#and leaves them perplexed. pondering. reflecting.

[telltalebatman]

once again thinking about sungwon cho's werner herzog spider-man impression

[bucketsfullofyou]

Mini VAT7K Drabble

“Sure they both look like they’ve worked outside, but Varian could just as easily be the son of— that guy!” His arm flew outward toward the first person he saw from the window: an old, scraggly bearded man barely a meter tall and leaning heavily on a goat. Yong gave him a flat look. “Okay bad example, but still!”

Hugo had yet to make it past the mental hurdle of Quirin fathering Varian, which in all fairness, Yong and Nuru were very perplexed by too, but they weren’t the ones having a tantrum over it. Nuru had begun to tune their friend out around ten minutes ago to start scribbling out long, complex equations only to solve them a moment later. Yong, Hugo, and Nuru were brought into Varian’s childhood home to spend the night before completing the final trial and opening the Eternal Library. Quirin had been delighted to welcome Varian’s friends, ushering them in without even a brief assessment of their characters. Varian had looked deeply embarrassed when Hugo asked, admitting that he wasn’t known for making friends, let alone ones his age. Not long after they were settled in the guest bedroom, Quirin had called his son down to help prepare a meal with him, leaving the three friends to muse on the genetic gymnastics that occurred to bring about Varian.

“Maybe he gets it from his mom?” Yong pondered aloud. He withdrew a comb that Hugo didn’t know Yong owned and started to rake it through the burned ends of his hair. They were all a mess. A year on the road had not been kind on their appearances. Hugo was ashamed to say that he hadn’t kept up with his usually close shave along the sides and back of his scalp, allowing the hair there to grow and give him a fluffier look. Most of his clothes had holes in them or stained with some chemical or other. Being Yong’s assistant certainly didn’t help with the smell of gunpowder or the charred nature of his sleeves.

But Nuru was probably the messiest of them all. Her title as Princess was as reflective as her shoes. That is to say, not at all. She had taken up the mantle of navigator with an enthusiasm Hugo hadn’t expected, and she trudged through muck and high water to get them to each trial. A flashback to her waving her sword at a sneezeweazel and the subsequent chase through thorny bramble to get away left their sleeves torn and skin razed made Hugo cringe. The only things Nuru ever managed to keep tidy were her star maps—rest in peace to her skirt of constellations—and her sword. Although she used it frequently to cut through foliage on their journey, Nuru kept her whetstone close and sharpened her blade every night. Even her poor telescope wasn’t kept in as good a condition as her weapon, once using it as a makeshift club to bludgeon a bandit on the road.

Yong, ironically, had most of his things intact. Although that probably wasn’t a testament to how well Yong managed his stuff and more how much Varian kept Yong’s belongings safe for him. Far too often, Varian would be launching forward from his place around the campfire to sweep Yong’s backpack of explosives away from the flames. In fact, Hugo was confident that all of the bags hitched to Prometheus belonged to the pyromaniac. That isn’t to say that Yong made it through their adventures scott-free. When the bounty hunters hired by Yong’s parents caught up to them, Yong had gone a bit off the deep end, tying all of his available fireworks together and nearly blowing the men’s’ heads off. Standing behind an explosion like that turned nearly off of Yong into a pile of ash. He was covered in burns and his eardrums didn’t stop ringing for several hours after. And yet at the end of it all, Varian had pulled the teenager aside with a fresh set of clothes and a pair of flame retardant gloves for Yong to wear.

And speaking of Varian. Easily the clumsiest of the group, Varian was coated head to toe in grime. Even as he fussed over the safety of his friends, or maybe because he worried over them, Varian would fall into the most trouble. Be it from Hugo purposely antagonizing some stranger on the road, Nuru not looking away from the stars long enough to see the sudden dip of the hill she was walking towards, or Yong tampering with one of Hugo’s stink bombs to make them spark, Varian did his best to take the blow. It was annoying. Hugo definitely deserved to be the one with a bucket of muddy water thrown at his face, and it would have been really funny to watch Nuru trip and tumble over the slope, and god did Hugo wish he saw Yong receive his comeuppance when a stray bomb tumbled from his mischievous grip, but Varian had already thrown himself over Yong and stank to high heaven for three days.

While the guy had objectively gotten worse in terms of appearances, Hugo couldn’t seem to choke down the butterflies that emerged when Varian’s dirt covered face appeared and twisted into a grin from the doorway. A pair of cooking mitts the only non-road trodden thing about him now.

“Dinner’s ready!” He cheered, spinning back out and toward the stairs. Hugo spared himself one last look, sighed, and followed after.

[42ap]

The Mysterious Creatures of Oregon

One noon, Stan appeared in the gift shop. "I made hot dogs!" he said. "Come taste and see how they are."

Wendy took one, took a bite, and immediately spat it out. "That's disgusting!" she said. "Why are there potatoes and onions in this?"

Stan looked at her, confused. "Is it not good?" he asked.

She grabbed a bottle of water and rinsed her mouth. "It's not good," she confirmed.

Stan frowned at his hot dog. "Maybe I didn’t put enough bell peppers?" he muttered.

Of course not! Before Wendy could say anything, Dipper interrupted.

"Wendy, don’t say anything," Mabel said, holding the hot dog Stan gave her without taking a bite. "This is made for the Author."

"Oh yeah, it must be for the Author," Dipper said, also not eating his hot dog. "I knew it."

"The Author?" Wendy asked. Everyone looked calm. "What Author?"

"The Author lives in the basement," Dipper said with certainty, as if that alone answered Wendy’s question.

Suddenly, the lights in the gift shop went out.

Soos ran out from the office. "Don’t panic! Everything’s fine!" he assured them before rushing to usher tourists out of the shop. "Wendy, help me get them out."

Still confused, Wendy did as she was told. As they evacuated the tourists, the shack not only lost power but also began to shake. A sharp, piercing scream echoed from below.

"Is this a special show?" a tourist asked. "How much to stay and watch?"

Soos shoved him out as well.

Once all the tourists were gone, Wendy turned to Soos. "Are you going to explain anything to me?" she asked.

"Oh, it’s no big deal," Soos said casually. "The Author must be doing an experiment. Stan said if the noise gets too loud, we should clear out the tourists because the Author doesn’t like people noticing his work."

"And who exactly is this Author?" Wendy pressed. "When did he move in? And Stan doesn’t care about losing business?"

"The Author’s a great guy," Soos simply said cheerfully, then turned to lock the entrance.

As Wendy pondered this, another monstrous scream came from beneath them.

Wendy walked into the gift shop and sat down.

She jumped up immediately. "What is this?!" she yelped, looking down at a strange, old-fashioned gun on the chair. "Is there seriously a gun just lying on the cashier’s stool?"

"Oh, whoops," Mabel said, picking up the gun. "The Author forgot his gun again. I’ll bring it down to him later."

"The Author forgot his gun?" Wendy repeated incredulously.

"He was just here," Mabel explained. "Stan was sorting merchandise, and the Author came up to chat for a bit before leaving."

"And the gun played what role in all this?"

"Ah, I have no idea. The Author’s a weird guy."

"I can see that," Wendy muttered.

"Day off today!" Stan announced as he strode into the shop, grinning. "You little punks, go have some fun."

"Wow, Stan," Wendy said, looking him up and down. Stan was wearing a yellow shirt, and his hair was neatly combed. "You look unusually sharp today."

"Of course," Stan said, adjusting his clothes in the reflection of the window.

"Mr. Pines, are you going somewhere?" Soos asked as he swept the shop.

"Stan’s going out to eat with the Author!" Mabel chirped. "So he won’t be around today!"

"Dinner?" Wendy asked. "In the basement?"

"In town," Stan said. "We don’t want to eat in Gravity Falls. The people here are too nosy."

Wendy frowned. "Isn’t the Author living in the basement?"

"Can’t a man come out for dinner just because he lives in a basement?" Stan shot back.

"I thought—" Wendy hesitated. "That he’s afraid of sunlight, or he looks weird, or is super antisocial—just generally can’t be seen by people."

"He’s normal," Stan said. "He just works down there."

Wendy watched, perplexed, as Stan walked out of the shack.

"If he’s not some strange little goblin Stan took pity on," she murmured, "Then why is he going out to dinner with an ordinary guy?"

Wendy walked into the kitchen. Stan was cooking.

She glanced at him—he was making spaghetti.

"Cooking for the Author again?" she asked.

"Stanford," Stan corrected her. "Just call him Stanford. He’s my twin brother."

That seemed like an important missing detail. But if Stan wasn’t going to elaborate, she wasn’t going to ask.

"You seem to be in a pretty good mood lately," she remarked.

"I don’t see any reason not to be," Stan said. "I already have everything I want."

"That’s kind of a cheesy thing to say," Wendy noted.

"It is," Stan admitted, smiling as he turned back to his cooking.

Wendy was the first to enter the shop that morning. She unlocked the door, opened the windows, turned on the radio, and flipped the switch for the gold miner animatronic.

Then, suddenly, the vending machine swung open.

A man stepped out, looking a lot like Stan, but with darker hair.

"You must be the Author," Wendy said, eyeing him.

The man looked startled, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to be here. "Oh, uh, hello," he said awkwardly.

"I’m Wendy."

"I’m Stanford," he replied.

Wendy tilted her head, watching as Stanford installed some kind of device in the shop.

"You know, they’ve told me a lot about you," Wendy said, looking him over. "But I didn’t expect you to be… this."

"What did you expect?"

"Well," Wendy said, "You live in the basement, rely on Stan to bring you meals, rarely come to the surface, own a gun, and keep a bunch of monsters downstairs. In my imagination, you were a four-foot-tall, tumor-like lump with glasses."

Stanford laughed. "Well, I’m glad I’m not that," he said.

"Are you and Stan, like… dating or something?" Wendy asked.

Stanford looked startled, his face turning red almost instantly. "Why?" he asked, "Did Stan say something to you?"

"Stan didn’t say anything."

"Oh, great," he muttered. "Now I’m the one with the big mouth."

"Stan really likes you," Wendy said.

"I really like Stan too," Stanford admitted.

Wendy shuddered. "You two are the corniest old men I’ve ever met," she said.

Stanford chuckled. "Keep this a secret, alright?" he asked, then disappeared back into the vending machine.

The next time the gift shop lost power, Wendy stood up and started ushering people out without hesitation.

"Why is the ground shaking? What do you have in that basement?" a tourist asked.

"A mysterious creature of the Mystery Shack," Wendy replied.

"Oh, like Bigfoot?"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, pushing him out the door.

[aishangotome]

Onio Ryo: Chapter 18 (R18+)

Chapter 17

MDNI

♡———♡

Yumeka: I... I like you, Ryo.

Ryo: .....!

Yumeka: I’m sorry.

I had been trusted to not fall in love.

But now, it's different. It's precisely because I cherish you so much that I want to protect you.

I've come to wish it so strongly.

It seemed that my feelings reached Ryo.

Ryo: ---.......

Faced with his perplexed expression, my own feelings were strangely clear.

Frowning, Ryo pondered my words, looking genuinely troubled. ...That was the answer.

Ryo doesn't feel anything for me.

(But I'm happy just not being rejected.)

Thinking that, I released his hand and stepped away from him.

Ryo: I... can't reciprocate your feelings, Yumeka. I'm sorry.

I nodded at the expected answer.

Yumeka: Yeah. I just wanted to tell you.

Yumeka: I won't say it again, so don't worry. And... I'd be happy if you'd just act as usual.

Ryo: .............

A smile came naturally to my face, and my heart was calm, to my own surprise.

-

Eventually, the sky turned crimson, and the blowing wind gradually grew colder.

(Somehow, it's hard to leave... I've been here for a long time.)

Unlike the forest where I spent time with Akura-ou, strange white lights began to dance in the distant forest.

Yumeka: It's like fireflies... what are those?

Ryo: Those are spirit lights. They say they're like spiritual bodies without will.

Ryo answered and peered into my face.

Ryo: Should we go inside soon?

Yumeka: Can I stay just a little longer?

I asked this because I was sad that this time with just the two of us would end.

Ryo: Yeah, of course.

Fires began to light here and there in Mugenro, and the Tsukumogami and male courtesans who had contracts with the Master of Mugenro began to appear in Mugenro.

(Soon, the night will begin.)

Then the night wind passed by—.

Yumeka: Achoo!

As the sun began to set, it was getting cold. Ryo's hand was placed on my back as I sneezed...

Ryo: Let's go.

-

(Are we going back to the room?)

Led by Ryo, I walked down the hallway. I had almost forgotten due to everything that had happened, but this was Mugenro.

Urged by him, we arrived at—

The changing room.

Yumeka: ...A bath?

Ryo: Yeah.

Beyond the empty changing room was a large bathtub.

Steam rose from the water's surface, blurring the view.

Ryo: You're cold, right? You'd have to change anyway, so why don't you undress?

Ryo quickly took off his clothes in the changing room.

Yumeka: Eh, eeh!

I hurriedly averted my gaze from Ryo's naked body, which I had clearly seen in the light.

Yumeka: We're bathing together!?

Ryo: You're practically still recovering, so I'd be worried if something happened.

Yumeka: But, it's embarrassing...

Ryo: Still?

Yumeka: B-but before it was dark.

Even as I said that, his toned, supple abs and pecs were clearly burned into my mind.

Yumeka: B-besides, I... haven't bathed for three days, right? I might be dirty... and besides...

Ryo: It's fine. Raise your hands.

Yumeka: Eh, eh?

Ryo: Come on, raise them.

Yumeka: Raise... them.

Reflexively, I raised both hands at Ryo's words.

Then, my kimono was quickly stripped off.

Yumeka: ------!!

Ryo picked me up, unable to move from surprise, and started walking.

Yumeka: No! Wait!

Ryo: Won't wait.

Yumeka: P-put me down!

And so, with my feet not touching the ground and us naked and directly touching each other, Ryo carried me straight to the bath.

-

—Eventually, after Ryo carefully washed my body, we were soaking together in the tub.

Yumeka: ..............

(I think I was already lightheaded before I even got in...)

As I gave him a resentful look, the person who had finished the job sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

His sensuality made me forget all the complaints I wanted to say.

Ryo: ...? Feels good, doesn't it?

Yumeka: ...Yeah.

Ryo: Heh... that's good.

I took a deep breath and scooped up some water in my hand. The light from the ceiling was reflected in the swaying water.

Watching this, I remembered Akura-ou again.

Yumeka: Uh... Akura, ou... --

Akura-ou: .............

Akura-ou: We'll meet again in the future, right?

A drop dripped from my own body, causing ripples on the water's surface.

What I had seen and felt there certainly existed within me.

When I thought about the burnt-down hut and Saburo and the others who disappeared, I felt another wave of anguish.

(I still want to find everyone. Ryo might not say "yes," but.)

Ryo: ...Yumeka.

Yumeka: Huh?

Called by my name, I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up—

Yumeka: Mmuh...

Ryo took my cheeks in one hand and squished them.

I blinked in surprise, but Ryo continued to play with my cheeks with his fingers.

Yumeka: Fua, what are... mmuh

With a serious face, Ryo used his fingers to lift the corners of my mouth.

Ryo: Yeah, just as I thought, a smiling face suits Yumeka.

Yumeka: .....!

His mischievous expression made my body, already warmed by the bath, heat up even more.

Yumeka: My, my face is being forced to shmile.

Ryo: Haha. Then how about this?

Yumeka: Hya... no, Ryo... my stomach is... fuatsu.

Making splashing sounds, Ryo tried to tickle my stomach.

Ryo: This is your weak spot, right?

Yumeka: Ah... ahaha. Stop, please!

Trying to escape his grasp, we both ended up completely soaked.

Yumeka: Seriously...

I puffed out my cheeks, but strangely, the pain in my heart had faded.

(He must have noticed I was suffering...)

I spoke to Ryo again.

Yumeka: You know, I'm suffering now, but I think it was good that I was sent there.

Yumeka: Because I realized that I wanted to create a place where everyone—no, where I myself could smile, regardless of whether they were human or Youma.

I had only aimed to rebuild my grandparents' café...

But maybe it doesn't have to be a café.

Yumeka: I was able to think about what I really want to do again because I met Akura-ou.

Ryo listened to me in silence.

But at the name Akura-ou, his eyebrows twitched for a moment.

Ryo: --Hmph.

And then, the next moment.

Yumeka: ...Ryo?

Just as I thought he had leaned his weight on me from behind, he grabbed my chin, turned me around, and kissed me.

Yumeka: Mmph!

We nibbled on each other's lips, pulled away slightly, and kissed again as if seeking each other.

(I... just got rejected... this is weird.)

Even so, I wanted to drown in the sweet time that only Mugenro could offer tonight.

Ryo: Haah... Yumeka's body is hot.

Ryo, having released my lips, said in a concerned tone.

But his hands traced my body meaningfully, never leaving.

Yumeka: ...You're hot too, Ryo.

Ryo: Here too?

Yumeka: .....!

Ryo shifted his hips, pressing his heat against me.

(So... hot...!)

Yumeka: Uh... um...

Ryo: Haha, sorry.

Ryo tried to pull away from me, having noticed my flustered voice.

At that moment, I rubbed my hips against his body.

Yumeka: Stay like this... I want to feel more.

His heat—everything that exists here now.

Ryo: ...Mmm.

Ryo: Understood.

Ryo hugged me tightly again, touching us together.

The heat touching my lower abdomen made me feel like I was losing consciousness.

Ryo: I think I'm going to enter now, see?

His already hardened erection was pressed against my entrance.

Yumeka: ...Ah... no... mmm. The hot water will get in.

I protested, but my aroused honeyed mouth, which had been heightened by the kisses, had already memorized the shape of Ryo's erection, and with little resistance, accepted the hot mass deep into the narrow path.

Pierced by something large, hot, and hard, stars scattered before my eyes.

Ryo: Don't move, just breathe slowly.

Ryo: It's been a while, after all.

Yumeka: Haah... fu... aah.

After a while, Ryo's hot stake clung tightly to the walls of my honeyed path, and I exhaled the breath I had unknowingly held.

As if waiting for that, Ryo's arms wrapped around me, putting even more weight from behind.

Ryo: Mmm... getting used to it?

Creating regular waves, Ryo swung his hips, and each time, the place where we were joined nibbled at him.

Wet hair touched my shoulders, and my face was buried along with a moan.

Ryo: Ah... if I stay inside Yumeka forever, I might get too hot and lightheaded.

Yumeka: Y-you idiot...

My trembling voice echoed in the bathroom.

Even though his erection was buried inside me, my body and heart craved an even deeper connection, and I looked up and asked Ryo for a kiss.

Yumeka: Mmm... haah.

My hips moved on their own, trying to swallow the hot mass deep inside.

It was an impulse I couldn't control anymore.

Ryo: Mmm...? You don't want to take it slow?

Yumeka: My hips are moving on their own.

Ryo: Understood.

Ryo gripped my hips firmly and started moving.

The surface of the bathwater shook even more, overflowing from the tub.

Yumeka: Ah... mmm, aah!

My stomach was filled with Ryo's heat, and I kissed him while feeling lightheaded.

Yumeka: ...Ah, ahh... tsu... ------

Completely spoiled, I came in the bath.

Feeling like the boundary between me and Ryo had disappeared, my lightheaded consciousness was dyed white.

-

—The next time I woke up, I was lying on Ryo's bed.

A wet towel was placed over my eyes, and Ryo, dressed, was fanning himself with a folding fan beside me.

Ryo: Are you okay? I was the one who said you were practically still recovering... but for some reason, I couldn't stop.

Ryo: I'm sorry for pushing you.

A pleasant breeze was blowing from the open window, and I, feeling calmer, gently lifted the towel from my eyes.

Yumeka: No, I... felt good too...

(And...)

Ryo: ...Rest a little more.

Ryo pushed me back into bed as I tried to get up.

He took the towel from my head, wrung it out with ice water, and placed the cold towel back on me.

(I'm glad Ryo hasn't changed...)

As I reached out in the dark, Ryo held my hand, and reassured, I fell into a deep sleep again.

-

Yumeka slept with a completely relieved expression, holding Ryo's hand.

Ryo: ............

Watching her sleeping face, Ryo gripped her hand tightly.

Ryo: I...---

But his murmur didn't reach my ears as I slept without dreaming.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 19

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[sugolara]

Consumed in dark

ft. K.B, S.T x fem! reader

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge. Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, slow burn

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There was ice on the grass. With his shoe, Shoto removed the layer as Katsuki and F/n picked up a brochure by a bus stop. Underneath the layer, the grass slightly lifted, the tip bending down, pointing to the soul as the ice had gotten it wet. Speaks of left over water could be seen, reflecting off what light could shine through the thick gray clouds.

“Maybe there’s no dead in the subway.” F/n pondered, looking at the brochure of the subway map. They wanted to put some distance between Tomura and Shota, just for a while. Ochaco had kept her radio on and with Katsuki’s own—the one that once belonged to Toshiniri—they were able to hear Tomura’s plan.

They were indeed looking for Shoto and thankfully, no one uttered a word about his appearance. Home’s were ransacked and F/n’s blood boiled when she heard Toga destroy the furniture of the home she slept in. As for Izuku’s belongings, Katsuki was able to slip the notebook and ring before Toga could get her hands on it. “And if there is, they’re underground so they’ll act like they usually do when night falls and since it’s cold, they’ll lack energy.”

The blonde looked up. Ahead of them was a rotter who creepily looked their way and let out soft moans, but made no movement in moving closer to them. They behave like they would when night falls. “We’ll keep warm and it’ll hide Shoto.”

Looking back at the map, Katsuki bit the inside of his cheeks, “There’s no exit for a couple miles so if there is a horde down there and they somehow advance, we’re fucked.”

“There's an emergency exit.” Their voices blended in the background. His different color hues found a flower just about to bloom, however, it endured the cold and now it would soon die. He placed his feet right next to the small flower, staring down as a breath of fog escaped his lips. Cheeks, ears, and nose dusting in a red tint from how cold it was he took in a deep breath, letting the icy air fill his lungs.

With snow just around the corner, he wondered if he should wait until spring to go back home. He had forgotten he left the files with Nezu, but even if he were to get a hold of it, he wasn’t sure where to start. Home was first, but what came after perplexed him. He supposed he could go to central Tokyo where his father worked. Perhaps that’s where Keigo was. Perhaps that’s where all the answer’s rested.

If he wished to travel now, in a couple months it would be difficult depending how heavy the snow falls. With no maintenance, it could block the roads and that would be a pain. Walking was a solution, but he would first need to have gear ready. He could even have someone accompany him on this task and his friends popped in his mind. Maybe Tenya, who loved to do research and discover unsolved mysteries, would like to join.

However, he wasn’t so sure about leaving Katsuki and F/n. He was always fond of Katsuki, but F/n grew on him and after discovering his feelings, he was quite perplexed on what to do. A quiet sigh left him. All this was a mess in his head. His thoughts had no end and it was frustrating. Unlike him, his brother didn’t have to suffer with all those thoughts anymore. Letting go looked so peaceful, like you’re finally free…and maybe, just like his brother….Shoto shou–

“–Icy-hot.” A hand was placed on his shoulder, startling him from his thoughts. Looking up, the blonde worryingly eyed him. He had tried getting his attention, but a look at F/n who shrugged, he snapped male out of his daze. He didn’t know what was going on in his head, but Katsuki hoped it wasn’t anything bad to where he would never get to see him again. Lots of heartache and passing, Katsuki did not want one more to this list. “Let’s go.”

Adjusting the backpack on his shoulder he followed them, “Where are we going?”

“The subway.” F/n responded, “Maybe there’s some med kits or something useful down there.”

“Oh.” Shoto said, his fingertips feeling cold.

Katsuki shared a glance with F/n, wondering what was going on in Shoto’s mind, “There’s this hospital no to far. Tomorrow, you and her will go look at it. Most likely that bastard took every last medical supply.”

“How’s that sound?” F/n asked as she and Katsuki eyed the male behind them.

“Okay.” Shoto shrugged, looking at the sky, “I think it’s going to rain.”

They both looked up, stopping at the entrance of the subway. “Yep.”

Entering and grabbing their light, light sounds of water dripping onto the floor could be heard. It echoed inside the building. So far, when they reached the bottom, no sign of any dead was around, only the existence of blood on the floor.

“Creepy.” F/n uttered, “Feels like we’re in a horror movie and about to die any second.”

“Can you not joke like that!?” Katsuki whispered, “You think what we really need is a serial killer in an apocalypse!?”

“...No.” She mumbled, looking around, “I’m just saying that those vibes are down here.”

“Well, don’t jinx it.” He huffed out, looking at the railway where the train would usually be. He stepped to the ledge and shined his light to the dark tunnel. His light hit a rotter, and eerily it moved its eyes towards Katsuki and slowly made its way to him. Pulling out his knife, he waited for the dead to get closer, “I got this one.”

Turning around and next to the stairs was a restroom. Shoto took a step forward, “Do you think the plumbing system works down here?”

“Don’t tell me you have to use the restroom.” F/n said, shining her light towards the section, “It probably doesn’t and I wouldn’t get close to it.”

“Why?” Despite being told not to, he moved closer, ignoring the squelch of Katsuki killing a dead, “If someone were to be hiding, they would have already made a move. I’m sure the entrance is the only exit for them.”

Shaking her head, she turned to stare in front of her, “Fine, if you want to be reckless, go right ahead.”

“...Okay.” Shoto whispered, entering the restroom carefully. He pulled out his knife from its sheath, examining the area for any sign of the living and dead. The restroom was nasty, but it was expected. Grime stood on the walls and a few red stains—most likely blood—stained the dirty tiles. It also smelled, but didn’t reek of any corpse.

Proceeding forward, he checked the stall and found the room to be completely empty. Stopping at the last one, he entered it and looked down at the toilet that contained dirty green water. Face scrunching in disgust he turned to leave, though hearing F/n’s and Katsuki’s voice, he instead reached his hand to close the stall door and let out a sigh. Glancing down at the light, his finger moved and he was left in pitch black.

“Tokyo system.” F/n whispered, before her eyes widened. She looked back at the blonde, pointing at the sign that was displayed for everyone to see. The sign was of a map that led to prefectures, “If we follow this path we’ll exit Tokyo and reach home. We can go back to Musutafu.”

Shining his light, Katsuki furrowed a brow, “Why? There’s nothing there.”

“No, but…wouldn’t it be nice to just go?” She asked and when his brows narrowed, her heart felt like a weight.

“There’s nothing besides broken dreams.” He scoffed. No way would he ever return there without his family, “Place is crawling with freaks. Every corner you turn you’re bound to get bitten. We left in time.”

She looked back at the top, hand hovering in the air, “Yeah…but…”

There was a hint of hope in her voice that the blonde couldn’t catch, “...It’s home.”

“Fuck that place.” Katsuki turned away, unwanted memories resurfacing. To distract himself, in front of him and crossing the rail was a maintenance room. He jumped onto the rail, knife in one hand as he got closer, “If we’re lucky, we won’t have to go far. Maintenance room has supplies, right?”

She continued to look at the sign, “..How am I supposed to know?”

“Didn’t you say your dad worked in a place like this?” He asked. He had forgotten what she said and it did worry him that his memories were deteriorating.

“My dad..?” She quietly repeated, eyes looking at the ‘you’re here’ dot. Realizing he was speaking of her father she glanced at him and followed behind, leaving Shoto in the restroom with thoughts running wild, “You’ll probably find a bunch of wires as your supplies.”

Her shoes slapped against the ground. She entered the room and looked around, “Or not.”

He shined his light at the table that carried computers for security. Looking underneath the desk, he found a red tool box. Grinning, he kneeled down to reach for it, “Lucky us.”

“It’s just a tool box.” She continued to examine the room, “Nothing helpful.”

“Wanna bet?” Katsuki said, as he opened the box and found supplies to heal the injure.

“Damn.” She eyed him, “That’s actually a lot.”

Hearing rain drizzling was their sign to leave. “Where’s Half-and-half?”

“In the restroom.” They climbed the ledge to the floor of the station. “I was thinking of staying the night with him.”

She received an odd stare from him, but she continued, “What if Toga decides to stay? She’ll spot me and probably kill me if what you say is true.”

“You scared?” He teased, “Never did I see that coming.”

“No.” She glared, “Besides. Me and Shoto can leave early in the morning and hit other places before coming back. It’s been awhile since I’ve had someone come and help me and if I’m being honest…I don’t think he’s doing well.”

The blonde agreed. He was unusual. And that was a worry. “You going to be his babysitter?”

“If that helps, then yeah.” She said, eyeing the entrance of the men’s restroom, “You should stay too. Since you know him the longest, it’ll make him feel better to know his friends there.”

He should stay, he wanted to, but he had his own issues to worry about. He had his nightly routine in keeping Izuku company. Tell the dead about how his day went and after silently cry in anger for his death. Shoto needed his friends, but for now, Katsuki wouldn’t be able to be there for him. He’d have to wait, just for a while.

“You stay with him.” Katsuki replied, unwilling to make eye contact, “...He’d want you there.”

A feeling she already knew of what he was referencing, “Alright.”

Hearing his name being called, Shoto covered his eyes. His elbows rested on his knees as he sat on the toilet. He would have felt disgusted for doing such an action, but his thoughts were winning today. He didn’t feel overjoy—like he would have thought—for having F/n spend the night with him. He wanted to be left alone, but he didn’t want his friends to be worried for him. So reluctantly, he’ll allow for this to happen.

Maybe she could be the one to comfort him for this night. 

[saiakv]

...There's an odor coming from the little case atop the table. A familiar odor. One that certainly implies Mahito had been there, no doubt to drop this off and creep around before leaving.

Should one dare to open the box they'd find a pair of plugs meant for the ears. Except they are clearly made from transfigured humans, shrunken down and solidified smaller than Mahito had ever done before. He had some time to kill, after-all, so why not leave a gift of discolored purple flesh? Something nice to match Geto-kun's eyes. Which he had been thinking about recently. Almost conveniently after some deranged dream he had experienced.

unmprompted and sweet :) ♥

It's an unmistakable stench. Sewage mixed into meat with a dash of people smell the likes of which have only assaulted Kenjaku's nose on modern day public transport. Ah, one of the small inconveniences of this lifetime — to have so many flighted curses in their arsenal and yet be forced to endure the train. And in the off chance that Mahito is generous enough to make himself into a carriage, he still smells just as rancid.

Momentarily, they ponder on giving him a bath one of these days. Forcibly or otherwise.

But this odor permeates everything he touches, too; the rancid aura of his residuals gleaming all over the room; on the drawers, under the mattress, into the toilet, down the drain. It seems his companion has busied himself with snooping around while Geto-kun was on his stroll. Not that there would be much to find; a few changes of clothes, some personal items, a comb-- wait a minute. His hairbrush was missing. Had this little bastard-

Their attention is abducted by that ominous box in the middle of the room, certain to contain something atrocious. For as nonchalant as he appeared, Kenjaku often found some amusement in this one's antics; maybe even a sense of anticipation, expecting the unexpected. And so he was careful with hovering his palms over the thing to read the faint traces of energy within it, before gently undoing the clasp and flicking it open.

Only to be greeted by a pair of shriveled up humans.

Their faces were barely legible on their altered forms, yet the expression of agony on them was almost too mundane. With care, Geto's fingers reach out to pick one of them up and it winces as it's carried into the room's dim light. Violet eyes match its color when they browse over the clasp installed -- at first glance he'd thought it was another one of those yo-yos Mahito keeps fiddling with when made to sit through one of Hanami's favorite soap operas. Ugh, why does he know all those things about these guys. The play-pretend is starting to get to them, maybe.

The expression of disgust on his features is quickly replaced by intrigue as a flare hits him and he pulls out his cellphone and holds the makeshift earring over Geto's ear — it lets out a pained whine. It fits. And in that moment, Kenjaku is perplexed by the realization that it was probably meant to fit. Examining Suguru Geto's reflection in the phone camera, they note how a yellow square sits around their face — and picks up a face on the earring as well. That earns a soft chuckle. The color match is impeccable as well. Mahito seems to have really put some thought into this.

But why? In an aimless parroting of human behavior, or a deliberate mimicry thereof? That's the only explanation that comes to mind. He's usually rather possessive over his toys.

There's a thought to try them on and check the integrity of the clasp — did he actually manage to make a fully functional plug?

And in that same vein, Kenjaku knows what will happen if this gift is not acknowledged. Just as well as he knows what might happen if he does put them on. He's watched Mahito use these these things like bombs, like darts, expanding them at random — to have one attached to his head would be to willingly wear a bomb collar.

His mind is plagued with the thought of what prompted this sudden generosity — curses are not known for their sense of comradery, after all. Jogo is the exception, the other two being barely sentient enough to act as anything other than extensions of his will. And then there's Mahito, who Kenjaku is quite certain is a calamity in the making. What drives him to do these things?

And why has he been acting so out of his loop ever since that dream-barrier experiment? Choso recovered just fine from it; albeit the spike in ramblings concerning his 'siblings'. Ugh, what a waste of time. Good thing Kenjaku has an infinity of that in their hands.

With a subtle hum, they place it back in the box, switch the phone to its back camera and snap a picture. A whimper rises from the box before he pushes it shut, turning to the app that reads both of them as a human's visage. Odd. Showing this to Mahito ( and better yet, letting him play with the filters ) should suffice to appease him, he concludes.

[filmfanaticfables1990]

The Psychological Maze Of 10 Cloverfield Lane

In the 2016 psychological thriller 10 Cloverfield Lane, director Dan Trachtenberg crafts an intricate narrative that navigates the murky waters of trust, survival, and human psychology. Far from a simple monster movie, it delves into the complexities of human interaction under extreme pressure, begging viewers to question the nature of reality and the reliability of perception.

Suspense And Isolation

The film thrives on its claustrophobic setting—a confined bunker—where protagonist Michelle (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) wakes up after a car accident. This enclosed environment serves as more than just a backdrop; it amplifies the tension and paranoia that define the movie. The sense of isolation is palpable, and as viewers, we are drawn into the same closed-off world, feeling every inch of the walls closing in around us.

The Trust Paradox

At the core of 10 Cloverfield Lane is the perplexing character of Howard (John Goodman), who claims to have saved Michelle from a chemical attack. His benevolence is shadowed by his unpredictable behavior, creating a paradox of trust. Is Howard a protector or a captor? This duality forces Michelle—and us—to navigate the thin line between gratitude and suspicion, a reflection on how trust can be both a survival mechanism and a vulnerability.

Human Behavior Under Pressure

The film is a study in human behavior under duress. Michelle's initial skepticism transforms into a wary acceptance, only to be shattered by moments of Howard's unnerving actions. The characters' dynamics exemplify how stress can reveal the true nature of individuals, pushing them to their psychological limits. It raises questions about how far one would go to ensure survival and at what cost.

Reality Vs. Perception

As the plot unfolds, the boundary between reality and perception blurs. Michelle's struggle to decipher the truth parallels our own journey through misinformation and half-truths. In today's world, where information is abundant yet often misleading, the film's theme resonates deeply. It challenges us to consider how we distinguish fact from fiction and the impact of our choices based on that distinction.

The Ambiguous Ending

The ending of 10 Cloverfield Lane leaves viewers with more questions than answers, a deliberate move that enhances its psychological impact. It defies the traditional resolution, instead offering a segue into a broader universe. This ambiguity invites multiple interpretations, allowing each viewer to project their fears, hopes, and ideas onto the narrative.

Conclusion

10 Cloverfield Lane is more than just a thriller; it's a profound exploration of trust, perception, and the human psyche. Its gripping tension and intricate character studies make it a film that lingers in the mind long after the credits roll. As we emerge from the bunker and back into our reality, we're left to ponder the true nature of the world around us and the unseen forces that shape our perceptions.

[chrinopiqua]

When the Gates of Heaven Have No Locks: A Humble Christian's Musings on Papal Wisdom

Ah, Pope Francis—the gift that keeps on giving. Just when I thought I'd caught up with the latest episodes of "How to Challenge Traditional Doctrine in 10 Easy Steps," our beloved pontiff drops another gem. This time, he's taken a bold stand against those pesky southern border controls, calling attempts to close them "madness." Well, who needs national security when you have divine intervention, right?

I must admit, I'm thoroughly enlightened by the idea that borders are so last millennium. After all, if the gates of heaven are open to all, why shouldn't our national borders follow suit? I'm sure the Vatican will be the first to tear down its walls and open its lavish halls to anyone with a backpack and a dream. Oh wait, that's not happening? Color me surprised.

But let's not stop at borders. Pope Francis has graciously informed us that "every religion is a way to arrive at God." Fantastic news! So, all those centuries of theological debates and councils were just one big misunderstanding. Who knew that the narrow path Jesus spoke of was actually a six-lane highway with multiple exits and a food court?

It's heartwarming to see the Pope promoting unity by effectively telling us that exclusivity is overrated. Why bother adhering to specific doctrines when all roads lead to the same destination? It's like being on a spiritual road trip where every wrong turn still gets you to Disneyland.

Now, some might argue that this dilutes the core message of Christianity. But let's be honest, clarity is overrated. Ambiguity adds that zest of adventure to faith, doesn't it? Plus, it gives us more time to focus on pressing issues like debating the morality of razor wire at borders. Because nothing says "love thy neighbor" like leaving your front door wide open in a rough neighborhood.

Speaking of love and acceptance, I'm eagerly awaiting the Pope's endorsement of blessing literally anything that moves. He reportedly questioned why we would bless corrupt businessmen but hesitate to bless same-sex unions. A fair point—why have standards at all? Let's just have a universal blessing day. Bring your pets, your houseplants, maybe that toaster that's on the fritz. Let's spread that holiness around like butter on warm toast.

In all seriousness, it's a challenging time to be a traditional Christian. When the spiritual leader of your faith seems keen on rewriting the playbook, it does make one ponder. Perhaps I'm old-fashioned, clinging to the red letters in my Bible like they're actually important. Silly me.

But hey, who am I to question the direction in which the winds of modern doctrine blow? I'm just a humble believer trying to navigate the increasingly choppy waters of contemporary theology. Maybe next week, we'll learn that sin is just a social construct and that confessionals are being converted into fair trade coffee shops.

Until then, I'll be here, re-reading the Sermon on the Mount and wondering if there's an updated version I missed—perhaps something along the lines of "Blessed are the indifferent, for they shall inherit whatever's left."

Disclaimer: This post is saturated with sarcasm and a dash of exasperation. It's penned by a Christian who deeply respects the papal office but is, shall we say, perplexed by recent developments. If you've found any of this offensive, please take a moment to reflect on whether open dialogue is still a valued component of our faith.

[sciencestyled]

The Great Vanishing Fiasco: A Cheshire Cat's Tail of Invisibility

Oh, hello there! You've caught me at a most opportune moment. I was just reminiscing about that one time I caused a bit of a stir - a vanishing act gone hilariously awry, leading to my unexpected expertise in the realm of invisibility cloaks. Do sit down, make yourself invisible - I mean, comfortable - and allow me to regale you with my tale.

It all began on a particularly lazy afternoon in Wonderland. You know, the kind where the sun dapples through the trees, and one is prone to mischievous thoughts. Well, as fate would have it, I found myself in possession of a rather peculiar item: a prototype invisibility cloak. How did I come by it, you ask? Let's just say a certain forgetful rabbit dropped it, and I, in my infinite curiosity, couldn't resist the temptation.

Now, as anyone in Wonderland will tell you, I'm not one for following instructions. So, without much ado, I draped the cloak over my shoulders, expecting to vanish on the spot. But, oh, the irony! Instead of becoming invisible, everything else did! Trees, flowers, even the Mad Hatter's tea table - all gone from sight, leaving me in a blank void. Imagine my surprise! There I was, a Cheshire Cat with a grin wide enough to rival the moon, stranded in an invisible Wonderland.

Amid my confusion, I stumbled upon a group of scientists from the outside world. They had been researching invisibility cloaks and, as luck would have it, had found themselves lost in Wonderland. Their leader, a bewildered physicist with a penchant for mismatched socks, was particularly perplexed by their predicament. "How on earth did we end up here?" he kept muttering, adjusting his spectacles in a way that reminded me of a caterpillar I knew.

In a stroke of genius - or perhaps sheer whimsy - I approached them, offering my assistance. "Dear scientist," I began, with a twinkle in my eye, "I believe you're in need of a guide through the peculiarities of invisibility cloaks." You should have seen his face, a picture of befuddlement, as he agreed to my offer. So, there we were: a team of scientists and a mischievous cat, embarking on an impromptu adventure through the science of vanishing.

As I led them through the invisible landscape, I shared my newfound knowledge, weaving tales of bending light, metamaterials, and quantum mechanics. "Imagine," I said, "manipulating light as if it were a river, flowing around a stone. That's the essence of invisibility!" They scribbled notes furiously, hanging on my every word, which, I must admit, was rather flattering.

We delved into discussions about refraction and reflection, with me demonstrating how light could be tricked, much like a game of hide and seek. "Light is a chatty creature," I explained, "always revealing what it touches. But what if we could convince it to keep a secret?" The physicist's eyes gleamed with understanding, as if a light bulb had flicked on in his head.

Our journey took a whimsical turn when we explored optical illusions. "Invisibility is the ultimate trick of the eye," I mused, vanishing and reappearing for dramatic effect. "It's about blending into the background, like a chameleon or a cleverly painted caterpillar." The scientists nodded, their theories evolving with each step we took.

Quantum mechanics, however, was where things got truly interesting. "In the quantum world, particles can be in multiple places at once," I said, simultaneously appearing beside each scientist, causing a few to jump in surprise. "Imagine harnessing that for invisibility!"

Our exploration was not without its ethical dilemmas. The physicist, ever the thinker, pondered the implications. "What about privacy and trust?" he asked. "Invisibility could be used for nefarious purposes." I nodded sagely, acknowledging the weight of his words. "With great power," I quipped, "comes great responsibility."

As our adventure drew to a close, the cloak's effect began to wane, and Wonderland reappeared around us. The scientists, now enlightened and a little less bewildered, prepared to leave, their minds buzzing with ideas. "Thank you, Cheshire Cat," the physicist said, shaking my paw. "You've given us much to think about."

And so, my dear listener, that's how I became an accidental expert on invisibility cloaks. A tale of curiosity, whimsy, and a touch of serendipity. As they say in Wonderland, sometimes you find the adventure, and sometimes the adventure finds you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with a certain rabbit about a missing cloak. Ta-ta, and remember, not everything is as visible as it seems!

[tailwagtalesuldd85]

Unleashing the Mystery: Exploring Cats' Fascination with Aluminum Foil

Have you ever wondered why cats seem to be irresistibly drawn to aluminum foil? It's a mystery that has bewildered cat owners for ages. In this article, we will delve into the intriguing world of cats and their fascination with this shiny material. From their innate hop over to these guys curiosity to the mesmerizing sound it makes, we will unravel the secrets behind why cats simply can't resist the allure of aluminum foil. So, prepare to be captivated as we uncover the mysteries of this peculiar feline behavior.

The Science Behind Cats' Fascination with Aluminum Foil

Understanding Cats' Behavior

Cats are intriguing creatures with unique behaviors that continue to captivate and perplex us. One behavior that often leaves us pondering is their fascination with aluminum foil. To truly understand this peculiar fascination, we need to delve into the world of feline behavior and explore the sensory stimulation that aluminum foil provides.

Exploring Sensory Stimulation

Cats have exquisitely sensitive senses, particularly when it comes to hearing and touch. They are capable of detecting sounds that humans cannot perceive and are highly attuned to textures and movements. Aluminum foil, with its crinkly texture and propensity to produce unexpected sounds, provides a unique form of sensory stimulation that can both intrigue and captivate our feline friends.

The Role of Sound

The crinkling sound produced by aluminum foil can evoke a range of reactions from cats. Some cats may be startled by the sudden noise, while others may find it intriguing and worthy of investigation. These reactions stem from the natural curiosity that cats possess and their innate need for mental and physical stimulation. The sound produced by aluminum foil may mimic the rustling of prey, triggering a cat's hunting instincts and further piquing their interest.

Investigating Reflective Surfaces

In addition to the auditory experience, cats are also drawn to the reflective properties of aluminum foil. When light hits the foil, it creates glimmers and flashes that can catch a cat's eye and entice them to engage with the material. This reflective quality may remind cats of shiny objects or reflective surfaces found in their natural environment, such as bodies of water or the eyes of potential prey.

Unveiling the Appeal: Why Cats Love Aluminum Foil

An Evolutionary Perspective

To truly understand why cats love aluminum foil, it's essential to consider their evolutionary history. Cats, as natural hunters, are hardwired to exhibit behaviors that maximize their chances of survival. The crinkly texture and unexpected sounds produced by aluminum foil mimic the movements of small prey, triggering their innate hunting instincts and tapping into their primal desire to stalk and capture.

Analyzing the Crinkly Texture

The crinkly texture of aluminum foil is a major factor in its appeal to cats. This unique texture provides both an interesting tactile sensation and a visual representation of movement. As cats paw at or bat the foil, it crinkles and changes shape, simulating the movements of potential prey. This interactive nature of the foil can be incredibly stimulating for cats and keep them engaged in play for extended periods.

Curiosity and Exploration

Cats are famously known for their curiosity, and aluminum foil presents an opportunity for them to explore and investigate their surrounding

[gobboguy]

Chapter 36: The Swordmaster Approaches

In the opulent Farfield Throneroom, Prince Rode sat regally on the ornate throne, flanked by his mother, Queen Alys. The room echoed with the murmur of concerns and requests from both nobility and commoners, each seeking the ear of the heir to the Farfield throne. As Rode attentively listened, his gaze was drawn to Ionia entering the room, gracefully taking her place amidst the crowd. His eyes, however, betrayed a more carnal interest, subtly wandering over her form.

A nobleman of the town of Bingfordge, draped in rich attire, entered the throneroom and bowed deeply before addressing the prince. "Your Highness, I beg your indulgence in seeking clarification on the recent infusion of serpent imagery into the religious practices of the Old Dominion. It has left many of us perplexed and, dare I say, uneasy." The nobleman, Count Hoste, asked. Rode, with a dismissive wave of his hand, responded curtly: "My lord, the Old Dominion evolves, as should your understanding of it. These changes are not for you to question but to accept as I speak for the Old Dominion as their chosen representative." Count Hoste, undeterred, retorted with accusing words, questioning the sanctity of such changes:

"Accept, Your Highness? Surely, there must be a reason for such alterations. The traditions of the Old Dominion have sustained us for generations. Why tamper with the sacred?"

In response, Queen Alys let out a sharp shriek, vehemently expressing her disdain for any perceived blasphemy. "Blasphemy! These changes are a divine revelation, a transformation guided by the sacred serpents of the Old Dominion. Embrace the gift of renewal." She screamed. Her hands traced the sign of the serpent in the air, a gesture of devotion to the corrupted form of the Old Dominion. Prince Rode, ever calm spoke, "Your concerns are duly noted, nobleman. However, questioning the divine wisdom is a perilous path. You are dismissed from this audience. May you reflect on your misguided inquiries."

While Rode's ruling seemed final, Ionia, keenly perceptive, sensed the undercurrents of vengeance. She knew that, under the prince's direction, vengeful cultists would visit the nobleman in the shadows of the night, ensuring his dissenting voice would be silenced in a way far darker than mere words.

As Isolde gracefully took her place beside Queen Alys, she presented a mysterious cup filled with an ominous, dark liquid. The queen accepted the cup with a sense of reverence, and as she drank deeply, the liquid seemed to ripple with an unholy energy. Ionia, observing from her place in the court, felt unease settle within her as the dark alliance between the queen and Isolde became increasingly apparent.

As the court proceedings continued, another nobleman, adorned in the regalia of the Old Dominion, stepped forward with a plea for military aid against pirates plaguing the Pignar Islands. Rode, bearing the serpent sign, accepted the request, casting shadows of suspicion among the courtiers. Dark whispers lingered, recognizing the intricate web of favoritism entwined within the prince's judgments.

Suddenly, a mysterious figure emerged from the crowd, clad in a green hooded cloak. The clink of armor beneath hinted at a formidable warrior. Rode's command for the figure to reveal themselves echoed through the hall, and with a deliberate motion, the hood was drawn back.

The tall man, with piercing eyes and a strong jawline, stood before them. A faint scar traversed his cheek, and the court fell silent, an air of uncertainty gripping the room as the stranger's presence unsettled the delicate balance of power within the court.

The stranger spoke with a measured tone, "I come seeking justice for the oppressed and the forgotten in this realm. Your decisions, Prince Rode, bear consequences that echo beyond these walls." His words hung heavy in the air, casting an ominous veil over the court, leaving all to ponder the implications of this unexpected arrival.

Rode snorted derisively as the hooded figure identified himself as Gramherth Rock, Swordmaster. "Swordmasters," Rode scoffed, "aren't you a band of outcasts and human supremacists? What business do you have in my court?"

Gramherth's sneer betrayed a hint of disdain as he retorted, "We Swordmasters are knights errant, pledged to the service of humanity. I am here on a mission that concerns the very souls of your people."

Rode, unimpressed, observed the Swordmaster's gaze lingering with disdain on the non-human members of the court—dwarves, centaurs, and halflings who had found a place in Farfield's diverse realm. "Speak your purpose, Swordmaster," Rode commanded, his impatience evident in his tone.

Gramherth, his voice grave, spoke of peasant families whose loved ones, employed within the castle, had mysteriously disappeared. Rode shifted uncomfortably in his seat, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. "Nonsense. Peasants lose their kin all the time. It's not our concern."

The Swordmaster's eyes, however, lingered on Isolde, and with a cautious tone, he warned, "Dark influences may be at play, my lord. Beware."

Alys, unable to contain her fervor, screeched, "Blasphemer! Your kind practices unholy techniques. Leave this sacred place!"

Unfazed, Gramherth replied, "I pray to no one but to honor the soul of humanity." Rode, growing increasingly agitated, commanded, "Leave, Swordmaster, before I have you thrown out."

As Gramherth bowed to depart, his eyes met Ionia's, a meaningful exchange that hinted at undisclosed intentions.

[detectiveagency1]

Missing Persons Cases in Noida: A Closer Look

Introduction: The Enigma of the Vanished

Have you ever pondered over the mysteries concealed within the vibrant city of Noida? Beyond its bustling streets and lively neighborhoods, there lies a series of puzzling narratives—stories of individuals who have disappeared without a trace, leaving behind anguished families and a trail of unanswered questions. Join us as we embark on a journey to unravel the enigma of Missing persons cases in Noida, shedding light on a city's silent mysteries.

Vanishing Act: Stories of the Disappeared

Into Thin Air: Picture a scenario where a loved one steps out for a routine errand and simply vanishes, as if the earth swallowed them whole. In Noida, this heart-wrenching ordeal has played out far more often than one might imagine. Let's delve into some of the most perplexing cases where individuals seemingly evaporated into thin air, leaving their families in turmoil.

The Investigative Odyssey: Behind Closed Doors

Race Against the Clock: When someone goes missing, time becomes an adversary. This section offers a glimpse into the intricate investigative process triggered when a person is reported Missing in Noida. From the initial report to the relentless search efforts, we will navigate through the steps taken to locate the missing and provide solace to their distraught families.

The Agonizing Wait

Holding onto Hope: For the families left behind, the agony of uncertainty can be excruciating. This segment explores the emotional toll it exacts and the support systems in place—counseling, community organizations, and the unwavering strength of familial bonds—that offer a lifeline during these trying times.

Technology's Role

Digital Clues and Electronic Trails: In an era governed by technology, digital footprints often emerge as critical elements in locating missing persons. We'll discuss how law enforcement agencies and private investigators leverage technology to trace movements, contacts, and online activities of the missing.

Triumphs Amidst Tragedy

Stories of Hope and Reunion: Amidst the heartache, there are tales of triumph. This section shares accounts of individuals successfully located and joyously reunited with their families, underscoring the significance of perseverance and the indomitable power of hope.

The Challenges Faced

Navigating the Maze: However, missing persons investigations are seldom straightforward. We will shine a light on the obstacles investigators confront, including misleading leads, legal complexities, and even instances of deliberate disappearance, and how they adeptly steer through these challenges.

Community Vigilance

Neighbors as Guardians: Noida's closely-knit community often emerges as a valuable asset in locating missing persons. We'll explore how local residents, armed with their intimate knowledge of the area, become the vigilant eyes and ears that aid investigations.

Preventing the Unthinkable

Empowering for Safety: Prevention always trumps reaction. We will discuss the importance of spreading awareness about personal safety, especially among vulnerable populations, as a means to diminish the occurrence of Missing persons cases in Noida.

Hope in the Shadows

Resilience in the Face of Adversity: In conclusion, we reflect on the resilience of families and the unwavering determination of those who devote their lives to deciphering these mysteries. While missing persons cases in Noida are heart-wrenching, they also bear witness to the enduring strength of the human spirit.

Conclusion: Searching for Answers, One Case at a Time

As we conclude our exploration of missing persons cases in Noida, one truth remains evident—behind every statistic is a human narrative, a family yearning for answers. These cases remind us of the significance of relentless perseverance, of tirelessly working until those who have gone missing find their way back home.

[orszemgyorgy]

The Challenge of Reconnecting with Estranged Friends

Friendships, those intricate shared laughter, secrets, and countless moments, can sometimes unravel, leaving us at a crossroads when we contemplate reigniting the connection. It's a common human experience to drift apart from someone who was once an integral part of our lives. Yet, as the days turn into months and years, the idea of reopening communication can be a daunting prospect. The casual banter and sporadic phone calls that once came effortlessly now feel like traversing uncharted territory.

The hesitancy arises from the awareness that what once was an unbreakable bond has metamorphosed into something fragile, like fine porcelain that, if handled carelessly, might shatter irreparably. The thought of engaging in superficial small talk can be unsettling. After all, how do you bridge the chasm that has grown between you and someone with whom you've once shared your deepest thoughts, dreams, and fears? It's akin to dusting off an old, cherished book and attempting to read only a few random pages, as though the profound chapters that once defined your relationship have been sealed away.

In these moments, you realize that with some people, there's no middle ground. The connection is painted in stark black and white; it's either an all-encompassing, intimate bond or complete estrangement. You either let them into the innermost chambers of your life, revealing your soul, or you shut them out entirely.

This dichotomy can be perplexing. It reflects the complexity of human relationships, where the path to reconnecting isn't always clear-cut. It requires navigating the intricacies of vulnerability and pride, the uncertainty of whether the other person has changed as much as you have, and the fear that reopening old wounds might do more harm than good.

But amidst this complexity lies the hope that some friendships, no matter how much they've weathered the storm, can be revived. It may take time, effort, and an open heart, but the bonds we once cherished can regain their luster. So, if you find yourself pondering whether to rekindle a connection that has faded into the past, remember that it's okay to feel the awkwardness and uncertainty. It's a testament to the depth of the relationship you once shared. And sometimes, in the process of rebuilding, you might discover a new chapter that's even more beautiful than the last.

[queenscodex]

Honey-coated Words

Characters: Vil, Riddle, Cater, Ruggie

- Headcanons

- Gender Neutral Reader

Hello! I'm still working on event requests, ive just been a little slower than usual unfortunately- but I'm getting through it ^^

Anyway, I wrote this as a small gift to my platonic spouses: @dr3amscap3 , @somnianyx & Hana. They have done so much for me in the pass weeks and i wanted to do a little something for them in return. I know its not much but I do hope that in the very least it makes you smile :) I love you three so much <3 /p

I apologize if these seem ooc, my brain was spitting out ideas and this was born. Not proofread

-

Vil Schoenheit

Vil pondered if anyone truly knew him under the magazines and digital screens that processed his figure to his dozens of fans. He had always had to up a cover when exposed to the public eye. He mustn't act unruly or he runs the risk of dragging his reputation, he shouldn't meddle himself in drama or else rumors may arise. And as a model and actor, Vil couldn't risk that. So he hid all his imperfections and flaws and as result concealing away a part of his identity

But everything about you drew him in. While Vil always had a grasp on the reality around, you somehow found a way to pause it. Maybe it was the sweet smile you sent him from afar, eyes locked into his- glittering in nothing but warmth. He never failed to notice how your eyes wrinkle upwards when you send him that toothy grin, a smile he has grown undeniably hopeless for.

For the first time, Vil wasn't afraid of sharing his imperfections with you. It was a rare vulnerable side reserved for your eyes alone. Many would criticize him for breaking out of his perfect character but you never once spoke ill towards his flaws; rather, you pressed feathery kisses against each 'broken' part of him, silky words spilling from your lips with each fleeting peck; the remedy to his troubles

Whilst in public he was always mindful of the wandering, judgeful eyes that were sharp enough to notice anything out of step. But he found himself yearning to be by your side more often than not. It had not even occurred to him that his legs were taking him to your figure the moment his violet eyes caught sight.

He could feel his fingers brush against your own, a feeling that left hot streak sensations to tingle over his skin. Yet he hesitated to grab your hand, the surrounding eyes still gazing at him.

But Vil couldn't stop himself from staring at you. The sun reflecting against your skin only enhanced your beauty, adding emphasis to the smile he had fallen for. And when you looked at him with eyes that were void of any ulterior motive, he could have sworn the world stopped.

" I love you"

The words left you without hesitation, carried by the wind to kiss the tips of Vil's ears.

He felt his breath hitch in the back of his throat. He knew the world was watching him. However, all that became a blur to his violet eyes, his focus remaining fixated on you. He couldn't care less. For the longest time he had to conceal parts of him in sake of his success and he'll gladly continue to do so.

But he refuses to hide the love he holds for you. How you capture his heart with a single flash of a smile or a longing kiss to his cheek, careful to not smear his meticulously done makeup.

He could hear the hushed whispers around him no doubt sending him perplexed looks but he couldn't focus on that. With purple irises never leaving your own, a small smile twitched on his lips; his lingering hand finally intertwining with your vacant one.

" I love you too"

Vil could only hope that his voice carried to all the unspoken words that dwindled in his heart as the world resumed around him.

-

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle wondered how he got so lucky to get a second chance. In the beginning his heart was absent of all love, void of a mother's embrace and quelling words that would soothe a crying child. Instead he was given books and lectures in replacement of that. For him, affection came in fragments that passed in a blink of an eye.

He was met with more negativity than anything, the harsh rumors of his character ringing in his ears whenever he passed the hall. Tyrant. That's what they called him. A tyrant colored in crimson roses with thorns. While Riddle would ignore these passing whispers, there was always a heavy lingering feeling deep within the confusing clutter he calls his heart.

He had been alone for the longest time and he thought that was how it would remain. But very quickly he noticed a shift in his behavior the moment you entered his life.

Like a brush of a new color, his perspective changed. You didn't push him away like the others did- even when he spat harsh and cruel words he later wept about once his rationality had returned. No. You opened your arms wide for him all while dawning a smile he found so enduring.

Riddle had always considered himself to be a knowledgeable individual, he had answers to the most challenging of questions, yet no matter how much he wrecked his brain, he couldn't figure out the effect you placed on him. Such as the way your fingers could curl around the palm of his hand and guide him out of his office whenever work consumed him or how you were always the one to greet him a 'good morning' as the sun peeked through the windows. Your touches felt so gentle and fleeting to him, making him shiver whenever your fingers brush against his forehead as you pushed his fringe aside.

It elicited a feeling to dance against his chest, one he was so unfamiliar with but became desperately addicted to. It would paint his cheeks in red coatings and make his heart race at your simple gestures, only causing him to yearn for more

He found himself stealing glances from afar the room, his mind becoming filled with thoughts of you. He would make up scenarios, looking for any excuse to converse even for a second. For once, the acclaimed crimson tyrant was nearly buckling at his knees just to receive a slice of your affection.

Even when it was just the two of you, you never strayed away from your loving nature. Genuine love reserved for him, not a disguise or ploy to the public eye

" You are enough, Riddle"

Your words came out of nowhere, easily causing the redhead to pause in his tracks. The teacup clutched in fingers became shaky for a brief second. Before he could even comprehend those short little words, Riddle could feel a prick of crystallized tears etching in the corners of his eyes.

Such simple words yet so forgien to his ears, like a gentle melody he was only fortunate to experience every few dozen sunsets. But there you were, speaking those words to him with sincerity

The unknown feeling resumed its dance against his chest, only intensifying with the smile you sent him. Riddle couldn't stop the single tear from brushing down across his face, a soft smile replacing him

" Thank you."

His voice sounded so meek but he didn't care.

Riddle had committed his heart to you and in turn you cradled it with gentle hands, weaving out all his sorrows and insecurities and replacing it with the virtue of love. It became a feeling Riddle never wanted to forget, to let it relive in his mind again and again.

His lips went to trail a kiss to your cheek, sealing a silent promise to become better for you. Even if the world gazes down at him so long as you were there to open your arms to him, that would be enough.

-

Cater Diamond

Cater had always held up a front. He wore a meticulously crafted mask that he never thought of taking down. Each of his words are carefully picked, each action considered before being put into fruition- or else he may slip and show the vulnerable side he wishes to lock up. Though he has slipped up at times, he was still able to fool others.

Over the years he was able to master the ability to hide his pain. A chuckle to conceal a wince or a quick cheesy one-liner to distract away from the dragged glint in his eyes. And somehow he was able to wear that mischievous grin despite what situation was thrown at him.

His fingers were also crafty with the disguise, creating well refined photos to be shared to the world. Rarely had he slipped up, he remained ever cautious. Even when your relationship blossomed into something far greater than friends, Cater held his walls up.

Fear dwindled in his chest at the mere thought of you figuring out his true person. Would you be disgusted? Treat him the same way his sister had? No, you were better than that and he knew it. But that fear was left untouched in the cage of his chest as much as he tried to find an excuse for it

Despite that, Cater was still captivated by you in every aspect. His attention was always caught by yours the moment his eyes caught sight of your familar silhouette; a smirk would tug on his lips as he trailed over to you.

And when you gaze at him with nothing but a kind smile, guilt would bellow in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to spill out all his flaws and broken parts to you so desperately but the looming weight of opening up held its grip on his shoulders

Oh but he still held onto the moments that filled his heart with warmth deep within his chest- memories that replaced the ones that left him weeping at the dead of night

Homework would be long forgotten on the tabletop as your attentions were focused on each other, coaxing giggles to fall from the others lips. As hard as he tried, Cater was unable to pry his eyes away from you. It became somewhat of a craving, to meorize each little detail you had to share.

Or the days when you lazily rested your head against his shoulder whilst Carter's tongue rambled off his day's interest. Although his mouth spoke of various things, the only coherent image in his brain was your placid expression as you listened never once interrupting

Cater showed his affection in various ways. Sweet nicknames that would coaxed an eyeroll. Or lingering touches to your face, the pad his thumb grazing on that spot for a spilt second longer than the last. Each held refine confidence, unafraid nor bashful of his actions

Yet his eyes would widen whenever your hand would curl around the wrist or palm of his hand, gentle and feathery against the skin. He doesn't fail to notice how your lips twitched upwards or how your head inclined into his touch. The evidence of his surprise became clear as his heart increases in its tempo and rung a melody against his ears

" I open my heart to every part of you, Cater"

A quiver to his lips. A falter to his fingers. Cater felt the guilt submerge itself in the crevice of his heart once again. As much as he attempted to fight against it, you were always quick to soothe his worries; and with each tug he could feel his thick walls eroding away

He wonders if you knew the effect you had on him, how smitten he had become for simple touches and brushes on his skin.

With his palm still resting against the curve of your cheek, he leaned in to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.

" I know."

Whether he admits or not, Cater had surrendered his heart to you, battered and locked away from the torment his sisters forced him to live through. But for the first time he could suddenly feel those chains become loose with each passing sunrise.

-

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie always had his doubts whether he was the best option. For most of his life all he has known was picking scraps from broken meals in order to satisfy his hunger. He takes each bite as a blessing, one bite equivalent to the entire meal

Hyenas were never the wealthiest of the animal kingdom- and Ruggie didn't turn a blind eye to this, often sneaking cafeteria food home with him during holiday visits.

Ruggie only wanted to give you the best the world had to offer while shielding you from the cruelties it brought with it. To never go a day hungry like he has.

And there were days he felt his heart crack at the possibility of you being with someone else. One who can provide you joy with their endless treasures whilst he only had a penny to spare. Despite that, he couldn't bring himself to give you away. You were his strength, the person who cradled his heart with careful arms.

He was never considered to be a selfish person but for once will the universe allow him this? Though he was able to masterfully hide this with a chuckle and a few refined words while his eyes hide away his pain and instead carry a message of mischief.

Each time he walks you to your next class, Ruggie could feel his knuckles brush against yours briefly, igniting a flame in its place as you send a wave of departure already longing for your presence

And while he was poor, he never hesitated to offer a bite of his meal to you whenever you showed even a glimmer of interest in his food; all in exchange for a kiss.

With each silky word or laugh that fell from your lips, he knew he was only falling deeper into his fickle of emotions. You became far more precious than he thought and while he wasn't one to express it boldly to the world, he said it in silent tangents meant for your ears alone.

While pressing lazy kisses to the shell of your ear, Ruggie spills his insecurities and doubts to you, opening his mind like an open book- one in tatters and missing pages.

You were his better half, he would argue. The one he wanted to protect and cherish. In your empty presence he felt missing a part of himself, still hearing your voice and giggles in his ears long after you've said your goodbyes.

" You're the perfect one for me."

For a second Ruggie wondered if it was just his imagination playing games on him- a nasty trick played by his mind just to satisfy his greedy heart. But the expression you gave remains genuine, your lips parting to repeat those words again

As much as he tried to conceal his emotions he couldn't stop the gleaming layer of warmth that pooled in his eyes in the form of little droplets. Ruggie wasn't one to cry often yet you easily held the power to tug at his heartstrings. Simple words of bittersweet affection easily coaxed a reaction of pink blushes and a quivering hand as he attempted to connect it with yours.

He knew you deserved so much better than he could offer, but his heart was racing faster, beating against his chest in timid rhythms and echoing out.

" Tell me one more time, please?"

Selfish, Ruggie was aware. But he pushed the feeling aside, his eyes remaining locked onto yours as though you were the most fascinating thing in the room. He feels as though he had become a fool for allowing himself to drag you into his life where he can't offer anything. But so long as you dawned a smile pure from the world's harsh cruelties sharp as blades then Ruggie will be happy too.

-

[thelittlestancient]

The Fate of Elidibus, Part 1

Elidibus' story diverges from canon in Soso's timeline in the Crystal Tower on the First: the Final Days have returned to the Source. Thavnair has been nearly overrun by beasts, the twisted remnants of its people. Elidibus offers to expend his own aether to send Soso back to the past.

And Sosomeni pleads with him to find another way.

I am a prisoner here, Elidibus reminds him, I am bound to the Tower and cannot leave. There is no other way.

If you were free, would there be? Soso asks of him.

If it did not bind me--were I free to make use of its power as my own--perhaps. Or perhaps not.

Soso ponders a moment, the tip of his right ear drooping as it tends to do when he's caught up in a particularly perplexing situation. What is the Tower? Are you necessarily bound to this Tower?

Questions to which I do not have answers, Elidibus says, but if you are willing to take a chance, then I am willing to experiment--even with my very life itself. No great advancements in our understanding of magic were ever made by the cautious.

Soso grins at him, offering up a piece of blue crystal. This was made to hold G'raha Tia's soul--would it hold yours?

Elidibus gives him a long look. Bear me to the Crystal Tower of the Source, and bring him with you. If what I plan is to have even a chance at working, it will not be done without him. And then there is a great rush of light as his form dissolves, and the Tower seems to be nearly dissolving around Soso: crystal splitting into intricate shards before his eyes, fractal shapes as miniscule as his eyes can see, reflecting infinite light within them like a million million prisms,

glittter,

the infinte gold of a new dawn,

stillness.

And when the crystal in his hands seems fit to bursting with light, heavier by far than he'd imagined such a small piece of rock could be, he tucks it into his traveling-pouch and steps back through the portal to the Source, intent on following the directions he was given.

<to be continued>

[maplecornia]

chapter 30

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.85K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: another yoongles focus lol i just figured out that i really don't have much to say in these things anymore, i might save the a/n's for the end next time

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear | @mangminnie | @pixiekooo | @canarystwin | @cana

This is not exactly how you expected to meet Min Yoongi.

His hand tightens around your wrist as he drags you through the halls of BigHit, and you silently pray that your small legs can keep up.

Looking up at him, you can't help but be a bit confused.

Why is he so angry anyway?

You didn't do anything to him.

Certainly nothing worth yanking your arms off.

Wincing as he turns a corner, your eyes widen as he opens a door and practically shoves you inside a dark room. You stumble a bit, an inner instinct inside of you resurfacing. You find yourself frantically looking for any form of exit, any form of a way out. When you find none, you swallow hard, feeling your hands palpitate with cold sweat and your breathing run short. Turning briskly to where Yoongi stands in front of the door, you step forward, ready to push past him and bolt before you’re hurt, but the look in his eyes stops you.

They’re soft, confused and slightly caught off guard. You wonder if the fear that prickles off of your skin is as evident to him as it is to you. Taking a deep breath, you swallow hard, trying hard not to show your discomfort. Inwardly, you chastise yourself for even considering that Min Yoongi would have any malicious intent towards you, but you can't help it when put into a situation like this...

Dark room.

Blocked exits.

No way of escape.

You can't help but be on your guard.

A bit confused, but choosing not to question it, Yoongi gestures towards a clothing rack to the left. Blinking, you turn towards it, begging yourself to relax. When he advances into the room, however, you flinch and frantically back up, straight into a tray of forgotten makeup and hair products.

He immediately stops at the reaction, and you downcast your eyes shamefully praying he doesn’t realize what you’ve tried so hard to cover up. However, as he takes in your frightened eyes, tense stance, and the shallow breath, he knows that somehow he has triggered a memory.

From the looks of it, even a form of trauma.

Definitely not what I expected.

Taking a deep breath, he turns on the light before turning to you with his hands up in a form of surrender. Almost a peace treaty. "Relax, I'm just trying to get a shirt for you."

You swallow hard, already feeling a bit better with the light on. Chuckling nervously, you straighten and nod, running your hand through your hair.

"O-of course you were. What else would you be doing?" you try to swallow the sudden rise of bile in your throat as you rub your arms violently to ease the chill your memories have brought you.

Yeah.

What else indeed.

Confused, but choosing to leave matters out of his hand alone, Yoongi returns to his task and rummages through the clothes dangling on the coat rack. Once he's found his prize, he turns to you and throws it towards you. Your eyes widening, you hardly catch it before he's already heading out of the door.

"Shirt." He explains bluntly, and you nod, a bit surprised that he used English. You smile inwardly at the sentiment, however. The small taste of home certainly helped you to regain your composure. You give a weak smile and tighten your grip around the shirt, hoping that it would be a better outlet to release the emotions bottled inside.

"Thank you." You murmur, and he nods before turning to leave.

He almost makes it out the door, but when he remembers something, he turns back to you.

"Do you know the way back?"

"Back...?" you mutter, a bit confused, and he rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to smile.

Looks like she's back to normal.

"To the dressing room, you're supposed to help us with the photo shoot today." Your eyes widen at his explanation, and you faintly remember your soiled schedule. Cursing under your breath, you wish you had at least taken a picture of the thing before heading to perform your duties. Maybe then you'd have a backup.

Well, guess that's a good thing to remember next time.

Realizing Yoongi is still waiting for a reply, you snap out of your reverie and smile.

"Oh, yes. I think I can manage." He nods before turning around and finally leaving you alone, the door closing with a few words of encouragement.

"Hurry up."

With that, the door is shut firmly behind him and you let out a small breath.

Well, no need to be so cold.

But then again, it was kind of him to offer you a shirt and not to pry when you had that slight panic attack. If you can even call it that. Sighing, you turn to the mirror and place your hands on the desk, staring deep into your hollow eyes.

It wasn't always this way.

There was a time when these eyes sparkled with life. When they were filled with joy and happiness, not a care in the world. Where you could smile without a weight on your heart dragging you down. Where you could live without feeling guilty of it.

Why do you feel guilty?

He deserved what he got.

He deserved to die for what he did to you.

“But still...he was my father.”

Biting your bottom lip, you hardly notice it as your teeth pierce through your skin and blood begins to trickle down your chin. Only when the taste of iron on your tongue pierces through do you realize. Flinching, you shakily wipe the blood away and lick your bottom lip as though that will erase the pain bound tightly to your heart.

No, nothing can erase this.

I don't think anything ever will.

Swallowing hard, you choose to forget that which is best not to be pondered over. Turning the shirt Yoongi found for you, you slowly unbutton your own, pulling it out of the plaid skirt you've garnered today. You're thankful Yoongi has managed to find you a similar shirt to the one you brought in today. A white button-up that reminds you of the 19th century. Something a high-class man would wear to a gala per se. You smirk at the ruffles at the end of your sleeves and try to avoid your reflection in the mirror as you pull it on over your bra.

The only thing you would see would be another daily dose of self-deprecation and hatred.

You'd rather stop before it started.

Once the shirt is buttoned and tucked safely in your skirt, a few small touches added by you in order to fit your look, you look at your reflection and smile faintly. For a man's shirt, it fits your frame quite snugly. You wonder who exactly it belongs to, but figure you could just ask Yoongi later.

This should do nicely.

Smiling weakly in satisfaction, you turn to the door and open it.

You weren't expecting to see a very fatigued Yoongi leaning against the wall right next to the entrance. So you'd say your reaction was justified.

He would probably think otherwise.

At your shriek, he jumps halfway out of the air before turning to you in surprise.

"What the hell was that?!" He cries, and your eyes widen in ignorance.

"Me?! What about you? I thought you were going back to the dressing room!"

"Well, I--" he breaks off, finding nothing to say, and you raise an eyebrow in confusion. Swallowing hard, he turns his face away from you. "You were taking too long."

Rolling your eyes, you scoff.

Sorry, but I didn't think I was on a time clock.

"Besides, I didn't trust you to get there on your own." He explains, turning back to you with a scowl. You narrow your eyes at him yourself before noticing the slight rosy hue to his cheeks.

Is he...embarrassed?

Clearing his throat, he shakes his head before brushing past you and heading back the way you came.

"Let's go."

You stand there in stunned silence before turning to his retreating figure. Smirking a bit to yourself, you scoff in disbelief before jogging to catch up to him. You want to thank him for his help, but as the two of you head back, you find it hard to start a conversation with him.

Biting the inside of your cheek you turn to him, trying to study his expression.

He definitely has some sort of hidden animosity towards you even though the two of you have never met before now. However, he doesn't seem to hate you. He's been kind to you so far. In his own...weird way. But if he doesn't hate you then what's the reason for his behavior? Sometimes he seems perfectly fine, and then others he seems to be incredibly angry by your presence.

Then again...your presence is sort of foreign to him.

Maybe he just needs time warming up?

"She's hardly qualified."

Or maybe...

He knows you don't belong here.

"Do you need something?"

Jolting back to reality, you blink and find Yoongi to be regarding you with a perplexed gaze. Quickly, you snatch your eyes away and laugh nervously. You hadn't realized you were gawking at him this whole time.

"No, it's nothing..."

His expression changes as soon as you look away, darkens into something nearly unrecognizable. Turning away, he swallows hard, as though holding himself back. You, however, find this as a perfect outlet to start a conversation.

"I was just...wondering...W-why are you doing the shoot here?"

He shrugs, trying to avoid your gaze as much as possible.

"It's more convenient this way. Does the shirt fit?"

"Hm? Oh! Uhm, yes it does. Thank you."

He nods in response.

"Good, that was Enhypen's dressing room. They hardly use it other than the times they visit our company for shoots and such. Sunoo has a smaller build than most in our company so I thought it'd work best for you." He examines the shirt on you, and you can't help but blush, half wondering if you should cover-up. "Hm. It's tight in some areas but definitely better than wearing something like Jimin's."

You blush profusely at the comment and cross your arms around your chest. You have half a mind to smack him right then and there, but as a group of employees pass by you, you're forced to hold back. He smirks in satisfaction at your reaction, and you scowl.

"I see...thank you." You mutter between gritted teeth. He doesn't respond, just continues to smile that smug smile. Turning the corner, you find yourself in another realm of silence, but this time you don't really have the urge to talk to him.

He on the other hand...

"Has BangPD talked to you yet?"

Your ears perk at that and you turn to him, shocked.

How did he...

"I'm sorry?"

"About being a trainee." He replies with that debonair air about him. Swallowing hard, it takes you a while to respond.

“How did you know?” He gives a look at the ambiguous answer, but you meet it as an equally indignant one. You feel as though you have a right to know, and you won’t answer him so easily about something you weren’t aware he even knew about. Sighing when it’s clear you won’t give in as easily as he thought, he answers you.

“BangPD met with us to discuss your training.”

“‘Us?’ You mean...”

“Yes, BTS. He said as shareholders of the company, it was only right for us to know he was considering training you. He wanted our opinion.”

In short, they were deciding your life before you even had a chance to decide.

You don’t know why, but the thought puts a sick feeling in your stomach. The fact that a group of people were discussing whether or not to trust you, to accept you without even half of them getting a chance to know you or your abilities...Who gave them the right to decide that? Who gave them the right to take control of your future?

And what if you say yes? Do they even want you to succeed? What if they do? What if saying no let down their expectations? Why weren’t you told about this? Why weren’t you a part of the conversation?

Was it really too much of a risk?

"So?" He prompts before pausing in front of an elevator door and pressing the up button to the dressing room. "What did you say?"

You give him a look, hoping that will let him know that you don't want to talk about this anymore, but he doesn't seem to care. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly and you find that even if you wanted to, you wouldn't know what to say.

Does he think that this is an easy decision? There are things to consider, your future to think about, people who could be affected...

But really, what is there to consider?

You don't have anything to lose, not really.

And this is your dream.

So why are you hesitating?

You know why.

At the soft ding of the elevator arriving, you break eye contact and turn as the doors open. Stepping inside, you watch the doors slide shut before answering him.

"He told me to think about it."

Yoongi scoffs at the answer, biting the inside of his cheek in annoyance. He knew it'd be like this.

"What's there to think about?" At the question, you flinch but refuse to meet his eyes. "It's a yes or no question."

You bite your lip furiously, at war with yourself.

It's not like he's wrong but...

Yoongi glances at her from the corner of his eye and wonders what exactly everyone sees in her. He wonders what makes her so special. From what he's seen, she's incredibly ordinary. Sure she has a beautiful voice, her face is nice, but she can stand to lose a few pounds especially if she wants to be an idol.

Does she even want to be a performer?

There are so many others who have tried their whole life just to be considered for what they're offering here, and what?

It's too hard of a decision?

Animosity growing like a drug, he scoffs turning away.

"I was against it, you know." You turn to him, a bit confused at the statement. He sighs before continuing, a bit piqued at your behavior. "Your contract. I didn't want you to be considered as a trainee."

You should feel surprised. You should feel wronged, angry. But you feel none of those things. Instead, you understand him.

Smiling a bit bitterly, you turn back to the metal doors.

"I see." You reply, and he turns to you in confusion.

"You're not mad?" You shrug before turning to him.

"Why would I be?" He scoffs at the reply.

"Most would feel offended."

"Well, I'm not. In fact, I'm grateful."

Surprised, he turns to you. "Why?"

"At least you didn't lie or cover it up." You explain matter of factly and he shakes his head at you in disbelief as the elevator dings, announcing your arrival.

"It would've been better if I had." He mutters half to himself as the two of you depart, bowing politely to a few employees waiting to board the elevator. You shrug at the statement before glancing his way.

"Well, maybe I don't like people who beat around the bush."

He can't help but feel a bit stunned as he watches you walk a few steps ahead of him. He can't help but feel that he'll always be a few steps behind you. Shaking the feeling away, he peers your way.

"Are you scared?"

"Of what?"

"Debuting."

You swallow hard, not sure how to answer. Biting your bottom lip in concentration you consider the question.

Are you scared to debut?

"Yes."

Who wouldn't be after all? It's scary not knowing if the public will view you positively or immediately cast you aside. It's scary not knowing whether or not your dream will be achieved, whether or not you'll make it.

"Is that why you're hesitating?"

Spying the dressing room a few feet away, you shake your head at his question before replying.

"No."

You can deal with that fear...but what you're even more afraid of is betrayal.

Like what happened last time.

Yoongi stares at you for a moment and watches as you get that faraway look in your eye, the same look that tells him you're not really here. When the two of you reach the dressing room once again, he can't help but pause a few feet away from you. He has the sudden urge just to look at you, maybe then he'd be able to understand.

"You're not what I thought you were." He mutters, not sure if you can hear him, but at your smile, he knows you never stopped listening. You smile at him over your shoulder.

"I guess I don't like beating around the bush either."

𝔞/𝔫: i feel like this offers a lot of background to yen's past...which may be revealed soon

chapter 31 here

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