#that man will never know how to interact with people

[darkmatilda]

ׂ╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

part 1: first day of investigation

in which you and the BAU are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town

tw: decapitation, description of a crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mental illness

contents: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn

words: 4k

“And how's school?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“It could be worse,” said Jeremy after a moment, in an indifferent tone. You sighed, wondering if, as a teenager, you also answered everything, even more serious, open questions with vague remarks, driving the person asking how you were doing to frustration.

Answering that question, no, you didn’t do that. When you were a teenager, you didn’t have anyone who cared about you. Precisely for this reason that you practically tormented your brother with phone conversations, feeling immense guilt for leaving him with your parents. The same parents with whom you ultimately decided to cut off contact. You had never faced a more difficult decision — cutting them off or continuing a relationship that tragically affected your mental health? After each interaction with them, you felt weak, defenseless, insignificant, and above all, exhausted. It wasn’t even about your mother’s illness. They were just terrible people.

Your sixteen-year-old brother didn’t have that option. He had to deal with them until he turned eighteen and moved out. You regularly made sure he was okay. However, lately, you had the impression that his voice was becoming more and more devoid of emotion. Depressed. And you couldn’t do anything about it.

Prentiss appeared right in front of you. She noticed you were on the phone, so to avoid interrupting you, she tried to convey something silently. With her thumb, she pointed toward the main deck of the jet. From the movements of her lips, you were able to read, “Hotch is calling everyone.”

“Don’t think I’m going to let this topic go,” you said again to your brother. You could imagine him rolling his green eyes. “I have to get back to work; I’ll call as soon as I have time. Don’t get into trouble and take care. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You ended the call and noticed a smile on the brunette’s face. Together, you joined the rest of the team.

“I heard part of your conversation,” she confessed. “Don’t tell me you have a kid that you’re hiding from us?”

“Who’s hiding what from whom?” Morgan chimed in as he walked in, holding two huge cups of coffee. He handed one of them to Reid.

Prentiss nodded in your direction.

“Did you know that y/n has a kid?”

You nudged her.

“I don’t have any kids. I was just talking to my brother,” you explained briefly. You didn’t like discussing your family, even with friends. In fact, you were often accused of being too secretive.

“I didn’t even know you had a brother,” Reid added, frowning. 

He, along with the rest of them, looked at you with mild surprise. You muttered something under your breath, shrugging. You felt a bit embarrassed that your family was the center of the discussion. You were saved from the awkwardness by your own boss.

“Can we start?”

JJ handed out the case files. As soon as you opened yours, you were met with an exceptionally graphic scene.

“ The bodies were discovered by someone from the forestry service, but according to the local police, anyone could have found them. It wasn’t hidden very carefully, as if someone didn’t care about it being discovered. A man and a woman, both decapitated. Before you ask, the heads were found in the same place as the rest of the bodies. Except for that, no serious injuries, just a few minor bruises and scratches. As if they were trying to defend themselves while they still could. “

No one spoke; the only sound was the turning of pages as the whole team focused intently on analyzing the photos. Your brows lowered in concentration, your entire face tense. Maybe you looked at things like this every day, but that didn’t mean it had become pleasant or that it didn’t disgust you. Sitting across from you, Reid was the first to speak.

“What do we know about the victims?”

At that same moment, as JJ spoke up again, you flipped the page and were met with two photos that looked like they’d been pulled from a social media account. Both people were alive, happy. The man was crouching next to a young boy who seemed to be pulling away, unwilling to be in the picture with his father. In the background, there was a garden, a tall white fence typical of American suburbs, and a slide. You barely stopped yourself from glancing at Hotch — he had a son around the same age, and this case might hit him particularly hard. The woman in the photo wore square glasses, with a cheerful, friendly gaze peeking out from beneath them. Round cheeks, a wide smile.

"Andrew Ward, 37 years old. He was one of the city councilors. He had a wife and one son, and he’d lived in this town his entire life. Then there's Jessica Larsen, the deputy mayor—she and her husband were both heavily involved in public life."

“A city councilor and the deputy mayor?” Prentiss repeated, thoughtfully resting her elbow on the arm of her seat. “Does anyone else feel like this could be some kind of score-settling? Revenge? Maybe from someone who was wronged by the city council over… I don’t know…”

"Higher bills," you said absentmindedly, blurting out the first thought that came to mind, immediately wincing at your own foolishness. You were still distracted by the conversation with Jeremy. You pinched your arm, trying to force yourself to focus on the case.

"Raising bills doesn’t typically drive people to murder," Reid corrected, pausing to glance at the files again. You never felt embarrassed when he pointed out your mistakes—he had a way of doing it so skillfully and politely. "Prentiss is on the right track; it could be revenge. Our UNSUB might hate authority due to some personal experience, maybe sees themselves as an anarchist, though it's hard to lean in that direction with so little information. Garcia, have you checked if the victims were connected in any way?"

The blonde woman on the laptop screen nodded.

"I’ve checked everything I could find about them, but unfortunately, I couldn’t uncover a single connection that might move the case forward."

Hotch raised a hand, stopping you from further speculation.

"That’s not all," he began, looking at each of you in turn. "Right after those two bodies were found, three more were discovered."

Morgan raised his eyebrows high.

"Five bodies? No wonder they called us in."

"And here’s where our biggest problem arises," your boss continued “Look at the photos. These three bodies were also decapitated but except for that, treated in a completely different way”

You turned the page again, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Other victims were killed with much more brutality, all covers in cuts and bruises. It was even hard to define their gender, but when you looked at the description you knew that this time, they were all women."Were two different people responsible for this?" Prentiss asked.

“Two murders cutting their victims' heads in such a small city?” spoke up Rossi, skeptically. 

"I don’t think it’s two different killers," you said hesitated, unable to look away from the photos. As you studied them, you absorbed every detail, trying to imagine the murderer inflicting these injuries. If anyone could have peered into your mind at that moment, they might have gotten serious PTSD. “Just…take a look at the wounds. There’s much more on these women and are visibly more brutal. But they look like they were inflicted by the same hand, the same person. The placement is often consistent," you noted. "How much time passed between the murders?"

“We haven’t gotten this information yet" said Hotch. "But based on my experience, I can say we’re looking at a matter of weeks."

You noticed that Reid was watching you closely. It seemed he was doing it unconsciously. When you sent him a questioning glance, he slightly blushed and immediately cleared his throat.

“I’m curious about what y/n said,” he admitted. It was clear to see the many calculations and analyses happening in his mind. This was evident in the increasing pace of his speech. “It really does look like the same person, but in different circumstances, perhaps influenced by different emotions. Maybe even with different motives. I realize the possibility of that is close to zero, but what if we’re dealing with a murderer with multiple personality disorder?”

A silence fell as everyone contemplated Reid's words. You made eye contact with him again — your tracks of thought began to overlap, your conclusions intertwining. Looking at his face, you felt, in a way, smarter and understood; it became easier to connect the fragments of ideas that had surfaced in your mind.

You shook your head.

 "No... I'm not sure. I understand what you're saying, but it seems to me that this isn't entirely true in our case. Your theory would suggest that two different personalities of our UNSUB committed these crimes, but in such cases, the crimes usually contrast more with each other. It's much harder to connect them, and here... I immediately noticed that this was the work of the same person."

Reid leaned in with interest over the table. Everyone seemed to look at you encouragingly, waiting for you to continue your theory. Yet you only took on a resigned, apologetic posture — nothing else came to mind. Any potential ideas felt too chaotic; some instincts accompanied you, but it was nothing you wanted to share out loud. You felt that they wouldn't help at all.

"We'll definitely know more after seeing the crime scene," Hotch stated, closing his files. With that, he ended the official discussion, giving you time to review the photos alone and think everything over one more time.

That’s exactly what you focused on for the rest of the meeting. You sat with one leg crossed over the other, a closed folder resting on your lap. You didn’t need to look at the photos anymore; you just needed to close your eyes and listen to your intuition. It definitely had something to say about this case. You just weren’t sure what…

Just before arriving at the scene, Hotch asked to speak with you privately. You couldn't hide it; you felt a bit anxious.

Maybe it was about your recent distraction. Of course, it was about your worry for your brother, but that shouldn’t have been an excuse; nothing should be distracting you. Or maybe he wanted to discuss something completely different, and you had just imagined this whole scenario in your mind. Knowing you and your tendency to overthink, both options seemed equally likely.

 "As I mentioned, y/n, I need to talk to you about something. It’s regarding your accommodation."

First, you breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t anything more serious. Then, your eyebrows raised in surprise. Accommodation?

"There have been some issues with the hotel we’re planning to stay at," Hotch continued. "We couldn’t secure separate rooms for each of you. You’ve been assigned to share a room with Reid. If that’s a problem for you, we can always look for another place, but that would mean you'd be away from the rest of the team..."

“No, it’s not a problem,” you assured him, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. You were relieved that the conversation didn’t involve any serious issues, just a trivial problem with the room. Besides, why would it bother you to share a room with Spencer? It was only for a few nights. "I was afraid you wanted to talk to me about something else," you blurted out.

“About what?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Oh, nothing,” you replied quickly and somewhat squeakily.

Hotch smiled slightly at your reaction, but his gaze seemed to analyze you closely.

 Oh you idiot, why couldn’t you just shut up? you thought to yourself as you walked away.

*

The weather decided to play a trick on you.

 As you were driving to the crime scene, the waterfall was sliding down the windshield, almost making it impossible to see anything. In any case, there wasn't much to look at. After passing the main part of the town, you were surrounded only by forest — trees shimmering in shades of orange.

The view didn’t impress you much. You definitely preferred warm, sunny weather and lounging in the sun, rather than freezing every day after stepping outside and dealing with frizzy hair from the humidity. You liked the town better. It felt small and cozy, as if it were taken straight out of Gilmore Girls.

Prentiss was behind the wheel, and you were sitting next to her in the passenger seat, while JJ was your navigator. The boys took a different car.

“So,” Emily began, turning left at the intersection with her eyes fixed on the road. “You care a lot about your brother, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, sinking deeper into your seat. Why did she have to bring this up again? It wasn't that you didn't trust them; you just didn’t like talking about your family. It wasn't even about being ashamed — why dwell on unpleasant topics? Besides, as was well known, you were private. You had to be incredibly close to someone to open up, and even then, you didn’t lay all your cards on the table.

Together with JJ, they looked at you kindly and encouragingly. You acted like you were fascinated by what was behind the glass. Soon, you arrived at the crime scene. 

That means, before you reached your destination, you had to walk quite a distance into the forest. Since it was late October, the days had grown particularly short, and you could already see the first streaks of darkness between the enormous trees that seemed to watch you with their ancient gaze.

If you hadn't had the girls with you, you would have felt a thrill on your spine. 

The location where the bodies were found had been secured very thoroughly. Local police cars gathered there, and soon the rest of your team arrived. You glanced at your muddy shoes and made a mental note to start dressing more appropriately for the weather from tomorrow on.

The rain intensified. Emily pulled her hood tighter around her head. 

“Working in these conditions...'"

Her sentence was interrupted by the appearance of an incredibly tall man, somewhat resembling a bear. Long hair protruded from under his sheriff's hat, and he seemed to be about the same age as Hotch, with whom he immediately shook hands. 

“Agent Hotchner, we're from the FBI.'"

"Sheriff Russell” he introduced himself, pressing his hand to his forehead with concern. 'I've never seen anything like this, and I've seen a lot. I can't believe anyone from this town could do something like this; I know these people and...'"

“Can we see the bodies?" you asked. It was getting dark, and you wanted to get as good a look as possible. There was something intriguing about this case that had unsettled you since the moment you first opened the file.

Without waiting for an answer, you and Emily moved toward the secured area. Despite the circumstances, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"God, I hate this chatter," she sighed in annoyance. "I know these people; they’d never do something like this," she mimicked the sheriff’s deep voice. "Neighbors of serial killers always say that. Someone can be polite in conversation and keep five bodies in their basement — it’s not mutually exclusive."

You stifled a laugh. 

"Don’t forget the how could he have done it? He always said good morning in the hallway!"

“Or about kids. Sure, he was killing small animals since he was four and had a knife collection, but deep down, he was polite! I can't believe he shot up half the school…”

Hotch appeared right next to you, so you cut her off with a firm elbow jab. You accidentally hit her in the ribs, causing her to let out a groan. This only intensified your incredibly inappropriate amusement. Your boss was standing so close, so you covered your mouth under the guise of a cough. 

In the next thirty minutes, the laughter faded away.

You began by examining the bodies of the first victims, in chronological order. These were the three brutally murdered women. The whole scene seemed to be waiting for your arrival. Not a single detail had been altered, making it easier for you to connect emotionally with the situation. Most of the profilers you knew were meticulous about keeping their feelings detached from their work. It was the only way to endure this job for more than a year without committing suicide. You applied that strategy yourself, but not entirely.

When investigating a case, you tried to imagine yourself in both the shoes of the perpetrator and the victims. Often, you would close your eyes, attempting to visualize and feel it all in vivid detail. To step away from pure theory and let intuition take over.

It was likely the reason that, for the past year since you started this work, you hadn’t imagined a day without at least one tranquilizer and a sleeping pill.

After thoroughly examining the first crime scene, you drove to inspect the next one. This time, the victims were two people connected to the city council. The previous victims had been a teacher, a former resident of the orphanage, and a social worker. When you learned this, a heavy feeling settled at the back of your mind. You were certain there was a connection between these victims.

"Let’s consider what drives the unsub to remove the victim’s head" Rossi suggested.

Before you could even define the meaning of the question, Reid rushed to answer.

"Decapitation is one of the most symbolic acts of violence. The head represents thought, intellect, and control. By removing it, the killer may be expressing a need to destroy those aspects. It could also be a form of humiliation, a metaphorical stripping of their power and authority," he explained in a slightly robotic tone, as if reciting from a Wikipedia entry.

You smiled subtly at the thought. He noticed and gave you a questioning look, which you chose to ignore.

“That would fit for the two later victims," Morgan said, resting his hands thoughtfully on his hips. "They were on the city council — the unsub might have felt he was stripping them of authority and power. But how does that apply to the others? A social worker, a teacher, and an orphanage employee?"

You fixed your gaze on your dirty shoes, Derek’s question echoing in your mind.

 What was it all about?

*

You’d forgotten your sleeping pills.

Once more, you searched your toiletries bag, where you usually kept them. Not a trace.

You pressed your lips tightly together, angry with yourself. Your sleep problems weren’t that serious — were caused mainly by overthinking and constant worry. You didn’t have the motivation to take care of yourself in that regard. It was much easier to rely on the medication, and as long as it worked. Sometimes you forgot that you were even struggling with it at all.

“Is something wrong?” Reid asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Following Hotch’s words, you were sharing a room with him. “You seem upset.”

You shook your head dismissively.

“I just forgot something.”

Only then did you look at him. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a gray t-shirt. You realized it was the first time you’d seen him in such casual, everyday clothing. He usually wore shirts, blazers, and vests — somewhat grandpa-like, but you thought it suited him well.

You realized you had been staring at each other in silence for quite some time. To break the awkwardness, you cleared your throat and decided to return to one of the exhausting topics.

“There’s something strange about this case. You know, I’ve thought a lot about your theory regarding personality disorder, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Aside from the fact that it’s very, very rare, it’s just… my intuition doesn’t agree with it. I hope I don’t sound like a shaman. 

Spencer bursted out and sat on the edge of his bed. In your room, only the standing lamp illuminated the space, casting a dim orange light around. Despite that, you could see the thoughtful expression on his face.

“We once dealt with a case where the unsub was struggling with that very disorder. He was abused as a child and developed a separate personality, Amanda, who harmed men similar to his abuser,” he shared in a quiet, less confident tone than the one he used on the jet. He must have been tired after a long day at work, and like you, frustrated that you hadn’t found anything.

Above all, the circumstances were different. Your conversation had shifted to a more personal level, concerning two friends rather than coworkers. 

“Do you see any similarities between these two cases?” you asked, intrigued since you had never dealt with a similar case yourself.

“Not exactly,” he shook his head. “At one time, I read a lot about that disorder. There was another instance where we had an unsub who…” he trailed off, a visibly tense expression crossing his face.

“It’s okay,” you quickly reassured him. You didn’t know what was bothering him, but it was clear he regretted bringing it up at all. You had never been one to push for more; you often felt uncomfortable with certain topics, and you were incredibly grateful when someone recognized your withdrawal and changed the subject. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks” he whispered. But I think there’s something to your intuition. This whole case is exceptionally peculiar.”

““Well, you can call me a shaman now. By the way, are you planning to go to bed already?”

“And you?” he replied with a question of his own. “Actually, I’d prefer to read for a while, but I don’t want to disturb your sleep…”

Your broad smile clearly surprised him.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted to spend some time with a book too”

In fact, it didn’t stem from your desires at all. You loved reading, but your brain was usually too tired for it in the evenings. However, you were aware that falling asleep would take you an unusually long time, and you preferred to make use of that time rather than stare at the ceiling.

You pulled out the only novel you had brought, Kafka on the Shore. You were about halfway through. Then you remembered you had meant to call your brother, but when you glanced at the clock, you realized that due to the time zone difference, it was already late at night for him. You sighed with a pang of guilt. You promised yourself you would do it tomorrow.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said when you both agreed it was finally time to go to sleep.

“Goodnight, shaman” he responded. 

You smiled in your pillow. 

part 2?

[busket]

I don't think the winged lion and mithrun are all Kabru’s foils, but that all four of them have a really interesting dynamic between them.

laios and kabru are definitely foils, they're opposites while complementing each other. laios loves monsters, kabru hates them. kabru is fascinated by people, laios has trouble understanding and connecting to them. they have equal and opposite interests, both being deeply invested in their obsessions to the point of being called creepy by their friends. they both struggled with being ostracized in their youth. kabrus influence helps laios stand against the winged lion, and laios' influence helps kabru survive the dungeon by eating monsters.

mithrun shows us a more exaggerated version of kabru, i think. kabru is obsessed with stopping another utaya tragedy, he sees that as his only purpose in life, the reason he survived. mithrun is obsessed with stopping the demon, it's an all consuming desire and need. it's basically the same desire: stopping another utaya disaster also means stopping the demon. but mithrun lets it control him: the demon MUST be stopped, people of the island be damned. kabru doesn't like how the canaries operate. he actually hinders mithrun from capturing thistle in order to help laios conquer the dungeon instead, because his care for short lived races and for laios' party supercedes the desire to stop the demon, because he knows the canaries were part of his suffering in utaya too. kabru is bad at taking care of himself, and mithrun is incapable of caring for himself. caring for mithrun by eating monsters (laios' influence) is another way kabru pushes back against the self sacrificial, single minded obsession of achieving their goals.

similarly, the lion is a foil to laios' deep repressed desires, while kabru is more like a foil to laios' surface interests and personality. the demon wanted to indulge in a privilege of the living: eating, when it was not and could never be alive, thus creating an impossible perversion of life. the lesson that both laios and marcille needed to learn was the acceptance of being alive and all that came with it, including death. the winged lion wanted to fight the natural order just like laios and marcille did when they tried to resurrect falin. finally, laios is a man that always wanted to be a monster. the winged lion is a monster that deep in its core, wants to be a man. it wants to eat, it wants to be alive. the lion is defeated because it became too humanlike, so it developed a weakness. laios succeeded because he became a monster, and he became more demon-like, he was able to eat desires. and as a punishment, he is returned to being a human and forced to never interact with monsters ever again. conversely, the lion looses it's appetite, an addiction which was the only thing that made it anything like a human. laios returns to being fully human and living in the human world with kabru and mithrun (who have both been freed from their obsessions) and the lion returns to being pure mana, a force of power without a will of its own.

No one is doing it like him.

[nightwolf-525]

Aged up GlassHeart AU

Red grew up confined to Wonderland. The ‘Horrible excuse of a man’ (as her mother liked to call him) King Beast had manipulated a young fairy into sealing Wonderland away because he wasn’t man enough to handle Bridget (Red’s mother) refusing to kneel before him.

Of course, this was all her mother’s perspective but Red was inclined to believe her given her mother rarely ever lied, at least to her.

Red is 23 years old when a letter comes from Auradon from a King Ben, likely the Beast’s son, saying that he would like to host an ambassador from Wonderland for a few days as the first step to forming an alliance with Wonderland.

The Queen of Hearts decides to send Red, her heir as the ambassador for a number of reasons. 1) No one in Auradon knows who the girl is and will therefore not treat her as royalty. 2) Red is the most skilled soldier in the Queens army and should have no trouble defending herself and returning home should this invitation be a trap. 3) For a similar reason to the first. Red will not be treated as royalty and will therefore not be expected to act like royalty. Bridget sends Red as a gift to Red herself. A few days to learn Auradon and experience something new without the responsibilities of a royal heir.

Red goes happily. She is greeted warmly and treated well, though the princess can tell the Auradonians were not excepting someone so young. Nevermind that, if they try to manipulate or underestimate her due to her age she will know what kind of people they are.

Red finds King Ben to be kind, if not a little boring. His wife, and Queen, on the other hand intrigues Red though she does not receive a chance to truly interact with the woman. In the evenings/nights Red is gifted a guide. A bright excitable young woman who is about Red’s age. She introduces herself as Dizzy and happily shows Red around the Kingdom. It was her third and last night there when Red finally asks Dizzy about the night life. Dizzy smiles and takes her to a club. Red is unfamiliar with the name, but she understands the concept well enough, they have something similar in Wonderland. She thanks Dizzy and ventures into the crowded club.

She’s been there an hour when she lays eyes on the most stunning and beautiful woman she has ever seen. The woman has curly blue hair and her skin…oh her skin…it’s far darker than any Red has seen in Wonderland but still lighter than a few people she has seen since being in Auradon and Red finds herself enthralled with the way the lights of the club dance off the woman’s bare shoulders. Red has never been one to deny herself something she so clearly wants so she approach’s and offers to buy the woman a drink. The minute the bluehaired woman looks at her Red knows this isn’t going to be a one and done thing for her.

“Chloe.” The woman introduces herself.

Red smiles, “Red. I didn’t realize this Kingdom had woman as beautiful as you. I would have visited a lot sooner.”

Chloe laughs at her and Red finds herself wanting to hear that sound again and again and again. They talk for hours and Red can’t get enough of the beautiful woman, but it’s getting late and she knows she should leave. She regretfully informs Chloe of such and then offers her hand.

“You could join me?” She asks hopefully.

Chloe hesitates, but eventually smiles and takes Red’s hand. The night that follows is the best Red has ever had. She’s no stranger to the female body. She knows how to manipulate a woman’s pleasure to her advantage, but this feels different. Feels real. As she pulls one last wave of pleasure from Chloe’s body and watches as the woman sinks into her bed completely sated and exhausted Red decides that she won’t let this be a one time thing. But that’s a conversation for the morning. Red curls herself around Chloe and falls asleep easier than she has in years.

Red wakes up to an empty bed. No Chloe. No note. Not even a last name. Nothing she can use to find the woman again. She’s left alone with thinking but the memories of the night they shared and feeling of her heart shattering.

Dun dun dun!

Any thoughts?

[robin-evry]

Hellooo!~ I was wondering if you can do a TWST x Mitsuri!Yuu (from demon slayer)

Don't forgot to eat, sleep, and drink!~

Sure things, ask and you shall receive. Sorry for taking so long

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐈!𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 💚🩷🍡

Mitsuri Kanroji (甘かん露ろ寺じ 蜜みつ璃り, Kanroji Mitsuri?) is a major supporting character of Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba. She is a Demon Slayer of the Demon Slayer Corps and the Love Hashira (恋こい柱ばしら, Koi Bashira?) of the Taisho era.

Big sister of the first years, always giving them advice as well supporting thru anything, offering their support towards who are having a bad time and will always try to find ways to cheer them on

Originally they suppressed their appetite since they are afraid of being judged in NRC at first so they usually have one plate during lunch and have a bunch of snacks break in between periods. But soon they started to gain more confidence to the point they eat normally at lunch.

Sebek and silver admired them seeing mitsuri!yuu as some sort of knight or warrior that protects people from the hands of demons. One time Lilia asked them to teach them swords man ship but they failed to study mitsuri!yuu swordmanship so they advise them to find their own specific sword style and find their own path.

Lilia holds respect for them, and during one time mitsuri!yuu show him his blade and color him impressed. Even if he's unable to wield it and is also Curious who has the skills to create a sword that is unique. Lilia also admires their pursuit for love and them being their own person as well being a warrior that is willing to risk their lives to protect people from monsters.

Always have snacks with them, grim will always for some of their Sakura mochi so they usually bring extra whenever anyone wants one.

The embodiment of beauty and the beast, many students actually assume that they were weak until mitsuri!yuu once lift up an entire boulder without any sweat and grim is just their smirking while their jaws drop knowing their capabilities.

Grim and mitsuri!Yuu the best pair ever, big sister of him, always encouraging him to achieve his dreams of being a mage always giving him the support or motivation. Originally grim was surprised that mitsuri!yuu believe him in wanting to be a mage.

Sometimes the first years would go to the ramshackle dorm to hang out with mitsuri!yuu, they would always prepare a big batch of food so they and the first years have a wonderful time, and sometimes would host an eating contest and mitsuri!yuu would always be the victor. Having tea parties, picnic and movie nights.

Mitsuri!Yuu has started to take interest in baking and they are very good at it. So during their birthdays the first years but then a cook book, as well getting them multiple other gifts, malleus even gave them a special sword made in briar valley.

Mitsuri!yuu and jack would usually have morning jogs together. And sometimes vil would tag along with them.

Vil originally his first interaction with them is thru a rumor, a beauty and the beast students who once lift a boulder as well known for being a ferocious appetite, during lunch vil is secretly looking at them and was impressed by how much they can eat. By now vil has respect for them and thinks they are a good role model for epel.

Rook admired their passion as well for their determination. Never giving up as well always willing to help people, he sees them as a righteous knight.

Remember the scene of mitsuri and teaching someone how to do splits, that epel with mitsuri!Yuu training is good for him his body is more flexible than ever.

During the dwarf mine cave incident, mitsuri!yuu displayed their skills Infront of the Adeuce and grim, by punching the monster and sending it back to the wall with force to the point it caused a crater behind it. The reason they didn't use their blade is due to Crowley forbidding them from using it freely in areas with students fearing it would hit them, if mitsuri!yuu have their blade the fight would be over in seconds.

Own multiple pets. A bunny, snake, cat, mouse and etc. called them a Disney princess mitsuri!yuu just admired and loved animals. They would also try to head pat jack, Leona, and ruggie and get rejected every time until they begin to allow them to pet them.

Ever since their appearance in twst, mitsuri!yuu was recommended to try ballet by the first years and vil, and soon they excel at it and become a ballerina as a hobby and something to do at the side.

They have enough money to support them and grim for a life full of comfort thanks to their job during their time as a demon slayer.

Excel at gym class is like a morning walk compared to their training as a demon slayer, professor vagas all time favourite students Always encourage students to be like them. Many students started to reconsider whether they are human or not.

Once the savanaclaw challenged them to an arm wrestling challenge and they dominated it even defeating Leona surprising the entire dorm. And now they call them big sisters mitsuri!yuu and have respect for them.

The first year's first impression of their job as a demon slayer was cool, they slay demons to protect people from demons is so cool for them. Actually it's mentally draining to be a demon slayer since you gotta witness innocent people being turned into demons or dying and eaten by demons.

[adhd-fandom-hyperfocus]

Secret Box

Sorry no fancy formatting or anything here. I got sudden inspired to write this from an anon @moodymisty got Tagging @kit-williams because I know Mr. Turbo is her man Warnings: Hints of NSFW stuff at the very end. Sorry if Turbo sounds ooc I haven't written him at all before so be kind. Also, did not proofread this. MINOR DNI

"Oh I don't know, I would be unhappy too if all I had to was tear things down and war. Maybe he wants to something else?"

"What do you mean? He seems quite happy breaking things."

He watched you frown so deeply, "My little bother was like that, everyone thought he like being mad. Just did not know how to convey his feelings, and felt like he had to stay under father's thumb. But he really just wanted to be an artist. I loved his art!"

"I didn't know you had a brother, where is he?"

"Dead. Died angry and lonely because father wanted a soldier."

His furious hearts stopped in his chest. You saw him. You did not realize it, but you did. It scared him, mad him want to rage and break you. It made him want to keep you close. Show you those things he wanted to forget.

***

"What in the Emperor's name is that?"

"Oh one of those puzzle boxes, some call them secret boxes because once you open them you can keep little important secrets in them!" your smile makes his head spin and his stomach lurch.

He wanted you to smile at him like that more. He needed you to talk to him about the silly little boxes.

"Why do you have so many? They seem pointless, we do not have anything to keep in them."

"Oh, I am far too stupid to open them, but I find them beautiful, each one looks different, opens differently, and all so complex, like people!"

***

Weeks he slaved over his workbench, keeping this secret to all, which was made easy when got the small chance to engage with you. Or most commonly, watch you interact with others, needed to make sure you didn't give his secrets away; at least he tried to convince himself of that.

You thought yourself stupid, but you figured him out in a way not even the damn Emperor himself could. What looked so simple was perhaps the most complex of all.

You wanted to see the art he could create that wasn't for war, how his mind could do if allowed to run free. Called his work art, like it was something to also marvel at.

The primarch looked over his newest creation, the small box was intricate in it's design, how he liked things. But it was what was inside that made his chest feel weak, and yet made him powerful all the same. The primarch of iron was feeling himself soften at the heat that had made a permanent home in his lower abdomen.

When he presented the box to you he did not say he made it, refused to. But as he explained his lie, the look you cast at him shocked him. You knew his bluff. Of course you did.

"Well, whoever made this is a true master! I have never seen something to beautiful before, thank you my lord," you smile up at him, letting him keep his pride and secret, "I know you are a busy man, but should you remember who made this could you be so kind to your serf and tell me?"

Prutabo grunted and nodded, "If I feel so inclined. Let me know if and when you open it."

***

Days and weeks pass and you keep him updated with your progress, he makes comments that hint he isn't too interested, after all someone of his genius would have opened it already. You agree, but you won't give up. You determination makes his hearts feel like they are in knots. How happy and joyful you are over his little toy. The fun you find in testing yourself only just to say you did it. The moments of you updating him live inside his dreams, where he is brave enough to hold your hand and smile back.

The crusade had called him away and like always it kept him longer than anyone else. While his brothers got to reap all the glory he was cleanup, or the brunt hammer to break wills. So of course when the Lord of Iron returned everyone scattered. Hid like cowards.

Not you. Even with him exuding even more of his dour demeanor you came running up to him. Puzzle box in hand.

"My Lord! I know you just returned, but I have been waiting for teran weeks for you to return." you were overflowing with excitement; practically vibrating with it.

It was like a disease that spread quickly, because as you spoke his ire cooled. You were happy he was home.

"Make it quick." though he hoped you took as long as you wanted.

"I am about to open the box, and I wanted to open it with you!" you grin up at him coming closer, "Exciting right?"

You...waited for him. Wanted to share in his happiness with...Throne he thought he was going to burst out of his armor and into flames.

"For someone who cannot easily solve things, I suppose. Well, open it." he grumbled, fighting to keep his mask on.

As you moved the last piece into place and opened the lid, a centerpiece rose up, and thereupon it was a metal sculpting of morning glories rising up and in bloom, the spun slowly as music played. And resting inside the main flower was a small ring, designed to look like vines holding a blooming rose the held a pink diamond.

Oh the look upon your face he would have waited lifetimes just to see it. It made this little box the greatest thing he would ever fashion.

"My Lord...I...forgive me, my words are failing." you whisper still marveling at the spinning flowers, "I love morning glories..."

Perturabo nodded, "I am aware. I do listen..." he wanted to know about the ring, wanted you to wear it.

Let everyone know you were his. That you wanted to be his.

Tears well up in your eyes as you so gingerly take the ring. Without needing to ask he gently holds the box so you might place it upon one of your fingers. He watches intently as you try various fingers before putting it upon your ring finger.

"My..."

"Perturabo. You can call me by my name...should you wish to continue to wear that ring." he spoke so very softly for himself.

Thorne, he needed you to keep it on.

"I will, Perturabo," you say his name to see how it rolls off your tongue and it sounds like heaven to him.

When this crusade is over he will fill this place with sounds of your and his children, and he will cast off all this cold machinery for things that truly mattered to him. Being a toy maker in one's spare time wasn't such a foolish notion. He would not die like your brother, and leave you alone.

"Are you sure you want...I mean... I am a serf, people will talk and I do not want to tarnish your name." you whisper to him, eyes fixed on the ring.

"They would be foolish to speak of it where I can hear." was all he offered.

Your small hands slip over his covered in his massive gauntlets, and he was trembling to get this armor off.

"My Lady, if it pleases you," his voice low and he leaned in close so no other could hear, "I wish to remove this armor, if you would wait for me in my chambers..." he couldn't believe he was doing this! Smoothness and words were not his strong points, but for you, he would try, "There is a puzzle I would like to get to know intimately, work with my hands, would you be willing?"

His face burned as he waited what felt like eons for you to reply. Was this all too much too fast? Was he being a fool?

You take the music puzzle box from him and when you pull back you are smiling with cheeks as flushed as his, "I would love that. Now go before your men see you this shade of red and not yelling. I do not want to ruin your reputation." you tease

Perturabo smiled, "You, I will allow to ruin me." he said before tearing off to get this damn armor off.

[lesinquietes]

Summary: Stoker never gave any indication that his story was real. Besides, even if it was based on true accounts, what are the odds that a Transylvanian vampire has somehow found his way into your house? Then again, what were the odds that you would move into a rural home with a resident nightstalker at all?

Pairing: Yandere!Alucard x AFAB!Reader

Warning: 18+ (minors, don't interact), angst, dark content, horror, misogyny (a sprinkle), sexual themes, violence

a lot of alu x reader interaction here that I’m proud of :’) he’s getting more n more smitten by her — maybe it’ll be his undoing?

Previous l

The Basement's Monster III

After Ericson and Cree check the basement, there’s peace in the house for another few weeks. The weather gets crisper. There’s a bite in the frosty air. The region’s first snowfall occurs on December 11th.

You focus on work and research. In the daytime, you do your job and earn the money you need to survive. At night, you study vampirism and its deterrents, searching for any piece of info that proposes absolution.

Cognizant of what's dwelling beneath you, your guard never lowers. From experience, you know he attacks in waves. Your theory is that he garners strength between his physical disruptions by resting. He can only manifest when he's manifested enough power. He’s weak, and that’s what’s been sparing you from the full brunt of his wrath. The question is, when will he be rejuvenated permanently?

Bram Stoker’s Dracula teaches you a lot. It context is what prompts you to study Romanian lore. Fascinatingly, exploring Slavic texts is what leads you to recognize the language in your dream. Although you don’t recall what the sign said, you noticed the characters you found on the Internet appeared to mimic what you saw. The vampire must be tied to Romania.

In the fictional novel, Dracula is a nobleman from that country. He's also the main antagonist of the story, and winds up slaying multiple innocent people; all while remaining elusive to the great Van Helsing and the naive Jonathan Harker. Is this— no. Stoker never gave any indication that his story was real. Besides, even if it was based on true accounts, what are the odds that a Transylvanian vampire has somehow found his way into your house?

Then again, what were the odds that you would move into a rural home with a resident nightstalker at all?

You recount the novel's plot. Jonathan Harker sets out with the intention to aid a man wishing to immigrate. England is heralded as a land with vast opportunity and an air of peacefulness. Count Dracula emphasized his desire to integrate into its wealth of culture. Jonathan visits his castle and notices several strange things about both the mighty building and the Count. Eventually, he happens across Dracula’s harem of brides, and just as he’s about to be finitely drained, he escapes. He awakens in a hospital, unable to contact friends or family until much later. By that time his nemesis has already fled on a ship destined for English shores.

You swallow. Allegedly, this is just a tale. But perhaps the book was his way of warning humanity about the horrors lurking in dense forests, old castles, and rickety passage ships. How would the monster react if you called him by his ancient alias?

Cree doesn't believe the creature is a vampire at all; on the contrary, he thinks it's a type of witch. In his tribe, kinfolk have shared experiences with an entity which could torment the living and shapeshift. He declined to spill any other details, including identifying information, for fear that it would summon the monster. You haven't been able to find anything else on the concept. Most Indigenous folks who replied to curious discussion threads posited that these tales are forbidden to be disclosed to outsiders.

Whether you have a name for it or not, you can be positive of what you went through. Disembodied voices and footsteps ease the anxious part of you that wishes to gaslight. What you heard and saw were real. You know this because Cree heard the noises in Nelly's room, as well; spectral sobbing can't be brushed off as a mere coincidence.

You close your laptop with a laborious sigh. It’s half past noon. You should get something to eat.

You leave your bedroom and rush downstairs. It’s quiet today. You don't recall the last time everyone was home together. Nelly works weekdays. Cree works evenings and weekends.

You reach the bottom landing and stride toward the kitchen. In the doorway, you grind to a halt. Ericson is sitting near the window, nursing a cup of coffee. She’s staring at the grandiose yard. The leaves have fallen off the trees by now. Winter has arrived, and the landscape doesn’t look much different than the one in your nightmare. There's a light dusting of snow on the ground, with more forecasted to roll in over the weekend.

The sensation you get is peculiar. It's thick, immediate, and uncomfortable. You feel like you should run.

As it on cue, the brunette notices you in the window's reflection. Craning her neck, she offers a short smile and a thin greeting. It's precisely what you were expecting.

"Hey."

You return her gesture, uneasy.

"Hey, E."

You linger momentarily. She must be in a poor mood. There's no other purpose for the energy she's exuding.

Robotically, you tread over to the kitchen counter, intent on fixing yourself a meal. You don't speak while you gather the ingredients. Her pupils bore into you, burning through your form as she observes your actions. You can tell there's something she wants to say. It emerges when you're grabbing a box from the cupboard.

"Sleep well last night?"

You pause mid reach. The question seems obscure. She seldom asks about your rest. She's not much for small talk unless she's trying to sus you out.

"Yeah." You regard her over your shoulder. "You?"

There are dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is messy and tangled. It looks like she hasn't gotten the chance to wash up just, having dragged herself out of bed recently.

"No."

You stop arranging your lunch to give her your undivided attention. There's something wrong; you can sense it from her tone. The look she's casting you isn't too friendly, either.

"Are you okay?"

“I heard you stomping around all night.”

You're taken aback. That's impossible. You were in bed by eleven o'clock. You only got up once to use the washroom.

“Me?”

"Well, the pacing was right outside your door, so I figured it was you."

This is not the news you wanted to hear. You're freaking out. You thought things were quiet because he retreated to draw strength; you had no idea he was still lurking around your home, hovering just beneath your conscious awareness.

“I wasn’t pacing.” You insist. “I was asleep.”

Ericson casts you an incredulous stare.

“Really.”

“I’m serious!”

You don’t know what you can do to convince her. There’s no one who can corroborate your side of the story. All you have is your word... oh!

“Wait.”

You take your phone out of your pocket. There’s the messages you sent Cree last night. You both turned in at the same time. You don’t know if he got to sleep afterwards, but you did. It doesn’t guarantee that you didn’t get up in the following hours, but it’s something.

“Look.”

You twist your screen around and walk over to show her the evidence. She squints.

She takes her time scrolling through. Cree might be able to attest later on, if that’ll help absolve you and ease her temper. You know what it’s like to be kept up; you’d be pissed, too. But you’re not who she should be directing her blame towards.

When she nods, you pull the device back. She stares through you for a minute. She comes to before long, fixating on your visage again. Gently, she mumbles.

“It wasn’t you?”

“No.” You shake your head to underscore your innocence. “I swear.”

She hums nervously, shifting her gaze. She wears an anxious expression. The colour has vacated her cheeks, accentuating her horror. You thought she wasn’t going to believe you, but it appears there are other notions playing through her head.

“E.” You grasp her forearm. “You okay?”

Taking time to collect herself, she doesn’t answer you. She's preoccupied, wondering how she’s going to explain the events of last night. You extend patience with adamancy.

“Ana.” You evoke her, using her first name as a last ditch effort to activate her. “Tell me what happened.”

Shockingly, it's effective.

“I heard someone walking around in the hallway above.” She mutters mechanically. “Back and forth, back and forth.”

Her glare, lowered, carries significant distress. Her lips quiver when she pauses between sentences. The retelling of this event is difficult for her. You suppose it’s because the existence of supernatural creatures explicitly challenges her core beliefs. You don’t blame her for grappling with that. Hell, you’re still coming around to the concept of a vampire cohabitating with you. Imagine if she knew what he truly was.

“It didn’t really bother me. I couldn’t get to sleep last night ‘cause I was wired on coffee, so I was just texting a friend. But then…”

She gulps. Now, both of you understand the terror of being at the mercy of this monster. It feels surreal to share this experience with another person.

“I heard someone come downstairs. And I didn’t hear anything else until—“

Tears form in her doe-like orbs. Miraculously, they don’t fall; her pride doesn’t let them. You rush over to wrap her into a tight embrace, anyway. Your compassion opens the floodgates.

“—until my door handle moved.”

Ericson sobs in your arms. She’s taking this hard. As she did for you, so will you do for her. You console her petrified spirit.

“This is the shit I was talking about.” You remind her, rubbing her back gingerly. “Weird sounds, seeing things — you’re not insane.”

In a twisted way, it feels good to clear your name. It’s different than when you and Cree heard the same noises in Nelly’s closet, though; unlike him, Ericson was victimized by the devious cryptid. Your mixed feelings are amplified as you cradle her vibrating form.

Finally, she pulls back to finish her tale. Her voice cracks and shatters the composure she's built. All you can do is clasp her arms, hoping it's enough to stabilize her.

“I pretended to be asleep until it stopped knocking, but I was so fucking creeped out.” Her brown orbs make contact with yours. “And now that you’re telling me it wasn’t you, I’m like, what the fuck?”

She must have thought you were playing a prank, perhaps in an effort to teach her a lesson. She didn’t believe what you experienced was real until she was affected by its daunting presence. But you aren’t the type of person to do that; not when there’s an impending threat. She must have sensed your honesty.

“What time did you hear the footsteps?” You ask.

“Past 1 AM.” She asserts.

“And how long did they last?”

“Hours, dude.”

“Until the doorknob thing?”

“Yeah.”

You ponder. Does the time of night have anything to do with his prowess? During your research, you reviewed speculations that three in the morning is a period of peak strength for supernatural beings. Ericson isn't aware of the exact time, so you have nothing concrete to go on. There's more to explore.

“And after it tried your door, did you hear anything else?”

“No.” She denies. “But I couldn’t get to sleep until sunrise.”

You withdraw from the half-embrace and stand upright. This is the first time a confrontation between her and the vampire has occurred. If it wasn’t, she would have said something sooner. You know Ericson; she’s the type to vent her grievances rather openly.

“Do you know what’s going on?” She inquires.

“I honestly don’t.” You admit. “But I think this thing lives in the basement.”

“What is it?”

“It told me it’s a vampire.”

“Oh, no way.” She clutches her skull. “I could’ve accepted a demon, but vampires are pure fucking fiction.”

You had a similar reaction. The vampire was popularized by Bram Stoker, but the concept of a bloodsucking nightstalker has been around for centuries upon centuries. In Anno Domini, civilians placed blame on these beings for illnesses related to cleanliness — a value that was discarded by many people due to its perceived insignificance. Rabies and pellagra were diseases hypothesized to have caused humans in early times to fear sunlight and water, act in the throes of delusion, and rip out the flesh of their peers and loved ones. Alas, maybe those conclusions aren’t accurate. How are we to know what transpired back then? The undead may have roamed this earth in the form of vampires, who all but died with the coming of modernization.

This bastard beneath you could be the final one in existence.

“I’m literally repeating to you what it told me.”

“Whatever it is.” She sniffs. “What do we do about it?”

“If it were up to me, I’d get us the fuck out of here.” Your confession is earnest. “But we’d have to convince Cree and Nelly to move.”

“Ugh.” She rolls her head back in utter anguish. “No, I really can’t afford to move again.”

That’s fair. You’re recovering from the moving costs alongside her and Cree. Only Nelly has been able to completely pay hers off. As much as you hate to say it, you’re stuck here until you can save up enough to consider looking elsewhere. Your last resort is subletting, and even then, you'd have to find a new home.

“As a short-term solution, do you want to sleep upstairs for now?” You offer. “You can stay with one of us.”

Power in numbers. Cree would be willing to room with her, as would you. Nelly, you’re not certain. She enjoys her solitary space. And, to your knowledge, she hasn’t experienced supernatural occurrences this house has to queued for you yet.

But Ericson isn’t on board.

“No.” She decides resolutely. “I’m gonna go out and buy a few things for protection later.”

You raise a brow. You almost didn't catch that; her energy changed. It's disquieted. What just happened?

Jaw clenched, she gets up from her seat. She bobs her head back and forth, as though in disbelief. There’s an urgency to her movements. It’s impossible to know where she’s at if she doesn't communicate.

“Actually, I’m gonna call a taxi and grab them now.”

She pulls out her phone and begins sifting through it.

"Don't you want to wash up first?"

You don't mean it as an insult. You want her to slow down. She doesn't share your sentiment.

"Nah. When I get back."

You realize that there's no convincing her otherwise. It's your cue to depart. There are tasks on your mind, too.

"Okay, well... I'm a text away, okay?"

"Thanks, (f/n)."

You walk across the kitchen and head towards the doorway. You've lost your appetite. You'll eat at dinner tonight.

As you rush out, Ericson calls after you.

"Hey, you and Cree aren't dating, right?"

You laugh, trotting back upstairs.

"Not a chance!"

The brunette hums knowingly into the empty space. There’s a playful flutter in her voice. Her orbs don't leave her screen.

“Heh. Yeah. Sure.”

Ericson left ten minutes ago. You watched her get into the taxi and wave at you through the window. It's likely she'll be gone for a good few hours. Nelly will be home in fifteen, but until then, you're in solitude. It's just you and the vampire.

You stand outside the basement door. You recognize that disengaging the locks would be suicide. Don’t vampires need to be invited inside? You don’t wish to be a willing victim this time. If he's going to act belligerently, he can do so without your condolences. You won't open the door. This will be a good test to determine the bounds of his strength.

You press your palm against the wooden panels in front of you and close your eyes. Clearing your throat, you speak.

“Monster.” You brazenly address him. “Can you hear me?”

Below, Alucard is intrigued. Yes, he’s listening; he’s been listening since you awakened. He can’t see what you’re doing on that laptop of yours, but it’s apparent that you’re dedicated to your work. He was hoping you would come downstairs so he could get a better glimpse of you. Now, you want to talk.

“I’m not going to let you fuck with my friends.” You declare. “Leave us be.”

The demand is valiant. You’re in no place to be commanding an otherworldly being. He must know this.

And he does. A king cannot bend his knee to one who is undoubtedly more frail than he. You must know this, as well.

The silence that fills the corridor is particularly aggressive. You don’t think the house has ever been this quiet. Yet, you’re not alone. Fine. If he won’t communicate, you’ll force him to react.

“Dracula.” You swallow. “Stop ignoring me.”

Promptly, the lightbulb in the hallway snaps. Your eyes snap open. Glass pours over you like rain, causing you to flinch on impact. Thankfully, none of the pieces draw blood.

“Continue to involve them, and they will die.” A sinister voice growls.

Your breath hitches. Time feels as though it’s standing still. Gradually, the room cools down. The small hairs decorating your skin stand on edge, denoting your dread. He’s here. For all you know, he could be on the opposite side of the door, grinning at your helpless form.

“You should fear your own fate, pretty mortal.”

You can practically see his predator-like simper. It has your gut gurgling with nausea. You want so badly to flee. The front door is over there. You can make it, but you don’t try; your purpose is to persist.

“Stay away from them.” You repeat adamantly. “And me.”

Alucard is salivating. He’s never wanted you more. He loves a woman who can stand up for herself — even if she’ll be easily overpowered. Where did this fire come from?

“You feign as though you have control.” He cackles cruelly. “You don’t. I can smell your anxiety, sweet little thing.”

But he can't access your thoughts with the same simplicity with which he used previously. You have a mental barrier that restricts his ingress. He's growing increasingly impressed. The mastery you're possessing over your functioning is uncommon for mortals.

"I do have control." You contend. "Because you aren't at your best, are you?"

Alucard ponders. He should have been keeping a closer eye on you. It appears as though you've been doing a healthy amount of reading. First, you call him by his ancient moniker; then, you acknowledge his sickliness. Where did you learn this information?

"It matters not." He drawls solemnly. "I won't remain this way forever."

Ericson has his amulet. He has been whispering to her in dreams, coaxing her to carry the amulet with her. She awakens, unrestful, with induced amnesia. The subliminal messaging will work more effectively soon. She’ll want to protect herself now that he’s made an appearance. He was content to hear how terrified his visit made her, as she confided in you earlier.

"What can you do to stop me?"

The question isn't as innocent as he makes it sound. It's layered in horror and misconception. Can he be stopped? Or, better yet, can you stop him? You've never considered yourself the Van Helsing type.

"We’ll leave.”

He smirks.

"Will you?"

He must have overheard your discussion with Ericson. Moving is a long-term plan; it won't aid you in the meantime. You revise your thought, refusing to back down.

“It might take time, but we can."

If worst comes to worst, subletting is on the table. Leaving your friends wouldn't feel phenomenal, but if it comes to keeping your life or discarding it, you will have to face the ultimate sacrifice. Hopefully, they'll have the sense to trust your words and bolt alongside you.

"Even if you could, I wouldn't let you."

Why do you delude yourself? It could be that he hasn’t proven his prowess. That’s an acceptable excuse, given his diminished state. If that's the case, he'll show you.

"I wonder how you'll react when I start to pick your friends off, one by one?" He snickers. "You can't protect them all."

He's hungry for violence; hungry for his innate compulsion to revel in the anguish of the unworthy. He projects this feeling outwards, afflicting you with his morbid thirst. It settles onto your body like dust — invisible, and unpleasantly capable of choking you.

Rage washes over you upon listening to his menacing remark. It implores your legs to kick and your arms to punch. It wills you to scream until your throat is hoarse. The heat that rushes through you is enough to have you gasping for air on the porch. You wouldn't be shocked if your head was steaming from the surplus of pressure.

"You think they're stupid?" You scoff. "Or do you plan to be cowardly in how you pick them off, as you say?"

Abruptly, another lightbulb shatters. It's the one above the front door. Your comment got to him.

Consciously, you haven't a clue where this courage stemmed from. A moment ago, you were frightened he would smash through the wood and abduct your wrist. Unconsciously, you're aware that white hot anger is your vehicle. It's been months of this beast pushing you around. A part of you screams no more.

"Cowardly!" He barks, laughing viciously. "You have nerve calling me this, while you hide behind a locked door.”

"Using the defenses I have against a foe who doesn't play fair seems more strategic to me."

Alucard thrums. You're intelligent to a degree he didn't presume prior to this argument. You're fortunate he likes a bit of spice in his mates. Other vampires would have decapitated you to achieve a rewarding silence.

"Tell me, what would you do if you woke from your slumber to my shadow over your bed?"

It's rhetorical. You wouldn't do anything because you would be dead. Few humans can attain the upper hand with him. But you don't buy into the fantasy he's selling. Instead, you smile thinly.

“I’d drive a stake through your heart, vampire.”

Upstairs, a flurry of lightbulbs puncture. Their noise — quick and shrill — cascades like dominoes. You follow them through the ceiling with witless orbs. The bathroom blows first, then Cree's room, yours, and Nelly's. The bulb at the top of the stairs is the only one which remains intact.

Of all his years existing, Alucard can't recall feeling such a potent arrow of indignation shoot through him. You've tested him enough. He’s going to use what strength he has to teach you an eighth of his wrath.

And he thinks, with a devilish playfulness — the kind that's dipped in fury — oh, how intrepid you’re acting; how intrepid and foolish.

Your jaw unhinges. He’s walking down the steps. Was he upstairs this whole time? A more horrible notion enters your mind: was he in your bedroom? You tremble. That would mean he’s been next to you all morning, deadly and untraceable.

The floorboards behind you creak. You hiss, back stiffening. The room carries an unusual weight to it. It’s as though he’s present with you, hovering over your shoulder — a mere footfall away if you dared to step backward.

You don’t. You can’t. It’s impossible for you to face him when you’re unable to move.

“My dear.”

His tone is sharp and dominant. The playfulness is gone, indicating that his pride has been wounded. You can sense his exasperation. He’s simmering like a pot of soup over a moderate flame.

“You excite me as much as you infuriate me.”

You gulp. His voice is so clear. He really is here with you.

He hasn’t touched you. You don’t know how you’ll react if he does. Will his hands feel as cold as you imagine? Will his nails feel like razors, raking along your skin? Will he kill you where you stand, dragging your mangled body to the basement before Nelly arrives?

“Still, as much as I love that fiery tongue of yours, I won’t be spoken to this way by a disobedient mate.”

Your heart drops. You wait. And wait. And wait for him to grasp you; to show you precisely how he’s destroyed the wills of various others. He doesn’t.

“Trandafir.” He purrs. “During my reign in Wallachia, I believed in strict punishment for poor behaviour. Back then, even my women were not immune to my cruelty.”

Wallachia? Vaguely, the location is familiar. You don’t know why. And what did he call you, again? Tra—tranf—trand…afir…? You’ll have to look these terms up when you get out of this mess. He’s dropping hints. You’ll play his game if it means deciphering clues in your favour.

“My primary mode of execution for traitors was a slow death by impalement. I happily watched as defiers and enemies bled out across hours, sometimes days.”

His family made sadism seem normal. Of them all, though, his father was a compelling example of psychopathy. He invigorated him, at a young age, to dominate. As a king, he honed that trait.

“Even as a mortal, I had an acquired taste for human blood.” He laments darkly. “It was a delicious dip for breads and pastries.”

He truly savoured his enemies’ suffering. That wasn’t anything he was taught; he dedicated himself to the cryptic deed of his own volition. Sometimes, he wonders if that’s why he was capable of rising from the grave. Not all are.

“If I had half my strength, I would not hesitate to impale all of your friends, and force you to bathe in their blood.”

He would have them draw a circle of worship. You would sit in the centre. Sitting in a triangle on the outskirts of the sigil, he would appear behind them and slice their throats.

He imagines snatching Nelly by her thin braids and yanking her head back. A sharp claw would do the trick. Ericson would befall a similar fate. Cree would be decapitated. Your role, once the blood started to spurt, would be to open your mouth and absorb their lives. How pitiful and tantalizing you would look, painted with the loss of your loved ones.

He would keep them alive and under his influence long enough to make them stab themselves. Maybe he’d give the women a swift end, but Cree would inevitably suffer. It’s the tax he must pay for standing in Alucard’s path, attempting to steal you for himself.

He beams, brain shifting into predator mode. The hunger is coming up. If he’s not careful, he’ll transform his threat into a reality before he’s ready.

“And if I had my full strength, I would sink my fangs into your neck and drain you, my sweet.”

Bloodlust fills the air. Your fight or flight kicks in. He’s too close. You shove yourself forward, seemingly stumbling away from his grip. Wasting no time, you whip around to confront him. He’s not there. In a single snapshot, you feel like a zealot who lost his god. Where did He go? Is He still here with me? Or was He ever here at all?

You stand motionless in the dead air. Disoriented, you examine the locks on the basement door. None of them are out of place. Earlier, he alluded to the mechanisms impeding him, cutting you out to be a coward for inserting a barrier between the two of you. He lied. A reinforced piece of wood made no difference.

As you inspect the door, you notice small wood chippings on the floor. Upon closer inspection, you identify that they’re being blown in by a draft under the door. It almost looks like… something was clawing the opposite side of the door, desperately peeling the paint with every crooked scratch.

[kainuhsblog]

Mr. Choi from 2A • Jiung Choi

prompt         More Than Words Elementary gets the surprise of a lifetime when the kids figure out that the two kindest teachers for 4th and 5th grade are married. pairing          teacher!jiung x fem!reader genre           school teachers, established relationship, fluff warnings      mentions of food, playful banter, school word count    3,796 (this story wrote itself) a/n                 hi! i'm back! I have something written this time! jiung is my ultimate bias, so i’ve been itching to write something for him. please note that this fic will be told in 3rd pov, but kind of centric to none of the main characters, but to one of jiung’s students, emma! 

want more piwon posts from me? check out my fake texts here and here!

There are many things in the world that Emma loves. Her parents, for one –  obviously. They spoil her endlessly, and even gave her a little brother, so she loves them. 

Emma also loves trucks. She loves them simply because her dad always lifts her up to get in the thing. He even has to do a little stretch to get in himself.  Big trucks that make even her dad seem small are always fun. 

Third on the list – not that it has a particular order – will have to go to the bakery near her house. Ms. Lim makes the best cupcakes known to man, and her mom loves them just as much as she does, so they like to splurge on them every once in a while. 

Fourth; the quaint burger place lodged in an alleyway on that busy street Emma always forgets the name of. Every once in a while, her mom and dad take her (and her little brother, now) to the place, and she always manages to see her uncle manning the bar. She wonders if he works there. 

And last, but certainly not least; her 4th grade teacher Mr. Choi. Mr. Choi never enters the room without a fond smile on his face as he greets the class in the morning. He never lets them leave without some words of praise when they leave the class in the afternoon. 

Mr. Choi is very attentive, explaining things a million times over for everyone to understand (who knew there were different methods to learning how to multiply big numbers?) and is very interactive with his class. Mr. Choi is probably the kindest person Emma knows. 

If someone were to come up to her and shove a microphone and a camera in her face (because people do that now) and ask her who she thought the kindest person in the world was, her first answer would definitely be Mr. Choi. That’s just how good he is. 

Anyways, before the author starts her spiel on the guy, let’s get into the actual story – shall we?

The list of things that Emma loves in this world differ depending on what day you ask her. Her constants will always be her parents (and brother), trucks, Ms. Lim’s bakery, the burger place, and Mr. Choi from class 2A. 

Lately though, Emma thinks that a new constant might add to her list of things she loves in this world. The thought came to her mind halfway through the previous semester. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

At the beginning of her first semester in fourth grade, a new teacher for fifth grade arrived in bubbly fashion. With beautiful kind eyes and a charming smile; the new teacher tumbled her way into the lives of everyone at More Than Words Elementary School. 

Emma was one of the people who only entertained things within her bubble. As a bubble dweller, the only things she knew dwelled in her bubble with her. She didn’t know anything about new staff or teachers unless someone entered her bubble to tell her. Which is how she found out about the new teacher in the first place. 

She had many friends within the school who greeted her in the mornings, and her cousin Shelby was friends with her next door neighbor Tommy. Those two always brought her the gossip from their fifth grade circle. 

They were all hanging out on the playground for recess when Shelby mentioned it to Emma. Something along the lines of the nicest teacher ever just came to their school or something. Emma excused Shelby’s comments because the elder didn’t have Mr. Choi in fourth grade. 

Tommy described the woman like she hung the stars in the sky every single night for him to look at and ponder her. Shelby told him to write a book if he wanted to be that sappy. Emma laughed even if she didn’t get the reference all too well. 

For the rest of that week, the new teacher was all her fifth grade friends seemed to want to talk about. She stopped listening to them halfway through. Mr. Choi was the nicest teacher ever, so she wanted to see his competition with her own two eyes. 

If someone was listening to her thoughts, then they made quick plans, because the next day called for a multitude of rain and the absence of half of the students in her small school. Emma still went to school because her mom and dad had jobs to go to despite the rain, and her grandma was out of the country so no one her parents trusted could watch their kids. 

She walked happily to her class, thinking of the pastries she would smell in the afternoon (as it was the day her and her mom went to the bakery) when she spotted a beautiful woman standing outside her class door talking to Mr. Choi. Her smile stretched like the sun on the horizon as it rose in the morning. A warmth like no other had hit Emma the moment she saw it. 

Emma slowed her pace as she neared the classroom, and she heard the familiar words of reassurance from her teacher to the lady in front of him to ease her worries about whatever she stressed about. The kind words sounded a bit different in Emma’s ears though. 

Emma greeted the adults like she was taught, and both Mr. Choi and the teacher greeted her with similar waves of kindness. The other teacher even knew her name. Why would the other teacher know her name?

Emma tilted her head in confusion and stood before the two teachers. The lady laughed and nudged Mr. Choi to get him to notice. Then, the teacher moved her left hand from the books she clung so tightly to her chest and extended it to the little girl before her. 

“Hi Emma Kang, I’m the new fifth grade teacher Ms. (last name). It’s very nice to meet you!” The teacher introduced, and the shock couldn’t come fast enough as it morphed Emma’s face. 

The lady before her was the kind teacher Shelby and Tommy told her about. Emma shook Ms. (last name)’s hand, feeling the familiar weight of an engagement band (her aunt Nina had just gotten engaged last month, so she knows how it feels on someone’s hand), and told the teacher that it was nice to meet her as well. 

Turns out, Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were discussing the merge of their classrooms for the day so that they can watch movies and play games. None of the other fifth grade teachers wanted to do such things with their classes, (as it was still the beginning of the semester) but Mr. Choi thought it would be fun to let his kids relax for one day. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Rainy days had now meant joint classes after the success of the first one that day, and Emma realized that she hoped for rainy days a lot more, so that she can see Ms. (last name) again and again and again. This was when she thought of the possibility of a new constant on her list. 

Emma thinks that Ms. (last name) felt like the sun, especially when she brightened up the classrooms. Ms. (last name) was extra involved in just about everything, and Emma found herself wanting to join a few things just to see the bubbly teacher again. 

Now, you (as the reader) might be wondering where I’ll fit the synopsis into this story, and I’m getting there. Anyways, back to the story. 

Emma also notices how much livelier Mr. Choi seemed to get whenever Ms. (last name) would come around their area, for rainy days or not. The two teachers seemed really close, like they were friends before working together. Well, that’s how Emma saw it. Shelby and Tommy seemed to disagree though. 

The two fifth graders often talked about how they coax small bits of information out of their homeroom teacher whenever they all can’t seem to understand a particularly hard subject (which is usually math.) Ms. (last name) never got into great detail about a lot of stuff, but she always talked about her fiance with a sense of “love” and “comfort”. 

Emma knew about those feelings and those words, (she’s 9 for crying out loud) but no one ever seemed to explain the concept of love to her in a way where she understood or related to it, so topics like these had her confused.  When she asked what that had to do with anything, Shelby exclaimed that she had a feeling that Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were a couple. 

Emma sat there for a long while trying to see things from her cousin’s point of view. Sure, they were friendly and got along well, but a couple? They didn’t seem like a couple. She’s seen a few couples in her nine years on this earth, and her teachers don’t act as gross as those couples. 

Besides, they both arrive in separate cars. From the couples Emma has seen, they usually arrive in the same car, do they not? Her mom and dad are almost always in the same vehicle. Aunt Nina and her fiance Sam never leave without each other at events. Uncle Darren and Aunt Lily only have one car. They drop Shelby to school in it everyday. 

Tommy and Shelby bickered back and forth whilst Emma was left with the most confusing theory of her life. 

Emma decided that day that there was no way Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were a couple. Well, that was until dinnertime, when she decided to ask the one couple she constantly has to see. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

“Mom, dad, can people be a couple even if they don’t hug and hold hands and kiss and arrive at places in the same car?” She asked them once her food was graced and her mom told her to dig in. 

Both of her parents stopped their utensils from reaching their mouths to look at their daughter, seeing her staring back at them with a curious glint in her eyes. 

“Sweetie, I think we’re gonna need more context than that.” Her mom answered. 

“Your mom’s right, princess. What brought this on so suddenly?” Her dad added on. 

“Well, you guys know my favorite teacher Mr. Choi right?” She started off, watching her parents put down their eating utensils to give her their undivided attention. 

“Yes we do, what about him?” Her dad asked. 

“And you guys know the pretty teacher I told you about a while ago? Ms. (last name)?” She inquired. 

“Yes we do sweetheart.” Her mom answered, picking up her son’s spoon to help him eat his rice. 

“Okay, so today at recess I mentioned to Shelby and Tommy how I thought the teachers were friends before working together because of how well they seem to just – what’s the word I’m looking for?” 

“Coexist?” 

“No not that one … although that one is really good, thanks mom.” 

“Of course!” 

“Cooperate then?” Her dad chimed in, finally picking his utensil up. 

“Oh yes that word! Thank you dad, you’re so smart! Anyways, yes I mentioned it to them, and then Shelby said something about how she thinks they’re a couple? So then I sat there to think about it and that doesn’t make sense? How are they a couple when they don’t kiss and hug and hold hands and go everywhere together and use the same car and have kids?” Emma rambled, getting more confused than ever as she’s explaining it to her parents. 

“Maybe they don’t act that way because kids are present, princess.” Her dad supplied. 

“Dad, you and mom were literally kissing in the kitchen … with me present!” Emma rebutted. 

“That’s because you’re our kid. There’s a difference when it’s your own kid,” Her mom informed. 

“And besides, they work together don’t they? Why act like a couple at work? That’s not very professional.” Her mom continued. 

“You can’t do stuff like that at work?” Emma asked incredulously. 

“No you can’t Emma.” Her dad replied. 

“Wow, you learn something new everyday. What about the car thing then, they’re married and don’t come to work together? That’s so odd. You guys ride to work together all the time.” Emma questioned. 

“Emma first of all, not all couples are married,” Her mom told her, ignoring the gasp of disbelief that escapes her nine year old. 

“Secondly, they probably don’t even live together. Of course they’ll come to work in different cars.” Her mom continued. 

Emma’s shocked beyond words, her brother Eric wasn't paying attention, just eating his food and replaying the opening for power rangers in his mind as he ignored them. Her dad’s just thinking about how all of this could’ve been avoided if they just gave her electronics and discovered the weird stuff on the internet in the first place. He pushed the thought from his mind though, his wife said no so he sticks beside her. 

“Wait, so you’re telling me that couples aren’t married and don’t live together and can’t act gross and work?” Emma asked. 

“Your Aunt Nina and her fiance Sam aren’t married, and they’re a couple.” Her dad answered. 

“They’re practically married.” Emma replied.

“Wait, but do you guys think they’re a couple? An unmarried one who doesn't live together?” Emma followed up. 

She saw her mom and dad rack their brains to see if they remembered anything out of the ordinary between the fourth and fifth grade teachers that night. And then she heard them agree with her crazy claim. 

The next day, when she took Shelby’s side in the argument, their conversations shifted forever. The three friends had made it their new mission to find out if their teachers were really together. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

In between that time, the semester had ended, and the long awaited break had begun. Her mom and dad finally sat her down and told her about the different types of couples and all that jazz. They also took her to see her grandparents, where she stayed with all of her cousins for two weeks. 

Emma, Shelby and Tommy met regularly to talk about their random findings, even during their break. Nothing was bigger than the time Emma saw them both at Ms. Lim’s bakery though. The two teachers didn’t notice her, and she didn’t try to get noticed as she saw them share a slice of cheesecake and basically smiled at each other for five minutes. 

Through it all though, the mission seemed to be leading them practically nowhere. The new semester started with Shelby and Tommy telling Emma how Ms. (last name) came back with a new ring on her finger, signifying that she finally got married. 

Tommy told her to check Mr. Choi’s hands to see if he had a ring on as well to confirm their suspicions. Mr. Choi always had rings on his fingers though, so that plan was fruitless. 

For days on end, Emma tried to figure out if there was a new ring on Mr. Choi’s finger, and for days on end it seemed as if nothing was out of the ordinary. 

Just as Emma was about to give up though, the answers to their questions fell right into her lap. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

It was a rainy Thursday, and like all rainy days, Emma gets dropped off to school earlier than usual. Emma told her parents goodbye at the entrance of the school, watching her dad’s truck drive off with her mom waving at her wildly from the window. 

Emma began to turn around to head inside before hearing the familiar purr of her teacher’s SUV pulling into the parking lot. She then stopped fully once she saw her teacher help Ms. (last name) out of the car?!?!!?!?! 

Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) just came out of the same car. Mr. Choi is helping Ms. (last name) with her bags. Mr. Choi – OH MY GOODNESS DID MR. CHOI JUST KISS MS. (LAST NAME)’S FOREHEAD? were the thoughts that ran through Emma’s mind once she saw what transpired. 

Emma wanted to stand there and rack her brain to find the sense in all of what had happened, but the teachers were both coming towards the entrance? Oh my goodness, Emma Kang. Go and run into a hole right now. 

Emma picked up her pace and starts to walk away, but the warm tilt of a harmonious tone traveled to her ears as Ms. (last name) greeted her from her walk toward the door. Emma stopped like a deer in headlights, and turned slowly to greet the two teachers. 

My goodness, they’re even sharing an umbrella. Emma Kang, for the first time in her life, just wants to not be a curious kid. Having to see this from her favorite teachers isn’t good for her psyche. 

“Emma Kang, it’s been a while. How are you doing this morning? Are you ready for our rainy day movie session? I didn’t expect the rain to happen so quickly into the semester, but man am I excited for our class to get together again and have some fun. Do you want to help Mr. Choi and I choose the first movie? We’ve been arguing about the lineup all –” 

“(First name), you’re rambling.” Mr. Choi interrupted, and only one thing entered Emma’s mind like a blaring siren once she saw Ms. (last name) stop and giggle about it, apologizing to the kid. 

“You two are married.” Emma blurted out in the midst of Ms. (last name)’s apology, causing the two teachers to freeze up at the accusation – no, the declaration. 

They both rubbed their necks in tandem; Ms. (last name) laughing nervously and suddenly finding interest in the school motto placed on the wall beside them. Mr. Choi looked at his wife, and then looked at his (now unfortunate) brightest student.

“You two are married right? Mr. Choi kissed your forehead and you guys got out of the same car and you guys are even holding pinkies over the handle of Ms. (last name)’s bag.” Emma asked, pointing out her deductions to the newlyweds before her. 

The air stilled once she continued on with her findings, almost laughing at the fact that they immediately let go of each others’ pinkies. Mr. Choi told Emma to follow them, walking from the entrance and to the classroom of 2A. 

Emma watched as they both started to unpack the bags, placing stuff here and there and working together like they’ve been doing this for years. Emma watched a new level of their cooperation unfold on that rainy thursday. 

After they had set up everything, Ms. (last name) walked over to Mr. Choi, and pulled at his blazer to get his attention. They had a discussion with wide eyes and ragged whispers for about five minutes before Mr. Choi raised his hands in defeat. That’s when Emma noticed that he forwent the rings he usually donned, one simple band on his left ring finger catching the light in the room. 

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.” Ms. (last name) said after a few moments of awkward silence. 

Emma’s eyes widened to the size of saucers once she realized that they were admitting to her declarations. 

“You guys really are married?” She carefully asked. 

“Yes, yes we are. We recently tied the knot during the break.” Mr. Choi answers, stifling his laughter once he sees confusion slide across his student’s face. 

“What does tying a knot have to do with your marriage?” Emma confusingly questioned.

“It’s an expression. One of the many ways of saying you got married without actually saying it.” Ms. (last name) replies, pinching her husband for laughing. 

“Oh.” Is all Emma said in response. 

The adults studied her face for any odd reactions from Emma Kang, who started to have another mental battle with herself. 

“We actually wanted to tell you and the other kids about it later on.” Mr. Choi supplies helplessly. 

That didn’t seem to work though, as Emma continued to just … blankly stare at them. 

“Are you upset, Emma Kang?” Ms. (last name) asked after almost three minutes of heavy silence. 

Then Emma blinks a few times, looking up at them with something close to joy swimming in her eyes. Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) let out the breath they didn’t even know they were holding. 

“Upset? This is the best news I’ve gotten all school year. Why would I be upset when the two nicest people in the world are married?” Emma exclaims. 

“I thought you’d be upset that we didn’t say anything.” Mr. Choi replied. 

“I thought you had a crush on Mr. Choi, to be honest.” Ms. (last name) replied at the same time. 

“I’m nine.” Emma deadpanned. 

“When I was nine, I had a crush on my music teacher. I don’t see how that excuse is relevant.” Ms. (last name) said. 

“(First name) you were just an odd kid.” Mr. Choi followed up. 

Emma chuckled when she saw Ms. (last name) hit Mr. Choi on the arm for his comment. 

“You who was crushing over Sam from ‘Danny Phantom’ at that exact age, puh-lease.” Ms. (last name) accused. 

“At least she and I were closer in age than you and your old shriveled up music teacher.” Mr. Choi responded. 

“Sam isn’t even real.” Ms. (last name) said.

“Neither was your chance with that wrinkly old music teacher.” Mr. Choi replied. 

“He was 25 oh my goodness Jiung, stop calling him old.” Ms. (last name) exclaimed. 

“Even worse.” Mr. Choi replied. 

The adults stopped their playful banter when they heard Emma cracking up from her seat. 

“You guys are the sweetest.” She replied once she stopped laughing, shocked at the fond looks that stretched their smiles wide at her.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ 

The rainy day ended up with Emma harboring their secret for them, a lot of movies, and a kid crashing from a sugar rush after sneakily eating too much candy. 

Later that semester, the teachers decided to tell their class separately about their marriage, which breaks another spout of gossip between Emma, Shelby and Tommy. The news spread through More Than Words Elementary like wildfire that day. 

Questions were thrown at the couple for weeks to come after that, and a new quest (bet) was formed between the kid trio. Guessing when they’d have their first kid. 

Emma now helped the kind teachers set up for movie days whenever it rained, and a new constant had been added to Emma’s long list of things she loved.  Her parents (and brother), trucks, Ms. Lim’s bakery, the burger place, Ms. (last name) and Mr. Choi from Class 2A. That was her list of constants.

[lemon-wedges]

Hello!!! I love your art and your style. I'd love to hear your inspirations behind how you draw and, in addition, hear a bit about your painting process (I love the impressionistic look your paintings have)

ahh!!! thank you so much ;u;

Ill tried my best to break down my thought process behind my drawing, so i hope this all makes sense aahaha

undercut cause it came out real long

SO Karl Gnass is an instructor that i took an anatomy class with. and who broke down anatomy in a way that really helped me grasp space. like space a figure occupies. and from that i think my characters feel a bit more...grounded? im not sure what the right word would be but tangible is something people sometimes say about my art.

And i do think when youre able to make a figure look like its really wrapping its hands around something it makes character interactions a lot more intimate.

heres a few under sketches i do when i start a drawing (i am trying REALLY hard not to use my nsfw ones tho those are pretty perfect when it comes to showing u anatomy RIP)

after i got the poses done ill turn down the opacity and rough sketch out details on top of these. and once THATS done i move onto lineart. and the most important aspect of this step is NOT TO TRACE YOUR UNDER DRAWING!!!! thats what sucks the life out of your work!!!!

instead you use your undersketch as a guide. ilI actually redraw the simple anatomy underneath very lightly, erase where they over lap and then add line weight variety + darken up the details.

examples of this are gonna look a little messy but. Left is the original pose i drew out with rough details. right is the drawing i do on top of it. you'll see theyre not one to one and theres some lines i didnt fully erase out when redoing the anatomy. i find my clean up has a lot more energy when i do this.

the thing about my style is that you'll notice i never actually do actual clean smooth lineart. and thats because i HATE DOING THAT SHIT. like i did learn how to do it and consistently forced myself to do it for over a year. and while i do think i learned a lot about line weight and drawing clearer. i realized? its just not for me. I like a textured brush and i like being able to see those small lines i didnt get to fully erase out because i think they look cool lol and thats ok!! do what you want forever man!!! its your art!!!

Also before i move onto painting ill show you this neat little trick. you know those more "loose" drawings of mine that feel more gestural? the begining process is exactly the same. the difference is i use a chunkier pen and try to see how much i can simplify details + just feel out the energy of lines

NOW PAINTING.

man. where to even start.

the thing about painting is that its an entire different set of skills that need to each be honed on their own and will slowly build up together. ill break it down like this.

VALUE, COLOR, and TECHNIQUE

I've said this on another ask before but you'll notice ill do a lot of black and white sketches. and i do that to practice choosing how to group values.

like this example. how light is laios' wolf coat compared to his skin? or kabrus skin color compard to laios coat. when do you want to really push the contrast of light and dark and when do you let values be closer to each other when you DONT want attention

the next step from this is adding a light source.

and when you're working in black and white its a lot easier to pay more attention where you want your light/how its gonna look like hitting youre characters and how far youre gonna push your shadows.

and you know if you get good at this you can play with limited color palletes

this is literally just be picking out blues and hitting the bottom with the gradient tool to light it up

NOW COLOR

is a lot harder and also very subjective. I do a ton of impressionist studies where i just color pick the fuck out of a piece to see what colors masters used + knowing the history of paint and what colors were available during that time period. +knowing what colors = what mood + knowing what colors to use when you want to be more realistic vs when you want to lean into more stylized+ what colors YOU specially incline towards + AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

its a lot and im actually still learning myself

But when i do a painting i collect a LOT of refrences of the kind of mood i want my own painting to feeling like. I've show the first example in another ask before but heres one from my latest labru too

WHen i actually start a painting tho they look like this. The top drawings are just flat colors with a simple outline of where i want the light to be hitting. like in my value studies im just trying to get the idea down, seeing what values need to be darker vs what is lighter. and how the light source covers the character.

figuring this out in the begining makes the rest of the painting so much easier because youve essentially made all the big compostion decisions NOW. from here you can start playing with colors.

my second stage, youll see with drawings at the bottom, is when i start using my texture brush to lay in extra shadows and just play with variety.

and then? i start rendering

that would be TECHNIQUE

And well....thats also something thats gonna be very subjective.

With my own style im not interested in rendering everything to perfection. Im trying to figure out how to texture hair/skin/clothes in ways that make them feel like the materials they are while also showing the energy of my brushstrokes.

I dont zoom in while i paint btw. everything i do is zoomed out so i can see the entire drawing. it helps me not tight up my strokes while also letting me build up all areas of the painting equally. the only time i zoom in is when im lining out the eyes/mouth of a character. and yeah. it drives me insane doing this because ITS SOOOOO Tempting to obsess over paint 1 area forever then zoom out and see that nothing matches lol

The other thing about my style of painting. Is that im not gonna use the exact same formula for every piece. like this isnt cell shading. you can have an idea of how to texture skin/clothes/hair and sometimes it looks great and beautiful in one painting and then it looks like shit in another. ive overhauled a lot of paintings multiple times because what i thought would work doesnt and ive had to force myself to explore and play with my brushstrokes. and you know? i wouldnt have it any other way. it means none of my paintings are gonna look alike! and i think thats pretty cool :D

ill leave you with this in the end. a painting im in the middle of doing and debating to overhaul cause im just not feeling the strokes. who knows what ill look like in the end

anyways i hope this helped a little? even if you look at all this and go. IM NEVER GONNA DRAW LIKE THIS BOZO ahahah

BUT I WISH YOU LUCK ON YOUR OWN ARTS :DDDD

[uninformedartist]

What was the point expecting anything other than dry bones for Millie, Loona even. Vivienne going as far making this bloody long thread (post at the end) hyping people up what she's got in store for Millie when we all know how she writes. Anything written for Millie or Loona or whatever female character is not really for them. Everything written for them has to 1 tie somehow in to a male character & 2 whats written for them ultimately developes a male character more.

Two instances in the latest episode. First instance:

Loona and Millie finally interacting that doesn't have to do with work or saving the other 2 (dorks episode). And what was their conversation about...Moxxie. Millie asking her to look after him. Which understandable Millie feels she has a lot on her plate having to deal with both of them at the same time but it comes back to their "development" comes centered around a man & furthering their character.

Side tangent on how their "development" developing male character more:

From this whole thing of Millie taking a client job what I learned about Moxxie is that he does the businesses finances, he overworks himself so much he 'shuts down' in highly stressful situations especially when its beyond his control or limits, he regrets he didn't become a theatre critic.

What I learnt about Millie, she cares for Blitz & Moxxie (know this), she actually has some sort of relationship with Loona (kind of this but its logical she would have). What I learnt on Loona, she's caring dispite her tough put on persona (definitively know this), she's smart as she picked up Moxxie didn't calculate properly (didn't know this but never doubted her intelligence really).

I learnt 3 new things about Moxxie and Millie & Loona just more examples of things I already know about them because it was said about them or things I never doubted they had already naturally.

Second instance:

Millie's backstory. Her whole backstory only came about because of Blitz, because of his hallucinations she brought up her backstory as a means of comfort to HIM.

Breaking apart her backstory, yeah she doesn't owe Blitz shit nor should apologise for this:

Blitz who we seen throughout the series has done a lot of respecting towards her and her husband.

Listing the "respecting" and not a full list only what I remember

*Episode 1 constantly mistreating and physically hurting her husband, end of the episode going as far making a rape threat towards both of them.

*Episode 2 having explicit sexual fantasies about the two of them at work knowing they've in a monogamous relationship & they established that firmly.

*Episode 5 constantly invalidates her husband in front of her & her family, doesn't show him an ounce of respect ever here.

*Episode 7 stalks them on a date the two of them planned, even after Moxxie verbally told him not to, he disregarded their boundaries in all regards

And so on and so forth so this line girl no.

You cannot establish multiple times Blitz was nothing but a piece of shit towards them then all of a sudden flip it that he actually saved her, gave her a good life ect and then have her say sorry dispite all previously established in show.

Aside, also good luck to her on career, a future in the long run. Millie your pension benefit is gone

💀✋

I know this show runs on having you "forget" what was previously established because its written like a bad fanfic but come on now its getting really ridiculous.

Vivienne YOU don't understand Millie or rather want to understand her more, only when you do is to when it comes to building your male characters more and just like the previous episodes, she fit the bill nicely developing Moxxie and Blitz further, Blitz more so. No amount of solid writing in this episode from Brandon and Waters can save the mess that is before this episode.

So this whole hype thread of hers was absolute nonsense, Millie sigh may you shine bright in the actual fanfics.

[fall0utmind]

I really liked the way you characterized bez and pecco in your fic, and it got me thinking about the relationship between marc and the academy. And since you opened your asks, you me yapping about It's so weird because he is closer to them in age than he is in Valentino but by the virtue of his achievement he seem kind of unattainable to them. And obviously because of the rivalry, they don't really interact with him (except to pick a fight but that doesn't count). But then, he becomes pecco's teammate and, unless they put a wall in the ducati garage and factory, he will have to get to know him. And he realizes maybe Marc is not that bad (batshit insane maybe but not evil), and while marc is initially guarded around him, they do eventually get closer (and probably ropes the whole academy into becoming friends with him). Valentino may advise him against it but pecco is a grown man he knows what he's getting into.

Now I hesitate, whether this should be abo or not, but i think the secondary gender dynamics are very interesting (the idea of pack as a family or the whole non verbal communication through scent etc ), also it forces people that are trying to ignore their feelings for each other into situations they don't really like. Or maybe an au where you share a soulbound with people close to you.

My point is, at some point, marcnaia end up share that bound (whether romantic or platonic), and that pisses Vale so much, cuz secretly he thinks "that is my rival with whom i had a disastrous and very divorce, go find your own" (and pecco probably can feel that since they share a bound ), especially if he never got to build that kind of bound with marc and regrets it because maybe it would've saved them . (honestly it would be funnier if they are just friends but Rossi is just there in the background eyes twitching because he thinks there is something more). And Marc is like "what exactly is your problem" (beside the obvious),and either things get so weird they HAVE to talk about it (unlikely) or some catastrophe happens and vale has to get his shit together and maybe realize he fucked up concerning marc, but i am not too sure about how it would play out.

Anyway, just wanted to share this with you, maybe it would give you ideas. Side note: I love your writing, it's amazing. You really know how to balance between hurt and confort.

Okay okay, I have SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT MARC X VR ACADEMY

So many!!!! So, thanks for giving me the opportunity to yap.

I defo think that for some of the academy, notably, Cele and Bez, there is still a very unattainable air to Marc. I mean, Marc is an 8-time world champion, after all. I think for luca, it is less of that due to his relationship with the brothers and being around when Marc and Vale were friends. Pecco is also a world champion, so Marc is a little less untouchable for him, but I defo think there's still that air around him because Marc really should be the God of the sport. Especially after Vale retired. But he's become a bit of a devil. Anyways so the academy defo see Marc as slightly apart, untouchable but dangerous etc etc

Now- pecco and marc!!!!!!! I want to write a fic about their friendship and vale being jealous! I actually have a draft on my laptop!

I defo think pecco is going to develop a bit of a soft spot for marc. Like, Marc is really just insane, especially about winning, lol. So they get close, and it kinda drags some of the academy into their friendship, too. Like bez begins to humanise him, luca already likes marc, but they get closer!! Cele is 100% hero worshipping which is hilarious and kinda sweet.

Okay, I really love abo and I think that could be so good, but I have a few other abo fics in the works, so maybe for this one, I wouldn't. But, that being said, I adore your ideas of both abo and soul bond au!!! I think there's so much that can be done with those AUs. I especially love the soul bond ideas or something similar. Keep an eye out for some abo AUs going forward though, there's a few coming!!!

In terms of jealousy- pecco and marc are definitely having a championship rivalry, but it's very professional and civil. They love battling each other on the track and being friendly off it. Vale is watching this like what the fuck and he keeps babbling to Pecco about mind games. Pecco has just reached the point where he roles his eyes and ignores it, humming every so often to make it seem like he's listening. Because he's an adult and Marc has been nothing but polite and civil. If they fuck up, they apologise to each other and move on.

Vale is watching all of the Ducati videos where Marc and Pecco are doing stupid things together and are laughing, and marc is looking at Pecco like he cares, and Pecco is clearly attracted to Marc (or Vale thinks so?) And excuse you, that's Valentino's rival and enemy. How dare Pecco be his friend, how dare he take marc away?

Pecco has no idea why Vale is suddenly acting so weird. Marc clicks on pretty quickly but thinks it's just that he hates the friendship him and pecco have formed, not that Valentino is jealous!

I'm not sure what would happen that would make them get their shit together. Probably alcohol involved, though, let's be real. Marc definitely gets his 9th title and Vale isn't as mad as he thought but he really needs Pecco to back off and oh? He's jealous???

I absolutely love the idea of marc hanging out with the academy without Valentino knowing too. Or maybe marc is invited to the ranch or something, and Vale just feels awkward and jealous watching his boys riding and joking with Marc fucking Marquez as if he's always been there and suddenly Vale can imagine marc always being there. Fitting in with their little family. And next thing he knows, he's imagining mornings with Marc, waking up and watching him in the early morning light because he's so beautiful and UGH. Anyways cue Valentino breakdown.

Love love love this whole idea!!

Thank you so much for asking and for your kind words!!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

(I might make this into a drabble, if you'd like, let me know )

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

When my wife and I first started fucking dating, we had a shorthand phrase we would exchange when someone was being...some kind of way about gender and sex and sexuality...to sort of indicate to each other what we thought was happening.

"I see we've decided to round to the nearest dick."

See, wifey and I are both trans and bisexual in REALLY similar ways, but with different AGABs right? And we noticed with time that interesting trends showed up. For me, people, even those who know I'm bisexual, treat me like they would treat me as a straight person in their life. Wifey often gets treated like loved ones treat exclusively gay people. Then with gender it's similar! People assume I *don't* have a dick and so they treat me like they would treat [failed] women in their lives. They assume Wifey DOES have a dick and treat her like they would treat a [failed] man in their life. Even beyond that, when wifey and I are TOGETHER, we are automatically defaulted into the "straight" category or the "gay" category depending on which of us (how many of us) they are assuming has a dick, and then defers authority in the relationship to whoever they think has the dick.

It's all gender essentialism all the way down, and interrelated essentialism across the whole spectrum, butit shows up in different ways depending on how people perceive our relationship to our genetalia

And it IS about our genetalia because it almost always gets explicit about it at some point.

I think what I've always found the most interesting is how other queer and trans folks interact with the concept of rounding to the nearest dick, including how we as a community wield it against each other laterally. The experience of being called "basically a woman" by lesbian partners in order to reconcile their discomfort with my gender (as distinct from lesbian partners whose reconciliation of my gender with their sexuality involved calling THEMSELVES "basically alesbian" or some similar iteration that emphasized the importance/meaning of THEIR identity WITHOUT commenting on my own) while Wifey gets treated like "basically a man" because of how race, gender, and sexuality intersect for her. The experience of being told I am excempt from certain realities not based on ACTUAL lack of the experience but based on a feeling of ownership people believe they have over how those experiences may manifest in the world, like when someone says "well trans men aren't oppressed anymore" so I shouldn't take up space in women's communities, men's communities, OR trans-general communities. Or like when someone told wifey that gay men haven't been oppressed since same sex marriage.

Like A) you're simply fucking wrong, and B) even if you were RIGHT, I'm NOT a trans man and my wife ISN'T a gay man. So why would that mean anything about us?

Part of what we both noticed is that the function of "rounding to the nearest dick" is usually about silencing or side-lining someone. WHO exactly is relational and context dependent, but essentially it boils down to "I need one of us to be explicitly less empowered than the other of us to feel safe navigating our interaction"

Sometimes it's preferrable to BE the disempowered (e.g. justification of horizontal hostility) and others to be the disempowerING (e.g. gatekeeping access to socio-economic resources) but in either case, we explicitly see gender wielded asymmetrically and selectively to create and redirect power. Not as something intrinsic to a person or within their control. And I think it's interesting as a trans person to experience gender explicitly as power even when, for me, that's never what it's been. It's interesting to see how people engage with that power when THEY don't usually experience it that way.

Anyway, rounding to the nearest dick is something I think we should all avoid, in part because maybe we should stop focusing in so much on people's gender and sexuality having ANYTHING intrinsic/inherent to them, as opposed to a layer of context within the wholeness of their lives

[mirroredmemoriez]

With my other poll coming to an end in a day, I thought I’d make another because I may even implement these into a one of my character study type posts!

One thing I’ll state first is that there isn’t really a correct way to handle grief. The way people deal with it and show it can differ from person to person! However wording that for a poll is quite long winded…. I also want it to be a bit open so there is room for discussions.

Moving on- I think that Lynn may be the one to sweep this poll. But at some points I believe this is due to the fact that people will only be looking at these characters through the lens of what happened during their run in with Jigsaw.

Which I don't think really is where people should hone in on, because it's imbalanced. Lynn does not have to come face to face with her grief within her test like Jeff does. We have no real basis to know how she'd handle that besides assumptions based off of her as a character. Other things to remember is the fact that Jeff actually WITNESSED Dylan get hit by the car. This isn’t to say his grief is more powerful than Lynn’s, but it is a factor to dwell on! Witnessing your own child’s death right in front of your eyes is a very heavy thing to deal with.

Moving on! Here’s some snips off their Saw Wiki’s…. I'll get it out of the way that both neglect Corbett and one another.

As individuals? Jeff has depression and an obsession with vengeance in regards to those involved and linked to his son's death. We see him drunk and threatening himself with a gun, picturing his reflection to be Timothy Young- But we also get to see how he let's this grief impact his daughter and the disregard for Corbett's own feelings.... At the end of the day she did lose a sibling, yet Jeff's focus is on a plush pig being missing from Dylan's room. On to Lynn. She also has depression and is constantly taking anti-depressants to try and stabilise herself. Lynn is having an affair with a man named Chris and her job performance is slipping, which in her line of work can mean life or death for a patient. We never get to see her interact with Corbett.

Anyway, I’ll stop the rambling here… Below are some of my previous little Denlon studies.

[i-got-da-rubes]

It’s been 19 months since I originally made this post- a year and a half. I still occasionally get notifications that people are interacting with it. I don’t know how or why lol.

It’s so interesting to look back and see how far I’ve come. I went by she/they pronouns at the time and, incredulously, was still convinced I was cis. I wasn’t out(gender-wise) to my parents and probably few of my in person friends. I don’t think anyone used the they/them half of my pronouns at the time.

So for a a science teacher to use my pronouns in a professional letter, well, it was everything.

I go by he/him now, and I’m well aware that I’m a trans man. I’m just a dude. Like that’s just who I am. To the point that when I came out as trans to my online friends they deadass said they knew/had no idea I thought I was a girl. I was just a guy to them.

It seems silly that I ever denied it.

A couple weeks ago, a great environmental professor of mine went through my future class schedule with me. In the document, I was listed as going by he/him and they/them. It was outdated, and I told her as much. She left it up to me to fix, but it felt natural. It wasn’t a notable moment.

But I look at this and realize wow, that was truly unimaginable to me at one point in my life, huh? What would she think, 17 year old me, looking at how far we’ve come. Looking at who we are.

If you feel like you’re killing someone by transitioning, you’re not. You’re pulling that child up and telling them they can be who they want. You’re filling their air with lungs. You’re doing something they never realized(or maybe knew all along) they wanted, they needed.

Take your time, of course. But my god, transitioning is worth your weight in gold.

A teacher respected the they/them half of my pronouns in a letter of recommendation and I’m kind of crumbling. She’s the first adult to solidify them on paper, and in an professional recommendation. She’s an anatomy teacher, to boot.

She does presentations on anatomy with “people with uterus’s” and “people with penis’s” and really affirming stuff like that. She went on a tangent about how if everyone slowed down and did their homework, there would be a lot less hate in the world.

I’m shaking. I want to hug her, I’m holding back tears. I don’t know how to even express this joy to anyone. She has majorly brightened my day.

[forecast0ctopus]

making fun of arthur is a hobby

[puppyeared]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.