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luveline · 2 years

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For zombieau requests, before r and steve make it to the college, the story of their first kiss?

thank you for your request <3 first kisses are confusing. fem!reader 2k

The beam of your flashlight is weak and stuttering. Steve has somehow managed to fix it for you yet again, but he's no miracle worker. Or, that's what he'd said.

It feels rather miraculous to you. Nearly everything he does delights you these days, even his chastening snips.

"You'll run down the battery."

You look at him through the beam. He's wearing a simple short sleeved t-shirt, much more skin than you're used to seeing on display. His muscles shift under skin as he pulls back his hair.

You let the encyclopaedia you'd been reading shut with a soft thud. "Did you know that our solar system orbits the centre of the milky way galaxy? We're spinning double."

"That sounds sickly."

You smile at him and put the book back in your bag.

You ruffle through your things to get ready to sleep and sigh, irked. "Have you seen my– uh, my leather thingy? The square?"

He sits up. His movements are distinguished in the quiet, the cotton of his clothes shushing against hardwood floor. Steve knows exactly where the leather square is, fingers slipping inside the pocket of your bag to procure the small zip lock bag you keep it in.

You grind your teeth in your sleep sometimes, anxiety-driven, and this is the most sanitary solution Steve had been able to think of.

"You need painkillers?" he asks, offering you the ziplock back.

"No, not really. Just worried, I guess." You get killer toothache from the teeth grinding, all tenderness. Some days you haven't been able to eat, which is never good in these conditions. "I don't want you to have to pull my tooth one day. That would suck for both of us."

He claps your wrist loosely, a quick and fond squeeze that genuinely makes your night. Every time he touches you is better than the last. Sometimes, you sit next to him, and you want him to hold your hand so badly it's like you can feel his fingers between yours.

"If something like that needed to happen, we'd take care of it."

It's a nice sentiment. In reality, an at-home tooth removal would probably traumatise you, or kill you via infection.

"Well," you say, softened by his closeness, "lucky you, it's fine. It aches a little, but it's not hurting."

He reaches into your lap, which is an entire thing, your stomach twists and your eyes widen. The heat of his hand ghosts your thigh as he clicks off the torch.

You don't put the leather square in your mouth yet. You reach out for his side and use him to navigate the dark, lying down on the blanket beside him, hip to hip. Talking to him in the dark is your favourite part of the day.

You take your hand back and drape it over your own stomach. It isn't long before Steve's hand is on your hip, not flat or caressing, just there, like it fell there incidentally.

"What are we gonna do tomorrow?" he asks.

You feel your eyebrows jump. "I don't know. Same as we always do."

"If you… wanted to stop, we could stop. We don't have to keep going."

He sounds tentative, like he's worried about your answer.

"I would never ask you to stop looking for your friends," you say, trying to work out his angle.

"I'm not saying stop forever. I just figure we don't need to always be moving. Not when you're…" His teeth click together as he shuts his mouth.

You turn your head to his face though you can't see him in the dark, not one detail. You're in a small house in the middle of nowhere and the isolation hasn't felt as startling as it does now.

"When I'm what?"

"I'm putting you through the wringer."

You understand what he means. You're not the kind of girl meant for this life, and it could never be his fault, but you're constantly on the road even when there's food for weeks and shelter. He wants to find people, you would never stop him. You're sick often, injured when you're not.

"I…" You swallow. "I didn't realise I got to call the shots."

"You do. If you want to stop, we'll stop. We can stay here for a week or two, we have the food for it."

You're scared of going too far with Steve. While you know he cares about you indisputably, you're afraid —petrified— of his rejection. No matter how sure you are that he likes you, that he wants you, it isn't worth messing up what you have with the wrong assumption. But if you want to stop? That feels like a confession, at least in part.

"It never mattered to you before," you say.

True and not true.

"I know," he murmurs, and you swear he's looking at you too, "I made you follow me around. But I've always taken care of you, haven't I?"

"You have."

"And I always will."

Yeah, when you'd first met, alone and unhappy, he'd let you tag along with him out of duty and nothing else. If you hadn't saved his life, he probably never would have agreed to take you with him, because he has a fierce loyalty to the people he loves. If you got in the way of his finding Robin, there was a time when he would have left you behind.

That time period was remarkably short, to his credit. He warmed to you reluctantly and then less so. And now he touches you all the time, your face and your neck and your hips. He zips up your coat for you because the cold makes your fingers shake, and he lets you sleep in the dip of his lap with your arms around his back, and he says nice things when you're not expecting them. When you lost weight at the beginning, he was concerned, and when you said you had it to lose, he was disbelieving. He keeps the good shampoo for you. He smiles when you talk, now. All these flags.

His hand opens against your hip. You feel it unfurl, and the gentle thrust of him offering it to you.

Steve works your hands together. Just like that. One of those perfect wood joints where the seams disappear, two hands linked together tightly, like they were made to hold one another.

"Does the leather really help?" he asks.

"I think so," you say, wanting more than anything to rest your face against his naked bicep.

"Maybe you have a locked jaw, or something."

"Maybe I do. Know any chiropractors?"

"No," he says, tip of his thumb roving over the meat of yours, like he's marking down the lines of your skin. "I could try it."

You laugh nervously. "I'm alright."

"You don't think I could fix it?"

"Not really, Steve."

"That's offensive."

"Letting you mess up my jaw rather than offend you, though?" you tease.

"Is it bad right now?"

You make a curious sound as he sits up. "No, I already told you, it's fine." You feel rather than see him looking down at you. When his free hand touches your shoulder, you breathe out. "Steve?"

"It's not gonna hurt if I try to kiss you?"

You still under his soothing hand. His fingers brush up the length of your neck.

"No, it won't hurt," you choke out.

He leans down slowly, his hair tickling your forehead, the heat of his breath fanning over your lips and chin like a wave.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

You don't even think he's flirting.

"It won't hurt," you say. "Please."

He slips his fingers under your head and encourages you up toward him just a little. You close your eyes despite the pitch dark as he closes the gap, your breath shuddering against his lips as they find yours. He kisses you once and indulgently, a soft and searching thing, the pad of his thumb rubbing a trembling arc under your jaw.

You're still holding hands. Your fingers flex in his and reaffirm, worried he's going to pull away, that this moment will end too soon.

He cushions your head with his hand and kisses deeper. At this angle you have to twist yourself to meet him, and you're quick to do so, kissing back with a shy ardency — you want to kiss him more than anything but you don't have a clue what you're doing.

Like he can tell, he slows, and the tips of your noses touch as he pulls, nudging your nose until you lift your chin.

"Just–" His thumb strokes your throat again, saying more than he does physically. "Just kiss me," he encourages gently.

You nod and almost bite him as he moves in again, too enthusiastic, maybe, your eager hand in his hair and your fizzing lips under his enough to make him smile.

He's soft. He's warm. Your heart spins, hurtles. The earth orbits the sun, and the sun, the whole solar system, orbits the centre of the milky way galaxy at almost a million kilometres an hour. Steve's weight against your chest and his fond kisses: you swear you can feel it, you can feel the orbit, the spinning. You're dizzy with it.

A sound disturbs the peace, ripping all the sweetness from the air in a millisecond.

Steve flinches up, hand cradling the back of your head. He pulls the other free from your panicked fingers and grabs your shoulder like it might protect you from whatever it is that's coming.

A silence ensues, the two of you waiting for another sound.

"Probably an animal," he says.

"Yeah," you say, heart racing.

"It's late. You should try and get some sleep."

You nod though he can't see it, heartbroken as he takes back his hands, as he settles again in the place where he'd been. Your hand feels strange without his fingers filling the empty spaces.

"Don't forget your mouth guard," he whispers.

You search the floor beside your impromptu bed for the ziplock bag, find it, and peel it open. You slot the leather between your bad teeth at the back and sigh, disappointed and exhausted and, somewhere underneath it all, excited.

"Steve," you mumble, disrupting the stifling awkwardness between you, "I want to keep going." What was it he'd said? He always takes care of you? "You know I'll follow you anywhere."

"I know. I want you to have the choice."

You do as he'd done, your open hand an offering over his hip. He draws lines in your palm with two fingertips before weaving his fingers through yours. You tighten your grip.

If it's a choice, you’ll choose Steve.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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cyanidas · 5 months

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🃏 Kokichi Ouma Age-up Timeline 🍇

Here, I've used his initial designs as inspiration! I like looking back at older designs cause for a lot of them, it's like watching them grow up!

Headcanons under cut (HUUUGE SPOILER WARNING FOR DRV3)

(Content Warning for child abuse, mental illness and disorder, self harm, generally dark and unsettling topics ahead)

-=-

First off, I'm firm in my take that Tsumugi was lying about everyone being fictional. There's a lot that doesn't match up, and the local V3 fandom celebrity responsible for the Amalgamate fic has helped me tremendously in solidifying my stance. I think they absolutely do belong to the DR universe, but the memories they get that aren't part of their backstory are completely fabricated.

If there's any additional input on V3 in Raincode, don't let me know because I haven't played yet ;w;

That said, there's many things I, like Kokichi, will refuse to clarify or elaborate on. His character demands mystery, and it would be a trivialization of his writing to just. lay it all out there. I think approaching his writing with the mindset of knowing the whole truth would be to bastardize his integrity and simplify him in a distasteful way - so all my headcanons here will be written and are intended to be seen as broad strokes as opposed to finely tuned detail.

-=-

I like to think of his past as muddy and confusing, even to him. There's not a lot he can remember clearly, and constantly confuses different takes on his memories. To me, it's clear that lying is a huge trauma thing to him - I would assume multiple sources would be responsible, like authority, family, and peers.

He's been lying as a means of survival, with multiple layers of how he feels about it - despite what he says, there's not actually one truth. Multiple truths exist for one single thing, and I think that mindset is something that scares him tremendously - he'd probably say that reality is just a lie you tell yourself, in order to justify trivializing and minimizing both feelings/emotion and trauma.

In his head, there's so much wrong with him that he can't even begin to unravel himself and understand everything that's happened to him, why he does what he does, why he feels what he feels... so on. He feels multiple things that often contradict each other, and he doesn't know how to understand that, so he often switches his justifications to suit whatever narrative he needs to cope.

In general, however, he claims he's just lying. There are in fact, genuine times he does actually lie... but rather than being a true compulsive liar, he is actually a compulsive method actor. He's so empathetic to everything and everyone, that he can easily switch his masking techniques to suit whatever he or others need, and does so involuntarily most of the time, though he does know how to "switch it on" purposefully.

In his earlier ages, he may have suffered from a guardianship similar to what those who have DID had gone through (not me projecting lol /hj). He's been bred and born into tragedy, not unlike Komaeda but absolutely distinct from him in that I do not believe this boy has had any good luck with anything in his life - not family, not friends, not money, nothing. I might even go so far as to assume that, similar to Yasuhiro having an unnaturally high good luck, Kokichi is suffering from unnaturally high bad luck.

I noticed that, on a lot of his designs, he seems to have always had *something* covering at least one of his hands - and even on his final design, though it could just be a design fluke or something weird with perspective I misunderstood, you can see the smallest scrap of fabric underneath his right sleeve that could be seen as another hand/wrist covering. When lined up with the other designs, it could very easily be taken as a wrist bandage - at least by my eyes. So, I (and a lot of others it seems, especially those who identify with him) have taken this to mean he may in fact be self-harming, and has been for a long while. Anyone who hyperfixates on this guy wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if that turned out to be true.

I think that age 11 is probably what Kokichi himself would think of as his 'turning point', just going off of my little chart here; something tremendously awful happened to him, then. To fuel speculation and abide by his character rules, all I'm going to definitively say is... he likely wouldn't even trust doctors with a needle, let alone his life.

So, the hardest year of any modern kid's life... 12 years old. In my family especially, it's the worst year you'll ever face, and my god was that true for me. So I think this year fits him for gaining his... as the creators put it, 'otherworldly' expressive nature. This is the year he completely stops putting effort into trying to understand the truth, and fully embraces the chaos that is his reality. He's fine!!!!!! :)))))

He mellows out around 15, and I like to think of this year as his cringe-fail-iest year to date. This motherfucker would likely be seen in Hot Topic, jamming to MCR, glomping his friends, verbally roleplaying, so forth. His phone signature is a series of kaomojis. Idk if there's a similar equivalent of being a cringe baby weeb for Japanese who are my age, so I'm really just basing this on my own experience of being 15 in 2011. But whatever the equivalent is, he is absolutely it. 15 year old Kokichi is current Kokichi's most embarrassing time ever.

However, it's also likely the age he started his talent's namesake - of becoming the Ultimate Supreme Leader. Which, I choose to believe is, much like Kokichi in general, both true and false. Same for his actual group, DICE. Both is good ;o)

Following his talent, he has a natural command to his voice that feels as though you're forced to hear him speak. No one can really talk over him unless their ability to do so demands it - say for example, Sonia, the SHSL Princess. Due to the nature of their talents, I think Sonia's voice and ability to command would absolutely trump Kokichi's. However, due to the aforementioned bad luck, people are compelled to not trust him - even if what he's saying is true. (Kokichi voice: oh pythia we're really in it now)

Also, you can't really tell because of all the scarring, but 15 and 19 are the ages where he stopped going outside so he's paler and paler, lol

And my last one, I love to imagine that due to his talent, he's actually intensely adept at fighting, especially dodging. In fact, I think he's even way smarter than he'd like to believe!

#danganronpa #drv3 #kokichi ouma #drv3 kokichi #headcanons #lines #digital art #character reference #idk what else to tag with djkghjfj #cyanidas #2024 #drv3 spoilers #spoilers #danganronpa spoilers

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butchdarling · 2 months

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Just got The Left Hand of Darkness from the library again and I like the author's note so much I'm just gonna post the whole thing

Science fiction is often described, and even defined, as extrapolative. The science fiction writer is supposed to take a trend or phenomenon of the here-and-now, purify and intensify it for dramatic effect, and extend it into the future. "If this goes on, this is what will happen." A prediction is made. Method and results much resemble those of a scientist who feeds large doses of a purified and concentrated food additive to mice, in order to predict what may happen to people who eat it in small quantities for a long time. The outcome seems almost inevitably to be cancer. So does the outcome of extrapolation. Strictly extrapolative works of science fiction generally arrive about where the Club of Rome arrives: somewhere between the gradual extinction of human liberty and the total extinction of terrestrail life.

This may explain why many people who do not read science fiction describe it as "escapist," but when ques- tioned further, admit they do not read it because "it's so depressing." Almost anything carried to its logical extreme be. comes depressing, if not carcinogenic.

Fortunately, though extrapolation is an element in science fiction, it isn't the name of the game by any means, It is far too rationalist and simplistic to satisfy the imagi native mind, whether the writer's or the reader's. Variables are the spice of life.

This book is not extrapolative. If you like you can read it, and a lot of other science fiction, as a thought-experiment. Let's say (says Mary Shelley) that a young doctor creates a human being in his laboratory; let's say (says Philip K. Dick) that the Allies lost the Second World War; let's say this or that is such and so, and see what happens.... In a story so conceived, the moral complexity proper to the modem novel need not be sacrificed, nor is there any built-in dead end; thought and intuition can move freely within bounds set only by the terms of the experiment, which may be very large indeed.

The purpose of a thought-experiment, as the term was used by Schrödinger and other physicists, is not to predict the future indeed Schrödinger's most famous thought- experiment goes to show that the "future," on the quantum level, cannot be predicted- but to describe reality, the present world.

Science fiction is not predictive; it is descriptive. Predictions are uttered by prophets (free of charge), by clairvoyants (who usually charge a fee, and are therefore more honored in their day than prophets), and by futurologists (salaried). Prediction is the business of prophets, clairvoyants, and futurologists. It is not the business of novelists. A novelist's business is lying. The weather bureau will tell you what next Tuesday will be like, and the Rand Corporation will tell you what the twenty-first century will be like. I don't recommend that you turn to the writers of fiction for such information. It's none of their business. All they're trying to do is tell you what they're like, and what you're like-what's going on-what the weather is now, today, this moment, the rain, the sunlight, look! Open your eyes; listen, listen. That is what the novelists say. But they don't tell you what you will see and hear. All they can tell you is what they have seen and heard, in their time in this world, a third of it spent in sleep and dreaming, another third of it spent in telling lies.

"The truth against the world!"-Yes. Certainly. Fiction writers, at least in their braver moments, do desire the truth: to know it, speak it, serve it. But they go about it in a peculiar and devious way, which consists in inventing persons, places, and events which never did and never will exist or occur, and telling about these fictions in detail and at length and with a great deal of emotion, and then when they are done writing down this pack of lies, they say, There! That's the truth!

They may use all kinds of facts to support their tissue of lies. They may describe the Marshalsea Prison, which was a real place, or the battle of Borodino, which really was fought, or the process of cloning, which really takes place in laboratories, or the deterioration of a personality, which is described in real textbooks of psychology, and so on. This weight of verifiable place-event-phenomenon-behavior makes the reader forget that he is reading a pure invention, a history that never took place anywhere but in that unrealizable region, the author's mind. In fact, while we read a novel, we are insane- bonkers. We believe in the existence of people who aren't there, we hear their voices, we watch the battle of Borodino with them, we may even become Napoleon. Sanity returns (in most cases) when the book is closed

Is it any wonder that no truly respectable society has ever trusted its artists?

But our society, being troubled and bewildered, seeking guidance, sometimes puts an entirely mistaken trust in its artists, using them as prophets and futurologists.

I do not say that artists cannot be seers, inspired: that the awen cannot come upon them, and the god speak through them. Who would be an artist if they did not believe that that happens? If they did not know it happens, because they have felt the god within them use their tongue, their hands? Maybe only once, once in their lives. But once is enough.

Nor would I say that the artist alone is so burdened and so privileged. The scientist is another who prepares, who makes ready, working day and night, sleeping and awake, for inspiration. As Pythagoras knew, the god may speak in the forms of geometry as well as in the shapes of dreams; in the harmony of pure thought as well as in the harmony of sounds; in numbers as well as in words.

But it is words that make the trouble and confusion. We are asked now to consider words as useful in only one way: as signs. Our philosophers, some of them, would have us agree that a word (sentence, statement) has value only in so far as it has one single meaning, points to one fact that is comprehensible to the rational intellect, logically sound, and- ideally- quantifiable.

Apollo, the god of light, of reason, of proportion, harmony, number-Apollo blinds those who press too close in worship. Don't look straight at the sun. Go into a dark bar for a bit and have a beer with Dionysios, every now and then.

I talk about the gods; I am an atheist. But I am an artist too, and therefore a liar. Distrust everything I say. I am telling the truth.

The only truth I can understand or express is, logically defined, a lie. Psychologically defined, a symbol. Aesthetically defined, a metaphor.

Oh, it's lovely to be invited to participate in Futurological Congresses where Systems Science displays its grand apocalyptic graphs, to be asked to tell the newspapers what America will be like in 2001, and all that, but it's a terrible mistake. I write science fiction, and science fiction isn't about the future. I don't know any more about the future than you do, and very likely less.

This book is not about the future. Yes, it begins by an- nouncing that it's set in the "Ekumenical Year 1490-97," but surely you don't believe that?

Yes, indeed the people in it are androgynous, but that doesn't mean that I'm predicting that in a millennium or so we will all be androgynous, or announcing that I think we damned well ought to be androgynous. I'm merely observing, in the peculiar, devious, and thought-experimental manner proper to science fiction, that if you look at us at certain odd times of day in certain weathers, we already are. I am not predicting, or prescribing. I am describing. I am describing certain aspects of psychological reality in the novelist's way, which is by inventing elaborately circumstantial lies.

In reading a novel, any novel, we have to know perfectly well that the whole thing is nonsense, and then, while read- ing, believe every word of it. Finally, when we're done with it, we may find- if it's a good novel- that we're a bit different from what we were before we read it, that we have been changed a little, as if by having met a new face, crossed a street we never crossed before. But it's very hard to say just what we learned, how we were changed.

The artist deals with what cannot be said in words.

The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words.

Words can be used thus paradoxically because they have, along with a semiotic usage, a symbolic or metaphoric usage. (They also have a sound- a fact the linguistic positivists take no interest in. A sentence or paragraph is like a chord or harmonic sequence in music: its meaning may be more clearly understood by the attentive ear, even though it is read in silence, than by the attentive intellect.)

All fiction is metaphor. Science fiction is metaphor. What sets it apart from older forms of fiction seems to be its use of new metaphors, drawn from certain great dominants of our contemporary life-science, all the sciences, and technology, and the relativistic and the historical outlook, among them. Space travel is one of these metaphors; so is an alternative society, an alternative biology; the future is another. The future, in fiction, is a metaphor.

A metaphor for what?

If I could have said it non-metaphorically, I would not have written all these words, this novel; and Genly Ai would never have sat down at my desk and used up my ink and typewriter ribbon in informing me, and you, rather solemnly, that the truth is a matter of the imagination.

Ursula K. Le Guin

#the left hand of darkness

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adhbabey · 4 months

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I think it should be stated that crazy conspiracy theories, while dangerous in their own right, and is probably littered with dog whistles, that many of the people spouting out these conspiracy theories are likely experiencing delusions or hallucinations, and that cannot be stated enough.

So I highly recommend people notice the signs of whether or not someone is experiencing a delusion or break in reality, instead of immediately trying to go off on someone in this mindset.

Here are some common red flags that I notice, that sounds suspiciously like a delusion:

Fearing the government or think the government is secretly out to get them. While our governments can do horrible things to us, all in the name of national security, I see this as a red flag because its often random people in question. It's usually not someone who has done anything to warrant such fear. Just some guy in his basement or a random person online. You don't know these people, but I doubt a secret spy would be this paranoid or neurotic about something like this. It's a big red flag if they mention that the government is secretly out to get them.

That this world is a simulation or somehow fake. If this doesn't trigger you and you experience DPDR, you are a strong one. Unreality is a common trigger for many delusions. The idea that we're in a simulation or it's just like the matrix is just false information, and something spoke about for fun, like science fiction. But if someone is seriously telling you that we're all in a simulation, I'd see that as a red flag of a delusion. It's triggering, even for me.

The idea that pigeons aren't real and are drones of some kind, or that the government is planning to microchip us through vaccines or something. The idea that you're being spied on through secret cameras or that it's like you're in the truman show, or you're going to be experimented on because vaccines give you microchips.. These are all signs of paranoid delusions, and one of them is called Capgras syndrome. It is the delusion that your loved ones are all somehow replaced by imposters and it's pretty damn severe. I would take the idea that everyone is somehow spying on you, a pretty good sign that it's a delusion.

And there's so much more, but I recommend people just researching into other symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia, and be aware of what that looks like. It's important to be educated on this stuff.

And please, don't go out of your way to reality check them or to argue with them, that can often exacerbate or worsen the symptoms, sending them spiraling down into an even deeper delusional headspace. I know the idea that I'm somehow lying or delusional tends to send me into a paranoid headspace, so don't do it. Don't argue with these people, just stay away from them.

And yes, it's common that a lot these things are jokes or memes or just a part of popular science fiction culture, but be aware regardless. You don't know if someone's actually being serious or not. And whatever you do, don't call a stranger you don't know, "delusional", these are just red flags and signs, not automatic reasons that someone is experiencing a break in reality. You don't know them, so just be cautious.

And yeah, a lot of conspiracy theories are anti-semitic, or racist, or ableist, or whatever. But that doesn't cancel out the fact that many of the people in question are also likely mentally ill. It doesn't erase the fact that normal every day people are also mentally ill. Negative or problematic behavior doesn't erase the fact that someone can experience delusions. I'm not excusing that behavior, but I am saying to be more cautious and critical of the fact that half of this stuff sounds like a mental illness.

TLDR; It is important to be aware that several common conspiracy theory buzzwords are red flags of paranoid delusions, and this post lists out some of those red flags in details. Don't reality check anyone, or you could make it worse, just be cautious and disengage.

#babey posts #paranoid delusions #conspiracy theories #red flags #delusions #be aware #psa #please ask me to tag anything that triggers you guys in this post #i understand its a heavy topic so please go drink some water and take a few minutes to ground yourself #if you have any comfort items or otherwise please snuggle them #delusions are fucking scary and triggering and i recommend you guys be gentle with yourself right now #and if you are of sound mind and don't experience delusions please be critical of these things in the future #you'll never know when you bump into someone like this

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cainluvr69 · 4 months

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Let Me Tell You The Story Of A Rainbow - Chapter 10

Previous Chapter

Aslan: No, that would be…the world that she sees.

Akira: Huh…?

I abruptly recalled what Snow and White had told me. The creatures depicted in the picture book we received do exist in reality, but they aren't seen very often--phantoms.

Akira: …I was told that the wonderland she draws and writes about is one that even very powerful wizards don't get to lay eyes on very often. Is it really…something Miss Luca can see?

Aslan: Yes, it is. It's really something beyond what you and I can try to imagine, isn't it? …She's always had the power to see such things, even before she knew how to differentiate it from what was actually in front of her. We can't see the things she does, but to her, that wonderland has always been right before her eyes. She can see sea-green clouds in the sky, the ripples across a pink lake, strange plants and odd flowers swaying in the breeze, and she can smell their fragrant perfumes…

Akira: …And the fluttering rainbow-colored butterflies, and those animals running across the hills, too…?

Aslan: Yes. Everything about that landscape is the "reality" that's reflected in her eyes.

Akira: Why are you so confident she can see it? I mean, it's not like you can see it too…

Aslan: Haha, well, funny you should mention that. To tell you the truth, at first I actually just assumed that all wizards could see the things she could. That all of them could see strange and wonderful things that we humans could not. Luca was the first wizard I'd ever met, you see. She would talk happily about things I couldn't see, and painted the world I could see, but in completely different colors… She turned what she saw into art and turned it into a story, and that let us see it, too. It's always very exciting for me, to be honest.

I could hear the timbre of honesty in Aslan's voice as he very calmly recounted all of this to me. The way he talked reminded me of a little kid attracted to the mystique of things yet unknown.

Aslan: Ultimately, though, I wasn't very surprised when I found out later that it's actually a very rare talent. Luca is loved by the world that she sees. And when I see that world in her art and in her writings, it really feels like those plants and animals are things that she lives alongside. Like an author who only writes stories about their hometown. It's that kind of familiarity.

But despite how happily Aslan seemed as he talked, I could see a faint shadow of worry in his eyes, too.

Aslan: But…even though for her, it's something she's seen since the day she was born, the average person isn't going to understand that. When she talked about the world she saw, she was treated like she was lying or trapped in delusions, so she was ostracized for being "unpleasant", and…it seems she was treated very cruelly…

I'm sure it was just my imagination that his voice cracked a little. I imagined what it would be like if I couldn't share the things I could see and reach out and touch with the other people around me. I thought of the girl in question and how she seemed scared of something, her eyes downcast and her heart closed off to outsiders, and my chest clenched painfully.

Akira: Um… What about her parents? She's still just a little girl, so does she at least have a home to return to…?

Aslan: I don't have all the details, but as far as I'm aware, she doesn't have any relatives. I first encountered her while I was visiting Eastern Country to look for new pieces of art to add to our collection, and took her into my care. At the time, she wasn't…she was obviously in a bad state, to put it delicately. …I think the choice I made back then was the correct one, but I also think that I was the lucky one in regards to our meeting.

Akira: …Huh?

Aslan: Because I was the one who was charmed by that rare talent of hers.

His amber eyes, so straightforward in their gaze, with no falsities or hesitation clouding them, were the same color as the warmth of the sun.

Aslan: When I first found her, all she had to her name were a thin stack of papers and pen made from the branch of a tree. A breeze caught some of her papers and even though it was only a glimpse of that world, my heart was still gripped. It was truly beautiful… It overflowed with a strange charm that to this day I still haven't seen in anything else. It was like…like a baring of the soul. That sort of beauty. At first I tried to tell her that--or rather, I did tell her that, quite enthusiastically--but she didn't accept any of my praise. She had spent so long on her own, unable to trust anyone, that her heart refused to listen to what I was saying.

Aslan closed his eyes, lost in his reminiscence, and then he slowly took a deep breath.

Aslan: She is as gentle and delicate as the world she illustrates. I want to show the world her world. I want everyone to know who she is.

Akira: …I'm sure you'll be able to do it. Once they open the cover of one of her books, they'll immediately find themselves captivated. That's what happened to me. And not just me, either. Everyone in the manor, both the young wizards and the ones that had lived for centuries, was captivated by the world in Miss Luca's book.

Aslan: Oh… Thank you so much! I'm hoping this exhibition lets a lot of people get exposed to her work so she can have more confidence in herself. That's why…

???: Kyaa…!!

There was a sudden loud noise and a scream that followed it.

Aslan: That was Luca's voice…!

The words were hardly out of Aslan's mouth before he was off like a shot, with me close behind.

✦✧☾✧✦

As soon as we arrived at the picture book display, we saw a small someone crouched in its center…Luca. Rutile was next to her, his arms around her trembling shoulders, and Heathcliff was crouched down with her, too.

Akira: Rutile, Heathcliff! What happened?

Now that I could get a better look at them, I saw a largish book next to Luca. It had fallen open, and I could see something that looked like ivy reaching out of the pages, squirming like worms across the floor.

Aslan: Oh, Luca… Did it happen again…?

Luca: N…no.

She shook her head, voice quiet. Her eyes were shaky and unfocused--she looked terribly upset.

Heathcliff: Um… She didn't do anything wrong. Rutile and I just startled her on accident.

Rutile: We saw her holding one of the books and called out to her, and that surprised her so much that she dropped it. That's all that happened. Isn't that right, Luca?

Luca: …

Suddenly, everything seemed to start to glitter, like a mirage in the desert. Rainbow-colored scales, like those from a moth's wing, danced through the air around Luca even though there were no wings for them to fall from.

Luca: …Roxy.

Luca's words were barely more than a whisper as she stared blankly at…nothing. There was nothing there.

Akira: (…Roxy?)

Aslan knelt down next to Luca and gently rubbed her back.

Aslan: I'm not going to be upset with you, Luca. Take a deep breath and calm down. Everything's going to be fine. Your exhibit is going great. There's nothing you need to be worried about, because I'm right here with you. Your world is going to make everyone happy. I promise.

Luca said nothing, her eyes on the floor, her small mouth pressed into a tight line. But once Aslan put his big hand on top of her head and gently stroked her hair, Luca's shoulders drooped in something like relief.

Aslan: She's very close to finishing a new work, so I imagine she's a bit tired. This is the first time she's done a public exhibition of her work, so we've both been a bit on edge, too…

Aslan looked at the vines creeping out of the book that had fallen to the floor, and took a breath. Luca's delicately fine silver hair swayed as she leaned closer to Aslan, but she said nothing.

Heathcliff: …We wizards use magic with our hearts. So when our hearts are in turmoil, our magic starts getting unstable, and we can't cast spells as well as we normally can.

Aslan: Magic comes from…the heart…?

Heathcliff: Yes. I've had times where I'm so worked up that I can't use my magic well, too…

Heathcliff smiled a little bit as he spoke, his words as gentle as a spring breeze. His voice was overflowing with kindness.

Akira: …I know how it feels when you're so anxious your heart starts to harden. I can't do things the way I want, and I start getting all worked up… That's how it is for me, a human, and I know it's even worse for those of us who need their hearts at peace to use their magic. For example…I was horribly nervous when I was first pulled into this world and didn't know a thing about anything. And the reason I was able to finally relax and pull myself together was all thanks to that blonde boy there.

Heathcliff: Do…you mean me?

Akira: Yeah. When I was facing my very first morning in the manor, we made ojiya for breakfast together… You gave me some sugar, and just like that, my heart calmed itself right down.

Heathcliff: Oh… Right, I remember that. That really takes me back. I'm a little bit embarrassed, but I'm still happy to hear you say that, Master Sage.

Luca: ……Sugar?

The word that fell from Luca's peach-pale lips was a hope sweeter than honey. Even as she continued to cling to Aslan's suit, she turned her wide eyes to us, peeking through her bangs.

Rutile: Put out your hand, Luca.

Rutile's smile was the perfect gentle invitation--Luca hesitantly held out one hand, fingers spread out like a maple leaf. Rutile pressed one finger to her palm and drew it over her skin, leaving little stars of sugar in its wake.

Luca: …!

Aslan: Woah, it appeared out of nowhere…! Was that…magic?

Rutile: Yes. Wizards can't create something from nothing, but our sugar is made from our magic. So, Miss Luca. If you eat this, it'll make you feel better and help your heart ground itself again. You look like you're not feeling too well, but I'm sure it'll help with that, too.

Luca: This is…sugar…

Shino: What, you're a wizard and don't even know that?

I turned towards the sound of a familiar voice, and saw Shino, who'd walked up next to me without me noticing. I saw Arthur, Mithra, and Murr, too--they must have heard Luca's scream and come to see what had happened.

Luca: …It looks like little tiny stars. I can eat them?

Rutile: Yep. They're all yours!

Akira: It's very sweet and delicious.

Luca: …

She stared at the sugar in her hand with her big, lavender eyes. She was hesitant but at the very same time, she was curious. And then…all of a sudden a long arm reached out and stole the sugar right out of Luca's palm.

Akira & Rutile & Heathcliff: ?!

Mithra: Crunch.

Akira: M--Mithra…!

Next Chapter

#.eventtl #3rd anni

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readtherunes · 1 year

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Things I'm Trying To Let Go Off In No Particular Order To Meet My Own Creative Potential

I spend most of my life as the awkward girl. I loved to study and read and spend hours in libraries and at parks. I always felt like some invisible glass wall stood between myself and my peers. Maybe it was because I was homeschooled and grew up in a religious cult. Maybe my brain just works differently. It wasn't that I was a prude by any means. I relish good sex and good food and have a lot of hedonistic tendencies if I let myself veer too far in that direction, but I just never understood why the people around me found joy in the things they did.

I remember being at a college party, fixing my face into a smile, forcing my head back when I laughed loudly at something I found unfunny, my head swirling from cheap booze, the small of Victoria's Secret Body Spray and vomit and liquor filling the air.

Here's the thing though. I didn't like these things, but when I grew up a bit and became a bit more beautiful and learned to play the part a bit better, and people saw me as just one of the group, it was a relief. I no longer stood out, and there is something very soothing about being able to move through life as a part of a bigger organism -- a group of people with generally the same thoughts, and likes, and dislikes.

But like any sort of lying, it has grown tiresome. I have been getting back to who I was from the beginning. And it isn't a high-powered career woman, although I am great at my job. It isn't a popular blonde girl, although I've played that role with varying degrees of success over the past five years.

I've decided that with my move to a new city I am going to start letting go of some of these crutches that I've used to prop myself up over the past few years. Here are a few in no particular order.

Stop forcing relationships.

A loathsome part of trying to be popular and appear "normal" is that you have to at some point force relationships that just don't feel natural. You find yourself sitting with people who -- on a deep level -- you have nothing in common with. But you sit there and nod along and pretend to be interested in every gory detail of their lives, because that's just what you do. You find yourself going to their parties and inviting them to coffee, until one day, you're sitting there, watching that person talking, and you think to yourself that you could be doing literally anything else with the precious minutes that are ticking away. You could be writing or painting or spending time in nature or pursuing that interesting person that you actually love to be around and are inspired by. I want to stop pursuing any relationship that will fall apart if I am simply myself.

Stop forcing interests/activities.

On a similar note to the above, I want to stop forcing myself to participate in activities or interests that bring nothing to me. I have often been accused of "trying to be different," or "not be like other girls," when I simply enjoy different things. I don't enjoy the feeling of makeup on my skin, I love loose comfortable clothes I feel like I can create in, and my idea of a perfect night is reading a novel on my patio and listening to the rain, or having an intimate dinner with a few people I can examine real ideas with. There is nothing inherently wrong with any interest or activity, but certain things do bring more social capital and reward, and I am simply tired of pretending I care about things like sports scores or reality TV. I can enjoy my interests while still supporting everyone else's right to enjoy theirs, even if I don't personally enjoy them.

Stop relying on social media for the CREATIVE RUSH that I should be getting from creating.

Social media can be a great marketing tool and can be very entertaining. But it can also be the swirling pool where all of my creative impulses go to die. It is so easy to spend hours scrolling, looking at aesthetic mood boards and watching other artists talk about their work and diagnosing myself with yet another "trauma response" that is just part of the fucking human condition.

I don't hate social media by any means. But I know that when I spend my creative time on these apps instead of sitting down into the terrible and messy work of actually creating something new out of nothing, my creative impulse dwindles, until even the simplest creative act becomes an enormous effort.

So I am limiting the time per week I'm allowed to spend watching videos of others doing the thing I should be doing myself, and I will spend that time dedicating myself to my work.

Stop relying on food for a dopamine rush.

Yes, I am a disappointing part of the cliché of creative women struggling with every kind of eating disorder there is. I consider myself recovered, at a normal, if not aesthetic weight, and I try to focus more on creating art than on turning my body into some type of object for the world's viewing pleasure.

But my love affair with food has remained. How many nights have I smoked a blunt and rummaged the fridge just looking to feel something. Or, to avoid feeling something. When I should have been having a deep conversation or working on my book or even just getting some sleep, so I can face the world without being exhausted in the morning.

I will always love a fresh croissant or a beautifully cooked meal. The colors, the textures, the layers of salt and heat and sweetness singing together. But what I don't need to do anymore is depend on food to pick me up after one of those days-that-simply-won't end. Instead, I need to get into bed and sleep, and end the day.

Stop waiting for inspiration and do the damn work.

Inspiration sounds lovely. It really does. It's in so many movies and books and Instagram posts and TikTok reals. The artist madly working away in a dark environment, coming out pale and triumphant with the NEW WORK. And yes, we've all had a brief session driven by mania, where our lives may look like this for a day or two, but the reality is that growing in any craft requires day-in-and-day-out dedication to sitting your ass down and working away at the damn thing even when it feels like you're slogging through mud. I suppose this goes along with the social media point -- since I'd often find myself scrolling for hours, looking for just the right sliver of inspiration to trick my brain into action, rather than just sitting down and pushing my way through the hard beginning of a work session.

My creativity is like a well-pump. When I work every day, even just a little, it stays primed. When I ignore it because of self doubt, or because I've reached a difficult part of a project, it dries out, and it takes a long time to get the flow working again.

I will be trying to follow this list over the next month and will report back with the results. If you're a creative of any kind, what do you find gets most in the way of your own creative flow?

#creative writing #creativity #on writing #writer things #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #creative inspiration #creative process #ex cult #cult survivor #ex fundie #nuerodivergent #writers and poets #writeblr

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hehosts-moved · 2 years

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Goro what are some of the best and worst deals you’ve had?

ah, a faceless person. these are the ones goro enjoys the most. should he take off his, as well?? it seems only fitting.

❝ why don't you sit down? the devil is in the details — and i'm sure you want details.

i could start from the beginning, but we'd be here too long. oh, grab two glasses and that bottle over there before you sit. you pour, i pay.

i'm a modern man now, and in a modern sense, the best i've made have been with deng and ji-hun, for their services, but those were circumstances i don't normally come by in my line of work. they were unique cases to themselves, deng more so than ji-hun. ji-hun earned his place, and in doing so, was able to keep what was his [ his face ] in exchange for my gift to him [ his servitude / his strengths ] .

deng was far more eager and willing, while ji-hun has such a strange sense of self-preservation. i don't often keep men so close to me. when i do, they stay long-term, and long-term deals are what i'm after.

we've all had cheap thrills, and those are just that — cheap.

the deals that die out before they can even start. the unwilling. life is nothing without risk. without risk, what reason does a man deserve his reward?

the worst ones are the ones that think they can outwit me. in the end, sometimes they might be the worst but are the most fun. proving people wrong never gets old, but it can be tiring to always be right. it's like a coin; you have to take both sides as they are. one in the same.

now, if you're asking about ren — and let's be frank, who is asking about him? — he's an investment. he's a borderline player, but i'd call him more of a runner right now. he runs things for me that i can't be bothered with, does a few deliveries, and entertains for my parties. he's a good bartender, and i'll give him that. he's more of a plot point than anything else. it's fun, he does what i ask, we makes deals. we've never made the big one before, but i like what we have. the man is consistent ... ly in trouble.

but when that storyline finally moves, we'll see something worth waiting for. a man, a woman, a child. it's an unbroken circle. one of them will have to break it sooner or later.

in this case, it isn't much to do with what he is, but more ... who he is. who he belongs to for real. a deal was made for him before he was even born. he just doesn't know it yet. that makes it pretty good for me. bad for him, but good for me. not my best, but certainly not my worst. this is what i call a long con, but without the con. you really could say i'm more of an observer.

don't be mistaken. ren is just one of many. i have several generational deals that are in the works as we speak, and several main characters i have lined up to go against the big bad.

deals are not inherently good or bad. perhaps i expect certain results ... but i'm never disappointed. there is no way to fully account for the versions of reality that will come from a simple yes or no. like doors. when it's time, if it's necessary, i'll open them. i know the difference.

but you're looking for something more straightforward, correct??

i make the best deals with humans. i make the worst deals with oni. or, those that think we are alike. we are not. besides, humans are the ones i can bestow my gifts to more easily; they have the most untapped potential. deng and ji-hun were not born gifted. i have crafted them in my image while allowing them a certain degree of personality and autonomy.

you could liken it to frankenstein without the grisly nature of the experiment. i knew what i was doing when i made them. however, i think my next best deal is sitting right here in front of me. what do you think?? ❞

#* ( goro ) ♡ — ace of spades #* ( goro ) ♡ — ic #anon #im sorry he is long winded but he never gets to talk like this #so he's taking advantage

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runawaycarouselhorse · 5 months

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[Saint Rosalind - Review]

[CW the manga contains opics such as murder (of children, elders, animals, etc.), gore, drinking, suicide, character death.

This review contains minor spoilers (I described one chapter's murder and motivation in detail as an example.)]

I haven't been so engrossed in reading something in a while. I have trouble starting things, even when I love them, or picking up after I left of, but I simply couldn't stop reading Saint Rosalind until I finished it within two days!

Also, the art is absolutely adorable and a delight! Very delicate and pretty, the 70's art is beautiful. You can see how the artist in her additional prequel chapter published in 2017 (explaining the first murder which was never shown in detail in the story, which the author regretted) has much more details in hair and clothes, but lacks those thick tapering to thin lines her style had in 1973, often characteristic of mangaka in the start of their career that many mangaka grow unable to draw as they get older and it becomes more painful to do those little flicks of the wrist... the anatomy was always a little loose in the 70's chapters, but the 2017 one tries to pair larger, but more detailed faces, with still highly stylized and very small hands, and it looks jarring on the adult characters. Proportions are off. Rosalind is still adorable. The lines feel rougher, but I'll chalk it up to the artist's age!

It's a very interesting horrror manga, rather gory for the shoujo demographic... about an eight year old child.

She's not the victim, she's the perpetrator of these violent crimes. She's also bizarrely innocent about these, either acting innocent and heartless (like J.M. Barrie's description of children in Peter Pan) where she kills people simply because she wants to add more treasures to her collection, believing them rightly hers when they're promised to her... she has very simple black and white morality and thinks she's good because she never lies (many a time, she justifies killing ot hers for lying to her or once, for bullying her, lying to her, and forcing her to lie!)...

Sometimes, she even seems to operate under typical shoujo heroine logic, in her own mind, where she's doing good deeds as she touches the lives of those she meets... like when she meets a sad little girl whose mother's out every night and only drinks and sleeps when she's at home (very much an addict, running away from her own life), she feels so sorry for the little girl who keeps a pillow bound to a chair, with a book propped up in its "lap" pretending it's a mother who stays with her and reads to her and lets her hug her... so, Rosalind, saddened and touched by the girl's plight, tries to make it reality, by elaborately murdering the girl's mother, then dragging her corpse, tying it to the chair, in the same way the pillow had been, and placing the book in her lap, leaving while thinking to herself, how happy the girl will be to have a mother who will always be with her!

(I'm hardly spoiling, by the way, she kills like three people in the first two chapters alone. She has a very high kill count. )

She's very clever and resourceful and brutal in how she kills, but her logic is simple, childlike, and while she absolutely can be harsh, vindictive, and angry when hurt, bullied, or witnessing some kind of injustice she feels she needs to correct, so kills intentionally, she just as often seems to kill people accidentally, not realizing what she's doing isn't helping... she's a very strange, interesting character!

(Also, both old women Rosalind crosses paths with are a hoot! The wolf-crier granny who begs to rejoin her husband in death and Madame Royale who hates her greedy children and keeps altering her will just to mess with them. Great personalities.)

Even with everything she's done, I couldn't help but cry at the end and the author did too... you'll cry for her family and perhaps for Rosalind herself. The author noted many interpreted her very differently. Innocent in her ignorance, evil in her cunning, or a bit of both...

#horror #Saint Rosalind #classic shoujo #classic manga #review #spoilers #minor spoilers #long post

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lexacoolfox · 3 years

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~I'm really sorry if i always requested something from you^^;~

But i have an idea, what about "upper moon demons with s/o who's close with muzan"?

You can ignore this!!^^ and don't worry!!i don't mind:D i just like to give an idea for demon slayer headcanons too<3♡♡

Ok ok, so I thought this idea would be fun to do.

Upper moon demons with a S/O who is close with muzan. Part 1

‼️also spoilers so don’t read if you don’t want spoilers‼️

A little bit of detail.

For some situations, your rather his sibling or a friend that’s been with him since the beginning. Ok that’s just what I’ve wanted to clarify. Also you don’t have a moon rank. Cause your a friend or sibling to muzan not a subordinate.

Kokushibo

🌙how you got with this man I’ll leave to your imagination…

🌙But he himself is confused on how a demon like yourself caught his attention. But nonetheless he really does love you. You knew he was an upper moon demon because of his eyes. He didn’t know you knew muzan he just thought you were a random demon.

🌙you guys have been dating for at least over 3 years. On your guys 3 year anniversary he got you a really pretty and expensive bracelet.

You and muzan are really good friends. You know him better than anybody. He doesn’t love you romantically, you don’t love him that way either. You both really just enjoy each others company and care for each other.

“Hey Y/N. How you been lately?”

“I’ve been good. How about you?”

“Honestly terrible. progress on the blue spider lily has been going terrible! Those demons slayers are making everything just so much harder!”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“But you being here is making me more relaxed.”

You smile.

“That new bracelet looks good on you. Where did you get it?”

“Oh koku got it for our anniversary-*slams hand over mouth*”

“Did you just say kokushibo got you that for your anniversary?”

“Hehehehe…I guess the cats out of the bag.”

“You have been dating kokushibo and you never told me.”

“I was going to tell you. but. Then I thought how awkward it would make things.”

“How long?”

“3 years.”

“…”

Later that day after you left. muzan order nakime to summon kokushibo to the infinity fortress.

“Kokushibo.”

“Yes master muzan.”

“Is it true that you have been dating y/n for the past 3 years?”

“…yes master muzan.”

“…do you really love them?”

“Yes master muzan…with all my heart.”

Muzan could read his mind he knew he wasn’t lying. He also knew kokushibo was thinking that he thought muzan was going to strip him of his ranking or punished severely. In reality he wasn’t, kokushibo was the oldest and strongest moon member losing someone like him, would be a huge loss for his army. But muzan really cares for you deeply, your the one thing that makes him happy.

“Take good care of them then.”

Kokushibo was quite surprised by this

“They’re a very good friend of mine. So if they come to me, crying cause of something you did. You will be receiving the most extreme punishment or I’m killing you. Honestly depending on my mood or on what you did.”

“Yes I understand master muzan. I promise to take care of them and love them.”

“That will be all.”

🌙later sometime that week. Kokushibo questioned you on how you knew muzan. You told him you knew muzan since he was a human and when you two became demons.

🌙kokushibo told you what had happened between the two. You laughed at your friends protectiveness and how kokushibo was scared to death.

🌙now anytime there’s a upper moon meeting. Muzan will give kokushibo a slight glare, and read his mind to see if he’s done anything to his beloved friends. No one dared ask the two about it, to scared of the two.

🌙but muzan does trust kokushibo the most, so over time he stops with the glares. But still reads his mind ever so often.

Doma

✨doma loves you more than anything! You’ve given something, that nobody could give him! Emotions!

✨he treats you as some kind of goddess. He showers you with gifts and affection. He does it so much that it kinda worrying in some ways.

✨he loves giving you love but he loves it more when you give him love and affection. In fact he craves it, not in a yandere type way more of a clingy type way. Can’t really blame him though, the guy has never felt emotions before meeting you.

✨he’ll get your attention anyway he can. either he asks for attention, cry to you about how his ‘friend’ akaza is mean to him, or annoying you until you give him attention.

✨you knew he was apart of muzan upper moon. But you never said anything about you and muzan, you didn’t feel as if it was important.

✨during the night when you weren’t with him. (Cause you went to go visit muzan.) he is quite curious where you go.

Now onto how muzan found out you two were dating. Let’s be real doma is the one who let it slip that you two are dating. It was an upper moon meeting. Muzan was doing his thing looking terrifying, telling them about the blue spider lily and other missions. Muzan notice doma wasn’t really paying attention so he decided to read his mind to see what was distracting him

‘I wonder what y/n is doing right now? Probably still being the wonderful goddess she is. She’s so amazing. I think I’ll bring her a gift when I go over to her place’

Muzan now wasn’t just annoyed but straight up angry. Why? You might be asking?

It’s because you were muzan’s sister.

That’s right your the sister of the great Muzan Kibutsuji!

“Doma, you are to stay here after this meeting.”

Doma has probably never been more scared than he’s ever been than at the moment. He was dreading when the meeting was coming close to an end. What could he have possibly done, for muzan to keep him here after the meeting.

After the meeting…

“Doma.”

“Y-yes master muzan.”

“Why during the meeting we’re you thinking about y/n?”

“Um well their my girlfriend-”

“YOUR WHAT!”

He ordered nakime to immediately summon you.

You were minding your own business when all the sudden your were summoned to the infinity fortress. You saw Doma and muzan. Doma looking like he was about to pass out, from fear and your brother looking about he about to commit mass genocide.

“Why am I here?”

“When where you going to tell me you were dating Doma!! AND WHY DOMA!”

“Ouch” said you and doma

“Well you never asked. And I don’t know. Something about doma just attracts me.”

“Aww y/n!”

“You stay quite!”

“Yes master muzan!”

“Why must you be so mean to him. Big brother.”

“BIG BROTHER!?”

“What did I just say!”

“Sorry master muzan!”

✨After a while you calmed your brother down. Making sure he didn’t end doma’s life. You two explained how you meet each other, and feel in love. Even though muzan wasn’t happy with it, he let you two continue dating. He liked seeing you so happy. But muzan threaten to give doma the worst death imaginable if he did anything to upset you!

✨you and doma are now still together and very happy. But now anytime muzan sees him veins basically pop out his face.

✨poor poor doma. At least he has his goddess

Akaza

❄️Akaza is one the best lovers.

❄️he’s very protective of you, even though you can take care of yourself just fine.

❄️he fell for you because of how strong you were and your personality. He loved having training fights with you and nice conversations.

❄️your were the person he came to when he wanted to complain about a certain upper moon demon (doma).

❄️he brings little gifts here and there.

❄️Even thought he’s good at hiding it. He absolutely in love with you. Your his everything.

❄️you knew he was an upper moon. You weren’t even though you were so strong. Which confused akaza.

One day. You were hanging out with muzan, talking about old memories. You guys were really good friends then he wanted to ask you something.

“Hey y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve notice lately you’ve been wearing new jewelry and new clothes?”

“Is it wrong to change my style once in a while old friend?”

“No no it’s not that, it’s just you haven’t been in any areas that sell clothes like that.”

You both knew where each other are, just in case of emergencies. If one of you needs help. He was right you haven’t been in any areas that have clothes or jewelry like the kind you currently wearing.

“You could say a special someone has come into my life.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s a human.”

“Oh no! You know that wouldn’t work. It’s a demon in fact. You probably know him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Upper moon 3 Akaza!”

“Oh…that’s a relief. When you said upper moon I was so afraid you were going to say doma!”

“From what akaza has told me about him there’s no way that’s happening.”

Any other demon he would’ve been considered. But akaza is a different story, he a very serious and honest demon. He trusted akaza to treat you properly and would not do anything to upset you.

But one day the two pasted by each other.

“You better take care of y/n very good. I already know that you’ll treat them very well already. But I’m just telling you, they are a dear friend to me. I’m won’t hesitate to kill you if you hurt them.”

“Do practice fights count?”

“No, I meant emotionally.”

“There is no need to worry. I love them to much to hurt them like that.”

“That’s all I wanted to say. Carry on with your assignment.”

“Yes master!”

I know it wasn’t as dramatic as the other two but that’s honestly how it would go.

Anyway you and akaza have a great relationship that luckily doesn’t effect your twos work life.

I hope that was to your liking, really tried. I don’t know how muzan would act with somebody he would actually care about. Anyway I mostly did the first three. If you want me to do some more demons. I won’t mind. Any way have a nice day.

#kny x reader #doma x reader #upper moons #akaza x you #kokushibo x reader #akaza x reader #doma x you #kny muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan kibutsuji #akaza #doma #kokushibou

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offantasiesandreams · 2 years

Note

(Request!!)

Okay so hear me out here. The player and batter are pretty connected, so what if the player could hear the batter’s thoughts? “H. Hey pal. I can hear you thinking about. About-“ you see where I’m going? :D ?!?!?!?

Oh, this request made me do the Anya face, dear anon! Stuff like this gets me going and has so much potential, especially when you want to tease a character ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Hoho, I was looking forward to getting to this request! (Also thank you for putting the "Request" there, it really helped me, and I'm being genuine here!)

Mental Link between Batter and Reader

Notes: NSFW kinda

Although uncertain what it may have been that you experienced, thinking it to be some sort of special connection, you have been able to hear Batter’s thoughts. What started with a few loose words bearing little connection turned into full sentences ever so slowly as you carried on with your journey. Solutions to puzzles, tiny details you would have missed otherwise and, as of late, some rather subjective observations on his behalf. Indeed, the two of you had grown very close over the course of time, but, truth be told, you had not expected Batter to be this infatuated with you.

My Player, you are breathtaking. The heavens created the sun just so it could shine upon your beauty. Whereas I am but a foul creature, it is your presence that gives me another chance at being pure once more. I will give myself up to you, who is the highest of all beings. Surprisingly, what he did not speak out loud he thought about in a poetic manner. Even so, this did make you doubtful whether or not he was aware of this mental link the two of you had shared. Or if it was comparable to a one-way mirror.

But it was not this which caught your attention, for there were thoughts of several kinds swirling through his head like a never ending storm.

When you had dropped a piece of equipment you had bargained for with Zacharie you, naturally, scrambled to pick it up, bending down in order to achieve such. Batter, having a keen eye on you as always, observed these events without speaking a word. Though, again, what he did not say did not necessarily mean you did not hear.

I wish I could get you to bend like this, preferably with you facing me. The way I wish to make you feel, just so I could repay you for everything. You and I would be intertwined as one. Please, I wish to hear you call out my name more. This monologue continued with sequences of the sexual kind, with you lying underneath him, moaning out his name as he thrusted into you using a surprising amount of tenderness.

This vivid imagination of his, even disregarding your ability, could not have gone unnoticed by you forever. Stoic and quiet he generally was, yes, but by no means did that mean he was shy. Averting his gaze from yours ever so often, holding his hands lower than usual for a prolonged amount of time and, ultimately, him being out of breath ever so slightly in spite of there having been no enemy to fight in a while, these actions were quite uncharacteristic of him. But it would be amusing to use this against him in a playful manner, just once, you had to admit. After all, it seemed to not take too much to get his attention.

In a room filled with saccharine powder, once every threat had been eliminated and the information you and Batter had gathered had been relayed to the ever so curious merchant, the both of you were left alone. Aside from piles upon piles of sugar, the only thing of interest that caught your eye was a chest amidst the chaos. Without missing a beat, the both of you approached it. You had Batter open it as you kept an eye out for any other potential enemy within eyesight. Of course, this was but a foil, for in reality, you had something much more devious and mischievous in nature in mind.

The item inside has been retrieved, your loyal and lovestruck companion handing it to you. What exactly it was you paid no mind to, initiating your little act was of greater importance.

“Oh, you’ve got something on your face. Wait, let me get it for you.” It has been overdone so many times, but it was still inconspicuous enough. Thus, you got closer to him until the two of you were practically touching, raising your hand slowly to his face, caressing his cheek once the contact had been initiated. Steadily, you guided it towards his lips where the non-existent piece of sugar was to be located. Stroking his lower lip a few times, you smiled, lowering your voice a bit. “You are such a dirty, dirty boy, Batter, you know that? You gotta take care of yourself or else I’m gonna have to do it myself.”

How delightful listening in to his racing thoughts was. I want to kiss you, become one with you. Please put me on my knees and let me do my work in pleasing you. I want you. I need you. I… More and more, the thoughts blurred into one another, becoming indistinguishable. You had gotten your fill of entertainment, perhaps Batter should finally get his too. But not before one last thing.

After having slung your arms around his neck you pulled him closer to you, just before your lips could brush against each other. “You do realise I can hear your thoughts, right? Every single one of them. From the things you want to do to me, to the things you want me to do to you.” Neither his speech nor his thoughts responded to this, only his frown was telling of his internal sensations.

“Please allow me to apologise-” How sweet it was of him to apologise now of all times, but that would simply ruin the mood. Therefore you cut him off by finally pressing your lips against his. The shock was definitely there, or maybe it was his disbelief which let him hesitate until he finally reciprocated. Either way, he kissed you back, wrapping an arm around your waist. Much to his dismay, you had to pull back for air, panting a bit as you looked at his hazy eyes, restraining all the lust building up within him. A smirk was all you had in store for him right then.

“Well, would you like to continue this and let your imagination run wild?” Batter dropping his bat to put his other hand on the back of your head, captivating your lips himself this time, was telling of his answer.

#off (game)#batter x player #batter x reader #not seeing fabulous writing #bless you anon #this was so so much fun to write!#but unfortunately i have hit 1.000+ words with this one #which means i will have to do something special now even if i have absolutely no idea what #i'll write it down and think of something #either way teasing a character is a+#and Batter? being a switch in my hcs? it's more likely than you think!#but think about it: a guy who is 2m/6'6 getting flustered as all heck #that's my jam right there #minors dni

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catgirl-brain · 3 years

Text

[ENG] Another Night - Kazui Mukuhara Voice Drama

Aand... it's been forever since this came out... I had a lot of trouble deciphering what Kazui was trying to say in some portions, so please take this translation with a grain of salt... It's super rough at some parts, sorry!

Kazui: Alright then… Let’s see how this turns out.

(door swings open)

Es: Sorry for the wait,

(door shuts)

Es: Prisoner number 7, Kazui.

Kazui: Excuse me,

(restrains Es)

Es: W-what!?

Kazui: Sorry, give me a second to be ridiculous here.

Es: (struggling) You…! That’s rude!

Kazui: Now, now… I won’t hurt you, so don’t be afraid…

Kazui: Huh..?

Es: (breaks free and gasps)

Kazui: What’s this…? I’ve suddenly lost my strength…

Es: (heavy breathing) Prisoner number 7, Kazui! Do you have any idea what you’ve just done!? You’ve just committed a serious crime.

Kazui: (hums)

Es: Hey! Are you listening to me, Kazui!?

Kazui: Prison guard-kun fought me when I squeezed them… That’s not the image I got from Futa’s account. I thought you’d overpower me,

Es: Huh?

Kazui: but you tried to get out as soon as I started, and - “What’s this?” I suddenly lost control of my own body.

Es: (huffs) I don’t know all the details either, I just know that a prisoner can’t attack the guard.

Kazui: I see… (laughs) But it’s not like a magic barrier- An old man like me wouldn’t be able to handle that… (As an old man, that helps) Still, in terms of reality… it feels a bit like it was hypnosis.

Es: Hey! I don’t care about that!

Kazui: Hm?

Es: Sit down there, Kazui!

Kazui: (chuckles) Ok, ok.

Es: The manner of these prisoners towards their prison guard... Don’t treat me as if I’m a kid, but that behavior is uncalled for... I'm not going to forgive you (for treating me like that), what do you have to say for yourself?

Kazui: Hmm…

Kazui: (claps) Sorry!

Es: Huh?

Kazui: Really- sorry, sorry! I was worried I’d get injured by you, Prison guard-kun. From now on I’ll try to get information safely. Depending on who they are, everyone has their own method of gathering information.

Es: Huh?

Kazui: I’m an anxious old man, so I just needed to verify if Prison guard-kun was armed or not.

Es: You...To do that sort of thing to me…

Kazui: Mm? I thought it would be fine, but I suppose it wasn’t.

Es: Oh? But I didn't like it.

Kazui: Oh, no no, I don’t mean to offend you. Well, it’s no problem, if we can’t attack you, you can’t attack us, either.

Es: Hmm? (approaches him)

Kazui: What are you doing?

Es: (slaps him)

Kazui: T...that hurts….!

Es: Hey, what’s wrong? I was able to attack you?

Kazui: That was uncalled for-!.. Even so... that seems to be true…

Es: What, should I have said that earlier? Should slap you again to see if it works that time?

Kazui: Aw, I get it! I’ll be patient… (clears throat) I suppose the guard has decided the situation… We’re just scared of unfamiliar situations, don't you hate it - not knowing things?

Kazui: If I can’t expect it, it could hurt me. Even if not, it's better to see first. There’s always something dangerous. And what’s more, from the beginning of this session, you seem unfazed by this “mechanism”- somewhere, it sounds like pieces of something are moving. (??)

Es: What are you trying to say?

Kazui: In other words, we’re divided into the positions of Guard and Prisoner. We’re both trying to glean the information we lack.

Kazui: I think it’s “fair” in that sense.

Es: Me and you guys… we’re “fair”?

Kazui: Well, that’s my guess. I was hoping that Prison guard-kun would agree with me if I decided it was okay.

Es: Hmm… but you’re such a chatty man.

Kazui: (laughs) That’s true (laughs) I’m worried all the time, this old man’s no good.

Es: Well, what you’re saying is pretty interesting. It’s true; at some times I don’t even know everything about MILGRAM.

Kazui: (affirmative hum)

Es: But! I am the Prison Guard of MILGRAM, and you’re a prisoner, that much is true.

Kazui: (hum)

Es: That’s the most important thing here. Now then, Prisoner number 7, Kazui. Let’s get started.

Kazui: Alright, very professional aren’t we? (laughs) Well, let me introduce myself. I like this too. This isn’t my first time introducing myself to you.

Kazui: Once again, it’s Mukuhara Kazui, age 39. Nice to meet you, Prison guard-kun.

Es: Hm. You guys are all murderous prisoners. Kazui, you shouldn’t be so cheerful.

Kazui: Murderous... is that it? Well, you’re not wrong there.

Es: Mm? Confess it then.

Kazui: Confess.. At the very least, I believe I’m a murderer. I admit that. I don’t know if that’s a good way to put it.

Es: A good way to put it…?

Kazui: And that’s all there is, for the most part. To me, there should be no murderers aside from me. (??????????????????????????????????????)

Es: What do you mean?

Kazui: For example, for what reason are you gathering us murderers here? That’s something a crazy person would do. Is there a better word other than “murderer”? The term is too broad.

Es: Hey, Kazui. This isn’t the time to be asking questions.

Kazui: And I’m not recognizable as a murderer, unless you know my crime. Why the hell are we even on trial? It doesn’t make sense.

Es: I don’t give a damn about all that. I am the one who will decide whether to forgive you or not.

Kazui: Oh, is that so? Even though I don’t know who you’re working for?

Es: They’re fluffy. And if there's a problem, they’ll show up.

Kazui: Hm..? It’s something like that..?

Es: Stop acting like a detective, it’s unpleasant.

Kazui: Okay, okay.

Es: (sighs) Kazui. How do you feel about the other prisoners?

Kazui: Oh, that’s a good one. Don’t worry, everyone is well and friendly. The younger ones often get stressed, but there seems to be a good balance.

Es: That answer would be the same no matter who you ask. Don’t worry about conflicts between prisoners.

Kazui: Isn’t that what’s happening right now? I don’t really know what’s in my head, and you don’t know what life is like outside of here (???)

Es: Hm?

Kazui: There's an air of good feelings around the prison. I would be okay with living here forever. Why have you prepared such an environment..?

Es: Hey! Stop trying to get the conversation off track!

Kazui: (laughs) I got caught. Forgive me, alright? I’m an old man, I can’t help teasing kids like you- I have to be a little mischievous.

Es: You’re the same as Shidou. I hate it. I swear, does every adult act this way?

Kazui: (laughs) Did Shidou-kun also do that? He’s really calm, isn’t he? Can’t take that one sitting down.

Es: Are you different? You seem just as childish.

Kazui: Mmm… Does it seem that way? That’s good.

Es: What’s good about that? I don’t get this.

Es: This is a place where your consciousness will reveal itself (?) calculated by the impressions from others, but they can easily lie.

Kazui: This is, this is… You’re pretty tough. (laughs) But you’re not showing your true self, and neither am I.

Es: Hm…

Kazui: But, I’m older, so I have to take more responsibility/I need to try harder when I’m around kids like you. I’m an old man, so I need to keep a smile on my face while hiding my fangs.. Even if you are young.

Es: I see..

Kazui: You can tell I’m lying… Well, that may be the case. Unfortunately for you adults are very good at lying.

Es: Adults, huh?

Kazui: You’ll be stumped(?). Although, maybe you have some mysterious power...

Es: (cute laugh) Hey, Kazui…

Kazui: Yeah?

Es: That’s exactly it.

Kazui: Eh?

Es: I see your weakness. I can look inside you and unravel the sounds of your heart… What’s more, that adult technique. (??)

Kazui: (laughing) What? What’s that supposed to mean?

Es: Stop laughing, it’s unpleasant.

Kazui: (oh hoho…) Oi, oi, What on Earth is going on here….

Es: Are you a sweet-natured man who takes his losses well? Or are you really someone else?

Kazui: (hums)

Es: I’m looking forward to seeing it… Is it possible to hide anything from it? (‘it’ being the MILGRAM machine that produces the songs). I see now...

Es: In time, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll see the vulnerabilities in the lies of a murderer.. Though I’ve already seen through it a while ago.

Kazui: So… You’re going to do all that?

Es: What do you think?

Kazui: Well, it’s not so bad… sounds just like an adult, doesn’t it?

Es: (laughs) Being an adult, huh… Don’t use that as an excuse for you behavior, coward*

Kazui: (offended sound)

Es: In this place, it doesn’t matter whether you’re an adult or a child. MILGRAM forces you to stare deep into yourself, and you can’t escape.

Kazui: I…. see. I don’t care about this place of yours, and it hasn’t even scratched my surface. I just want to be stronger than it. (?)

Kazui: Of course, I’ve killed, and now I have no reservations about breaking any other laws. It’s different… I wonder if I’m in trouble. Nothing has changed, but I don’t know how to feel. Don’t talk to me like you know what I’m feeling, kid.

Es: (offended noise)...

Es: Welcome, Mukuhara Kazui. I feel like we’ve met before… It's nice to meet you. I am Es, the prison guard of MILGRAM.

Kazui: (exhales, chuckles) Starting again, huh? Well, you won't regret it, that kind of relationship would be painful,

Es: That’s alright, isn’t it? Causing you pain is my job.

Kazui: Mm, you’re a pro.

Es: Surely, as just a regular human being, you can’t be totally prepared for this.

(Bell rings, machinery starts whirring)

Kazui: What’s this?

Es: It’s time for your cross-examination. You’ll face your regrets from now on.

Kazui: (sighs) Someone help… this is too much for me…

Es: That’s right, Kazui… show me your true feelings.

Kazui: Ahaha… Well, I’m embarrassed to concede to a child and say all that…

Es: Don’t worry. I’m going to know your soul from now on.

Kazui: Finding the truth of my inner feelings, huh? Alright.

Es: That’s right.

Kazui: Ah… oh, Prison guard-kun?

Es: What is it?

Kazui: This personality of mine… I’ve developed it from living in the world. Could you tell me about your own experiences? It’s a little annoying to have such a one-sided relationship, isn't it?

Es: I’m not interested in myself.

Kazui: That’s a lot of new information to add to the situation… I… I hide my own sins behind a delusion… I don’t know what you will see when it’s opened.

Es: Kazui…

Kazui: How’s that? Can you see how fickle adults are?

Es: Shut up. You’re the one who’s fickle.

Kazui: (laughs) Tough, isn't it? But is it the end?

Es: Prisoner #7, Kazui. Now, sing your sins.

#MILGRAM #voice drama #ミルグラム

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yolkyeomie · 4 years

Text

Humanity of the Inhuman | Kim Sunwoo

summary — legends are meant for the wild fantasies of the dream world, but when one myth suddenly comes true, you find yourself tangled within its webs of reality.

word count — 7.2k words

pairing — sunwoo x female!reader (ft. x juyeon in a sense?)

genre — college au, gumiho au

disclaimer — !! light mentions of death, blood, and injury !! this is an wip of fic that I did not have the energy to complete, so it leaves off at a pretty big cliff hanger :( but if enough people enjoy it it I’ll make a part 2 or sumn lol (update: it does in fact have a part 2 now, go enjoy it!)

part I | part II | part III | part IV?

“Nine tailed foxes,” the instructor stated, pointing their finger towards the pictures that were projected upon the board. There were three different depictions of the creature from other cultures posted up together, expressing how each of the cultures viewed the mythical being. Mindlessly you began to draw on the notebook set in front of you, taking in each picture and messing different aspects that you liked together.

“Known as the Kitsune in Japan, the Huli Jing in China, and the Gumiho here,” they continued, switching to the next slide that only displayed more old pictures of the fox, “they are a well known part of our folklore today that even western countries have begun to adopt their own version of this creature into their literature.”

“If it’s so popular, why are we learning about it now,” you mumbled, the lead of your pencil snapping as soon as the words had been spoken into existence. You let out a deep sigh at the inconvenience, letting an angry curse come out of your mouth as you leaned over to grab something new to write with.

Though you stopped mid turn as a black pen was placed into your vision. Curiously you glanced up to catch the smiling sight of Juyeon above you, waving around his pen and urging you to take it from his hand. “We’re learning about the Gumiho because it’s an important part of our folklore, just because it’s well known doesn’t mean you shouldn’t teach it.”

He was an acquaintance, nothing more than that, a “school friend” if that made more sense. You had met him the first day you attended the mythology class after picking up the course for fun, seeing as the only available seat in the room was by him. Having no friends who attended the class at the same time as you, he had offered to become one and you gladly took up his request in order to feel a little less only in the room full of strangers.

It was a little odd to see a class so minor like this be jam packed with students, but you did notice the recent influx of people who were interested in the mythologies of their and others cultures.

Plus, you didn’t do very well on your own and were a little more socially dependent than you’d like to admit, so Juyeon’s willingness to befriend you was greatly appreciated.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” you shrug, gratefully taking the pen out of his hands. “But still, what person doesn’t know the wild tales of the nine tailed foxes? They’re like… everywhere now. If I meet someone who didn’t even have a clue what I was talking about, I’d be surprised.”

“You never know,” Juyeon continued, urging you to take a look at the board. Being presented was the Korean version of the nine tailed fox, a few notes typed beside the art describing the details and depictions of what was generally believed about the fox demon. “Maybe one day you’ll need that information to save yourself from a Gumiho one day?”

You snorted at his words, pointing out one of the bullet points to him and quietly reading them to him. “First of all, this is a mythology class. That means everything we learn here is a myth, not real? Secondly, it clearly says that they seduce men and last time I checked, I’m not a man.”

“Well, I guess you’ve got a point there,” he nodded, laying his head in his hands as he half heartedly listened to the teacher speak. “I guess I’m the one who should be paying more attention to the lecture since I’m the man, but I don’t think a Gumiho would ever find interest in me.”

“Why?” You questioned, a teasing smile appearing on your face and you poked the pin cap into his side. “It’s said that gumihos eat human livers, do you have bad livers or something? Do you have some sort of liver disease that would make you undesirable to a fox?”

“If I say yes will you stop poking me?” He innocently asked.

“I’d know you’re lying if you said yes, you’re rather healthy despite some… odd habits you have,” you clarify, giving the boy a skeptical look before turning back towards the board. You were only acquaintances with Juyeon, but there were times you’d catch him in the hallways of the building or dorms when you were looking for Kevin doing skeptical activities. Most of the time he was just smuggling snacks that his roommate would steal out of the room but man did he look crazy while he did so.

“Hey, those aren’t odd habits, it’s me protecting what I paid for,” Juyeon argued, a pout developing on his face as he tried to explain himself, “if you don’t pay for it, you don’t get a bite of it! That’s the rules and you have to respect the rules.”

You only spared Juyeon a quick glance, your eyes full of skepticism for him. He was a nice guy, a decent person to hang around, but awkwardly catching him in the hallways like a criminal running from a crime scene was all you had to see from him to determine whether or not you wanted to hang around him often. “Y/N, seriously! I'm not some freak I promise, my roommates and I just do this often and—“

“Sure, Juyeon,” you nodded, softly patting his back in only slight comfort. “I completely understand what you mean.”

“Y/N!” He complained a little louder this time, earning some sneaking looks from the rest of your peers. The two of you weren’t the biggest troublemakers but you did have a volume problem more often than you’d like to admit. Though, that was mainly because Juyeon doesn’t understand when to keep his mouth shut. “Come on, Y/N, I know you don’t believe what I’m saying but you gotta! I can even show you what we—“

“I really don’t want to walk into that room,” you decline almost immediately, “something tells me I’ll regret it if I do.”

A small chuckle left Juyeon’s mouth at your harsh words, finally taking the response as an end to the conversation. It seemed as though the two of you had stopped just in time though, as a deep sigh left your instructor’s lips. The entire class turned their head towards him in confusion, unsure on what sort of gloom had possessed their mythology teacher.

“I think… I’ll end class early today,” he declared, turning off the board that had projected the day’s lesson. In a flash, your reference for your very own nine tailed fox disappeared in front of your eyes as the instructor continued to speak. “The rain just… throws me off the mood for today.”

Instinctively you turned your head toward the window and lo and behold, the rain was pouring down outdoors. Many students groaned at the sudden change in forecast, not having brought umbrellas to shield them from such weather since the day had called from sunny skies. “Ah… that’s gonna suck going home,” you tell yourself, noting how even you hadn’t brought an umbrella.

“Excuse me!” A student called out, drawing attention to the front of the class where they had seated themselves. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you superstitious? Usually rain is considered a good thing especially on wedding days. It’s supposed to be a good omen for the future of their marriage.”

“Superstitious?” He hummed in response, thinking to himself for a few moments before answering. “Well, in a sense? Not for the reasons you think I am though.”

“Does it have something to do with gumihos?” You couldn’t help but ask, curiosity getting the best of you as you blurted out in front of everyone. The class turned back to look at you expectantly, exchanging confused and bewildered glances with each other. Even Juyeon looked at you as though you were beginning to lose your mind. You don’t really blame them, rain didn’t really have anything to do with gumihos after all.

However, your teacher smiled at you. His eyes crinkled at their sides and his wrinkles from age becoming more prominent as his smile continuously grew larger as he thought about his answer again. “Something my grandparents used to tell me when I was younger,” he began, each student getting left on the edge of their seats as he turned back towards the rainfall, “that when it rained, it meant a gumiho had entered the premise.”

II.

“You don’t actually believe him, do you?” Juyeon asked, holding the borrowed umbrella over your heads. The boy had offered to walk you home in the disastrous, knowing you lived off campus instead of in the dorms. The dorms were a lot closer to the apartment you had rented out, so the two of you had scrambled over to his room first in order to grab an umbrella and begin the trek to your home.

He was only walking you towards the closest bus stop to the campus, not wanting to intrude on your privacy any further than he already was. Juyeon was just your acquaintance from mythology after all, he was just a little too nice to let you go out into the rain and get soaking wet.

“What, about the whole rain and gumiho thing?” You responded, remembering your teacher's statement he had ended the class with. You shrugged after a moment to yourself, “honestly, not really. I mean, come on, gumihos being related to the rain? It doesn’t even make that much sense the more you think about it.”

“I guess you’re right,” he agreed, “but don’t you think it’s a little weird how he seemed to believe it? Whole heartedly too, he ended the whole class over some superstition his grandparents told him!”

“It’s probably an old saying in his family or something,” you ultimately decide, nodding your head to yourself as you come to a conclusion. “Lots of people have things like heirlooms and stories that get passed down from generation to generation, maybe that’s what that was. Maybe his family is really big on nine tailed foxes and rain.”

He shook his head in disagreement, stopping in place and nearly causing you to get soaked by the downpour. “I don’t think so, why would they pass down a saying like that when gumihos aren’t real?”

“How do you know that they aren’t real?” You challenged him.

“Because if they were real, then we wouldn’t be learning about it in a mythology class and calling it folklore,” Juyeon stretched his arm out so that the umbrella was covering the both of you as he kept talking, “Humans are like… cockroaches. We force ourselves into the lives of other beings, I think we would have done something about gumihos by now don’t you think?”

You grinned at him as you rocked back and forth on your feet absentmindedly, nugging his shoulder soft as you teased, “wow, I know the lesson wasn’t long today but did you already forget that we were taught? Once a fox has lived for a thousand years, it becomes a gumiho and can shapeshift! How will you know your face to face with a fearsome nine tailed fox when they look exactly like any normal stranger on the street?”

You didn’t even give the boy a chance to speak as you stood in front of him, your back getting pelted with the rain droplets as you continued to jeer, “anyone could be a gumiho. I could be a gumiho, your roommate could be a gumiho, our teacher could be a gumiho, even you could be a gumiho and we’d never know a thing!”

“I think you're forgetting something,” Juyeon countered, pulling out his phone from his pocket and waving it in your face. “Humans have technology, we’ll just develop more technology to find them if we need to.”

“Gosh, you’re no fun,” you pout.

“And your bus stop is right there,” he pointed behind you, taking note of the metal structure built on the side of the road.

You struggle to decide whether or not you want to steal his umbrella as payback for being the way he was but ultimately ditched the idea. “Fine, I’ll see next week then? That is, if you don’t get eaten by a gumiho that is.” You teased.

You watched as annoyance contorted on his face, wanting to find a reason to be mad at you but unable to keep the grin off his face. “I’m not going to be eaten by a gumiho, Y/N. Did we not just have the conversation that they aren’t real?”

“Gumihos seduce men to absorb their energy!” You argued once more. “You’re a physically fit guy whose kept his livers healthy and you’ve got the looks to draw attention to you, you’re the perfect meal for a nine tailed fox to catch!”

“Go home, Y/N,” he urged, pushing you out from under his umbrella. You whined at his audacity and quickly covered your head with your hands in an attempt to shield yourself from the rain. The boy only laughed at your reaction before waving you off, giving you a small farewell as you rushed over towards the bus stop.

When you glanced back to find him again, Juyeon was gone, turned around the corner with his umbrella in tow and forcing you to sit and wait for the bus stop to come if you didn’t want to be soaked by the time you got home.

“Sheesh he could have waited until the bus actually came,” you complained, sitting back on the bench with a somewhat annoyed frown donning your face once again. Juyeon always seemed like he was in a hurry at times, whether he was sneaking around the dorms on your campus or rushing through the hallways to get to his next destination, he always had somewhere to be. There were times where he’d completely ignore your existence in and outside of your mythology class because of his need for action, too busy with his daily life to even spare you a glance.

You wondered where he so urgently needed to go at times, but ultimately knew that was none of your business. The two of you were nothing but classmates, school friends who helped each other out every so often whenever you got the chance. You had no right to dig into Juyeon’s business, so you never tried to cross the line the two of you set up for each other. You don’t really know if you wanted to cross it in the first place.

Besides, he never even said hello to whenever he was in a rush! Why bother trying to discover something where he has to completely ignore your existence to do it? That wasn’t exactly your type of information and gossip you wanted to gather and indulge in.

You sat at the bus stop for around three or four minutes, unwillingly listening to the pitter patter of the rain on the bus stop glass. Like your superstitious instructor, you weren’t very fond of the rain but not for the same reasons. The weather would always ruin plans you had been looking forward to for weeks and the days that came after it always felt humid and musty, you didn’t enjoy the aftermath of rain like other people did.

Don’t even get you started on the days where a thunderstorm would roll over the city, those were the worst days of your life.

You snap out of your daze for a moment, however, completely forgetting your hatred for the raining weather at the sound of barking floating through the air. You tried to ignore it at first, comfortably leaning against the side of the structure and scrolling across your phone to distract yourself, but you couldn’t help it. The more you tried to pretend like the sound didn’t exist the louder it seemed to become, which was a lot seeing as the downpour was a little louder than normal.

Begrudgingly, you stood up out of your seat and shoved your phone deep into your pockets. “Is the universe trying to tell me something today?” You mumbled, covering your head with your hands and stepping out into the rain. You peered across the street where the barking was coming, checking the side of the road for any oncoming cars before rushing to the other side.

The closer you got to the other sidewalk, the louder and more distinct the barking became, resembling more of a young dog than a fully grown one. The barks were more closely related to squeaky toes than anything if you had to be honest; light, annoying, and young. But there was no one else on the street beside you, and your morals were telling you to involve yourself instead of run away.

“Puppy...or puppies?” You called, not exactly having a name to call out for the animals. You don’t even know if they could hear you over the rainfall, but it was worth a shot. If they didn’t come running to you soon you were going to run right back to the bus stop for shelter and go home. You didn’t want to fall ill from standing out in the rain for too long and you didn’t want to miss your bus stop either. “Come here, boy! Or girl…? Whatever you are, come here! I’ll get you some place warm and out of the rain.”

There was no response, which was to be expected. They were animals, not humans, so they couldn’t exactly reply back even if they really wanted to. The barking was still echoing across the area but there was no sign of the animal making all the commotion, not to mention the fact that the rain was beginning to fall harder with each passing second. You might have to give up early if you didn’t want to get caught in a potential thunderstorm, it hurt your heart but you had to take care of yourself as well.

“Ah, I better hurry up before I miss the bus home… walking is going to be a pain if I do,” you mumble to yourself, turning to sprint across the street.

Though you stopped yourself from moving when you heard the sound of bells echoing against your ears, ringing loud and clear within your head as if it was right in front of you. You cautiously look around you for the source of the bells, the jingling rippling out to the rest of the world like a droplet of water falling into a lake. The bells chimed again in your head, yet this time pulling in a certain direction and urging you to continue on that way.

Glancing between the bus stop and the direction you were being pulled toward, you followed the jingling of the bells. Everything in your body was telling you that chasing after the ringing was a bad idea but nevertheless you pushed forward. The dog barking had completely gone silent and the loudest thing in the area was no longer the rain, but the bells in your ears.

You scurried across the sidewalk like a cat, trying your best to stay dry in the unfortunate weather but ultimately failing as you began to feel your clothes stick to your skin. “Ah, there’s no way I’m not going to be sick after this.” You mumbled, turning the corner to peer down an alleyway where the bell chiming was the strongest.

“I’m wet and cold and I’ve been out here for way too— oh my god!” A scream fell out your mouth as you tumbled to the ground petrified by the sight before you. Slumped up against the wall was a boy, barely clinging onto his life as he took slow ragged breaths to keep himself stable. On his arms was the familiar crimson red creeping down his forehead and splattering to the ground, creating a mixture of water and blood pooling underneath him.

Did you just find the end results of a bloody fight? In the middle of the city and close to your college’s campus no less?

“Excuse me, are you alright?” You called out to him, mentally smacking yourself for asking such a question. Clearly the boy wasn’t okay, he was bleeding out in the middle of the rain!

Despite the stupidity of the question, he slowly turned his head toward you. A majority of his face was covered by his hair being plastered against his head thanks to the rain so you couldn’t exactly see if he was looking directly at you, but the mere fact that he was responsive was enough for you.

You hurry over to him as fast as you could, though careful not to slip and fall on the slippery ground, before crouching down next to him. “Can you move at all? It’s not good to sit out here in the rain and waste away, you need to go to a hospital or something—“

“No,” he declined, forcing himself to sit up against the wall and make an attempt to stand up. The boy struggled to himself up right, leaning against the wall for support and the severity of his wounds being put on display. It didn’t look like he got into a fight, per se, more like he had been attacked by an animal. He had large gashes that covered his body and his clothes were tattered and stained with the red hue they leaked down his arm. He needed any sort of medical attention, right away or he might actually bleed out in the middle of the alleyway.

“Can you not see that you’re hurt?” You hissed, grabbing a hold of his wrist and tugging him down to your height. The boy grimaced at your toughness as you rolled up his sleeve, catching sight of an ugly yet fresh scar that needed to be addressed immediately. “You need to go to a hospital, or you’ll die out here in the rain.”

“No,” he challenged you, his face somewhat akin to an animal’s snarl as he tried to snatch his arm away from you. In that instance you heard the soft of the bells that had led you down the alleyway, much louder than they had been before and nearly drowning at the words that the boy had spoken. It sounded like… the ringing was coming directly from him. “I can’t go there, I won’t go there. They won’t be able to help anyway.”

“Are you an idiot?” You couldn’t help but ask, almost scoffing at his persistence to stay away from medically trained professionals. His lips formed into a pout, appalled by the fact that you had the audacity to call him an idiot. “I’m trying to help you man. It’s raining, you’re bleeding out, and I’ve probably missed my ride to go home. Please don't take my kindness for granted and let me help you.”

III.

You laid down in the middle of your bed, staring at your ceiling as you struggled to recall the events from the day before. It’s not like you to forget things easily or anything, in fact you had a rather decent memory when it came to remembering events that had taken place beforehand. You didn’t have a photographic memory, you just had a habit of remembering little details that have happened throughout your day.

But right now? You couldn’t remember a single thing that had happened yesterday.

Most of what you could remember was leaving your mythology early because your teacher had ended the class early. He didn’t like the rain and it had shifted his mood and everyone was grateful for the extra time off. Juyeon had generously offered to walk you to your bus stop with his umbrella so that you could get home without getting rained on and…. that’s where it ends. You can’t recall anything that happened after that. You don’t even remember ever walking into your house the more that you think about it.

“Alright, this is weird,” you declare, forcing yourself to sit up off of the bed. At least you had no classes to attend, you don’t know how you could pay attention to anything you were being taught if you had to deal with your sudden memory loss. “Why can’t I remember anything? Why does it feel like what u forgot was something really important too…?”

Just when you felt as though you were on the verge of pulling your hair out, your phone began to ring. It was a lot louder than you originally set the volume on and was practically screaming at you to pick it up instead of ignoring it like normal. Frustrated, you snatched the device from underneath the sheets and answered the call with a much more aggressive “hello?” than you had meant to start with.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Juyeon’s voice registered through the speaker.

Juyeon. Why was Juyeon calling you right now? The two of you don’t usually call each other unless it was something class related because you weren’t close enough to each other to hold conversations like that. So the mere fact that he had called you out of the blue like this was…. weird to say the least. “Of course,” you replied, giving your voice a lighter tone than when you had answered. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You called me a couple of times yesterday but I didn’t answer because I was busy,” he clarified, giving you a little peek as to what had happened the day before.

You called Juyeon first, why would you do that? You didn’t even call him once, but multiple times given the way he had worded his sentence. You’re not even close to Juyeon, why would you even dare to call him several times yesterday? If you were in trouble you should have just called Kevin like normal! “Are you saying you don’t remember?”

“Yes, actually, I don’t remember anything that happened yesterday.” Maybe you had gone to go get a drink or something before coming home and that’s why your thoughts from yesterday were blurry. But you’re not the type of person to drink that much, at least not alone you wouldn’t. “Listen, Juyeon, I’m sorry about all of this. I didn’t mean to call you, I was just… out of it or something. I don’t know I just can’t remember right now.”

“It’s fine, Y/N, don’t worry I’m just glad you’re alright. I got worried something might have happened to you but hearing you now makes me relieved.” You smiled at his words, letting his caring words for you twirl around in your head like ribbons. Juyeon was just too nice to you, honestly, but he was probably like this with everyone he knew. It made sense if he was, he was kind to almost everyone he met.

Before you could answer, the jingling of bells echoing through your ears, distracting you from any other words that might have come out of the boy’s mouth. You glanced around the room for shunting that could have made the noise, but you don't exactly have anything that could chime like the whimsical clicking of a wind chime. “Do you hear that?” You asked him, cutting off the boy mid sentence as you stood up.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” he answered, “what am I supposed to be hearing? All I hear is you.”

In a flash all of the memories from the day before flooding back to you. The barking, the bell ringing, and the injured boy who refused to go to the hospital to treat his wounds. It all came back to you now, but why had it gone away in the first place. “I’ll… I’ll call you back, Juyeon.”

“Y/N? Y/N, what's wrong? Is something—“ you hung up before he could finish his sentence, cautiously following the ever growing sounds of the bells you had heard earlier. The closer you got to your door, the louder the chiming became, probably signifying the fact that you were going in the right direction.The last time you had followed the bells, they led you straight to the wounded boy. So if your hunch was right, it was most likely leading you straight back to him.

You carefully opened the door to your room, peering through the crack in the door frame to see what was going on. It was eerily silent and for the most the entirety of your apartment showed no signs of inhabiting a second person. “That’s odd…,” you noted, fully stepping out of your room to look around the room for the boy from yesterday. It seemed as though he hadn’t even lived in your house for an hour. “I don’t think he ever left… and I still can hear those bells so he can’t be far.”

Goosebumps ran down your spine as a cold wind blew through your living room. Something was off, you’ve never felt uneasy in your own home before. You had picked this apartment to live in because it felt comfortable and warm like home, but the only thing you were getting from it now was the feeling of being watched. As if a pair of eyes were carefully taking in your every move to determine how you’d react next.

“I know, you’re here,” you stated, rolling your eyes as you began to turn around. “You couldn’t have left in the middle of the night, you were bleeding out and collapsed as soon as you—“

You stopped mid sentence when you stopped the boy in the hallway to your bathroom, frazzled and confused by his surroundings yet still keeping a close eye on you. Now that he wasn’t soaking wet and bleeding (thanks to your amateur bandaging skills) you couldn’t help but notice how much more innocent without the dramatic effect of everything that had happened yesterday. “You really are still here, nice to see you didn’t die while I was asleep.”

“Where am I?” He demanded, not as aggressive as he was the day before but still in a rather rude tone you weren’t expecting from him. “How did I get here and… who are you?”

You slumped onto the small couch of your living room, glancing around the room for a moment before turning back to him with a cheeky smile on your face. “Heaven. You died in your sleep and now you’re in heaven. In the goddess that's going to accompany you through the afterlife.”

“Lies, you just said I didn’t die while I was sleeping,” he quickly pointed out, catching your lie as soon as it came out your mouth.

“Woah, despite all those injuries and passing out in the way here you still have a working brain, that’s good to know,” you tease him, watching as the boy rolled his eyes at your tiny jabs. “I’m Y/N but i guess you can just call me your savior really. Oh, and this is my house. You slept on the couch last night and I appreciate the fact that there is no blood on my cushions. Thanks.”

He nodded his head in understanding, though it seemed like the movements weren't actually correlating to what his mind was thinking. “Wait, you’re my… savior? No that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why not?” You questioned, “I saw you bleeding out in an alleyway yesterday and I tried to take you to hospital but you kept refusing to go, so I just… took you home. I address your wounds and everything and just hoped that when I woke up there wouldn’t be a corpse in my living room. Luckily, as we see now, there isn’t. I saved your life.”

“No!” He yelled, rolling up his tattered clothes to find messily wrapped bandages all over his body. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you were dying?” You blurted, confused to the boy’s sudden panic. “What would you rather have bled out in public for all to see?”

“Yes, actually, that would have been the better option of the two.” How ungrateful was this boy? You saved his life and all he has to say is that he wished you didn’t? Maybe you should have strayed away from your morals for a second because all that had gotten you so far was a boy with no manners. “I don’t think you realize what you’ve done.”

“I have realized what I’ve done,” you responded, “I’ve saved your life because I’m a good person. Why are we arguing about this, there are no downsides to getting your lives saved. Wait, are you embarrassed because you got attacked by some feral cat and nearly died? Not gonna lie, I’d be embarrassed about something like that too.”

“I wasn’t… attacked by a cat,” he explained, a scoff threatening to spill out of his mouth at your bizarre accusation. “I don’t think a cat could make those types of scars.”

“If it wasn’t a cat…” you began, thinking aloud as you tried to member the wounds that covered the boy’s body. The more you pictured them in your head. The more you realize those weren’t… cat scars. They still seemed as though they were animal scars but a cat didn’t make that big a gash on a person’s body. You should have known, you’ve gone to cat cafes enough to have learned the hard way. “Then what…?”

“Gumihos,” the boy replied, tearing off the bandages you had wrapped around him the night before. You winced as you watched your handwork tumble to the ground, but were more concerned over the fact that the gashes on his arm were healed almost completely overnight. “I was attacked by gumihos.”

“Nine tailed foxes?” You blurted, more for yourself than the boy. Seeing you bewilderment made a smile begin to etch across his lips, childish yet mischievous as you tried to break down what you had learned in your head. “But… those are just folklore, they aren’t real. If they were, one would have been caught by humans at this point.

“Why? Don’t you know that a gumiho can shapeshift? They live among humans as if they were any other mortal in order to get what they want in life,” the boy explained, reminding you of the words you had thrown at Juyeon for making the same excuse. “You really think that they’d let a human catch sight of their existence and get away with it?”

“Okay then answer me this,” you ask, sitting up attentive to the stranger you had brought into your home. “If gumihos are real… then why did one attack you and leave you out to die? Don’t they usually kill humans for their livers and hearts? You should have been devoured by now.”

A hearty laugh left the boy’s mouth, much stronger and louder than the small giggle from earlier. His smile couldn’t stop growing on his face as he blinked his eyes at you, the dark browns of his iris swapping out to a bold amber yellow color. His pupils slowly began to dilate into the familiar small slits of a cat’s as your own eyes widened in pure fright. The boy you had saved had now become your greatest mistake. “What makes you think I’m human?”

IV.

“Juyeon!” You hissed at the boy, urging him to come to you once you had finally caught sight of him. He was walking with a group of his friends, people who hadn’t mingled with and didn’t know whether or not you wanted to in the first place. When the boy had turned his head to you, the entirety of his friend group did as well, displaying their bright and eager smiles as they waved their hands in greeting. Awkwardly you greeted them back, unsure of what to do next as they also whispered and muttered to themselves as they let Juyeon break from their group.

Hopefully it was something nice and not anything that could hurt your feelings. They were still grinning and jeering with each other despite whatever comments they were making, so maybe it was a conversation of their approval. Or at least… you hoped it was, you couldn’t really tell the difference. You acted like you had a tough shell but in reality you were way too soft when it came to a stranger’s perspective of you.

“What’s up Y/N?” He greeted, a fond smile plastered across his face as he stood in front of you with his hands shoved in his pockets. “It’s a rare sight to see you interact with me when we don’t have a class together. It must be serious.”

“Well…” you trailed off, unsure of how to explain to him. “I guess it’s serious? But nothing too serious… I need some advice really, that’s all.”

“Advise?” Juyeon questioned, intrigued by the topic you had brought him. “Wow… of all the people could have chosen, you need my advice! I can’t help but say I’m honored. But what happened to your other friend… Kevin was his name, right? He would come to walk you home after class sometimes, why aren’t you asking him?”

You grimace at the thought of the boy before quickly waving the thought away. “Kevin will just think I’m crazy and make fun of me. Plus, I think you’re probably most equipped to help me out here since we take mythology together and all.”

“Ah… still keeping this as a school oriented friendship right?” He teased, getting a small laugh to leave your mouth. “Alright, what is it? What mythological help do you need this time? I’m all ears.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure on how to word your sentences without sounding insane. The whole reason you had gone to Juyeon instead of Chanhee was because he would understand you a little better than your friend could. “Gumihos… you know how we’re learning about them currently, right? Is there something that people should know about them in order to protect themselves from one?”

Juyeon raised a brow at your question, staying silent as he thought to himself. “Gumihos? I thought you didn’t want to learn about gumihos because it was pop culture and everyone knows about them?”

“Well, what can I say!” You exclaimed, hoping to cover up your nervousness as much as possible. “I decided to take up a personal essay of sorts on those nine tailed foxes. I got intrigued a few days ago about them and I wanted to get as much information as I could about them, but we don’t go back to our mythology class until I… really can’t wait to get started.”

In reality, you actually had that gumiho boy holed up in your apartment still. In fear of the boy actually attempting to devour your liver you had locked him up in your bathroom and placed a talisman on the door so that he couldn’t escape. You had absolutely no clue on how to deal with a gumiho and you had only recently started your lesson on the fox spirits a few days ago. So needless to say, you wanted to be prepared for whatever might come next while housing him.

“That’s fair,” Juyeon agreed, taking your lie like candy and smiling brightly back at you. “I mean, the concept of nine tailed foxes are pretty cool, so I can’t blame you for looking into them a little further than everyone else.”

“So?” You asked, eagerly awaiting his answer, “Do you have any information I should know?”

“Well… there's this one thing I’ve been told before by my grandparents,” he explained, trying his best to recall past memories that had no use up until now. “Yeah, they would use old myths as stories to tell me before bed when I was a kid. They told me that no matter what fork a gumiho comes in, never let them kiss you.”

“Kiss?” You blurted out, shocked that that was the one thing he decided to share. “What’s kissing got to do with fox spirits?”

“It’s how they take your energy,” Juyeon told you, putting his pointer fingers together as if mimicking a kiss between two people. “When a gumiho kisses you, they absorb your energy. The more energy they absorb the weaker you become until you eventually die! Kinda scary, right? Not only do they feed off of human livers, but our mere life essence.”

“What type of bedtime story is that,” you mumbled, skeptically glancing over Juyeon. If that was the type of stories he was being told as a child, how was he not a little messed up in the head? If you were him, you would be absolutely terrified of everything even approaching you. Who knew when someone would randomly come up and kiss you? Your first and last kiss would be from a fox trying to steal your life away!

“I was very easy to tease as a child,” he shrugged, his smile turning sheepish as he softly scratched the back of his neck. “My grandparents loved telling me stories like that because I was an emotional little kid, ease to scare and quick to try and stuff like that.”

“That makes a little more sense,” you nodded, “no sane person would tell that as a bedtime story, it’s always got to be told to a child that’s easily scared.”

“Yeah, yeah, say what you want. If they hadn’t told them those stories of gumihos, I probably wouldn’t be taking mythology now,” Juyeon explained, glancing back toward the direction your shared class was. “And if I didn’t take mythology, you wouldn’t have any friends in that class.”

You shrug in response, he was right. If Juyeon had decided that he didn’t want to take the mythology course you probably wouldn’t have ever met him in the first place. So that was one good thing that had come out of his grandparents scaring him into the folklore of nine tailed foxes. “If you don’t mind me asking by the way,” the boy continued, switching topics while he still had your attention. “Whatever happened that day? You said you’d call me back but you never did. I can’t lie, I was a little worried for you again.”

“Ah, that,” you stall, struggling to make up a lie off the time of your head. You felt bad for lying to Juyeon more than you already were, you heard what he said! He’s worried about you and you didn’t want to put any more of load onto his back with your supernatural problems. “Well, I think I’ve got spirits in my house. I’ve been hearing weird noises sometimes and I thought you could hear it too, that’s why I asked.”

“Funny how things like this happen to a mythology student, huh? I wonder what kind of spirit has skipped their way into your house then.” Juyeon laughed, shaking his head at the ironic situation you had got yourself in, “well if you ever find yourself needing a home away from home, my dorm room is always open? We’d have to clean up a little bit before you arrive and sneak you in but anything to get away from spirits, right?”

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