#regurgitates lunch at the sight of my own face

[aska-ray]

outfit of uh yesterday technically I'm gonna actually go to bed now

#not pics #selfie #me #regurgitates lunch at the sight of my own face #if this gets 100 likes ill post the selfie outtakes of me judt making faces i have like 20 of those #dw me that wont happen thank god

[silkylious]

Tsunami (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Bakugo x fem reader

warnings: swearing, angst, fluff

A/N: Ahhhh this is my first post on tumblr, i hope you like some bittersweet  goodness w angry boi. constructive criticism is much appreciated!

Love.

Such a complex, convoluted emotion that many people find themselves falling helplessly victim to. Of course, there are the cheesy scenes in romantic movies that exaggerate and almost drain all meaning from the prickly feeling; sharing a sweet kiss while basking in the cool caresses of dewdrops, or having a dim-lit home dinner -scenes which drove his gag reflex reeling, he simply couldn’t understand the appeal of mushing faces with someone when he had better things to do, to achieve. He was going to be the number one, dammit, he didn’t have time to waste on cuddling and doing “couple-y shit” with some extra. That’s not to say he’d never had a crush, or found some girls attractive, hot even, but he kept in mind all his “crushes” (he loathes that word with a burning passion) were merely fueled by his hormonal mind, driven by pure sexual attraction. Nothing more, nothing less. So, he never sought out relationships.

And that was enough for him to keep his peace, unhindered and undisturbed on his desolate little boat, one that he was rowing tirelessly towards his end goal, with no waves and no turbulences daring to stand in his way of firmly grasping that number one spot.  

Until a tsunami came crashing in, pummeling him off his safe cruise.

That tsunami was you.

He really should have seen the signs -no that’s not right, he definitely noticed the red flags raising in his peripherals, he should have acknowledged them. It started out as small, barely existent ripples, something to break the monotony of his journey and rock his boat gently. You’d always greet him with that stupidly bright smile, the one that made him feel uncomfortable, skittish (though he hadn’t realized why yet), the one that surely made the sun writhe in boiling jealousy. No matter what time of the day it was, how early in the morning or how deep into the night, you always seemed to make it a point to address him with that unhinged, cheeky grin. He’d reply with a curt nod, or a faint grunt if you caught him on a good day, wanting desperately to ignore the brewing sensation inside him.

“Hey, Bakugo! Did ya sleep well?”

He never replied to the tedious question, refusing to give into the one-sided small talk. That didn’t stop you from resuming your daily routine of pestering him about his training progress or babbling about some movie he couldn’t care less about. He didn’t pay an inkling of attention to the stream of word vomit pouring out of your mouth, no, he much rather zoned in on the way your lips move languidly, still upholding that infuriating smile, the way stray follicles fell over your neck, having escaped from the usual updo you were sporting. His concentration faded in and out of the single-sided conversation, managing to scrap together bits and pieces of whatever you were droning on about. Though he never made any effort in reciprocating your enthusiasm, he never shut you down either (like he would most people), and that was incentive enough for you to keep coming back. To keep talking his ear off with a cluelessly precious smile.

Looking back, he probably should have stopped it there, but he didn’t, he couldn’t help but revel unconsciously in your optimism, though he’d be buried six feet underground before he admitted that. It looked all too peaceful, he didn’t mind the soft stir in his boat, and he was more than content to leave it at that. But then you had to go and push your luck.

You were infinitely aware that he treated you… differently, to say the least, your classmates were also painfully conscious of his strangely tamed and, dare I say, docile way he acted around you, everyone with eyes could see it, except him apparently. Even if he was agonizingly oblivious to his own feelings, yours too, your heart couldn’t help but accelerate whenever he displayed a rare act of kindness towards you. One time in particular, he scolded you for overworking yourself while tending to your wounds, his words lacking the usual bite, none the wiser to the chest palpitations he was effortlessly causing. You couldn’t take it, you had to test your luck. You desired to be closer to him, for him to view as more than a nuisance, you wanted to be more than just acquaintances. With caution thrown to the wind, you embarked on a mission to befriend the Bakugo Katsuki.

That’s when the small ripples that would gingerly sway him turned more rigorous; they evolved into waves, ones he needed to smoothly ride if he didn’t want to fall victim to their ferocity.

He became much more aware of your stature in his lifestyle, how could he not? You’d made it a goal to sit with him during lunch, to share with him your bento box, to talk to him at any given moment. And it was then that he discovered a new part of you, one that was hidden behind your tactful persona. It became a common spectacle during lunch, you two hurling remarks at each other, yours more calculated and sarcastic while his were loud and fiery (in true Bakugo fashion), though the competitive grin stretching his lips, wrinkling the corners of his ruby hues gave away his enjoyment. Bakugo could never get over your quick wit, the speed at which you replied to him with your own quips almost gave him whiplash every time, if he didn’t know better he’d think you were regurgitating pre-written comebacks. It took a bit of coaxing at first, but eventually he gave into your petty bickering (all you had to do was mention Deku this and half-n-half bastard that), and then before he knew it, it was part of his routine, but can you blame him? He was presented with a challenge, of course he’d step up to the plate!

Your waves threatened his quaint, little sail, he had to learn to surf them if he didn’t want to topple over. And so, he did, after all, Bakugo Katsuki never backed down from a challenge.

Your comradery only strengthened from there. You trained together, him pushing your limits with his abysmal power and sheer instinct, you pushing his with precise movements and surprising agility. You strangely complemented each other, both in fighting styles and general attitude. He (aggressively) helped you with your academic shortcomings, and though his methods of teaching were very questionable, they proved to be fruitful as your grades had spiked significantly from his (torturous) aid. You’d grown impossibly closer, spending every waking moment together or thinking about each other. Katsuki didn’t know when it became a habit to anticipate your “goodnight” text, or when just the sight of your face made his anger practically dissipate into thin air.

“So, do you wanna come over to study, I’m kinda struggling with algebra,” You sighed sheepishly, scratching at the back of your head.

“No.” came the blunt response.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be such a meanie!” You jutted your bottom lip out much like how a kid throwing a tantrum would, his eyes couldn’t help but flicker down to the childish pout, when suddenly it turned into a poorly constrained grin. You had an idea. “Well, whatever, I was gonna order takeout from a new place down the road, I heard they have pretty spicy ramen there, but I guess I’ll order for one,”

You watched with mild amusement and well-concealed affection as his fiery eyes seemed to light up at the mention of spicy food. “Fine, dumbass, but I’m only doing this ‘cuz your sorry ass would fail without me,”

“Mhmm, sure thing, Bakugo,” You practically sang, a teasing lilt to your voice.

Bakugo.

That didn’t sound right at this point. Words left him before his brain could even process what he said, what he was insinuating.

“Katsuki.” He mumbled firmly. Your eyes widened a fraction, giving away your surprise.

“W-What?”

“Call me Katsuki,” It came out more assuredly this time, his glare directed forward as you both walked to your destination, missing the soft smile adorning your lips and the affection oozing out of your gaze.

“Sure thing, Katsuki.” His own lips curled into a faint smile, a tiny tug at the corners of his lips.

A push-and-pull rhythm was created between you; your waves pulling him in, only for his skillful hands and sails to conquer them. It was an endless tug of war, neither of you seemed to mind it, it blanketed you both in a sheen of serenity.

The calm before the storm.

It was merely an innocent question, a teasing inquiry at most, directed at him by his electric blonde friend. “So, man, when are you gonna ask (last name) out? Y’know if you don’t ask her soon, someone else will,”

Katsuki could have sworn he switched quirks with the dunce faced idiot, because at that moment his mind fully short-circuited. Him? And (name)? What would even give him that idea? Sure, she was cute and all -wait, cute?? What the actual fuck? His lack of response and the pinkish tint that spread from his cheekbones to the bridge of his nose seemed to get a rise out of Kaminari, because within seconds his head was thrown back, his laughter catching the attention of their red-haired friend. “Yo, man, what’re you laughing at?”

With that, Bakugo seemed to snap out of his trance, sharp eyes snapping between his self-proclaimed friends. His mouth opened, ready to deliver a curt response, something along the lines of “Fucking nothing!” or “Mind your own business, Shitty Hair!” but the other blonde beat him to the punch, loudly bellowing out,

“Bakugo has a crush on (last name)!”

Bakugo wasn’t pleased to say the least, his hand darting out, flexing a lethal explosion that Kaminari barely dodged. Bakugo’s eyes were wide with unadulterated rage, though he really couldn’t tell at who, nor did he care, he was seeing red at that moment and that’s all he could focus on. Before he can aim another strike towards his cowering friend, Kirishima looped his arms around Bakugo’s shoulders, activating his quirk to prepare for the barrage of oncoming explosions that were sure to come his way. “Dude, stop! You’re being super unmanly right now!”

Realizing there’s no point struggling against his friends hold, Bakugo’s figure suddenly slackened, Kirishima very cautiously relinquishing his grip on his friend. Burning rage, confusion, uncertainty and self-deprecation began to settle in Bakugo’s mind all at once, a million questions stampeding his thoughts. He didn’t like that, he hated not being in control, he hated not knowing what was wrong, especially with himself. With a furious shout of “FUCK OFF!” to dispel some of the anger bristling within him, the ash blonde stomped out of the nearly empty classroom, leaving his two friends to share looks of bewilderment.

And that’s when a tidal wave, a tsunami of emotions quaked his lonely ship, flipping it and hurling him off the deck into the freezing cold, wave riddled ocean, leaving him to sink deeper and flail around in a futile attempt at staying afloat.

The coming days, one thing haunted Katsuki like the plague, despite trying his hardest to avoid overthinking, you just seemed to carve your way into his subconscious. Everything reminded him of you, and he absolutely despised it. When had he gotten so distracted? When had his schedule morphed to make room for your presence in his life? When had he began to await seeing you, hearing your obnoxiously sweet voice? When had he gotten so weak? He didn’t need anyone, no one but himself, that’s all he needed to reach the top. If that was true, then why were his days getting more and more bleak as he actively shunned you out, avoided looking you in the eyes and subsequently being blissfully unaware of the look of hurt in your eyes. He knew he wasn’t being fair to you, but he couldn’t help it, he had to put some distance between you.

And so, he kept struggling against the currents, which only made him sink deeper, and deeper. Even so, he kept wrestling with the tides, hoping he’d make it out alive and free.

His absence in your life made you fidgety, but you brushed it off as him having a less than pleasant day, he’d surely go back to normal, right? Wrong. Things continued as they are, you wanted to give him space and all, but it didn’t help that it seemed he was only circumventing you. You wanted to be patient for him, and you were. But even the most patient of people, the most peaceful of saints, had their tipping points.

“I don’t understand you, Katsuki, we were good not even a week ago and now you’re completely avoiding me!”

“So what if I was, huh?! Are you saying that I need you or some shit?! Are you looking down on me, thinking you’re all high and mighty, that you could be the one to befriend the “pitiful lonely guy”?! Are you saying I’m weak, is that it, huh?! I’m not fucking weak, (name), I don’t need you or anyone for that matter, stop tryna coddle me, I don’t need your shitty friendship!”

Ouch, that hurt. He knew he was spouting so much bullshit straight through his teeth, it didn’t even make sense but that was how his self-defense mechanism works. When in doubt, push people you love away in fear of vulnerability. He knew he was being a major asshole, but nothing would’ve prepared him for the look of unbridled hurt and betrayal in your eyes, tears silently carving valleys on your flushed cheeks. Your quivering lip suppressed a wretched sob, before opening to utter a few heartbroken words.

“I see. Sorry I was such a nuisance for you, Bakugo,”

Bakugo, double ouch. That one stung. Hard. He’d never heard your voice so broken, so raw and meek. He walked home alone that day, already regretting everything he said, already missing your bubbly self.

A drift shook both of you away from each other. Your concerned classmates could only watch in silenced misery as you both hurdled yourselves into hero work and training, doing anything it takes to stay distracted. Bakugo thought that at least there would be one upside to arise from this situation, he could focus more on his dreams, he had more time than ever, he can totally utilize this to his advantage. Or so he thought. You infiltrated every crevice in his mind, all he could think about, day in and day out, was you. He’s always prided himself in being self-disciplined and focused, but right now he was anything but. You weren’t fairing any better. Your optimism was missed in the classroom, you forced a smile to reassure your friends, but that was about all you could muster. It seemed there was no end to the spiral the pair of you were sucked into until something happened. Something big happened.

He was kidnapped. Bakugo was kidnapped.

It seemed like a wake-up call to both of you. You could have lost him; he could have lost you. Bakugo realized, strapped to that chair, with the grey-haired, handy man holding a picture of you from the sports festival while babbling some vague threats, that he wanted to protect you, protect what he loved. He loved you. And he had to be better for you. He also realized that he wanted to go back to you. Dammit, he still didn’t apologize for what he said! He needed to return.

He no longer fought against the tide, he didn’t want to, and he wasn’t going to. And with his fruitless squirming against the current coming to an end, he began to rise to the surface, the gradually heating waters holding him afloat.

His return was a giant relief, you wanted to jump into his arms the moment he was saved, but you knew better. He needed time to think, to sort out his thoughts. Though you didn’t expect that he would sort out his thoughts with his fists. With Midoriya. Actually, scratch that, it was a very Bakugo thing to do.

That night you couldn’t sleep, sitting on the U.A. dorms Alliance stairs with a steaming mug of tea between your clutches. Your eyes, which had been transfixed on the constellations lining the night sky, blinked downward when you heard two pairs of footfalls approaching. You instantly recognized the two boys, beaten and battered.

“(name)...?”

His abnormally scratchy voice greeted you, you didn’t have to strain your ears to conclude that he’d been crying. Your stares were riddled with unspoken words, unvoiced feelings, leaving a pregnant tension in the air. A haggard throat-clearing cut through the quiet.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” And with that, the one-for-all user excused himself into the dormitory.

Katsuki shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable. He knew what he needed to say he just couldn’t find the will to swallow the lump in his throat and say it.

“Hey, umm-”

Before he can get another syllable out, a force collided with him, shaky arms circling his broad shoulders, mindful of the bruises that littered his porcelain skin. Eyes blown wide; he couldn’t fathom the words that were uttered into his chest.

“I love you, Katsuki. I love you.” A sniff followed the heartfelt words, he felt some tears brimming his own lids.

Carefully bringing his arms around you, wrapping them securely around your waist. Katsuki drifted and swayed on your waves, surfing them skillfully, fully abandoning his past ways, no longer would he scuffle with the ebb and flow of the waters that only hoped of propelling him forward towards his goal. His red gems drifted to the sky, mapping out the stars much like a lost sailor would in search of guidance, though he was anything but lost in that very moment.

His lids dropped, thoroughly fatigued from the day’s events, before his head followed suit, descending and placing feather-like kiss on your head, his strong arms keeping you nestled as close as possible against his chest, a quiet murmur with powerful words left his lips,

“I love you, too. I’m sorry.”

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki #bakugo angst #bakugo fluff

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter I: Primi Foederis, The First Meeting

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): angst, drama, comedy featuring doctor hyunjae 

Category: Short Novel/ Long Series (because i’m expecting to invest quite a lot of effort into this)

A/N: YEET back with another short novel idk how long this one is going to run. i’m already predicting it’s going to be longer than chaebol juyeon because i have alot of ideas waiting to come out in this one, let’s see if i butcher it LOL. this is the first piece of work i’m posting on tumblr that isn’t part of my playlist feels collection because i don’t think i’ll be able to find a track that fits every chapter well like i’ve been doing for my playlist feels collection. any-o-how, hopefully this is gonna go well... and i’ll see you on the other side ;)

“i’ve invested so much time and effort to make sure i will never have to see you again...” 

“but i must’ve done something unforgivable in my past life for fate to put us in the same place,”

“...even after a decade.”

the amygdala helps coordinate responses to things in one’s environment, especially those that trigger an emotional response. 

this structure plays an important role in anger.

the rapid, minimal, and evaluative processing of the emotional significance of the sensory data is done when the data passes through the amygdala in its travel from the sensory organs along certain neural pathways towards the limbic forebrain. 

emotion caused by discrimination of stimulus features, thoughts, or memories however, occurs when its information is relayed from the thalamus to the neocortex.

based on some statistical analysis, some doctors have suggested that the tendency for anger may be genetic. 

but that’s not the case for you. 

usually, you’d run your thoughts through your head before you spat them out, but the sight of him was enough to make you want to regurgitate your breakfast.

“you have to be shitting me.”

not one pinch of regret shows in your words, and all you could do was stare in utter disbelief at the man standing right opposite you. the department head had a clipboard in his hand as he flipped through it, only pausing when he heard your cold, yet frustrated tone buried in your expression. 

“oh,” he releases the sheets of paper in his hand and places the clipboard down on the table he was leaning on. “so you know each other.”

the gleaming sunlight was shining into the room behind the man standing directly opposite you, and the department head was resting his rear against the edge of the desk between the two of you. 

the years of hard work finished themselves as certificates and plaques of achievements that hung on the wall behind him, and from the corner of your eye, you could almost see your own enraged facial expression in the reflection off the awards. 

“well, that makes things a lot easier for me, but i am still obligated to facilitate a proper introduction -- meeting -- or whatever the two of you want to call it,” the glasses on his nose would’ve fallen off if he didn’t push them back up his nose bridge.

your eyes were darting back and forth between the department head and the last person you’d ever want to see, or even have within your reach. your jaw was locked and your temples were so tight, you could feel a vein slowly exposing itself on your forehead.

“y/n, this is doctor lee hyunjae, and the both of you will be my mentees for the next two weeks.”

i know his fucking name--

“so until those two weeks are up, i wouldn’t expect anything less than the two of you following me around like little puppies,”

puppies? just call us dogs and that’ll already be half the truth.

“and after that, there’ll be a high chance that you’ll both need work on a research project with the research department--”

“‘research department’?” you blurt out rudely, but the department head doesn’t look like he could care less. 

“did i say that wrong?” he raises an indifferent brow at you, arms crossed over his chest while he pulls his shoulder blades backwards. 

there was no way you would’ve complained about med school being so difficult if you knew this day was coming. the energy required to contain your desire to punch lee hyunjae in the nose and ram your knee into his groin was enough to drain you in that very moment. 

you would’ve passed out if you weren’t standing in the department head’s office.

“i agree it’s not like the hospital to put two young doctors to work on a research project, but the work the both of you did in your respective schools were a little difficult for the research department to ignore.”

‘respective schools’...

the silence becomes deafening, and the department head starts to smack his lips awkwardly loudly. “so if you have no further questions for now, i’d like you to fill up some administrative forms for the hospital to finalise, and then i’ll see you in the cafeteria for lunch at twelve,” he pulls out some sheets of paper from the clipboard and hands it to the two of you after slotting them into clear files. 

“after lunch, i’ll give you one more tour around the hospital and a more detailed orientation of the north wing where the research department is... and the east wing where the neurology department is, which the two of you would be officially attached to and on document.”

you skim through the documents in the file, and your eyes naturally travel back up to look at your mentor. 

“so if there are no further questions, you may go.”

both you and lucifer bow to your mentor, and he waits for the both of you to leave the office before he returns to his huge leather seat. 

you let yourself out the door, not bothering to hold it open for your colleague. the grip on the clear file was tightening every second and you don’t realise you were on the verge of crumpling the contents of it. every muscle and feature on your face were compressed in itself, but luckily it doesn’t catch the attention of passing hospital staff and patients walking along the hall way.

the reflection off the frame of the lift tells you that your lips were white from the airtight closure, and you jab the lift button like you hated it. 

“just so you know, i’m not fond of the idea of being stuck with you for an indefinite amount of time either.”

“ha,” you scoff, watching him stand a safe distance behind you in the reflection. “i must be so lucky for you to be able to read my expression and distaste... especially with how hard i tried to hide it.”

he snorts behind you, and the air hits the hair of your ponytail. 

“you’ve never been able to hide your feelings anyway,” 

this piece of--

“so it would be such an honor to even see you try.”

your eye twitches and your lips pucker in rage at the smug tone in his voice. you turn on one heel and raise the file, ready to swing it into his face. 

“you--”

he grabs your wrist, waiting for your strength in your forearm to dissipate. you begin to writhe your way out of his grip with pursed lips, and he drops it like it wasn’t attached to you.

you take a step back towards the lift and mindlessly pat down your white coat, glaring at him with eyes you wish had daggers. 

“nice to know your temper hasn’t changed.”

“i have a designated type of temper when it comes to you, not because i have anger management issues.”

the lift arrives and the doors open to reveal an empty space, pouring a bucket full of agony and scorn over your head when the realisation of being stuck with lee hyunjae for an indefinite amount of time sinks into your neurons. 

just being around lee hyunjae was so difficult to swallow. 

if you weren’t in a hospital with patients who had an actual reason to throw up, you would’ve done it in plain sight. 

if you knew there were no laws to sentence you to death for murder, you would’ve stabbed him in the eye.

if you weren’t a doctor who took a pledge to only save lives just under a week ago, you would’ve poisoned him with some godforsaken virus mankind has found a way to contain. 

you would’ve enjoyed lunch and the tour of the hospital, despite it being your third time wandering around the compound, if it weren’t for the fact that the last person you wanted to see was standing right next to you the entire duration.

becoming a doctor was nothing short of prestige and honour for your family, especially when you’ve come from a long line of neurosurgeons and relatives who would’ve spent more time inhaling the scent of a certain hospital than their own homes. 

it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that it was in your blood to follow in everybody else’s footsteps; your parents would’ve probably freaked out and started worrying that you were someone’s secret illegitimate child if you didn’t become one.

“you must be y/n,” the doctor who had white hair and a wrinkly forehead had to be peeled and shoved off the seat by your mentor for him to get up and greet you. 

“this is doctor kim, head of research for neurology,” your mentor introduces as doctor kim shakes your hand. 

“and you must be lee hyunjae,” he shakes lucifer’s hand. 

‘petty’ was a word nobody usually associated you with, but you busked in the little sprinkle of glory and smugness when you see lee hyunjae’s lips twitch in disgust when he shakes the hand that just touched yours. 

“if you’re working on research, then you will report to doctor kim--”

“i’ve seen both your reports and research work and they are phenomenal--”

“uh, doctor kim--”

“how did oxford manage to come up with this set of data?” he literally sweeps his bony, wrinkled hands across the table, looking for something you assume he took from lucifer’s application portfolio. 

“doctor--”

“and how did harvard even think about this link? it’s so mind-boggling, i must admit i haven’t really wrapped my head around it--”

“doctor kim!” 

the sharp call startles you, and everybody else in the office turns to provide the group of you their attention. 

“sorry,” your mentor raises his hand and gives a small apologetic bow. “doctor kim,” he gently removes the items the old research doctor has grasped in his hands and places them elsewhere on the table. 

you note that though doctor kim does not look a day older than sixty, he must’ve been losing his brain cells and composure from all the research he’s been doing.

“the two of them will be officially placed in the neurology department under me, but do you remember that email you sent to me about wanting them to join your team?”

“of course! what do you treat me as?” the elder man frowns and pulls off his glasses, fists resting on his hips and looking up at your mentor. 

the sight lifts your spirits a little, and you momentarily forget that lucifer was standing right next to you. 

“uh-- okay, well, all you gotta do is drop me an email about one week prior to whenever you need them, but for these two weeks they are still going to be trainees mentored by me, you follow?”

the elder man squints at him with eyes that scream ‘i’m not an idiot’, and your mentor takes the cue. 

“after the two weeks are up, just drop them an email one week prior to when you need them and you can cc them to me. they may be bright lights in the dark but it might not necessarily guide the right people.”

“will you shut your trap--” the elder doctor picks up a thick file and rams it into your mentor’s head. your eyes widen in shock, hand flying up to your mouth to hide your surprise at the sudden attack. lucifer stands by and crosses his arms over his chest, a light smile appearing over his lips.

“with enough honing and experience, they can go a long way,” he drops the file back onto his table. “you didn’t start here with as much potential as these kids do.”

“okay!” your mentor exclaims, turning around and waving the two of you away from the office space. “if that’s all doctor kim, we’re going to take our leave!”

“you better not let those kids think i’m a crazy old man!” he waves the thick file at all of you, and you give him a little wave while your mentor ushers the both of you out of the office space. 

a laugh escapes your nostrils, and your mentor looks down at you with a look of embarrassment while the three of you return to the lift lobby. 

“are you two close?” lucifer asks, pressing the button on the lift panel.

“he was my mentor when i first came here as a trainee, so he’s been looking after me since then, even after i stopped being his mentee.”

“oh,” you nod. “that’s nice.”

“well, he is getting on with age,” the lift arrives and he pauses while the hospital staff exit. someone in the crowd greets him. 

you and lucifer follow him inside, and he presses the button of the floor that connects the north wing to the east wing. 

“so it’s only a matter of time before he retires. i don’t want the hospital to be the last place he’s in and i don’t want the last time he was seen... alive... to be him burying his nose in his research papers. he doesn’t have his own family so he’s either alone at home or in the office and working until someone chases him home.”

“hasn’t the hospital or... i don’t know... you, talked to him about retiring?” 

the lift doors open, and you notice the pause in the air. 

lucifer’s question struck a chord somewhere, and your mentor was showing it. 

“both the hospital and i have talked to him about it, but it’s not easy leaving a place you love working in...”

a pause. 

“or at least a place you’ve been working it for more than forty years.”

he brings the both of you to the neurology department and returns the two of you to your neighbouring offices after he concludes the orientation and tour. 

the scent of the hospital would’ve been nauseating for some people, patients especially. but there was something about the way the place smelled that convinced you becoming a doctor was worth the effort and hard work. 

the way the air smelled like medicine and iv disinfectant made you hopeful for patients, the obligation for every surface to be spick and span never failed to satiate your need for hygiene. 

you were finally in a place you wanted to be.

the only downfall was that you were going to be stuck with lucifer for how long, you don’t even know. 

“so that concludes the tours and orientation. i hope it was adequate and even if it wasn’t, don’t hesitate to drop by my office and ask me anything you deem important enough to ask. otherwise you can just email me,” he slides his hands into his coat pockets. 

the two of you bow, ready to admire his back leaving the two of you before you could roll your eyes at each other. 

but he doesn’t leave.

“but before i go,” he raises a single pointer in the air, his other hand still in the pocket. “i’d like the both of you to know that the hospital has no space for... a lack of professionalism.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, slightly embarrassed. 

lucifer wasn’t going to let this go. 

“everybody has their differences, so i hope while the two of you have yours, it won’t affect your work here. the two of you are promising, and doctor kim wasn’t lying when he said the two of you have more potential than me when i first joined the hospital. with enough experience, the both of you could reach heights even i can only dream of.”

“oh, you flatter us,” lucifer provides a humble chuckle and waves it off. 

fake ass.

“i give credit where it’s due,” he returns his hand to the pocket. “so don’t prove me wrong.”

he doesn’t wait for either of you to respond before he walks off. the atmosphere hanging between the two of you was so still, so cold, so frozen, you were almost afraid that if you moved first, he was going to burst into some maniacal laughter. 

you suck in a deep breath, your eyes fluttering shut as the cold air sours your nose. the inhalation causes a sharp ache in your chest, not that it bothered you. 

“if he says that we both have potential, then i guess that puts us on the same pedestal.”

light seeps in through your lids and you watch the other hospital staff walk in and out of the office, his words running into your ear canals and sinking into the flesh of your brain. 

your hear lucifer turn around, and the pens in his pockets click against each other upon his movement. your eyes fixate on a clock on the wall opposite you and beyond some smaller cubicles. the red, digital numbers hanging right between the two lifts glaring at you like a demon’s eyes.

you hear the door of his office click and the friction of the rubber on the bottom of the glass door brushes against the carpeted floor. 

“you know,”

you sense the stoppage in his movements upon hearing the sudden words leaving your lips. 

“i’ve invested so much time and effort to make sure i will never have to see you again...”

a smile of pain and despair pulls the corners of your lips up your cheek, and you turn your head enough to see him in the corner of your eye. 

“but i must’ve done something unforgivable in my past life for fate to put us in the same place.”

you turn back and look at the clock, everyone’s movements within your field of vision slowing down. 

“...even after a decade.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Antiquum Fabulum

#timetohajima #lee hyunjae #hyunjae #the boyz #the boyz hyunjae #doctor hyunjae #angst #drama #comedy #what #timetohajima hostis

[bottleofspilledink]

God’s Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter XVI

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Eve made the sign of the cross with unsteady hands, filled with fear and guilt and shame and sin, wanting to be cleansed of it but at the same time not wanting to do what she had to in order to be saved, in order to be purified in order to be welcomed back into the Lord’s light.

“May the Lord be in your heart and help you confess your sins with true sorrow.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Eve couldn’t help the tremble in her voice, hands reaching to fidget with the beads of her rosary. It brought her no comfort now, though, she honestly isn’t sure if it ever did… “My last confession was three months ago.”

“Proceed, my child.”

“I’ve, um…” She pauses momentarily, trying to think of something to say. None of the time she spent outside was spent actually reflecting on her sins. No, instead, the thirty minutes she spent on the pew was used to debate whether she would actually confess her sins or – and the thought of what it would cost her soul scared her, believe me – lie. “I’ve been ungrateful for what the Lord has provided me, Father.”

“How so?”

“Uh, b-because I was angry that my father was never home…” It was for the better, Eve thought, that she leave out the fact he was a womanizer. “I found myself wishing for a different family.”

Again, she left out that she wished for a different, more accepting family. Eve doubted that such a thing even existed, especially since she’s never even seen one.

The whispered words of Joan and Lilith and everyone else at the lunch table came to mind, or more accurately, what she was able to catch of it. They spoke of a place – she didn’t know what it was called but she knew it was a city – filled with people like them, where people loved the way they loved, a place of freedom, a place that, if she decided to tell the priest of it, he’d call a den of sin.

“I see.” The priest responded, more to let her know that he was still listening if anything else.

“I’ve been envious of my friends.” Envious of their normalcy, of their heterosexuality, the ease with which they lived. She prayed for it every night, after tucking away Lilith’s note, after wiping her hands on her sheets…

“And have you acted on that envy, my child? Have you stolen?”

Eve was quite sure there wasn’t a way to steal such things. She wished there was, though. Had it been possible, she’d have done it long ago, wrong as it may be.

What a painful thing it was, to want what you could never have.

Oh, but it was even more agonizing to want something she could so easily have, yet constantly have to deny herself of.

A tantalizing, forbidden fruit that lay in reach, red and ripe and just there, waiting for her to grab it.

“No, Father. I have not stolen.”

“Good.” The old man comments. “The Lord will be pleased that you’ve at least managed to resist some of the devil’s temptations.”

“I partook in something she did not wish me to. I was selfish in my decision and thought only of what I want.” She was running out of things to confess, the time she had to decide whether to hide the events of the past two weeks wearing thin.

“What did you do, my child?”

“Tell me what you partook in, my child. Remember, I am here in place of the Lord to forgive yours sins and save your soul, But I can’t help you if you do not confess properly.”

Ah, there was truly nothing better than the threat of damnation to scare someone straight.

“Recently, Father,” She continues, “I’ve been disobeying my mother…”

“I joined the gardening club against her wishes, Father.”

The fact this was considered a sin did nothing to surprise her, painful as it was. Practically everything that made her happy nowadays was a sin.

“What else?”

“I think bad things sometimes.”

“I cheated on a quiz.”

At this point, Eve was only saying things for the sake of saying them, to be able to say to herself that she had confessed.

“Being tempted is not a sin, my child. Have you nothing else to confess?”

This was it. Her last chance to tell him everything that had happened and hope to be forgiven. If she walked out of the confessional right now, she’d be a sinner.

“Anything more?”

She already was.

There was so much to confess.

Everything was dark and frightening in the cramped space of the confessional. It was as if the booth was closing in on her, hardwood walls coming nearer and nearer, squeezing the sin from her body and the air from her lungs.

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t breathe.

Lilith’s note burned like hot coals in her pocket. Everything she’d done with it were sins. Memories of the past week, all sinful, came rushing back to her in the deafening … that time she almost kissed Lilith. Another sin. A grave one. The lust she felt upon their second meeting after glimpsing her cleavage. Once more, a sin. Thinking that Lilith and Joan and Paula and Colette and Julia were good people despite them being unrepentant homosexuals. A sin. Letting Lilith change her blouse in the bathroom. More sin. The way she clung to Lilith after. Again, sin. The way she felt when Lilith held her close behind the gardening shed, as if God himself wouldn’t be able to hurt her if she’d hide herself in the girl’s arms. Did that count as blasphemy? Either way, a sin.

Hiding what Lilith had done the day of the fire. Sin.

Everything she’s ever done. Sin.

Everything she’s ever thought. Sick and sinful.

Sin.

Sin.

Sins. All of it. Everything. Even her.

“Do you have anything else to confess?” He asked again, at last breaking the deafening silence that had settled over them.

From the little light that seeped in from the already dim chapel, Eve could just barely make out the priest’s outline, portly and hunched, any other distinguishing features obscured from her, as she hoped she was to him.

“No, father.”

“Well then, if that’s the case, I will now give you my advice.” The man cleared his throat and for the first time since she began doing confession, just before her first communion, she dared to look at the almost opaque screen that separated them.

“In times of ungratefulness and longing, you should think of those who have less than and say a prayer of thanks and a prayer for the less fortunate.” Eve couldn’t help but think the man sounded haughty, as if believing his words to be filled with some sort of profound, unheard of wisdom.

“As for when you encounter temptation, you must simply look to God for strength and guidance. Pray to him, so that he may see your plight, so that he may see how hard you are trying to stay obedient to him that he may send aid.”

She was near tears, hands clutching at her rosary once more, holding it so harshly that there was now an indent on her thumb in the shape of a crucified Christ. Damn it all, she had been praying!

He looked… plain, undeniably human. Nothing he was resembled anything close to being the bridge between heaven and earth, in no part of him could you see the link between man and Jesus, nowhere in sight did his flesh look to be the naturally benevolent stand in of the ever-ethereal and unknown God they so wholeheartedly praised.

Eve prayed nearly every hour of everyday, through every trial, begging to be relieved of her ailments and sins, asking for help, reassurance, at the very least, some sign that this wasn’t all for naught and in vain, a light at the end of the ever-elongating tunnel.

“But remember, my child, the Lord will not make you face anything you are unprepared for. Have faith and thank him for giving you your cross to bear, that you may work your way into heaven.”

Everything this man was telling her, she’d heard before and twice over. The same advice regurgitated to her over the years by different voices using different words that all boiled down to the same two: Have faith.

When would that faith be rewarded?

When would she be free of her cross?

“For your penance, ten ‘Hail Mary’s, two ‘Apostle’s Creed’s and an ‘Act of Contrition.’”

In her mind, she doubled that number and added a ‘Lord’s Prayer’ for good measure, wanting to make up for her unconfessed sins but unwilling to state them.

Why?

For love, for Lilith. For the trust Lilith put in her, in exchange for keeping her own sins secret.

“I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

The confession had ended.

“Go, now, in peace, for you have been forgiven.”

Eve left, even more sinful than she’d entered.

...

“What did you tell the priest, Eve?!”

Lilith screamed, at last snapping the blonde into the present, pulling her from the prison that was her mind and making Eve come to and look upon her, agonized, in the throes of desperation and panic.

Never before had she seen Lilith so vulnerable, so scared. Was this what she’d looked like, Eve wondered, crying and clinging to Paula on the bathroom floor only days ago?

“Please, please, Eve!” Lilith begged, hysterical. Perhaps if she pleaded enough, Eve’s betrayal would undo itself and they could revert to their usual dynamic, with Lilith as the rock and Eve as the weeping one, or going even further back, return to what once was and rid herself of the ache and ailment that was being in love with Eve Peccator and the consequences that came with it.

Eve pried Lilith’s hands from hers, joining her where she knelt on cold, unyielding stone, breaking the painting of the damning deity and distraught repentant, instead creating one that was far more human, closer to their reality, one of two sinner, banished from Eden yet finding comfort in each other.

Stained glass figures and marble saints looked down on them both, now, passing their own judgements upon the pitiful scene. Other than them, no one was there to hear Lilith wail as she broke down, sharp features scrunching up as she let what had built over the day, over the week, over the year, over her entire lifetime out in the form of hot, salty tears that now fell on Eve as they rolled down her cheeks, blotchy and red as her hair.

She took Lilith’s sobbing face into her caring hands, full of love and respect for the girl in front of her even in what was the other’s most fragile and shameful moments.

There was a moment of silence when their eyes met for the first time in hours, earthly brown meeting tear-filled, heavenly blue.

“Nothing.” Eve wiped the tears off Lilith’s cheek with a tender stroke of her thumb.

“I told them nothing.”

Lilith again broke out in harder sobs as the fear that filled her melted away, Eve taking away her pain, her suffering, her cross as she leaned in close and brought their foreheads together, noses barely touching, never once breaking eye contact.

“I kept you secret.”

Oh, how heavy those words were… The weight they held was indescribable, more so coming from Eve. She almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wanted to, though, wanted to believe that Eve loved her as much as she did, loved her enough to hide her away in her heart, away from the God she so feared in spite of the harm it may bring her soul.

“I've sinned for you, Lilith.”

___________

Have I destroyed you? Good ψ(｀∇´)ψ

Happy holidays again and I’ll be back in January with more chapters :D

It’s now actually christmas!! This is my present for you guys (/≧▽≦)/ Take it!!!! Lmao make my holidays better by giving me comments ands reblogs cause yes!! (To the people who talk in the tags: I love you guys <333)

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[kusunogatari]

[ Plague || Chapter Three ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Hatake Kakashi ] [ Blood, vomit ] [ Verse: When Dead Walk ] [ Previous || Next ]

With the samples in hand, Ryū makes her way to her room where a desk is littered with her own research, and that of the small village medic. To start, she makes a few more small seals, affixing them to the spare vials to take in chakra and keep the cells alive. Removing the stopper from the first, she withdraws the blood with her energy, hovering it in a small, floating, undulating orb. Both hands lift to stabilize it, eyes closing in concentration as she lets her chakra reach into the plasma. Like feeling her way through organs with her hands, she lets the chakra ‘see’ for her - focusing to the most minute degree she can manage.

For a time, Kakashi stands and watches...but there’s little for him to glean as she simply works in still silence. Eventually he takes to wandering the manor as a whole, mentally mapping the entire building before moving on to the surrounding yards, gardens, and forest. True, they aren’t exactly expecting any guests - wanted or unwanted - but it gives him something to do...and a way to prepare should something go wrong.

The last thing he wants is to just...stand here and feel idle. Might as well be useful.

Ryū, all the while, attempts to take the first step in her research: to isolate a virus sample, and begin to look into its blueprint. From there...it’ll be a matter of guessing and checking what pieces accomplish what, and how best to unravel them until they’re no longer able to multiply.

To put it simply...it’s going to take hours, and hours...and hours...and time isn’t exactly on her side.

Loathe to stop, she eventually caves after several consecutive hours, pulling herself back from her work and almost feeling woozy for a moment at the change of perspective. Replacing the sample, she takes a moment to recover before retreating to the lower floor to eat...and also feed Kakashi.

Which also brings up the notion of finding Obito something to sate him.

Pushing that aside for now, she’s surprised to find the Hatake in the building, examining the painted walls. “...place is pretty fancy, huh?”

That earns a short huff of a laugh. “I guess...then again, they had a lot of time to work on it. Suigin-sama says the original villagers built this place huge with plans for my clan to grow. But...that never really happened. So instead, it sort of became a village hub. During things like...severe weather, or floods, or fires...everyone would come here. It’s big enough, and the village small enough, everyone could come here in times of emergency and be relatively comfortable. And I guess, with nothing else to do with it...they took time to make it pretty over the years. All the beams are carved, the fusuma are painted...it’s really very beautiful.”

“...and so empty.”

“...a shame, isn’t it?”

Kakashi turns to her, taking a moment to mull that over. “...you don’t find it...odd to be here?”

She hums in thought. “...not really. It’s home, even if I spent most of my life in Konoha. Iwa attacked when I was four...and I came back to train when I was eighteen. It’s very...quiet. But also very peaceful. It’s nothing like Konoha.”

That earns a snort. “No...definitely not. But I mean…” He gestures a hand. “...you don’t find it unsettling? Given all that happened here?”

Ryū gives a small, wry smile. “...do you mean if I think it’s haunted?”

He shrugs. “...if you believe in that sort of thing.”

“Our teachings revolve much around souls...I know that they exist. I’ve even held one.”

Kakashi’s brows lift.

“So, do I believe they can linger, and haunt a place…? Sure. Do I think any are here…?” Her gaze moves to the front door. “...some of them. But very...faintly. Maybe more like impressions than full hauntings.” Her expression sobers. “...after all...most of them died horribly...and without warning. Surely they all had regrets, fear, confusion...I wouldn’t doubt that some became lost and attached themselves to the one place they knew best.”

Something about Kakashi’s expression seems to...unnerve. “...not sure I could stay in a place like this for very long. It’s beautiful, peaceful...but you can just...feel that something is off.”

Ryū gives a nod of understanding. “...someday I’d like to try to cleanse it. I just...don’t know how. I’ve just always had something more pressing, as horrible as that sounds. I had to focus on my training, and then my work...I hardly get to come here anymore.” A soft sigh escapes her. “...until then...it’s still home. Still the place I feel most...comfortable. Most like myself.”

He eyes her thoughtfully, but doesn’t press the subject. “...well, I suppose for now, it’s a bit haunted for me too.”

Her head tilts in question.

Giving a jerk of his head toward the upper floor, he murmurs, “...Obito’s a bit of a ghost for me. I thought he was dead. And now...I’ve got so many questions. How he survived, why he never came back...why he’s involved with people like Akatsuki. And until he’s cured, well...I guess there’s no use in wondering.”

Ryū wilts somberly. “...well, I’m not going to quit until I figure this out. Then you can ask him whatever you want, I suppose...but first…” She tries a hint of a smile. “I think we both need something to eat."

“When in doubt...take a lunch break.”

They let the subject lie, working together to make something halfway edible. The rice stores are still in decent shape, and the overgrown garden still has a few vegetables to be found. And in hardly any time, Kakashi magics a few fish from the river, giving an eye-crinkling smile.

Nearly finished with her serving, Ryū takes a moment to think. “...I’m not sure how to go about feeding Obito.”

That earns a pause from Kakashi as well. “Well...I doubt he’d sit with us and be polite.”

Deadpanning for a tick, she offers, “I can open a gap in the barrier...but I’m not sure if he’ll eat anything like this. The only thing they seem interested in is raw meat…”

“Well, I can rustle up a few more fish. Give that a try.”

“...all right.”

She takes to tidying as Kakashi raids the river again, returning with a few decent catches. Giving him an uncertain look, Ryū leads the way to Obito’s room.

By now, he’s regained consciousness. A careful peek around the corner shows him just...standing in the middle of the room beside the futon, exactly where they left him. Fresh regurgitated blood has dribbled down his chin, twitching and occasional grunting...or retching. But without anyone nearby to target, he’s almost...passive.

...something tells her that’s about to change. And very quickly.

...well, might as well give the barrier a test… Slowly stepping into the doorway, Ryū watches as his gaze snaps to her.

...like before, it’s completely devoid of any recognition. Just alighting with fervor at the sight of prey. Of a new host to infect. With a scream, he runs to the doorway, crashing into the barrier with a thudding gong of sound.

It holds. The seals flare for a moment as the reserve is sapped, but she feels only a slight drop in the chakra contained in the wall. Each subsequent strike takes a little more chakra, but overall, the gathering of the seals keeps up. It helps that his time unconscious allowed it to build a buffer.

Watching him carefully, Ryū tries to be objective, studying what she can observe as he tries to make it through the doorway. The same gauntness hollows his face slightly, eyes still filmed yellow. Overall...little has changed.

“...all right. I’ll keep his attention and make a small gap along the floor,” she then says aloud to her companion. “Just big enough to get the tray through.”

“Got it.” Crouched just out of sight, Kakashi waits.

Hand signs allow her to manipulate the barrier, creating a hole he wastes no time in using. She then lets the chakra fuse back into place, and steps further down the hall, dulling her chakra and waiting.

For a time, Obito continues his screeching and banging even with the pair beyond his field of vision. But then he slowly quiets, interest lost.

Breath held and teeth nibbling her lip, Ryū waits...and then brightens at the rather visceral sounds of him finding and consuming their little gift for him. Good! That should give his body something to process...though I doubt much will be absorbed before he vomits again… But at least it’s something.

With that out of the way, she takes another hallway around (thankful, for once, that this place is such a maze) and meets back up with Kakashi. “Well...that went better than I expected.”

“Any progress is good progress. Hopefully he keeps some of it down.”

“Time will tell.”

Until then...it’s back to the same old thing.

Ryū spends nearly all of her time trying to isolate the virus. Her only breaks are to sleep, eat, relieve herself, and check on Obito. He, at least, changes very little. The same aggression, the same appetite, the same instability and mess. But though she analyzes that part logically, the rest of her doesn’t see it. The rest of her clings to the memory of the last time she saw him before he got sick, using it as motivation to keep working, keep trying, just a little more…

It takes three days before she manages to be delicate enough to extract a virus from the sample. There’s a rushing sigh of relief as she does so, which makes a nearby napping Kakashi jump in alarm. “Finally…!”

“...what happened?”

“I got ahold of a virus. Now...to start breaking it down and finding its weak points.”

“...oh! Uh...good.”

Snorting even as she keeps working, she assures him, “It’s a big step. It’s like...I found the place the intel is being hidden. Now I just have to navigate a long hallway with many, many doors. And keep opening every door and seeing what my chakra does to it until I find one that lets me find the intel.”

The comparison for his understanding’s sake makes him snort. “That...is a lot easier for me to comprehend.”

“You’re welcome.”

That big step, however, is soon dogged by a brick wall. Deciphering genetic code isn’t exactly the quickest thing a medic can do. So, yet again, hours and hours pour into a quiet concentration. Kakashi takes to wandering again, checking and double checking their surroundings...if only for something to do.

After four solid days of code checking...Ryū is at a breaking point. Dark circles rest under her eyes, skin paling after over a week straight without a lick of sunlight. She’s even lost a bit of weight under the combined stress and minimal diet. Needing a break, she takes to standing outside Obito’s room.

Whenever he’s left alone, there’s no violence. He just...stands. Twitches. Pukes. Occasionally has random fits of yelling or thrashing, but his aggression otherwise disappears until someone comes within view. Then he’s a maniac. Pounding against the barrier and hollering until his vocal cords wear with stress.

Utterly spent, Ryū just...leans her brow against the barrier, unable to feel his impacts, his yelling muffled behind the wall. Eyes close as exhaustion begs her eyelids down. She’s so tired...but she can’t stop. Can’t give up. She has to be getting closer...but the process is so tedious, so time-consuming, so...frustratingly without results, it’s almost maddening. Her patience is typically saint-like...but with all that rides on this work, it’s fraying under the strain.

“...I’m not stopping,” she murmurs as though he can hear her. “I’m just...taking a little break. I wanted to come see you…”

All the while, his relentless strikes continue.

“Don’t worry...I’m getting close. I can feel it. I know it...I just…” A heavy sigh wilts her shoulders. “I just...need more time. Okay…?”

No reply beyond the typical shrieking.

“...all right. I’ll...go try again. It’s almost time for dinner. We’ll see what Kakashi-senpai found for you, okay…? Okay…” Straightening, she looks to him wearily before resting a palm along the chakra.

She can’t wait to feel his hand on hers again…

Letting it slip, Ryū then retreats down the hall to her room, fetching the proper phial containing the virus she’s working on. Bringing it out and regathering her focus, it narrows to the tiny organism in her grip.

Several doors down, Obito has yet to calm. The seals along the corners burn bright red. The pulse of their warning beats faster and faster. Downstairs, in another wing, Kakashi listens idly to the muffled sounds of his old friend’s struggles.

Along the barrier, cracks begin to bloom. The chakra reserve drains to its last dredges. Ryū is unaware in the master quarters, senses reduced to the tiny speck in her chakra.

When the shield shatters...she doesn’t feel it.

Several things happen in quick succession.

Obito slams into the wall opposite his doorway, stunned as he finally finds the freedom he was wanting. Head shaking, he gives a few grunts of animalistic curiosity. He’s loose...he can look for the light...where? Where did it go? Giving a holler, he moves down the hall a few steps in the other direction.

Below, Kakashi’s keen hearing brings him to a halt. That...that was louder than before. He picks up footsteps. The next sound is further down the corridor.

...oh shit.

Ryū!

Manor layout memorized, he makes for the quickest route up: out the nearest window, up the wall, and into the hallway that intersects the one Obito is in...just in time to see him go streaking by in a blur of red and black.

“Ryū!”

Eyes snapping open at Kakashi’s shouted warning, Ryū’s senses expand back outward, and in the strange vertigo that follows, she picks up Obito’s chakra, coming in fast…! Panicking, she shoves the virus into the phial, sealing it shut just as he comes hurtling through the doorway.

As she looks up, he meets her gaze, and for a heartbeat, time seems to freeze.

Then, with a bellow, he barrels through any furniture in his way. Papers scatter, wood snaps, and Ryū barely manages to erect another barrier just as he reaches her. The momentum throws her back atop a chair that splinters beneath her, earning a cry as it digs into her back. The phial remains clutched in her hand even as the new shield fades.

Obito, stunned for a moment at the impact, recoils just long enough to let her bring up another over her person as he dives atop her, teeth gnashing and hands clawing. The added weight presses splintered wood into her back, jaw tightening as she splits her focus between her barrier and numbing the sensation remotely.

Skidding into the room, Kakashi wastes no time in dragging Obito back, locking him by the crooks of his elbows. “Knock it...off…!” he grunts, struggling against his old teammate’s surprising strength.

Bringing herself up off the floor, Ryū catches her breath for a moment before trying to find a way to incapacitate the Uchiha...but his unpredictable flailing makes that nearly impossible.

It only gets worse when he turns on Kakashi instead.

“Senpai!”

Doing his best to grapple Obito, he orders, “Stay back! I can handle -!”

Before his sentence can end, he cuts off as Obito stiffens and vomits a mixture of blood and half-rotten fish all over his front. The pair stumble apart, Obito twitching violently and Kakashi flinching in revulsion.

And before anyone can act...Obito takes off out of the room, stumbling and gasping.

Pulling the door closed, Ryū hesitates to approach Kakashi. “Are...are you all right?”

“Fine, just...disgusted,” he assures her, peeling off his flak jacket. “That is the rankest vomit I think I’ve ever had the displeasure to smell.”

“You don’t have any open wounds, do you? None got in your nose or mouth?”

“No, no I’m fine...though I might have to puke myself here in a second.”

“There’s no time! We have to bring him back!” Before he can reply, she tugs the door back open, taking off down the hall.

The sight makes Kakashi stiffen as he spies the unmistakable stain of crimson along the back of her coat. “...Ryū…!”

The pair make to follow the escapee, pausing to listen. The front door of the manor is thrown open, and a jog outside reveals Obito in the front garden, on his hands and knees, digging in the ground…?

Holding out an arm, Ryū brings them both to a stop. “...what is he…?”

“Ryū, your back -”

“I know, just...hold on.”

Together, they watch in careful silence as he keeps digging, pausing to vomit again before continuing his work. A moment later, there’s an ear-splitting squeal, and...he hauls up some kind of rodent…?

Brow furrowing, Ryū then cringes as Obito tears the creature’s head off, stuffing it into his mouth as quickly as he can. “...he’s hunting…”

“...guess we proved to be too much of a match…?”

“Maybe...that, combined with losing what he had in his stomach must have been enough.”

Sat on his knees, Obito sways for a moment, seemingly passive again before simply...slumping to the ground, unconscious.

...that rings an alarm.

“...come on, we have to get him inside.”

“But -?”

“We don’t know when he’ll wake up!”

“Ryū, you really think that’s a good idea? He almost bit you!”

“I -! I know that, but -!”

“It’s too dangerous having him in the house. If I hadn’t -?” He cuts off with a curt sigh. “...we at least have to keep him farther away from you. It can’t be that easy for him to catch you off-guard if this happens again. Is there a basement?”

Still looking indignant, she hesitates. “...yes.”

“Then we’ll take him there. Set up new seals. Keep your visits to him to a minimum. All right?”

Almost feeling like a scolded child, Ryū glances bitterly aside. “...fine.”

More sealing paper. More seals. More chakra. An alcove in the underground floor of the manor is set aside for his new quarters. Beyond the shrinking pile of coal for the boiler and stored away furniture, Ryū applies more sedative chakra to keep him under a while longer as the seals gather more energy.

“...how’s your back?”

“Fine.”

“...can you...heal it?”

Ryū heaves a small sigh. “...not directly. And do so indirectly takes more time and focus than I’d like.”

“Well you can’t just leave it open.”

Finally turning to look to him, she manages a hint of amusement in her gaze. “Now who’s the chiding medic?”

“There’s a dangerous virus going around. I’m a little more worried than usual.”

“Well, I’m not about to get any of his fluids on my back...but fine. I’ll...do something about it.”

“I could patch it up.”

A white brow perks.

“Hey, I know basic first aid. Enough to tend to a puncture wound, all right?”

“Okay, okay…”

Retreating to the main floor, Ryū fetches a first aid box that looks almost untouched. Shrugging out of her coat with a slight hiss, she does her best to stand patiently as Kakashi rolls up her shirt to give the wound a look.

“Well, doesn’t look like there’s any debris, at least.”

“Anything small probably just stuck in the coat.”

Giving it a dousing of alcohol nonetheless, he glances up as she tenses. “...think I’ll put a stitch or two in just to be safe.”

“Whatever you think.”

Needle and thread cleaned, he passes it through until the wound mostly pinches shut. Antiseptic is applied to some gauze, pressed to the puncture and held in place by a few wrapped layers around her ribcage. “Well...it’s not as good a job as you could do, but it should suffice.”

“Thanks…” Tugging her shirt back down, Ryū considers her coat. “...better wash it before it stains...stitch that hole shut.”

“All right. I’ll be...around.”

Giving him a flicker of a smile, the healer makes her way back upstairs to the master quarters.

...what a mess.

There’s a weight of guilt in her gut at the now-ruined antiques. Eyeing the chair warily, she just...tosses everything broken into a corner before sitting atop the bed and sewing her coat. It’s far from its first patch job...and this is far from her first coat. Saline digging into the fibers at her command loosens the blood, the soiled liquid tossed down the sink in the attached bathroom. Stubbornly, she puts the coat back on, buckling the belt over the middle.

...there.

Kneeling on the floor, she then slowly picks up her scattered research notes, reading them over briefly and wondering why she hasn’t heard anything from the other medics yet. Have any made any headway? Is she behind, ahead, on-pace?

...part of her fears that the rest of the world has been overrun. That the three of them - well...two - might be all that’s left. Tucked away in this remote little corner of the world.

Sitting on her knees with a kind of numbness in her chest, Ryū just...lingers for a while. What happens if they fail…? If she fails? What if the plague spreads too quickly? What if they never find a cure? What if -?!

Hands lift to cup over her face. No...no, she can’t afford to think like that. No matter what, she has to keep trying. Even if it’s up until the very end...she can’t give up…! She’ll find a way. She has to!

...she has to…

Heaving a curt breath, she stands, replacing her notes atop the desk and taking the phial out of her leg pack.

...back to work.

As much as she hates it...she does her best to avoid going to the basement. Kakashi checks on him, and their shifts to bring him something to eat are kept quick and quiet. The less they stress the barrier, the better.

...but even then...it doesn’t take Ryū long to notice something.

“...I think he’s sick.”

The incredulous look Kakashi gives her is met with a glare. “I mean besides the plague. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“His breath is rattling. And he hasn’t been as active. He’s still aggressive, but...it seems almost...muted somehow.” She nibbles a thumbnail, thinking. “...Suigin-sama said his immune system felt weak. That it would be easier to contract something on top of what he already has.”

“What, you think he’s got a cold or something?”

“No...worse. It seems like some kind of pneumonia. He definitely has liquid in his lungs.”

“Well...what are we supposed to do about it?”

“...I have to treat it.”

“But -?”

“If I don’t, he’ll only get worse, and he might -” The word sticks in her throat. “...I can’t not do something about it. Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

Kakashi heaves a heavy sigh. “...so, what? You knock him out and work on him?”

“That’s seemingly the only way.”

“...wonderful.”

The pair make their way down to the lowest manor level, lights dull and flickering. Approaching him quietly, Ryū listens, gesturing for Kakashi to do the same. To her, it’s plain as day: the wheezing, wet breaths. He must have picked something up while outside...damn it, I shouldn’t have let him get that far…!

But there’s no time for regrets now. Stepping into view, she watches him carefully. For a moment, he weaves as though dizzy before making to attack the barrier. As she thought, his strikes seem to lack the power they had before. There’s a lethargy to his form and his movements that tells he’s doing worse.

Either he’s sick on top of the plague...or the plague is getting worse.

She prays it’s just the former.

“...are you sure about this?”

“Positive. I have to, Kakashi. The more that ravages at his body, the weaker he’ll get, until…”

The Hatake sighs, head bowing with hands in his pockets. Beside him, Ryū lets her gaze fall.

...and then...they both notice something.

It’s...quiet.

Bringing her eyes back up, Ryū feels her heart still at what she sees. Palms pressed to the barrier, Obito stares at her, as per usual. And yet…

And yet…!

For a moment - just a moment - there’s something...human in his eyes. A kind of somber recognition tempered with...longing…

...is he -?

But as soon as it starts, the calm stops, and she can’t help a flinch as he resumes his attack. Her heart jumps back into action, and it’s only then she realizes the wetness along her cheeks.

Kakashi gives her a careful glance from the corner of his eye. “...Ryū…?”

Turning aside for a moment, she doesn’t reply. He...he saw her, didn’t he? Knew her! It was just for a heartbeat, but...it was there. She saw it!

“...Ryū, I -”

“I’m fine. Just...get ready in case something goes wrong.”

Watching her carefully, he then wilts with a sigh. “...all right.

Connecting the barrier’s chakra reserve to her own, Ryū begins readying to manipulate it. Keeping one hand flat against the wall, Obito’s eyes drawn to it, she carefully sneaks the other through a gap she tears in the chakra. Gripping along his side, she quickly floods his system with anesthetic chakra.

Like a puppet with his strings cut, Obito suddenly goes limp, slumping against the barrier before crumpling to the floor.

“All right...I’ll get to work. Just, um...stay nearby in case he wakes up. It should keep him out for a good while, but...better safe than sorry.”

“Right.”

Laying Obito on his back, Ryū rolls back his shirt to bare his chest, chakra glowing as she gets to work.

“...what is...that?”

Glancing up, she sees Kakashi’s gaze at Obito’s right side. “...in all honesty? I’m not sure. I haven’t ever looked too close. But if what you told me is true - about him being crushed - it might be some kind of...replacement flesh for what was affected.”

“...huh…”

“Another mystery to ask him about later,” she murmurs.

“...guess so.”

With that, they fade into a companionable silence as she tries to repair what damage she can.

     Chapter three! Obito got to go for a bit of an adventure! But, oh boy...looks like his immune system isn't quite keeping up. Hopefully Ryū can get him patched up, and then finish off this disease for good!

#abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #hatake kakashi #blood // #vomit // #when dead walk [ au ]

[sirbobboiv]

The painting is what started everything. I’m sure of it. That cunt in the frame is what scarred me for life. I knew that the house on the east hill was trouble, everybody claimed the place was haunted, but Asshat Pat just had to bring me up there.

If you’re reading this, get the fuck out of this house. Do anything you can to get out before She wakes up. Once the lady in the painting changes, it’s all over.

So, Pat drives me up there, half hysterical, and pretty much shoved me into the building. At this point, I’m absolutely fuming. After I take a step, the door shuts behind me, like some lame horror film. I rap on the door a few times, but I don’t get an answer. God, who locks doors from the outside?

I take a look around the place, it looks surprisingly clean, which is a pleasant surprise, but something in the back of my mind tells me that that’s not good. The entire place is lit up with some Elizabethan chandeliers, at least the place has some taste. At the center of what I assume is the central hall is Queen Bitch herself.

Her hair is loosely held behind her head, her face emotionless, and her hands laced together. Thankfully, the painting doesn’t look like it’s meeting my gaze. No matter what she looks like, the portrait gives me a serious chill up my spine.

I start walking around, La-dee-da, and then remember, I can just nope the fuck out of here. The door doesn’t budge, but I’m sure that I can break a window, I’ve done it before. I pick up a stool and launch that bitch at the window, ‘cause fuck stools. It bounces off. The windows are tempered. Yay. Looks like I’m going to be here for a while. It’s already getting dark, so I might as well get some sleep. Maybe somebody will notice I’m missing and put in the effort to come get me.

Anyway, stools are heavy and I need sleep.

Day 2:

My skin is crawling. This stupid house makes my skin crawl. And let me tell you, I don’t like it. I do the Harlem shake real quick and that cures my problem. Now, it’s time to explore.

I go up the stairs, which just had to be creaky, and can’t help but look at the painting again. It’s the same lady, same hair, same smile, and her hand was placed over the other like yesterday. At the top of the stairs, my hand brushes against a spider. Being the brave person I am, I screamed and smashed the thing. God, I hate spiders. In the upstairs section, I find an old bedroom, a bathroom, and a wonderfully dark room that I can’t see shit in. I’ll just close that door....

Going up the stairs really works up a piss, so I head on into the bathroom and get my lady business dealt with. The bathroom is poorly lit, so my reflection looks a little off. That’s okay though, I still know I look fabulous.

The bedroom holds a whole lotta dust. The bed is gross, everything is covered in bed bugs, I’d rather sleep on the floor. Now is when I hear a few voices outside. Somebody came to find me! I can’t make out what they are saying, but I definitely hear a man and a woman talking. I sprint downstairs and slam my fists on the door a few times and yell. The voices stop, maybe they heard me. I yell a little more, because honestly, it feels good after being trapped in such a quiet house for a whole day. I hear a single, loud bang in response and I am, once again, left to my thoughts and stools.

Day 3:

I had a dream last night. I was trapped in a coffin, 6 feet under the ground. I could not move, scream, but only breathe, see, and feel. A single spider crawled towards me, dropped onto my face. I try desperately to swat it away from me, to no avail. It slowly crawls towards my ear, and burrows itself into my head. It hurts. The pain is excruciating, as it burrows deeper into my brain. Before long, maggots erupt from my pores, and hundreds of baby spiders crawl out of my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. They eat away at my body, slowly, savoring the flesh.

I wake up in a cold sweat, my eyes immediately transfixed on the lady in the painting. I realize now that I am not alone. She is in here. Watching. Waiting. Slowly driving me insane. As I study her, I realize something is off. Her hands still are placed over each other, her eyes glitter hungrily, her teeth bared in a grotesque smile. Fear ripples through my body and burns in my chest. She was never just a painting.

I get up and move to the side, her eyes stay transfixed on the position of my waking. I leave the room, and reenter. Now, her eyes meet my gaze. I run to the other side of the room, her eyes stay in place. I hide behind a pillar and emerge again. Her eyes meet my gaze. I can’t stand being in her sight anymore.

I climb the stairs and enter the bathroom. I stare at my reflection for a time. It blinks. My reflection blinks. My reflection isn’t me, it is the lady in the painting. She smiles at me, her disgusting teeth now coated red. She cackles and maggots spill from her mouth. She isn’t human.

She continues to laugh as she scratches her skin raw, drawing blood. She does not stop. She keeps scratching until the white of bone is shown. Now, she begins to rip to flesh from her bone, devouring veins and tendons as they appear. I can’t take my eyes away. Before long, she seems to tire from her arms, and her hands migrate to her face, peeling the scalp like an orange peel. An ear-piercing scream escapes from the revolting mix of flesh and blood that is her. She locks eyes with me one last time and the mirror shatters. The sound of her scream bounces around in my mind, trapped, eating away at my sanity. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the images to escape me. It begins to die down, and I open my eyes. She is there, her jaw unhinged. The next thing I know, I black out.

Day 4:

I wake to find myself in the same place I blacked out. The pain in my head is immense, but I forge on. I stand and immediately lurch forward and vomit the remains of the acid inside. The fluid is tinged with black, and clumps of goo spill along with it. Internal bleeding. I’m not going to make it through this.

I stumble out of the bathroom, a static-like noise never leaving me. I trip down the stairs and fall to the second landing. Static. I once again regain my balance and get to the ground floor. Static. I shamble along into the center of the main room, and shift my eyes towards the painting. Not... static. Whispers. My consciousness explodes into hundreds of whispers, all around me, inside me, incoherent, and uncountable. I fall to my knees and clutch my ears, the voices respond my chorusing even louder than before. They ferociously attack my mind, tearing down every barrier I’ve mustered. Eventually, they tear down the last barricade and they all die down. Except one. It says to me, as clearly as if the voice was beside me. No, above me, “She’s behind you.” The painting, it’s empty. I turn around to find a hollow carcass laying on the ground. It trembles, and the knock swivels around to reveal the lady in the painting. Still covered in blood, her underlying flesh exposed, her jaw transfixed in that horrible smile I saw just the day before. Her teeth are once again coated in blood, but maggots aren’t in there anymore. The blood is mine. She has buried her face into my neck, gnawing on everything she can find. I fall to the ground, my chest exposed, and she pounces on me. She kisses me sickeningly, and regurgitates my own flesh and blood into my mouth. She lunches my throat, forcing me to swallow. She cries with glee and finishes my already rotting body.

#horror #disgusting #body horror #squeamish warning

[monitorsscrawlings]

Boogie-Monster Dining & Diner Etiquette

Dining Area Set-Up:

== For most families and dining faculties, the dining area is set-up to seat the maximum number of monsters together comfortably while accommodating the broadest possible range of shapes and sizes, and is considered one of the main focal-points in many monster homes, given that this is where food and company are shared, and where family and friends most often meet to talk. With that in mind most dining tables are elongated oval-shapes, multi-tiered round-tables or wavy, meandering affairs with rounded edges, and many modern tables are designed to be adjustable. The dining area floor is usually heavily covered in a thick padding of multiple carpets, with an array of plush seat-cushions and pillows surrounding the table proper. Stools, bird-stands, bucket-chairs or wheeled tanks, as well as high-benches or high-stools designed with smaller monsters in mind are also fairly common, and usually made available as needed by the hosts or proprietor.

== Carved stone tables with stone slabs or tree-stumps for seating tend to be a more traditional seating arrangement--though they've fallen out of vogue in many places in recent times--often favored by smaller families or very small private gatherings and usually feature roast-spits and a shallow fire-pit built into the center of the table.

== Serving dishes are all designed to be picked up from the bottom or sides with ease, and often have handles or handhold's set in the sides or the top of the dish, and almost everything has a motif or design worked into it. Many of them tend to feature secure-able lids, particularly in the case of more fragrant, volatile, or lively dishes, and woven baskets or wire-cages are also common sights at the dinner table. Most serving-dishes and dinner-ware are made out of carved stone, wrought-iron, or dense porcelain, though copper or wooden cook-ware isn't too uncommon either.

Before The Meal:

Before the meal begins, all diners are expected to take part in the dinner-time hand-washing ceremony, wherein they wash their hands, claws, hooves, tentacles or other sundry appendages in small bowls of cold water, before dabbing them dry on the provided towels. Once done, diners give short personal thanks to both their hosts, the cooks, and those who have worked to bring this food to the table, before digging in. Most places don't stand on ceremony, and while waiting for everyone to be seated is considered good etiquette and a proper show of respect, it isn't strictly required.

A Helping Hand: In the case of non-boogie-monster dinner-guests, hatchlings or cubs, the invitation-giver, or a young monsters parents or guardain is responsible for seeing after their guest(s) or young, coaching them on the finer points of dinner-etiquette, helping them navigate the meal should it be required, and helping to make them feel more comfortable and at home. Their performance, good or bad, will reflect on not only themselves, but the monster or monsters who invited them, so it is quite important. Likewise, the hosts are responsible for properly accommodating their guests, friends and family alike, as well as providing appropriate seating arrangements. Outside of restaurants and public dinning-halls, or small informal meals, most everyone helps to provide, cook and set the meal, so that the burden does not rest solely on the hosts.

Meal Progression: Most meals consist of anywhere from three to seven courses on average, including dessert, which is usually considered the highest point of the meal. Breakfast is always informal, done with close, trusted friends and immediate family, and everything is served together in one massive course. Lunch and dinner tend to be a little more formal, and it's quite common for entire adjoining families to gather and dine together, as this is a prime time to socialize.

Lunches tend to be treated as a stop-gap between breakfast and dinner, with lighter fare, and an emphasis on protein, fat and sugar-rich foods. Snacking between meals isn't unusual, particularly with younger monsters.

Dinners are always the largest meal of the day by far, and where the most emphasis is put on gathering together as a larger group to eat and talk and be merry.

Boogie-Monster Dining Etiquette:

== Teeth-gnashing, openly drooling and slathering, licking ones chops, stomach-gurgling, emitting hungry growls or other such displays are acceptable, and considered good etiquette and signs of a healthy apatite and appropriate readiness for the coming meal. Roughly jostling the table, forcibly snatching serving platters away from others, eating directly out of or hogging the serving dishes, repeatedly banging on the table, setting the table or other diners on fire, or otherwise being overly disruptive is considered extremely bad etiquette and juvenile besides, however.

== Loudly slurping when eating soup, stew, long noodle-dishes, entrails, or things like worms, snakes or newts is considered good etiquette. Likewise, playing with ones prey/food in the case of fresh or animate foodstuffs is considered good etiquette. Envenomating ones prey before swallowing it whole or sucking out its entrails, eating it slowly one bite at a time, playfully dismembering it before eating it, lightly toasting it, dissolving it with venom or corrosive acid and slurping it up, or simply absorbing it are all also perfectly acceptable besides, and diners should feel free to enjoy their meals--live-prey included--in their preferred manner. Shriveled carcasses or other uneaten scraps should be placed next to ones dishes or left on the side of the plate, as this is good etiquette.

== Breathing fire, lightning, cold or more exotic effects, shooting streams or balls of slime, or regurgitating bones or other hard to digest bits is perfectly fine, provided one is circumspect and does so in moderation. And aiming away from the table is always preferable. Allowing projectiles to strike other diners, their food, or the serving dishes, or careen unchecked down the table is very bad etiquette.

== Belching and burping is always acceptable and approved, and the louder the better. Especially when done after a meal, where it is considered to be a high compliment and a show of both appreciation and satisfaction towards the food and the hospitality of the hosts.

== Complimenting the meal is naturally not only good etiquette, but a good idea. Whether one chooses to say the food was wonderful, or call it rancid garbage and disgusting, repulsive slop, both are considered equally good by boogie-monster standards.

== Eating-utensils are largely optional, excepting when serving certain foodstuffs, and most are made of wood or bone, and considered both disposable and perfectly edible and nicely crunchy, if a trifle bland. Using ones assorted appendages, like ones tail, tongue, wings, claws, talons or what have you to handle and eat food is perfectly acceptable, and often customary. Likewise so is picking at ones teeth after a meal, and utensils can double as tooth-picks quite nicely.

= Eating something off the floor, licking ones fingers, licking ones plate clean, or picking pieces of food off of ones self and eating them is acceptable, particularly in the case of insects or other live prey. Licking crumbs off of the table or floor is not, and is considered demeaning. Chewing with ones mouth(s) open, talking with ones mouth(s) full, snatching food from other diners plates, or plucking live-prey or morsels off of other diners and eating them without the other monsters permission is considered bad etiquette.

= Consuming ones own flesh during a meal is not only bad etiquette, in most circumstances it can be taken as a serious insult towards not only the food being served, but the hosts and their hospitality as well. Snacking, grooming, or performing self-care or personal maintenance such as sharpening ones fangs or claws should be done either well before or after a meal, and never at the dinner-table. Likewise, using the table or other guests as a back-scratcher or scratching post, even if intended in a friendly or playful manner is considered bad etiquette. Shedding, copious drooling or oozing is permissible, provided one isn't being especially disruptive.

== Intentionally eating or attempting to eat other diners or ones dinner-guests during a meal is considered unacceptable, no matter how good they look, smell, or taste, nor how small and succulent they appear. Likewise eating someone shortly before or after a meal is considered bad etiquette and exceedingly poor form, and can be taken as an insult towards the food, and a slap in the face towards the cooks and ones hosts. While not actually taboo, it is still incredibly rude.

After The Meal:

After dinner has been concluded and the dishes have been cleared away, it is quite common-place--though not required--for dinner-guests to continue relaxing in the dinning area as their meals settle, talking freely amongst themselves or forming small groups to partake in board and card games, or forming story-telling circles. Hatchlings and younger monsters are usually the first to be gently guided off to bed, though to be certain after so much food and activity, they're very rarely the only ones to begin nodding off in the after-dinner festivities.  

Author Note: This was a short-piece I wrote up at the prompting of a friend on one occasion when I was asking around for prompts and things people would want to see my write about. I had a lot of fun when I originally wrote this, and while yes it is a bit silly it was also nice being able to cut loose a little.

I’m afraid that this is both just a re-hash of the version I had originally posted on my other blog, and a stand-alone piece, at least for now. I was going to write up a follow up piece on Boogey-Monster Taboos and culture, but I got stymied pretty badly. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to take this back in, write more, make a preface and cover more stuff on the Netherworlds history, geography and such, and different facets of boogey-monster society and such. For now I’ll wrap this segment up by saying: thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this short-piece!

#Otherverse Lore #Otherverse Odds & Ends #Kooks & Spooks #monochrome #Monsters #Boogey-Monsters #Silly and a little gross but I had a lot of fun writing this

[artificialqueens]

Sk8er Girl CH2 (Trixya)- Squeaky Pink

Trixya!HS AU. Trixie is a nerdy, girly girl with bows and frills. Katya is a skater chick with scuffed knees and a  Flazéda attitude. When they’re assigned as lab partners, can they discover chemistry together?

Or: She was a sk8er girl. She said see you later girl. She wasn’t good enough for her (or was she?).

[AN: Pink Shrooms aka Squeaky Pink. We’re writing this together but alternating chapters and POVs. Pinky is Trixie’s POV and Squeaky is Katya’s POV. We wanted to write the ending of this chapter based on the actual experience of a friend. The goal was to emulate life it its honest, messy way.]

PLAYING HOOKY

“You have to stop crashing at our place,” Alaska snaps as she throws open the curtains of the trailer. Katya groans and rubs her eyes. Ugh, she can still taste last night’s booze.

“But I thought you liked it when I warmed your couch? Doesn’t it get lonely without me?” Katya yawns as she grabs some cereal from the drawer. Sharon Needles greets her with the middle finger as she comes out of the bedroom in a leather studded jacket.

“Nah, bitch. ‘Lasky and I like to fuck without you a fart’s distance away, listening to our every creak.”

“I’ll close my ears next time.”

“Girl, you live right next to the skate park. So why are you constantly come crawling over to this dumpster?”

“The scenic view,” Katya says and gestures out the window to the pile of rubber tires. Willam zooms past them. Then the whirlwind of a girl kicks open the door, cracks open a can of beer from the fridge, and raises her eyebrows at the three of them.

“So we gonna skate or you blonde fucks too busy finger-popping each others’ assholes?”

“You’re blonde too,” Alaska points out.

“That’s bottle-blonde,” Willam burps. “AKA the dick sucking brand of blonde. Y’all be the lesbian variety.”

“I’m bisexual, bitch,” Katya says, flicking Willam on the forehead and stealing her drink. It’s too early to be drinking, especially on a Wednesday, but it’s not the worst decision she has made this week.

She sighs in relief as the LA sun warms her back, the wind whips her hair, and wheels happily hum against the concrete. Katya’s still a little sore from her fall a couple of days ago, but it’s nothing an early morning spin can’t soothe.

They practice new tricks. Willam finds a new trick and sneaks off into the bushes with him. Alaska tries to ride on Sharon’s back, but they end up collapsing on top of each other, laughing like idiots. Katya smiles up at the blue sky. In the distance, she sees the yellow school bus chugging by, and her easy smile falls away.

“Aw, shit, gotta get my ass to math class before princi-PAL Ru-PAL suspends me,” Willam says and snaps her fingers. “Again.”

“I’m just gonna stay here,” Katya mumbles as her friends grab their backpacks.

Alaska throws a friendly hand over her shoulder: “Can I assssk you a question?”

“Yeah?”

“How are you going to graduate if you don’t show up? I’m surprised that you, pardon the expression, have the balls to skip so much school with that Barbie doll as your lab partner.”

Katya rubs her fingers over the bandaid. She bites her lip as she remembers how gently Trixie had applied it. Sure, Trixie had come off as a bitch during class, but Katya also saw a softer side to her that afternoon. Fuck, then those stupid tampons and Katya had run away…

They’d made Katya anxious. Her? Anxious? Groundbreaking. She wasn’t ready to come out to Trixie as trans. Although she definitely liked Trixie, they just weren’t that close. Trixie was an out and proud lesbian…so maybe being a part of the LGBT community she’d be more understanding? Katya shook her head; she didn’t want to risk it. It’s none of Trixie’s business, anyway.   

She sighs: Why bother, ‘Lasky? My brain’s full of small mice that run and run, but they’re going nowhere. You think my mouse-run brain’s gonna get me to college? Nah, fuck school knowledge. I should just take the GED exam so I can spend more time practicing my skating for competitions.“

Alaska squeezes her shoulder, but Willam gives the back of Katya’s helmet a firm smack.

“Now listen. Stop being stupid, stupid! Teachers want you to graduate, so they don’t gotta deal with yo ass. So just show up and show tits. Unless you have Michelle Visage, then wear a turtleneck. I’m saying this cause I love you, and I don’t want to see you sellin’ that ass on the side of road for a quarter when you’re worth a million bucks. Go to school. Get a diploma. Maybe get head from a hottie. And get the fuck over yourself.”

Katya laughs even as she shakes her head. God, why are her friends so amazing? Even though she’d rather spend the rest of the day here, perfecting her moves at the park, Katya goes with them to school.

Choices.

——

BACK TO SCHOOL (AGAIN)

First period is gym, and Katya’s secretly glad to trade in her helmet for a badminton racket. Coach Santino gives her a nod and tosses her a birdie. Most students think he’s a creep ever since that rumor that he took Violet Chachki to Red Lobster and ate her out, but he seems ok. Well, at least he doesn’t have a dildo wedged up his ass like Ms. Del Rio.

Katya plays a game with Alaska. Their shots fail to go over the net, but they’re giggling anyways. Gym has always been her favorite period. Besides lunch and study hall.

RIIIIIIIIIIIING.

Katya slumps into the back of English class, and they’re reading -surprise!- Shakespeare. More like Shakesqueer, Katya mouths to Sharon Needles. They fist bump. It’s Romeo and Juliet, and everyone groans except for this one girl with grey hair, Max, who’s a little too excited to do assigned reading. Oh, wait, she’s a theater kid, so of course she diddles herself to The Bard.

“It’s the most romantic play of all time! I can feel every line in my bosom,” Max sighs.

Bosom? Suuuure. Katya zones out and looks up a Sparknotes summary on her phone. Romeo is super in love with this Rosaline girl one day and then Juliet the next day? Wow, true love. Katya’s seen this exact drama played out behind the skate park bushes at least twice a week featuring less death and more herpes.

“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs,” Max reads with a pathetic sigh. Katya wants to stab her eye with her pencil.

Katya is relieved when English class finishes. “If I have to listen to that British girl jerking off to Romeo’s monologues for the rest of this week…I don’t think I’m coming back,” Katya groans as they walk out back to the dumpster. She lights up Sharon’s cigarette and then her own.

“Love is bullshit,” Sharon agrees as Alaska arrives; she offers the younger girl a puff.  

“You have a girlfriend though.”

“Nah, I gotta friend, who likes to fuck. Big difference. Romeo just wanted to stick it in, so he had to get married to do it to please the patriarchy. Worst thing that happened to us gays was when we started getting gay-married.”

“Are you sure?” Katya rolls her eyes. “Are you sure that’s the worst thing that’s happened to us gays in the last hundred years?”

“Ok, maybe not. But love is fake and marriage is an institution.”

Alaska snaps her fingers in agreement and gives Sharon Needles a peck on the cheek. Ugh, for two people who think love is fake, they look like they are going to elope and drive to Las Vegas any day now. They’re that one couple that everyone knows is a thing, but they pretend it’s not as serious as it is. Katya has a That’s-So-Raven moment where she sees their wedding invitations. Gross.

“I mean is capitalism’s corporate dick wedged deep inside our every sacred tradition, including marriage? Yes. Do I still think social equality for the LGBT community is important? Fuck yes.”

Katya and Sharon go back and forth. Katya wishes that school was like this- a real debate. She wishes that it wasn’t always regurgitating the teachers’ opinions for a grade. Then the bell rings and they head inside, but Katya stays to finish. As she deeply inhales the smoke, Katya rubs the Barbie Band-Aid once more. Why hasn’t she taken it off yet?

“Oh, good, look who decided to show up,” Ms. Del Rio deadpans.

“McDonald’s wasn’t hiring,” Katya jokes back as the entire class laughs. Laganja chirps ‘okuuurrr.’ Ms. Del Rio gives Katya a look like drop another test tube and you’ll wish they were hiring.

Katya forgot her lab manual, periodic table, and basically everything at home, so she just slinks down next to Trixie. She hates that her stomach twists up into a knot when the blonde smiles at her. Katya almost forgets how to smile back.

“I scared you off, huh? Sorry…I tend to have that kind effect on people,” Trixie softly whispers as Ms. Del Rio dims the lights.

Katya’s fingers brush against Trixie’s as they reach for their pencils. Katya may not believe in love, but she believes in the way her thighs clench with arousal at the touch. Electric. Trixie’s wearing a strapless dress, which is tight around her breasts, and Katya believes in the way her cock twitches at the sight.

Katya’s glad the lights are low enough to hide her heated face. What? She’s eighteen and horny, and Trixie Mattel is the world’s least likely girl to ever sleep with her. All things considered, Katya would do anything to bury her face between those thick thighs. 

She tries to slow her breathing and concentrate on the video about potassium. Nothing like ions to try and take your mind off of your growing erection. Katya shouldn’t have worn denim shorts this tight, but it’s too late to do anything but squirm in her seat with regret and arousal.

Trixie leans in, breath curling against Katya’s ear: “Did the Band-Aid help?”

“Not without the expert care of my favorite Barbie nurse,” Katya says, trying for flirty, but she kind of stumbles at the end and lands closer to awkward. Curse Trixie and her breasts and bows and brains! If only Katya had that many B’s on her report card, her parents might actually want her to come home. Wow, now she’s horny and anxious? An all time low.

“What made you come back to chemistry?”

My asshole friends.

“You,” Katya promises with a wink.

Trixie snorts and rolls her eyes. She’s so frustratingly superior, and Katya should hate her for that. It kind of turns her on though. Katya likes when Trixie sasses her with a single look, and, wow, thoughts like that aren’t helping with the boner situation. It’s hard -pun intended- to think when Trixie’s around.

“Sorry about the tampons.”

Katya flinches. Ok, erection effectively killed.

“Don’t mention it. No, like, please, don’t mention it.”

“I thought it was weird that you ran, but I talked to my friends and…well, Max has a chronically shallow vagina, and she says that tampons won’t fit. So, I don’t know you or your medical history, and if I somehow triggered you, I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

Thinking about Max’s chronically shallow vagina has made Katya very un-hard. Wow, that’s the first time that Katya has ever been thankful someone un-aroused her. Chemistry class has taken a turn for the weird. Just how Katya likes it.

“It’s ok,” she promises. “I promise not to run away from you again, if you help me figure out how to pass this class. Da?”

“Wait…you know Russian?”

“I don’t just know it– I am Russian. I was brought here when I was six, so I don’t have an accent. Why?”

“Because I want to go to college in Russia!” Trixie whispers. “Please help me, and I’ll reach-around to help you.”

Ok, now that just sounds vaguely like a sex act. Courtney twists around at her lab table and gives them both a knowing look.

“Fuck, yeah!”

Wow, that was not her inside voice. That wasn’t even her outside voice. That’s her in-the-basement jerking off to porn voice, and now everyone in the room is staring.

Ms. Del Rio click-clacks over to them, and Katya wants to cower under the lab table. The woman hands them both a slip for lunch detention. Trixie gasps as she’s given the pink slip, holding it like it’s covered in poisonous chemicals. 

“I see that I have a couple of clowns in my class this year, so let me repeat- all foolishness will earn you a detention slip. If you don’t want to behave, get packing.”

Katya doesn’t give a shit, but Trixie buries her face into her hands and doesn’t speak to her for the rest of the period. The lab is so simple even Katya manages to get it. Trixie’s face is blank, but Katya can see the hurt just under the surface. She wishes that she knew how to approach her or what to say. Once more, she’s reminded of what different worlds they come from.

“Hey, so do you still want to tutor-”

“You smell like cigarettes,” Trixie snaps and rushes out of the classroom, pink slip crumpled up in her hand.

Katya usually is the first to bolt after class, but she goes up to Ms. Del Rio instead: “I did everything! I cursed and came in late and- and please don’t punish Trixie for me being an idiot.”

“You were both talking. You both get detention. Next?”

“No! I wasn’t talking to Trixie I, uh, I was…talking to myself?” Katya stammers and it’s ridiculous even for her. “Please, don’t punish Trixie. She’s trying her best and school is so important to her-”

“Then she’ll go to lunch detention. I don’t believe in special treatment, Ms. Zamo. I’ll see you both in an hour,” Ms. Del Rio says, and her word is law. What is this? Prison?

Katya skips social studies to smoke behind the bleachers with Laganja. She rants about science class, omitting her erection, and questions why school is structured like the penal system. Laganja replies with her usual yes, mawma, preach, god.

Katya comes back, reeking even worse of smoke, and sits a lab table away from Trixie. She bought french fries and milk. Part of a balanced diet. Ms. Del Rio silently grades work at the front of the room, but then she leaves half way through to go to the bathroom.

“Pssstt,” Katya faux-whispers. “Sorry. Hey, are we even on the whole running away from each other thing?”

“Sure. It’s fine,” Trixie mutters, tearing her chicken nuggets in half and opening up her chem notes. That’s the least ‘fine’ fine Katya has ever heard. Fuuuuck, trust her to have a crush on the girl who’s in love with her school work. They’re in chemistry class, but this feels like a lesson in subtraction; Katya should just subtract her being from Trixie’s being. Maybe then Trixie wouldn’t look so miserable.

Katya sighs.

What bullshit did Shakespeare write? Love is smokey sighs? Accurate.

Katya wishes that she had asked Alaska and Sharon what to do. They were the most functional dysfunctional couple that she’d ever met. How did they manage it?

Remedial algebra passes in a blur of numbers. Tick tock. Katya wants to jump over the clock and punch Mr. Davis with a sock. That’s the gibberish that she texts Willam at least.

Suck his cock -W

U say that whenever anyone has a problem. Broken heart? Suck. Broken leg? Suck. Broken moral compass? Suck. -K

If it’s broken, sucking a cock will help. 10/10. User tested and reviewed. -W

How about if u…hurt someone’s feelings? -K

Hurt how? Fucked their mother kinda hurt? -W

Like if you accidentally got them into detention? And they don’t have a dick to potentially suck??? -K

Uhhhhhhhh, lick their clit -W

Metaphorically? -K

OK, MAX. -W

Hmm -W

Try ‘sorry’ -W

Tried that -K

Try it again but this time with your face in between her thighs ;) -W

Katya laughs and sends a gif of a burning hot dog because it feels right in this wiener driven context. She remembers when she came out as trans to her, and Willam was legit like ‘damn, you got the best of both worlds, Hannah Montana.’ Willam never failed to make her laugh.

She arrives at ninth period Intro to Psychology feeling like she’s lost ten years off her life. How has so much drama happened? On a Wednesday for fucks sake.

It’s started to lightly drizzle, and Katya jiggles her foot as she watches the rain streak down the window. Good thing she has a baseball bat, water bottle, and umbrella in her locker. It’s an ‘escape kit’ for a potential zombie apocalypse. Huh, guess Katya’s like Trixie in that way, always preparing for the worst.

“Write down five words that describe you and try to connect those different parts of your identities. Which one is most important to you? In this Unit of Psychology we’ll be exploring ourselves…”

Katya can think of a lot of words that describe her perfectly: skater, chronic under achiever, ADD, bisexual, trans, disappointment—

Disappointment. That’s the word that keeps repeating in her head as she doodles a tattoo design on the side of her paper. Her parents would never approve of a hammer and sickle tattoo, but Katya’s stopped living her life for them. She stopped the day she’d come out as trans ten years ago. Katya had already been wearing skirts around the house since she came to America, but, when she turned eight, Katya gave the middle finger to the world.

Now, she’s eighteen, and her middle finger is still firmly in the air. Her mother, Pat, understands, but her father doesn’t- he never did. He looks at her, silent, like she’s a mistake. Fuck. Katya excuses herself to go pee. She can’t think of words when her brain keeps racing around like a mouse from one thought crumb to the next. Katya stays in the bathroom stall longer than necessary, pressing her head into her hands.

By the time the bell rings, the rain is coming down hard. Katya can only see the yellow blur of buses and the distant green of trees. Alaska and Sharon are making out on top of her locker, and she pushes them off. 

“Ay, this is the thanks we get for letting you stay in our humble abode?” Sharon grumbles.

“Please keep all hands and tongues inside your space while near my locker. This is a 'No Slobber Zone.’ Bitch needs to keep dry.”

“Mhm, that’s not what Willam’s been texting,” Alaska says and raises her eyebrow. “Says you want to make someone wet…with apology tears.”

“Willam’s a Willam.”

“And you’re showing all the signs of being in looove. Sighing? Lying? Laganja told Gia who told Alyssa who told me that you begged Ms. Del Rio not to give Trixie Mattel detention. What’s really going on with you and Barbie, huh?”

“Nothing,” Katya lies and flushes. Wow, it’s a good thing she’s a skater and not a poker player. Her red cheeks are a dead give away.

———

LOST KITTEN

The buses have left by the time Katya rolls outside, red umbrella above her. The pavement is slippery, so Katya forces herself to slow down. She can’t go to the skate park, and, after this morning, she can’t go back to the trailer park. Heart sinking, Katya directs herself home.

Just as she’s turning the corner, Katya sees the saddest sight. Trixie is walking without an umbrella. Her bow is soggy. Her Moschino backpack is practically dragging on the ground.

“Need umbrella? Da?” Katya says with a faux-Russian accent.

Trixie pushes a strand of wet hair from her forehead and smiles: “My knight on a shining skateboard.”

Katya jumps off and tucks her board under her arm. Trixie’s hand brushes hers as she reaches up to hold the umbrella. Katya can’t help it when her cheeks heat up. Her? Blushing? Unheard of.

They walk in silence for a bit, and Katya knows that the events of this morning are still weighing heavily between them. Katya wishes she knew how to break through all of Trixie’s many shields, but she’s…so confusing. Somehow, the more confused Trixie makes her, the less Katya can stay away.

Rain, rain, don’t go away, Katya thinks as Trixie’s hip bumps against hers. You just saved this horrid day.

Katya opens her mouth to say that and then closes it. Everything she wants to say sounds dumb compared to how brilliant Trixie is. Everything might mean nothing when Trixie doesn’t know she’s trans. Why can’t she just say that? Just be the usual middle-finger-to-the-world girl that she is at home and with her friends?

Instead, Katya clears her throat. Pathetic. They pass by the town stores, and she wrinkles her nose at the reek of wet dog. There are too many strays in this town.

“Wait. Did you hear that?”

“What?” Katya stops, but there’s nothing but the rush of cars, splashing through puddles, and the roar of motorcycles. In the distance, she can hear the rumble of thunder. Trixie heads towards the dark alleyway, and Katya follows her.

“Look,” Trixie whispers, breathless.

Katya hears the most pathetic ‘meow’ as she leans down to see a cardboard box. On the outside it says ‘Lucky’s Treats,’ but, inside, there’s the most unlucky looking kitten. It sadly mewls as Trixie carefully reaches down.

“A kitten,” Trixie sighs as she hugs it to her breast. The motherly act makes Katya’s heart twist.

Suddenly, Katya can see the girl who fell to her knees to help her at the skate park. Trixie’s eyes are soft and lips parted when she looks up at Katya. How can one girl hide so much beauty?

“My mom is allergic to cats,” Trixie confesses as she looks up at her with pleading eyes.

“Well, I live in the basement cause my parents are allergic to me, so…yeah, come one, let’s sneak this kitty cat in.”

Trixie’s eyes light up, and she gratefully presses a kiss to Katya’s cheek. It might just be a friendly gesture, but Katya’s toes curl in her wet Converse. God, the sight of Trixie with that little kitten snuggled into her big chest is the best thing she’s seen all day. They debate over names before finally settling on ‘Lucky’ because that’s what it said on the side of the box. Besides, the little scrap of fur is lucky to have found them.

“Shhh,” Katya presses a finger to her lips as she slips in through the back door. They’re tracking water everywhere, so it will be obvious. Still, Katya’s main priority is helping Trixie and Lucky.

They give him milk and watch as he happily laps it up. Trixie’s head is in her hands, face still unguarded, as she happily watches. Trixie tells her a story about how she used to sneak into the animal shelter in the town over on Sundays, spend the whole day there, and tell her mom she was at church. Katya laughs; she thinks that she could listen to Trixie all day.

“Your turn,” Trixie says and nudges her knee. They’re pressed up close on the couch now, with their science homework spread out on the table. Fuck, she likes Trixie so much. She needs to be honest with her so that if Trixie pushes her away, it’ll be sooner rather than later. 

“When I was a little kid, I…came here from Russia. So I never felt like I fit in. Everyone saw some stranger, who didn’t speak how they spoke. Who didn’t look how they thought a- a “boy” should look.”

Trixie’s eyebrows shoot up and she covers her mouth. Then she laughs-

“Wait, you’re joking, right? You mean you were…a tomboy? Right?!”

“No, I…I’m transgender,” Katya says to her hands, afraid to look up at Trixie’s face.

Silence.

Lucky yawns and curls up on the carpet to sleep. The clock angrily ticks as Katya waits for Trixie to say something, anything. Oh god, everything had been going so great and then Katya had to fuck it up.

“That’s great,” Trixie says, face blank. “Great. Uh, I think I have to…my mom wants me to come home…”

“Right,” Katya says, blinking away tears.

Wow, this couldn’t have gone any worse.

“I’ll see you in class-”

“Wait, but- but how about we go over some of the Russian declensions? Or you show me the element symbols again-”

“See you in class,” Trixie repeats, gives her an awkward side hug, and then she’s gone. She leaves Katya shaken and alone. Katya feels like she’s been stripped naked, raw, and then left out in the rain. She curls up on the floor, cradling Lucky to her chest. Katya has already cried once today, and she hates that the tear count is this high.

Disappointment. That’s the word that keeps repeating in her head. Katya gets up, and, even though it’s too early to sleep, hides in bed. Katya buries her face into the pillow and screams. Louder. She can still see Trixie’s eyes, judging her.

Maybe it would have been better if Katya had gotten Laganja or Sasha fucking Belle for a lab partner. Then they could have just failed together. Katya wants to live in a world where she never met Trixie or opened up to her.

The kitten licks her hand, which is hanging over the edge of the bed.

Katya lifts Lucky up and cradles him to her chest.

“There are too many strays in this town,” Katya whispers. “You. Me. They left you in a box. They left me at the airport. I was six. How old are you, Lucky? They also told me I was ‘lucky’ to be taken in by such a nice, middle-class family. Why don’t I feel that way then? God, we’re both so alone, Lucky, so let’s…let’s be alone together? You and me. Just you and me against this world.”

#trixya #katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #squeaky #pinky #sk8er girl #cis!Trixie #trans!katya #high school au #lesbian au #angst #rpdr fanfiction #submission #tw transphobia #tw internalized transphobia #tw coming out

[haosacademy]

Welcome to Haos (Kasey)

     At first glance Haos Academy seemed like something out of a romanticized dream. And I don’t mean in the status quo boy meets girl kind of fantasy either. This place felt like an eight-year old, princess wannabe, spoiled brat puked all her fantasies onto some dream land island, and Haos academy was the result. I could barely stand the sight of it without wanting to regurgitate the lunch I scarfed down on my way here. Then again that’d be a waste of my brother’s food and even I can’t deny he’s a damn good cook.

     Being Twins with the jack of all trades is real shit sometimes though when everyone considers you the bane of their existence. I am the quintessential screw up and since I have nothing else in my life to reward myself for, I wear the moniker with shameless hubris. I learned from a young age I wasn’t going to stand around and take anyone’s crap for events that are clearly, to me and Jack at least, out of my goddamn control.

     To give you some idea of what the hell I’m even talking about I have to explain the three middle fingers life has plastered on my past. They were never things like most people experience where they gradually changed me or I just happened to settle into being that way. No, my life has been pretty much who I was the day before, and the person I became when I woke up the next morning, and man do I enjoy when those moments smacked my birth…monsters, in the face like a ton of bricks.  

     The first finger arose when I was eight and my brother and I got separated at the flea market. For any normal child, you probably just stand in one place or look around while crying and weeping for mommy and daddy until some nice lady at the store finds you and helps you by calling for them or having you look with a security guard. Well I’m no normal child as you may have already gathered.

     For a little while, I walked around, hoping that maybe my brother would find me and save me from this feeling, the feeling of being abandoned and lost, like I was being left at the supermarket on purpose. I felt like I was losing it that day, but then that’s when I cracked. Something in me changed, not gradually, not even subtly. All at once, I stopped feeling abandoned, and started realizing that I had been given an opportunity to cause some much needed, and hilarious chaos.

     Once I realized that feeling, I did what any crazy little eight-year-old girl would do. I climbed the nearest shelf, and leapt into the arms of the first stranger I saw, knocking them clean off their feet and into the display at the end of the aisle. As we crashed to the ground, the man looked horrified as the young girl that just flew into him laughed hysterically and couldn’t hide the immense joy on her face. Yes, I knew it was risky, and no, I didn’t care how much danger that man or I could have been in if he had hit something else. That was just the feeling I got, and for some reason, I felt the immense urge to follow it.

     Before that day, I had never done anything that could be labeled as reckless, but when I woke up the next day, all I wanted to do was risk my life doing outrageous stunts and daring my brother to risk his with me. From then on, whenever I decided it would be a good idea to execute a bad idea, Jack got a sharp pain in his temple and rushed to stop me. This never changed even after all these years. As a result, to this day he keeps a close eye on me like I’m some sick puppy, but unfortunately for him, the years have made me stronger and faster than he could hope to be.

     That was just the first finger. I’ll bore you with the details of the rest some other time, for now I’ve got to figure out a way to survive this damn school. My family has been piss poor our entire lives, I don’t even know how they afforded this Princess castle bullshit, but I was damn sure going to make them regret every penny.

     Jack and I decided to tour the school grounds a bit since we found out that the entrance ceremony wasn’t for another few hours, and we didn’t know where the gymnasium was anyways. He knew I wouldn’t be up for asking some uptight stranger for directions, so he figured it best to settle for not letting me roam the grounds alone. Honestly, that was probably a good call on his part.

     Even though it reeked of rich kids’ pleasure, I couldn’t help but find the scenery sort of intoxicating. I never imagined breathing in air this clean and letting it all overcome me as it was, but it was alluring to have the smell of burning oil, rotting food, and cigar smoke replaced by fresh grass, sweet smelling flowers, and a mixture of perfumes that calmed the sen…. I mean this is gross and I could really go for a cigarette right about now.

     I decided letting my mind wander to all this girly crap was going to rot my brain, so I’d rather just rot my lungs instead. I grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him into the shade beneath the windows along the wall at the back of the school and plopped down beneath an open window where I assumed nobody would be around to listen. I fetched my cigarettes from the inside of my leather jacket and Jack handed me his lighter, asking if he could catch a couple puffs from mine so he didn’t have to smoke his last one. Of course, me being the ever-loving sister told him for a dollar I’d love to share, and of course him being the agreeable older brother accepted my terms.

     For a few minutes, we sat silently, passing the cigarette back and forth as we contemplated what life at the academy would bring us. I couldn’t think of anything here that would bring me happiness. I hated meeting new people, I hated hearing stupid people speak, and I hated how everyone always likes my brother more than me. More than me, is actually the wrong way to state my situation. Everyone loves him. Everyone hates me. Always have, always will. Hell, what do I care anyways, I don’t need these snobby bastards to like me. I’ve only ever needed myself and Jack. That’ll never change.

     I finally decided it was getting too quiet for my own sanity, so it was time to try and at least strike a conversation with Jack to relieve some of this boredom. However, I never actually got to get any of the words out. Another voice caught my attention floating out from the window above our heads. A soft, sweet, and powerful voice all in one. A female’s voice. Singing a song from the room above us, a song that I recognized, but not in the same style. I knew the words, but for a moment, just a moment, I couldn’t put my finger on the name, but those words I knew all too well. I’ve only ever been trapped; why can’t I be free.

     This fire burns inside of me. It’s eating me alive. Why won’t you let me be. I’ll change my fate, just wait and see.

     I kept thinking as she continued the song. Trying to remember the original tone, the rhythm, something.

     Why am I alive? I know there’s something, left for me to find. How will I ever learn to fly if I don’t try. Sing with me of long lost freedom, how can I die, when my heart’s still beating.

     That’s when I remembered where I heard the song before. It was the last song Leave Me Dead played during their show in Silver city. I remembered every moment of that song, every note, every word, every beat of the drums. That was one of the greatest moments of my life.

     I jumped to my feet hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was singing the song from the other room. The song felt the same as back then, when I saw Elisa singing live on that stage. The sound was different, but the emotion she sang with, that was something that couldn’t be faked. My heart began to beat out of my chest as I raised my head to peer over the window sill. Was I going to school with Elisa? Even I couldn’t be that lucky.

     Sadly, I was right. As I caught a glimpse of the figure in the other room, the only person in sight I laid my eyes on was a bottle blonde bimbo, crying and singing over a piano she was pretending to play as if she was serenading herself. I didn’t mean to think so badly of her, but how could her voice even possibly make me think Elisa was in here. There was just no possible way someone that looked like her should even know who Leave Me Dead is.

“I’m not a bottle blonde you punk rock bitch.”

     I was so caught up in my thoughts, I hadn’t realized that she had stopped singing and was looking straight at me from across the room. Had I spoken out loud? I couldn’t have. Jack would have stopped me before something bad came out of my mouth. What the hell just happened? I sat there stunned by her words as she wiped her eyes and indignantly picked up her belongings and made her way out into the hallway. Day one, opening ceremony hasn’t even begun, and I have already screwed up and made an enemy. Kasey, you’ve done it again.

#kasey lauter

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter XVI: Adsumo, Claim

Previous Chapter (XV: Vetus Flamma)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz) ft younghoon and eric

Genre (by chapter): drama, angst

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“i knew i wasn’t the person you needed”

kim young hoon.

you remember the way he always offered to carry your bag or books, though you were well aware he’d rather not. 

younghoon was always known for his cold, aloof demeanor. 

that is, until you start talking to him. 

the first time you met younghoon, this strange feeling of queasiness and anxiety wrapped itself around your stomach, and it really wasn’t great timing when it was right after a full meal you decided to stuff yourself before extra class. 

being at a buffet just a few days earlier had literally poisoned your blood and your system; it was just hidden for this period of time.

so when the food you had for lunch poured out through your lips because of the food poisoning you were yet to be made aware of, only to land on younghoon’s shoe in school, it would’ve been the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you.

if you hurled on lee hyunjae, you would’ve been happy to be be diagnosed with food poisoning. 

but this was kim younghoon. 

his popularity was matched with lee hyunjae though he was nowhere near as intelligent -- or scheming.

girls around him started shooting you looks of disgust and low whispers of you being inappropriate or inconsiderate began to drown your senses out.

the regurgitation also forced out a lot of your energy, and your legs were slowly turning into jelly with every passing second. 

but before you could make a second stumble that would’ve allowed gravity to pull you into the concrete floor, younghoon holds your arm and keeps you upright. 

watching him crane his neck down and lower his back to see your vomit painted chin was both reassuring but terribly harsh on your pride. 

“are you alright?”

the loss of ego keeps your head hung low, and he takes it as a sign that you really weren’t feeling well.

ignoring all the girls staring at him dragging the smartest girl in school across campus to the medical bay was such a sight to behold, even for lee hyunjae. 

you wish you could’ve seen it for yourself from a third person perspective. 

not many people were aware of your little crush on younghoon, but you were always too busy trying to outdo lee hyunjae to even spare a second to day dream about him. 

sometimes you felt shallow and materialistic for choosing younghoon to wear your emotions on, since you haven’t really spoken to him. 

but if he didn’t know, it didn’t matter. 

there was an expectation for younghoon to stay clear of you, especially when you were already known as one of two areses in school. yet younghoon found reassurance in that, in the way you stood out from the crowd against your will.

younghoon’s face and personality did it for him. 

your competitiveness and ability to be the only person who could stand up against lee hyunjae did it for you.

lucifer had the best of both worlds, which made him all the more hate-worthy.

younghoon’s choice to invest in your friendship with him came as a surprise, but it felt like sunrise after a long night. 

for six years you’ve been wasting your energy on proving yourself better than lee hyunjae, so having younghoon becoming both a source and and outlet for your energy to channel to and from... 

it was nothing short of magical.

there was absolutely no way you could’ve forgotten the satisfaction that filled your lungs and your heart when the school found out you were dating the kim younghoon. 

you never really figured out why it was such a shocker, though you were pretty sure the school was just surprised you chose kim younghoon, a not-so-smart student, in comparison to your must-top-the-class persona.

most of the time spent with younghoon was either spent tutoring him or having nonsensical conversations with him before you slept. those were the times you felt relaxed, you felt loose, you felt like you didn’t really need to win.

there was nothing to win anyway, not with younghoon at least.

you had convinced yourself that younghoon was sick and tired of your never-ending battle with lee hyunjae, one that drove a scandalous picture of you and the lab teacher all over the internet like it was a freeway. 

younghoon must’ve known that the picture was just edited, for the teacher never got into trouble for it, only mild investigation.

but at least he was smart enough to save himself from the walking fire of fury, that was you, and he used this chance to run.

love was never really a priority in your life until younghoon came along, so even when that beautiful, flowery garden part of your life had gone, your priority naturally fell back on beating lucifer at his own game.

or a game that the both of you thought was a great idea to start. 

love was just a fickle thing, and all it did was to make you weak.

and if you were fighting ares himself, you had to be your best ares.

ares is not weak. 

ares is brutal and cruel and you had to be just that in order to beat another. 

sitting across younghoon, five years later, in your favourite cafe with the evening sun disappearing behind the buildings of the city, felt like a fever dream.

a dream you yearned had happened five years ago, not now. 

two bowls of soup and a bowl of truffle fries get served to your table, and younghoon thanks the waitress with a slight nod. the waiter recognises you, so she just gives you a small smile.

younghoon being the gorgeous man he is, catches her attention again, and you smile at your food when you felt her reluctance to leave the table.

“i must say,” he hands you a soup spoon after checking it for shitty cleaning. “i have high expectations for this chowder.”

“i just had this yesterday,” the pepper bottle shakes in your hold. “surely that must mean something?”

the slightly amber lamp dangles above your table, and the heat from the lightbulb was making the skin on your nose and forehead feel warm despite the early autumn wind gushing about outside. 

the pillars inside the cafe make it feel like you were in a warehouse, so every time someone appears behind a pillar and walks somewhere in your sight, younghoon would always look up to see if you were looking at anybody you knew. 

there was a bell hung on the door of the cafe near the cashier’s counter; which was located behind the wall you were sitting against. 

the sound makes you wait for someone new to show up in your span of vision, and if nobody appeared, you’d know that they ordered takeaway. 

“how’s working at the hospital? i heard you say you’ve been working with uncle for about a month?”

“i think it’s about five weeks or so, yeah,” the tiny circles of oil on the soup gets pushed around while you stir it, and younghoon adds pepper to his serving after tasting the truffle fries. “it’s alright... i mean, it’s just everything i expected.”

“so, no surprises?”

surprises.

“oh,” a snort runs through your throat as you take one mouth of your soup. “there was one big surprise--”

“lee hyunjae?”

the name strikes a chord in you, and you weren’t too sure why. 

“god must hate me to put me in the same room as him... we started working for the hospital on the same day, and his office is right next to mine.”

“huh,” younghoon hums, blowing on his spoon of soup before having it. “you must’ve been really upset when he showed up.”

“‘upset’ isn’t a strong enough word to describe how much i wanted to shove a pen down his throat. consider disgusted, angry, furious, disappointed, resentful, hateful--”

“should i be worried you work in an environment where those feelings should not be involved in--”

generous laughter escape your lungs and younghoon’s smile encourages you to return to your food.

“but otherwise, it’s a blast. i love my patients, i love my mentors and the nurses and the colleagues-- they are all so endearing and patient.”

he nods while chewing on the ingredients in the chowder.

“what about you? what are you doing now? i mean, we haven’t spoken in five years.”

“i’m a salesman, guess i figured out a way to use my face to the best of my ability.”

“oh, god,” a chuckle rings in the air between you as you dip your spoon into the bowl again. “that must’ve worked in some magical ways. has anybody tried to get your number?”

“do i really want to answer that when you already know?”

a cheeky smile greets you when you look up from your food, and you shake your head when you realise you could still read his eyes the same. 

“i don’t suppose you’re romantically involved in anybody now?” he asks. there was an absence of... care and concern he used to have back then. 

he wasn’t nonchalant about it, but you could tell that five years was adequate for your relationship with younghoon to turn completely stagnant. 

there was no longer any hint of love in it, even if he did still care for you.

he could still love you, but if he was, he was doing a damn good job at hiding it. 

but that question. 

what does ‘romantically involved’ really mean to you?

on one hand, you believed your heart belonged to the lovable, enthusiastic intern who was going to leave in about three weeks. 

yet your body resigns itself to another man, one whom you’ve hated nearly half your life, the same man who took younghoon away from you, even if it wasn’t completely his doing. 

“uh... define ‘romantically involved’.”

younghoon looks at you with slightly furrowed brows and confused eyes, sending one piece of truffle fry into his mouth.

“...it worries me that you had to ask that. i’ll rephrase it; do you have anybody you’re interested in?”

“well, there’s this really cute intern working at the neuro-research department.”

“intern? he’s younger?”

“age is just a number.”

“fair play.”

the jingle of the bell hanging on the entrance door rings gently, and your eyes travel down to the soup.

“he’s super enthusiastic and there’s just something about him that’s so... comforting. i see him and i think about nothing but sunshine and warmth and laughter. he’s just... so cheerful, compared to whatever i’ve been used to.”

a pause, and you look up at younghoon, your peripheral vision not seeing anybody walk out from the wall you were sitting against.

“he sounds like someone you really want in your life. i’ve known you long enough to know what kind of person you’d might be attracted to. i guess the man’s lucky enough to have attracted someone with a complete opposite personality.”

eric’s face comes to mind, and your heart starts to do tiny flips when you recall the way his eyes fold when he smiles. the warm rumble of his voice when he speaks. the harmony that he sings when he laughs.

“that sounds strange, doesn’t it? we kissed at a party once and--”

“you kissed the intern?”

“it was at a party and we were all slightly drunk--”

“i don’t recall the last time you had enough to be drunk--”

“let me live, younghoon!” you feign a hit across the table, and he chuckles softly, dodging your little attack. 

the bell rings again, and a teenage couple walks in this time. 

“frankly, i am surprised about one thing,” half his bowl was empty now, and you reach over to jab at some fries with a fork.

“what is it?”

he pushes his air out from his eyes and presses his fingers into his cheek, leaning one elbow on the edge of the table. 

“that you didn’t end up with lee hyunjae.”

the scoff that came out garnered the attention of that young couple, but you couldn’t care less.

“lee hyunjae? of all people, why would you think--”

“because he’s the only one who was ever able to be on the same... pedestal as you.”

pedestal. potential. day one. 

“without him, i don’t know if you would’ve pushed yourself so hard. i know you always had a thing against your parents not spending enough time with you, i thought you’d break the tradition of becoming a doctor because of that.”

“yeah, well...” the chowder calls out to you. “hyunjae or not, i would’ve become a doctor anyway.”

silence. 

it drags on long enough for younghoon to finish nearly the rest of his soup, and there was a weighted feeling of... fear in your chest.

your heart was thumping, though not at a fast pace.

eric’s smile was floating around in your head, but the way younghoon looked at you when he said that name planted a seed inside you. 

you worry for awhile if that seed meant anything at all.

“y/n, i have to be honest with you about something...”

the truffle bits melt in your mouth as you sit back.

“i didn’t dump you because i believed you were with the teacher.”

“oh,” a gentle giggle exits through your lips as you lean forward to get another fry. “i know that. you dumped me because you were sick of me always at lee hyunjae’s throat and we were always fighting--”

“no, i dumped you because i knew i wasn’t the person you needed.”

the muscles and nerves in your body halt, and your eyes slowly travel up from the fries to his. 

“and i highly doubt this intern is going to be it either.”

the words come together in your head, but they felt so alien on your tongue.

“but you just said that he’s someone i want--”

“i was not what you needed, and he isn’t either. you want him, but you need someone else.”

a gulp pushes itself down your throat and your temples tighten as you pull away from the bowl of fries, and your eyes return to the bowl to finish whatever was left in it.

“i’ve got no clue how neither of you saw it, but there’s literally nobody else better for the two of you than each other.”

your lips either remain entertaining the spoon that was travelling in and out of your mouth, or pursed so tight, you cut off the blood circulation to them.

“the only reason why the two of you could do so well in school was because you had each other to push both ends. i had my fair share of interactions with lee hyunjae, i’m well-aware of the kind of person he is when he’s not trying to get one score higher than you, even when you’ve already scored full marks.”

“do you still want the rest of the fries? i--”

“y/n,” he pulls the leftover fries away from you, and you hiss childishly at his move.

“so don’t listen to me, but you’ve been avoiding talking about lee hyunjae for the last twenty four hours and believe me when i say this, if this was five years ago or any time before that, you wouldn’t have missed a second trying to convince me that he’s the shittiest person on earth.”

“maybe i just decided he’s not worth my time--”

“so why were you wearing a male’s dress shirt yesterday?” 

oh, fuck.

“it could’ve been someone el--”

“and the foundation on your neck doesn’t do much under this lighting, especially since it’s been a long day for you.”

your face was heating up not because of the lamp above the table, but the fact that younghoon was able to see right through you.

even you couldn’t see through yourself.

“but whoever said it was him who di--”

“there’s literally nobody who would have the damn guts to do things like that to you besides him. i’m pretty sure not even your sunshine intern would do it if he’s as cheerful as you make him to be.”

stop.

“if it’s anything i learnt about you, it’s that you wouldn’t let a man do anything to show that he claims you.”

please stop talking.

“but someone’s gone ahead and did just that... and when i heard uncle talk about a doctor lee yesterday, it just... hit me.”

stop. talking.

he finally stops and returns you the fries that you no longer had the appetite of finishing. 

“so, it wasn’t hyunjae. you haven’t said one bad thing about him since i saw you yesterday. tell me that if this was you five years ago, you would’ve done the same.”

i wouldn’t. because i hated him.

the silence starts to eat you out when the confusion sinks in even further. 

why must he say all those things to mess you up even more?

there was nothing he said that wasn’t true, though you wished you could flat out deny everything.

but he’s seen it all without even telling him anything, and you start to wonder if it’s been there all along, but you chose to ignore it.

all you wanted was an aphrodite, but why does she seem like she’s drifting further and further away?

by the time younghoon returns you back to the safety of your house, he was well-aware that the conversation from before had some effect on you, for he pulls you into a tight hug after walking you to your door. 

his scent wafts through your nose and you shut your eyes to take it all in. 

what would it have been like had hyunjae not torn him away from you?

then again, younghoon was the one who tore himself away from you on his own accord.

“call me if you need anything. anything at all.”

he releases you, hands still on your shoulders. 

“i’ll still love you the way i always did, but i know for a fact that i’m not the one you need in your life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter XVII: Et Universum Parallel

A/N; welcome to hell guys this is where shit starts to roll i hope you guys are ready cause my ass isn’t LMAO. 

#the boyz fanfic #the boyz #hyunjae #younghoon #timetohajima hostis