was too.

But you’re still alive?

[ Mark ignores me. ] If you die in a dream, you die in real life. You’ve heard that, haven’t you? If you die in a dream, you die for real. And so far…

[ He falls silent. He’s silent for nearly two minutes, petting his therapy dog, who swishes its tail against the ground when he looks down at it. I don’t want to press him to speak, so I wait. ]

Nobody wanted to sit around in the cafeteria waiting for death, so we decided to look for a way out. It didn’t sound like it was raining anymore, and while I wasn’t excited about going back out into the woods with whatever had chased me, at least now I wasn’t alone. Two different hallways branched off from the cafeteria, so we split into two groups. I was with the Author and the Entertainer. The Entertainer was a weird one. He had a mustache and suspenders, and he spoke with something that I guess was a lisp. He made me uneasy from the beginning, but I walked with them anyway.

Where did you go?

We just followed hallways, looking for open doors or an exit sign. Most of the doors were locked, and those that weren’t were just dead-end classrooms. The Entertainer kept going on about wanting a weapon. He talked about self-defense, but… [ Mark shrugs. ] We were in a school. I don’t know what he expected.

Eventually, we started hearing something. Yelling, and the voices yelling all sounded like mine, so I knew it had to be the others. The Author wanted to help them, but the Entertainer said that it was better them than us. As it turned out though, the doors along their path had been locked as well, and we ended up running into each other in a hallway that looped around. The Cowboy was in the lead and he screamed at us to run, so we did.

What was chasing them?

I didn’t know at first. I didn’t want to look back, like all the idiots in horror movies, and trip over my own feet. I just ran. The blue lockers that lined the hallways started bursting open as we passed, and thick strips of white silk shot out at us. One of the silk pieces wrapped around my arm, and it squeezed so tightly I thought my forearm was going to break. I managed to rip it off, and when I looked down at my arm it was already bruising. I kept away from them after that, but some of the others didn’t. The Newscaster got a bunch of them on his arms, and around his middle; he started crying while we ran.

I’m a pretty fit guy, but even with the adrenaline I was about at my limit by the time we finally made it to the gym. The Doctor and the Technician held the double doors closed, and I helped the Newscaster get the white ribbons off. He didn’t stop crying once I was finished, though he did get quieter. The Technician told him to shut up.

The Author was looking around, trying to find us an exit from the gym, when there was a bang on the double doors. The Doctor and the Technician didn’t stand a chance; both of the doors were blasted off their hinges, and whatever in hell's name it was that wanted us dead came in. She had to bend down to fit under the door.

She?

[ Mark sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. ]

Yeah. She, it, whatever the fuck that thing was. It doesn't matter. This creature must have been nine, ten feet tall, incredibly long and thin and completely covered in a cloak. It started off black at the bottom, then grey, fading all the way up to a bone white from her waist to the top of her head. Her legs were too long, her arms were too long, her neck was too long… She stopped, screeching when came in, and she didn't have eyes, what I could only assume was skin pulled so tightly over her face that it looked painful. She didn't have lips, her teeth bared and visible.

[ Mark's voice grows increasingly strained and rough. He swallows, his gaze going back to his hands. ]

When she screamed again, she started following the echos through the gym with her head like some kind of echolocation. The sound was so shrill my ears were ringing, and her head turned to face the Author, the only one of us that wasn't behind her after she'd burst through the door. [ His voice cracks, and he stops again. ] He didn't stand a chance.

She killed him?

Her fingers were long, just like everything else, extending out into sharp black points, and she ran him through with them. One finger through each eye. She kept screaming, lifting him up, and even though all the noise I could hear this deep, heavy laughter. It was the man that had spoken before. I could still hear it when I opened my eyes.

You woke up?

I felt like I'd just run a mile. I was sweating, and I felt sick. I wanted to write it off as a bizarre, fucked up nightmare. I almost did.

What stopped you?

I still had the bruise. It was blue and purple and wrapped all around my forearm. [ He traces the skin he meant with his finger, as though he could still feel it. His lips fall into a heavyset line. ] I wanted a distraction, so I turned the television on. They were talking about a murder.

The first victim.

[ Mark nodded. ] The first victim. He was wrapped up tightly in those white silken ribbons, but not like a mummy; his body was bound in strips. All of the ribbons were pristine except for the one around his eyes; that one was stained red. I knew he was the Author from my dream, but he didn't have my face anymore. He didn't look anything like me; he wasn't even Asian American. He was Latino.

[ Mark shakes his head, falling silent. An orderly enters the room behind him, telling me in a soft voice that our time is up. There's a woman standing behind her, dressed in the same clothes, holding a tray of food and pills. ]

Would it be okay if I came back tomorrow?

Please. [ Mark looks slightly desperate. ] There's so much more to tell you.

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tortureisims · 8 years

Text

( COYOTE )

So I’m unsure if anyone has noticed on my blogs but, there’s been a notable slow drop in my activity lately. Why that is will be under the cut.

First off I’d like to say that I’m sorry for my inactivity, I really truly love my muses and it’s been killing me that I can’t muster the motivation, or energy to be writing for any of them much currently. Second, no one is obligated to care, I know some of you will try to reach out to me because you feel like you have to, because you followed me or we talked a bit, this is incorrect. You’re not obligated to care just because you follow me, and you shouldn’t waste energy trying to help someone who’s as disconnected, and empty as I am right now. Save your energy for things you really need it for, save your happiness.

Lately my mood and mental state have been struggling, I’ve slowly stopped doing the things that made me happy, and have been pushing through the things that I need to do in order to survive. I’ve stopped drawing for the most part and like you may or may not have noticed, I’ve stopped writing almost entirely.

I do plan on trying to come back to my muses, don’t get be wrong, I love them so much and they help me and make me so incredibly happy. But right now, I just can’t do it, I can’t write something for your reply because I’m just so fucking tired. All I do anymore is sleep, eat, and scroll through tumblr, occasionally I’ll answer an ask or two and do school but that’s about it.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know why I’ve been so disconnected. Lately I’ve been disassociating, a lot, though it’s not quite as scary but just empty. I don’t feel much, the times that I do I just feel too much and it’s so fucking annoying.

This all could be because of the move from houses, the new puppy, and the realization that I’m an adult now weighting down on me all of the sudden. I have so many issues from the past that I have yet to deal with, and that’s no ones fault, or problem but my own.

For now, I’ll be on slight hiatus until my mental status and mood are dealt with / improve. You are completely allowed to send in asks for my muses, I encourage you to, maybe it’ll help me but please don’t rush me. Please don’t think that I hate you because I haven’t responded, I swear on my life that it’s not that. I am so appreciative for you all being patient with me, I want to respond so badly but I just can’t lately.

Part of me feels like I’ve failed you all more every day that goes by that I haven’t responded to your asks, or roleplays, this has all been feeling like more of a job than a hobby and I'm just so empty.

This isn’t a goodbye, but an explanation because I think you all deserve one. I’ll be here and I’ll be trying to be active, but I can’t promise anything, not while I’m like this.

- Coyote

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topurify · 8 years

Text

( COYOTE )

So I’m unsure if anyone has noticed on my blogs but, there’s been a notable slow drop in my activity lately. Why that is will be under the cut.

This isn’t a goodbye, but an explanation because I think you all deserve one. I’ll be here and I’ll be trying to be active, but I can’t promise anything, not while I’m like this.

- Coyote

#OUT OF CHARACTER : ( 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴 𝙸𝚂 𝙲𝙾𝚈𝙾𝚃𝙴 )

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advxdaehyun-blog · 8 years

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plotcall! or whatever we call it on tumblr rp nowadays—

Yells excitedly and nervously!! I’m sorry for being inactive but I was lurking around in search of my muse that went on a vacation without telling me, wheezes!! Anyway, uhm, please plot with me! I’m really cool and have great pick-up lines— Here’s the list of plots I’ve been wanting to share, all of them lead to character development and relationship growth! Thus, if you wish to proceed with any of these, please bear in mind that it’s not to be taken lightly and changes will occur for my muse, what happens to yours is not my decision to make. A few things to be taken into account:

―I’ve set no boundaries in which the plots do no require certain positions/species/whatsoever. It’s free for all, I wish for my muse to interact with zero limits. ―If a particular plot ends up attracting too many interested people, I’ll close it for future threads until the present ones are done. ―Rather than producing confinements of certain settings, I’ve kept it vague and generic; just a paragraph to awaken the dormant inspirations within the ones whom are reading this list. Further details will be discussed.

T R I G G E R W A R N I N G S : violence, pedophilia, rape, crude language, maniac behavior, murder, psychological manipulation, verbal/physical/mental abuse, guns, physical combat, isolation, trapped, cage, metaphorical freedom, illicit affair, blades, sharp objects, implied pregnancy, implied forced abortion!

α — 1984 by George Orwell.

stumbling upon despair, do you spit out venom or do you wallow amidst self-deprecation? there is a hierarchical order, constituents arranged based on ranks and the invisible eye of an ultimatum ever watchful. slithering through hallways, ascending a never ending flight of stairs, upwards the both of you go; forward the both of you pursue, despondency and determination, yet did any of these two ever realize those chains circling your ankles, the leash death knotted around your neck? was escape ever truly a reality, those acquaintances truly ally and the trust you’ve shared between, has it always been seen as a tracking trail to prove who’s in the wrong? then who’s in the right?

β — The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.

as his naked body shivered on the cement floor of the military’s holding cell, daehyun only ever wished to live. “when you really want something to happen, the whole universe will conspire so that your wish comes true.” yet as he witnessed the blazing sun for the first time in two months, the feelings could only be summoned as standing in the middle of Sahara dessert with zero bearings. would you be the Philosopher’s Stone to fuel his cognizance or are you the Elixir of Life to put a halt on the tempest in his mind? either way, these scars littering his body are quite fascinating, against your fingertips; against your tongue; against the blade you’re holding too, maybe.

γ — 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami.

sometimes you’ll see him carrying a bouquet of flowers; fingers caressing the petals as if they were a part of him and spoke in soft wisps of breathy sighs whenever he’s seen in the gardens. floriography, he had once told you after a brief meeting; you asked, he answered and that was that. but then it was if the Sun and Moon had aligned and you were staring at an entirely different entity; daehyun? kazuya? who is he? you could’ve sworn crimson painted his fingers, razor sharp smile and glinting eyes. the way he had manhandled those people left you torn between weeping in terror or avenging their deaths by tearing this diabolical individual whom remained standing in front of you, unwavering gaze and all that jazz, Frank Sinatra playing as the background music. was it parallel universes or did you just have bad timing?

δ — Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk.

fight or flight, those trembling hands of yours; quivering lips and rivulets of sweat streaming down your face. despite the long-sleeved shirt, those baggy camouflage pants, you can see tangible thew adorning his very being. daehyun speaks like those cunning foxes, he smiles as if the entire world rested on his back yet the way you fought erased those mental images of him with a flower crown on top of his head; of him hidden behind towers of books; of him reaching out a helping hand when you were cornered. this silence and that silence are parallel lines; never to meet because back then, daehyun was battling the enemies for you and now daehyun is battling the enemies within you. how was it possible to end up with expectations hung around your neck like a noose and a man adroit at physical combat ready to pounce the moment you even breathe?!

ε — The Great Gatsby by F.Scott Fitzgerald.

speak of luxury and they’ll respond with rare gems, a bar of gold and glittering diamonds. sometimes they’ll romanticize other aspects, as if it could wipe away the drool from the corner of their mouths once gazes land on wads of cash and those cars imported from top automobile countries. daehyun finds amusement above all in luxury; he likes the multitude of rainbow light rays reflected off a diamond’s surface, enjoys the substantial weight of holding jewelries in his hands but he never stays. how could he allow himself to be chained by silver cutlery and forked tongues when he’s seen so much more in the world beyond? it’s hard to understand how he laughs at being presented a gold ring but rendered silent when he’s looking at Renaissance paintings and architectures through the screen of his laptop. it’s hilarious how he could dismiss offers of wealth with a monotonous yet polite “oh?” but gasps in astonishment when tangible literature were immortalized through yellowing, dog-eared pages bounded by leathery covers.

ϛ — The Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger.

one half of a whole | beginning; she ran out of the house, half-dressed and half-braided hair flying against the blowing wind. monsters crawled up the marble stairs croaking for help with their bloody hands and smashed faces, monsters buried in their backyard, monsters escorted her to school and practice, monsters disappeared into her mother’s office only to never resurface. her father religiously called three times a week, her mother religiously whipped the back of her knees three times a stutter in speech. you’ve heard the clattering of mugs and splashing of boiled water, yet you’ve never heard of someone who picks up hot ceramic pieces with a familiarity one could only fathom after having seen the Devil themselves.

ζ — The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami. coming soon!

η — Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami. coming soon!

θ — Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. coming soon!

ι — Kafka On The Shore by Haruki Murakami. coming soon!

κ — To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee. coming soon!

λ — The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini.

somber ambiance for stories of rape, rape, rape. tears shed over bruised thighs and sashaying hips. there were signs; there will always be signs with him, the way he knows how to subtly brace against an onslaught of sexual oppression, the way he bore his fangs towards others that dared to lift a hand when he is present but consent is absent. how do you go about someone who’s gone through wars; both fought in reality and in his mind’s simulation? the ever present lines of red rimming those falsely jubilant eyes, you can’t think, can’t think, refuse to acknowledge, beneath that old military uniform; underneath his favorite sweaters, one of those parts in his timeline, that scarred stomach once protruded into a bump, a microscopic sound of heartbeat but where did it go? where did daehyun go after he was dragged down the stairs? where did daehyun go after he was forced on to the ground? how is it that you are stuck in oblivion when he’s always there to kiss your demons, embrace your wrath and tenderly soothe the flame within your soul?

μ — American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis.

“why do you sound like you want to kill someone?” “because i do want to kill someone,…again.” the first time you met him over one too many glasses of neat bourbon, as yours eyes roamed across his countenance; slight wrinkles in case of antediluvian youth, feline curved eyes and soft, soft lines of his lips, gracefulness breathed onto those lithe wrists; the thought of this man, seated on the bar stool next to you never crossed that particular inclination of thoughts. but when you met him for one too many times over the same glasses of neat bourbon, there’s a certain aspect of unhinged with the way his lips curl into the embodiment of rogue; amber orbs shone too brightly and that sinful flicker of tongue wetting chapped tiers. it gives you a metaphorical side table with two drawers, one contains a classic russian roulette revolver whilst the other contains what you’d like to believe as means of safety for you. but then you can’t have the best of both worlds now, can you? especially when you’re situated next to a maniac veiled by those sweet, sweet words defying laws of gravity.

#` [ ooc ]#` [ yells i've finally gotten around to this ]#` [ blessed so blessed ]#` [ come at me lovelies!!! ]#plots

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