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blissfullyapillow · 8 months

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐩 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 👁-👁 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

Notes: Sorry this took me bit of time to complete 👁-👁 anon! I truly hope you enjoy your matchup <3 For anyone curious this was requested via DM and if you’re more comfortable doing that than asking in an anon that’s fine too !! (∩˃ω˂∩) ♡

Masterlist

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

I match you with: Dan Heng

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

I match you with Dan Heng!

Being a "riddle, wrapped in an enigma, locked in a box and shoved in a beehive" is something Dan Heng figured out very fast through his interactions with you.

Dan Heng doesn’t mind that it takes you a while to feel comfortable around him. He’s honestly the same way.

When you two do get close, he rather enjoys your more cute tendencies. He subtly snapped a picture of you when you were bent down, curiously eyeing a beetle on the ground.

He’s happy that you like to travel and explore, so you two can travel together on the express (if that’s something you’d be willing to do)

With your shared love of reading you two have shared moments of content silence, reading your respective books.

He gets very intrigued when you’re watching seemingly cute, lovely shows with soft aesthetics, only for one of the main character’s to have a brutal fight to the death against their long term travel companion. He will happily sit and watch the media with you, especially the ones that have more than meets the eye to them or profound messages.

You two have exchanged tidbits of knowledge with each other, since you both know a lot about different topics of interests. One of his favorite things to do is wind down and either tell you about a topic you ask him about, or to listen to your voice as you discuss something you’re passionate about.

He rather enjoys your silly and reflective side! He honestly finds it endearing, and often you’ve caught him with a fond, soft smile on his lips as he gazes at you during these moments.

He’s a very understanding and caring boyfriend, and he’s always there for you in the way you need it most. He’s subtle, but oh so very loving. When you’re with Dan Heng, you feel secure and safe.

𓆩♡𓆪

You’re seated beside Dan Heng, as you both wait for the food to arrive.

“Are you sure about this? The reviews have been quite… all over the place.” You can’t help but smirk at the apprehensive look on Dan Heng’s face.

You two are currently in the middle of an expedition, and you happened upon a famous restaurant. The owner is a chef known for using interesting ingredients in their food, and you’re always down to try something new!

I mean, who's ever heard of using a cryo slime as a cooking ingredient?

Dan Heng willingly tagged along, and now all that’s left to do is wait for the food to arrive. Speaking of…

Two plates of food are presented before the two of you, and the person is gone as quickly as they came. It’s busy today, but they reassure you both that they'll come back later to hear your thoughts on the meal with a dazzling smile on their face.

Dan Heng clears his throat as he eyes the food. You look down at your own plate, and you feel nothing but excitement at the prospect of this unique meal.

You take the first bite, and your eyes widen in surprise and awe when the flavor hits your taste buds.

It tastes excellent, and there’s a dynamic flavor to it. You begin to dig in, and for a moment you forget to ask Dan Heng how his meal tastes. When you look up, your eyes meet a tender gaze.

You forget to ask him, as you get lost in his blue eyes.

✉⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧˚

I match you with: Natasha

✉⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧˚

Natasha is surprisingly good at engaging in witty banter with you. She finds joy in sharing a playful, fun conversation with you. If you manage to outwit her, you’ll find the most adorable blush on her cheeks and a small pout on her lips.

Natasha joined you once while you were watching a horror film, and she found she enjoyed it more than she thought she would. She may or may not have held your hand through it all because she was a bit scared, but she’ll pretend that wasn’t the case if you pick up on it.

She once walked in on you while you were alone, stimming vocally, and she honestly fell in love with your voice. Later on, she’ll ask you when or why you started singing, and she makes sure to let you know she doesn’t mind if you stim around her.

She’s a very patient and attentive lover, but she can be a bit silly with you too. She also tends to keep a watchful eye on you. She’s not overprotective, but she subtly makes sure people know you two are together when someone tries to get a little too close to you.

Natasha’ a doctor, so she’s very understanding and knowledgeable. She knows a few ways she can contribute to calming your anxiety, but if it doesn’t work she’s always willing to be there for you or give you space, whichever you prefer. She’s always there for you with open arms when you need it.

She definitely takes you skating in Belobog! The first time you two went, laughter filled the chilly air as you two had the time of your lives.

Natasha is a treasure to have around, but she insists it’s you if anyone ever asks. You’re both so smitten with each other honestly and it’s a precious thing to see.

♡ ┃

Natasha watches you in awe as you perform a figure skating trick on the ice.

You’ve been practicing it this whole time, and sure enough you finally nail it with perfection. Her heart pounds in her chest at the sight of your gleeful expression, pride in your eyes at finally nailing the trick you’ve been practicing hard on.

“Nat, come! You shouldn’t stand around, we’re here to have fun aren’t we?” You quickly skate over to her and take her hands in yours, and you hear her subtle intake of breath when you do.

“Alright, no need to be hasty now. I’m right here.” She squeezes your hand, and you squeeze hers back in reassurance. Soon, you’re both skating around the rink together, hand in hand.

Your shared laughter mingles together to create a lovely melody, one that brims with love and adoration.

Dedicated to,

˗ˏˋ ꒰👁-👁 anon꒱ ˎˊ˗

#soothingmatchupsforthesoul #Pillow's Matchups <3 #I really enjoyed writing this for you anon :>

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

Note

Im so excited!!!! Here’s a little “It’s always been you. You and only you.” sprinkled in with Green-Eyed Epiphany

~Notes: OMFG bubby!!!! You are so beyond adorable! Thank you So SO much for the sweetness!! I really hope you like this XS and fingers crossed this fits the promptXS <3 <3 <3

Prompt Smash Game | Send Me A Prompt💜 | A Reblog Is Like A Huge, Warm Hug!!!

~R: my mom’s working the night shift at the clinic👀👀

~S: Kinky😏

~S: I can be there in 15

~R: make it 20 and get Chinese x

~S: sometimes I think ur j using me for the food

~R: and bring henny😈

It’s seventeen minutes since Remus sent the last text when the front door of his modest ranch house begins to thump with a familiar wrapping that’s three quick knocks followed by two slower ones, and he has to wrestle down the eager grin from his face when he swings it open to find one of his closest friends standing at the threshold in that customary weathered, leather jacket that he found two summers ago when Remus had taken him thrifting for the first time, and an impish sort of smirk that definitely would look ridiculous on anyone else, but only makes Sirius all the more maddeningly attractive.

“What took so long?” Remus asks mildly, pulling him indoors by the sleeve and gesturing for him to set the goods on the kitchen counter once they cross the small foyer.

“You wound me, Lupin.” Sirius retorts, quick-silver eyes flashing before he pins him against the island and puts his hands on either side of his waistline with more gentleness than Remus would’ve expected before they began this whole sorted affair— Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word for it?

It’s not an affair, or tryst, or carrying on or whatever the fuck else Lily says when she’s teetering on the wrong edge of tipsy and thinks it’s her right to call Remus out on his bullshit— on his stupid, beyond obvious crush he’s been fostering for one of his closest friends since junior high.

It’s none of those things— It’s not nearly as dramatic.

It’s just— Just that yes, Remus has been harboring a tiny infatuation for Sirius ever since that first day of the seventh grade when he had moved to this tiny, coastal town after his parents divorce. But how could he have not? Sirius is hilarious, and a genius, and so gorgeous that sometimes it feels like his insides are twisting up whenever he glances over at him. And on that first day, he had just caught Remus’s eyes from across the library shelves before classes begun, and smiled in that uniquely electric way of his, and asked if Remus could put slime in a very specific locker, (Snape’s), for a very specific reason, (Because he kept following Lily around like a creep), on account to no one suspecting the new kid. And yeah— Remus was lost on him an embarrassing amount from then on.

Sure, it can be regarded as kinda pathetic on Remus’s end— kindling this nest of emotions so close to the chest— but also it’s not as if he’s been lovestruck by his crush, like it’s some sort of waterlogged scarf he’s got dragging him down. His attraction towards Sirius is like a soft melody that’s swelling in the backdrop of all their interactions, nothing overwhelming— not a flood plane, not yet at least. It’s warm, and it’s familiar, and it’s persistent like a flutter of a humming bird’s wings. And Remus doesn’t mind pining over someone as fantastical as Sirius Fucking Black.

Graciously, in some strike of incredible luck, Sirius never caught on to Remus’s silly feelings, not until that night when they were watching an old movie in Remus’s basement while James and Lily were celebrating an entire year together— save for all their sudden stops and just as speedy starts— and Peter was visiting his grandmother in Tampa Bay. It was the first time they had been alone together since Remus broke up with Caradoc for the final time, and Sirius just looked so fucking good in that casual, white v-neck and his skinny jeans that make him look like some echo of James Dean on his best day. And Remus isn’t sure who exactly moved forwards first, or how the fuck Meg Ryan wandering the Seattle streets was some sort of aphrodisiac, or why Sirius— who could have any guy he would ever want— was actually humoring him, but one second they’re lying down on the sofa— Remus caged between Sirius’s expanse and the cushions behind them— and the next he’s tasting PBR on Sirius’s lips, and has got a fist full of his dark hair, and is thrilling at the feeling of Sirius’s thigh between his legs. And yeah— it just happened like those sort of things are want to do, and by the end of it they were sticky and breathless and diffident in ways they never been around one another, in ways Remus reckons Sirius has never been around anyone.

But the next weekend, when Sirius’s latest sorta— but not really— boyfriend had canceled on their dinner plans, Sirius wandered over to Remus’s bedroom window and it was another tumbling of frenzied hands and loosen buckles and thrusting hips. And then it just became an easy release— a sort of poetry, an understanding in all but name.

And that’s fine. They don’t have to talk about it. Remus knows that Sirius isn’t the type to settle down with a partner, to go bowling for a date, or texting countless messages that amount to nothing at all at the end of the conversation, or putting up with another dude’s parents taking photos of them before leaving to prom or homecoming or whatever the fuck else. And Remus is sorta sick of the idea of love, of trying so hard only to end up heartbroken and eating a gallon of Chubby Bunny in his favorite sweats and cursing John Hughes for pretending Hollywood romances can happen to ordinary high schoolers.

So yeah— This thing they’ve fallen into with each other is good. They’re friends— best friends— and they have fun and they’re apparently really fucking good in bed together, and Sirius never looks at Remus with pity when he spots him gazing at his profile absentmindedly, and he doesn’t mind when Remus traces invisible designs against his skin when they’re soaking in the after glow, and he never treats him any different. Sirius still slings his arm around Remus’s shoulders when they walk down the halls, and he still buys him his favorite chocolates when he feels poorly, and he still faces Dorcas's disapproving wrath when he drags Remus out of the library to have a little mischief— whether it’s smoking a blunt in the abandoned skatepark in town or playing some stupid prank on those assholes in their year.

For all intent and purposes, they still behave the same they’ve always acted around one another, but just with the miraculous addition of mind-blowing and dulcetly ductile sex.

This is good, this is fun, this is completely untethered from the bull shit of romance.

And if Remus mouths against the juncture of Sirius’s neck a little too intensely— trying to pry off the memory of the hickey Sirius had been sporting after spending the weekend with Gideon Prewett— Well no one has to be any the wiser, and by the sound of Sirius’s hitched breaths, he seems not to mind even slightly.

“Except my apology?” Remus asks, more coy than he ordinarily acts as he drops his arms around Sirius’s neck, and leans on the balls of his feet to whisper against his temple.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard,” Sirius retorts, labored as all get out, kneading his fingers into Remus’s ass that’s only covered by the thin layer of his plaid pajama bottoms. “You are going to have to do a lot more for me to forgive the lip.”

Remus laughs in a stammering sort of way as Sirius tugs him along, walking backwards to his room that he’s become incredibly intimate with since the first time they did this three months ago.

“Sirius, the spring rolls— they’re gross if we have to heat them up again.”

“I’ll postmate us knew ones,” Sirius insists, covering Remus’s mouth with his own with fervor. “C’mon babe, do not tease me like this.”

Sirius must’ve caught his mistake, because he suddenly goes as red as Remus feels— The pet name was to close for comfort considering their strictly friends with benefits nature, but Remus is already half hard, and he really does not want to end this, so with a sly wink, he returns to nipping at Sirius’s jawline, rutting against him in a very unambiguous way. “Fine, if you really don’t think you’ll need the nourishment for your stamina?”

The words have their intended effect, and Sirius makes a small growl deep in his throat before practically tearing off Remus’s shirt, and dipping beneath the waistline of his pants, scooping him up and racing to the bed.

And they get lost in one another beneath the pale glow of Remus’s lamplight and the moon spilling through the window, relearning each others every patch of skin for minutes on end that wax and wane like the delta of ocean waves, unspooling into something tangible and tantalizing with every kiss punctuated with teeth that Sirius trails across Remus’s collarbone, and the way Remus palms greedy hands up and down Sirius’s back until he gets the hint and undresses.

“Well come on, you’re not an invalid, Lupin.” Sirius jeers and Remus chuckles as he follows suit until they’re both finally, blessedly nude. And with an easy assurance of them having done this more than a dozen times now, Remus crawls into his lap and kisses him straight on the mouth, preening how Sirius moans against him— canting up wantonly and grabbing at his hips with a sort of intensity that will probably leave bruises in the shape of the pads of his fingers, and Remus absolutely adores the idea of that, feels something hot and needy and desperate unfurl in his gut as he presses their mouths more forcefully together, going buzzed when he gets to relish in the sensation of their tongues running against one another, and the taste of the ridges on the roof of Sirius’s mouth, and the slide of the soft skin of his inner cheek— gasping when Sirius pulls away abruptly, panting an almost reverent, “Mother of God, Remus,” and tackles him flat on his back before they commence, with the addition of both their hard, leaking cocks thrusting against one another and Sirius’s hand in Remus’s hair pulling that bit more forcefully while his other one roams the dips and planes of his side— skirting against the divots of his stomach muscle before he wraps it around the pair of them and begins to pull in earnest, to the rhythm that Remus swears was strung from the heavens above.

“Oh— Oh, yeah— Sirius,” Remus breathes out in a haggard sort of way, words that he refuses to ever call a mewl even if they’re stretched out and crackle with emotion.

“Yes—, just say that again,” Sirius practically demands, his mouth completely covering his ear in a wet, hot heat— his teeth scraping against the soft shell. “Remus, baby, just say my name, tell me you want it.”

And God, Remus is feeling so heady— like he’s floating and he couldn’t possibly come back down— that he probably would’ve listened to anything Sirius asked of him, especially if he does that thing again, when he squeezes the slick length of them with a tad more force than they usually play at. “Sirius, Sirius. Sirius, please, I’m close,” Remus shrills in an unsteady staccato— his normally smooth tenner going pitchy and pleading, and he can feel his toes curling, can feel the eminent release coming— What he does not expect is to feel something poking at his entrance, didn’t expect to be struck dumb by the sensation of the tip of Sirius’s large, dry finger poking right there, right against the fluttering hole, while he’s still pumping them in tandem, and the second it hooks inside Remus goes a startling sort of static , sees blasts of white blotching his vision and his head thrown back and his dick spirting out heavily against Sirius’s deliciously defined torso.

And he’s just breathing heavily now, during the come down, can barely make out anything through the heavy weight around him, the one cushioning his head— but he does graciously feel Sirius’s cock fucking into his own hand against Remus’s thigh and then idly the feeling of his come splattering him, but then after that he can just barely hear the distant padding of feed against floorboards, followed by a wet washcloth being dabbed against his skin. So when he finally forces himself to focus, he sees Sirius cleaning himself off, wrapping it into the pair of joggers Remus was wearing earlier and tosses it to the corner of the room.

“Rude,” he scolds with no heat, shuffling closer to him when Sirius lies down besides him once more and circles an arm around his torso.

“THat’s what you get when you’re acting like a lazy fuck,” Sirius counters, smug as all get out while he threads a hand in Remus’s hair.

“Hmm, didn’t see that in the papers recently. Is it a new law?”

“Yeah, actually just past on the senate floor.”

“Interesting… Well considering that only one of us has a senator for a father, I really have to ask to see the power-point you shared with him to get this bill through the stalemate,” Remus’s head bounces against Sirius’s chest from the force of his laughter at the barb.

“Oh, stuff it, Lupin.”

Hiding his smile into Sirius’s skin, Remus does as told, and they both just lie there, as if everything’s gone suspended just for the pair of them, just so Remus can count out the beats of Sirius’s heart pulsing against his sternum, and can feel the way their legs tie into one another, and can feel Sirius mouthing against his temple, blowing his curls with every exhale.

And Remus thinks that he’d do anything to remember this exact moment for every single day from here on out.

But then the quiet is abruptly and permanently punctured by the sound of his phone chirping, and he has to breathe in deeply before separating from the warmth of Sirius, and fishes down for the device that’s still crammed into the side of his bed from where he had hidden it after that initial text.

“Is Dearborn still on your ass to try again?” Sirius asks, a bit stilted.

Remus wonders if he’s just imagining the tension twisted in the question, but reasons that Sirius’s never been Caradoc’s biggest fan, so he just shrugs it off— really doesn’t want to get into some stupid argument about his asshole of an ex when he’s still feeling so content. “Nah, ’s James. Still trying to force me to go to the homecoming dance with you guys.”

“Oh,” Sirius retorts, lips pinched while watching Remus redress. “You should go, Marls is pregaming and you know she always gets the good shit.”

Remus shakes his head while puttering over to find a new pair of sweats and a sweater. “Nah, just not feeling it this year— Erm, you’re taking Gid I assume.” He’s not sure why he asks it, supposes he’s always a glutton for some pain and shitty feelings to inspire his playlists habit, but also maybe it’s him trying to sober himself. Trying to remember that despite this— despite everything they just did and how easy it’s always been for them to fall into step with one another— Remus isn’t good enough to be seen with Sirius in the light of day. He’s probably not handsome enough or cool enough or something else that makes Sirius absolutely revolted from the thought. Probably that he’s beyond bookish, and looks painfully virginal and isn’t nearly as sly or snarky as his other conquests.

Truly, Remus should just be thankful that Sirius wants this at all, he shouldn’t be so crazed over the why nots of the situation— it’ll only kill him trying to be something he never could actually affect with any credence.

Schooling his features to something passably indifferent, Remus pivots to face him again, is startled when he finds Sirius still naked and staring at him with a burning sort of intensity in his storm cloud eyes.

“He hasn’t said anything, but I guess he’s assuming as much,” he finally says, running a hand through his overgrown fringe, that familiar twitch of the corner of his mouth grabbing Remus’s attention. The one that tells him Sirius is actually irritated about something he’s not letting himself say out loud.

“Erm, good? Gid’s a decent guy.” Remus mutters, head ducked once it gets to a point that he can’t stand Sirius looking at him like that— Not after how blissed out and ferocious he had been groping every inch of Remus only moments ago. “You guys are nice together.”

And it’s like the breath before the worst of storms when his words collapse between them, making the pregnant silence go suddenly suffocating.

“Right,” Sirius intones once Remus levels their gazes, hurriedly standing and collecting his own clothes, fracturing the moment completely. “Right. Whatever, yeah. I’ll go to the fucking dance with fucking Gideon Prewett. That’s good.”

“Sir—“

“No, it’s fine. You can just stay home, and mourn over that douchebag Dearborn some more, even though you ending it with that dick was the best decision you could’ve made, Remus, and I’m not even saying it just because I’m petty. He is a prick, and you need to finally get a clue how much better you deserve, damn it!”

Remus’s head feels like it’s swimming. Why is Sirius so angry all of a sudden? Does he not like Gideon? Why can’t he just cut it off like so many times before? And why the hell is he petty over Caradoc? The entire situation feels like someone’s just handed him a wedge of Swiss cheese and told him to knit it back together.

“What is up your ass?” He decides is an appropriate enough question for his floundering, and shutters back only slightly at how fuming Sirius looks when he rounds on him— clothes disheveled and fearsome glower heavy on his face.

“Whatever Remus, if you can’t see that Dearborn is bad news—“

“I’m not pining for Dearborn,” Remus interjects, really doesn’t feel like listening to one of Sirius’s ridiculous diatribes about him, not now. Not when he’s still so bewildered by everything else. “Why would you think that?”

The fire in Sirius’s eyes vanishes as quickly as someone blowing on a candle, and it’s his turn to gawk, gaping at Remus, shoulders dragged down and eyes wide. “Wait— You’re not?”

“No…. I haven’t even thought about him for weeks.”

“Oh.” Sirius looks contemplative for a moment, before the righteous anger that only he could ever wear with such conviction, melts over him once more. “All right, then what the fuck is this?”

Remus stiffens, feels his veins lace with ice, an his breath catch somewhere in his throat, really does not think he’s ready for this conversation. “This?”

“Yes, Remus, this!” Sirius demands, sounding harsh in comparison to the barely croak Remus had spoken with. “Listen I don’t care if you want me to wait some more, if you need to lick your wounds or whatever. But why are you like pushing me on other people? Why do you want me not to be around? why do you want me to go out with other dudes?”

Remus lies back on the chest of drawers now, feels beyond dazed. “What the hell are you talking about, Sirius?”

Sirius clenches his teeth right then, the hinge of his jaw going taught

before he skulks closer, not letting Remus drop his gaze. “Is it me? Is it that you just can’t see me that way? Are you just stringing me along or something? Because I really didn’t think that was your style, but if it’s that, then Remus—“

“Stringing you along?” Remus asks in a voice barely above a whisper, just needs to feel his lips forming the absolutely risible words, even if it makes it so something dark passes across Sirius’s beauteous features.

“Remus, I swear to God! Stop repeating everything I’m fucking saying!”

“Then start making some damn sense!” Remus snaps, suddenly heated as he straightens and pins him with a proper scowl. “What in holy hell are you going on about?”

“God! Do I have to spell it out!” Sirius barks, cutting the final step dividing them and grabbing for Remus’s shoulders with a tight squeeze. “I know you just wanted to fuck around with someone after Dearborn showed his extreme dickitude, and listen, I was so fucking ecstatic that you wanted me for it. But I can’t do this in-between shit anymore! I’m sorry, but I can’t! And I get if this is annoying, but I’ve been crazy for you for so long. And I just can’t keep myself at an arms length anymore, not now that we’ve really had each other, not after you let me actually touch and taste and fuck you and— Damn it, this isn’t coming out the way I wanted, all right! Damn it, maybe Evans was right and I should’ve made queue cards like some dumb ass— But then James pointed out how unromantic that was, and Marlene said—“

Gently, Remus puts his shaking fingers against Sirius’s lips, effectively killing off anything else he’s about to say. And slowly, everything is beginning to slot into place, and he’s so spiteful over how they’ve been such idiots this entire time— swears to put salt into Lily’s coffee next time he sees her.

“I didn’t know you actually were into me Sirius.”

Stunned, Sirius’s dark brows hike up to his hairline. “How the hell didn’t you know?” He demands against Remus’s fingers, thunderous and insulted looking.

“Because you never fucking said as much!” Remus defends himself, feels a mangled sort of laughter squirming out. “God, we’re idiots.”

“We’re?” Sirius asks, hesitant and red faced before Remus moves his hand to peck softly against his mouth.

“I’ve been half in love with you for years you absolute ass-wipe, it’s always been you! You and always you.” Remus tells him breathily, still fighting down the last remnants of his actual, god forsaken giggle— like he’s thirteen again and getting buzzed off his mom’s peach wine coolers. “I only never said anything because I never thought I’d have a chance with someone like you— Someone so— so— Someone so amazing.”

The smile Sirius favors him with right then is something absolutely incandescent, and his eyes shimmer with a very distinct sort of joy that Remus wonders if anyone besides him has ever witnessed. “Then you’re definitely the biggest idiot between us, Lupin.” Sirius declares, knocking their foreheads together, and lacing his hand into Remus’s own before squeezing meaningfully.

“Fuck off,” Remus snorts, presses forwards for another languorous kiss, not feeling in danger of being swallowed whole any more— finally letting himself drown and knowing that Sirius will be there to pull him back up no matter what.

“Oh, I could get used to this,” Sirius smirks, snakes his arms around Remus’s waste that bit tighter.

“Hmm, there is the problem that I usually don’t put out until at least the third or fourth date,” Remus says mildly.

“Pff, ‘s fine, Lupin,” Sirius insists, grinning beatifically. “I like you being a hussy for me!— Oof, careful with the merchandize, you were speaking some real exaltations about that part of my anatomy not too long ago.”

Moving his knee from the point at hand, Remus sticks out his tongue at him. “See if you ever get any ever again, Sirius Black.”

When Sirius laughs, it sounds like the strike of lightening against unmarked land, and the honey cloaked side of a knife’s edge, and like everything splendid Remus has ever known. And he thinks that yes, he could get used to this right back.

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #REMUSXSIRIUS #SIRIUSXREMUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #Spilt Ink

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passable-talent · 4 years

Note

hi roe, i’d like to request something !! can i request a zuko x reader with a hanahaki AU? the hanahaki can be either reader or zuko, doesn’t matter. if u don’t want to do the hanahaki part that’s fine🥺 thank you ♡

ya boi is back and he brings angst and mild body horror

tw: lots of talk abt veins n blood n arteries and lots of stuff inside the body.

It took root in winter.

Prince Zuko had been a focused man for a long time. His goal in life was singular- he intended not to do a single thing other than capture the avatar. That would let him go home, and that was all he was worried about.

But then he saw you, in the northern water tribe. The second eldest child of the chief, younger sibling to Princess Yue. You didn’t have her striking white hair, but your looks were astounding all the same- and unlike your sister, you were a waterbender.

It was in his duel with Katara in the spiritual oasis that Zuko came across you, protecting the avatar and your sister. Your father, so protective of his children, kept you hidden from many things, including traditional bending training. It didn’t stop you from mastering your craft, though, as you would escape to the cliffs surrounding the city whenever you could, and create your own techniques.

As a result, your waterbending was unlike anything Zuko had ever seen. It wasn’t like water- it didn’t take the shape of waves or streams like that he had seen from Katara. Instead, your bending took the shape of something much more primal, sinister. Like floodwaters, dangerous and sharp and capable of just as much destruction as fire, maybe more. It was with the ferocity with which you protected the avatar that he first witnessed your unique waterbending, which terrified him and stuck in his mind.

In the brief time he saw you, before the siege of the north was over, and as he travelled into the earth kingdom with his uncle, he was fascinated with you. He wished he could know more about you, and understand your bending, your movements so unlike others of your tribe. He wished he could see the way you learned, or practice alongside you, and some part of him that wanted peace in the world could imagine someday you being an ambassador to the Fire Nation on behalf of your sister, the chieftess.

And so wallflower took root in his heart.

He didn’t notice it for months, as it got worse, and worse, as its roots spread throughout his arteries. He didn’t know, couldn’t possibly guess at the reasoning for his phantom pinches in his muscles.

He didn’t see an issue in thinking further of you, and falling deeper in love with the future he had planned for the both of you in his head. He was going to return, someday, and take his father’s throne. He would open up peaceful communications with all of the nations of the world. He would send aid to help in the rebuilding of the Southern Water Tribe to gain the favor of its sister tribe, and you would become a friend. He understood that now, you were in direct line to the title of chief, and so you wouldn’t be an ambassador. But maybe, you could lead your tribe, and he his nation, and the two of you could be together, fostering peace for the world.

He didn’t think much of it when his chest felt tighter, as he assumed that it was just his exercise exhausting him. He couldn’t see the wallflower, its roots spreading down through the bronchus of his lungs, squeezing its way through them. How could he? It was deep beneath his chestplate that the roots spread to his ribs, until its hold was tight, and his every breath came with just a little sting.

Even though he’d heard of the disease, back at his time at the academy, he still didn’t make the connection, and still allowed his love to grow deeper, his wallflower growing larger.

He could imagine a world in which the two of you would come and meet in Ba Sing Se. You’d dine with the Earth King, and the Avatar, and the four of you would set about changing the world together. He could imagine standing from the table and taking your hand, leading you into a separate, private room.

He could picture the way the two of you would clash, water and fire, the passion and intelligence and drive that you would share, but manifest in opposite elements. He dreamt of visiting the North Pole, and wearing traditional chieftan clothing as he stood behind you, and you visiting him in the Fire Nation with traditional fire nation royal robes behind him.

It was spring when he coughed up the first petal.

It didn’t look like a petal, just a slimy lump of something vaguely orange, and so Iroh assumed that he was coming down with a cold. He was on bedrest, just for a few days, which only worsened the issue, as now all he could do was spend his time thinking about you.

He knew it was silly, to be so in love with someone who was on the opposite side of a war, who he’d met only once, but he couldn’t help it. Even as he pulled slimy lumps of orange from the back of his lungs, as every breath stung as though he’d been running for hours, he recalled your sparkling blue eyes, fierce and determined in the moonlight. He remembered how you interacted with the avatar and Katara while he was stuck up in a collumn of ice. He couldn’t help but be in love with you, even after all this time.

He couldn’t help but want to be a part of a future in which he could be with you. It radicalized him, made him want to do one of two things- either regain his throne through pleasing his father, or regain it through overthrowing his father.

He wasn’t sure which, but he thought that circumstances would make one easier than the other, and his sister became that circumstance in Ba Sing Se. She killed the avatar, and Zuko returned home a triumphant prince, heir to the throne, son of Agni. He, in private, voiced his plans to his sister of winning over the rest of the world when the war was over by launching humanitarian campaigns and proving that the Fire Nation was caring, benevolent. She may have laughed, but she saw her own genius in his plans- it would smooth over war-torn scars.

He just wanted to engineer a life with you. Humanitarian ideas made that easier.

On one particular visit to his uncle, he let out a lick of dragon’s breath, and within the plume of flame was a singular floating ember, fluttering and glowing orange until it burned up midair. The sight piqued Iroh’s curiosity, and he asked Zuko to turn around and lower his head.

With the black lines through Zuko’s veins, Iroh finally realized what was happening.

“Hanahaki,” he told Zuko, reaching between the bars to press down on a black line, feeling the hard, thin root of a plant inside of it. The pressure made Zuko flinch. “It’s probably all through your bloodstream. That’s what’s been hurting your chest. It’s what you’ve been coughing up.” As though on que, Zuko broke out in coughs, two slimy orange petals landing on the floor in front of him. He’d long learned not to cough into his hand, lest he had to deal with the slime on his skin.

“Zuko, doesn’t Mai love you?” Iroh asked, withdrawn from his nephew but still concerned for his safety. If the roots had reached the back of his neck, it would likely reach his head soon, and that was when the disease began to threaten life.

“I’m not in love with Mai,” Zuko answered, eyes drawn to the floor.

And he realized that he needed to join the avatar.

When Katara cast him out of the western air temple, it was only the second most painful wound of the day. The first was that you weren’t there- you hadn’t followed the avatar, he didn’t get to see you. And so still he suffered, coughing up more and more petals each day.

He prompted his own coughing fits, hoping that he could get more petals out, and he would still be able to breathe.

His firebending kept it from growing up his throat, but it didn’t stop the spread through his veins. It wasn’t choking the blood from his brain, but it did give him headaches, and sometimes he wondered if it would kill him before the end of the war, let alone when he would meet you again.

He tried to hide it, one afternoon, when from a scrape on his shoulder erupted a flower. It hurt like nothing else he’d ever experienced, but he managed to slice it off with his swords, hoping that his skin would close over it.

Toph sees all, didn’t he know that?

She could see the unusual blotches in his lungs, and she knew what it meant. It clouded her ability to read his heartbeat, but that didn’t matter, because she knew the answer when she asked the question.

“You have Hanahaki?” she said, her greyed eyes wide, looking almost innocent. “Who is it?”

“The next leader of the Northern Water Tribe,” he answered, the slightest of bittersweet smiles on his face, his days of yearning long gone. Now he merely hoped to see your face one more time, because he didn’t believe he had enough time to earn genuine love from you before the roots of his wallflower stopped his heart.

He had enough time, though, to dispose of his sister with the calmness of a dying man. He faced his victory, and his crown as Fire Lord, with a splitting headache, blackness invading the edge of his vision. He knew his heart wasn’t pushing hard enough to move his blood past the roots of his wallflower, his permanently cold fingers were his proof. But the avatar was his friend, now, and brought with him a little bit of pull.

So you, the young future chief of the Northern Water Tribe, attended the coronation of the Fire Lord.

You were dressed in thin but formal water tribe clothing, a deep blue offsetting the tan of your skin, your sleeves long and flowy, hiding in your palm a small tissue.

In the celebration afterward, you approached the new Fire Lord. You excused yourself from your conversations with the other warriors to visit him, in his chambers. He was withdrawn from the festivities, the effort of speaking before the nation too much for his state of health.

Just outside his door, you coughed into your tissue, straightening your back before striding in.

“Coriander,” you said, your first word one that caught him off guard. He didn’t know what you meant.

Sensing his confusion, you sat down beside him on his bed.

“It’s a flower with little white petals. Smaller than your pinky finger. Hence why it took me so long to figure out.” Zuko gazed sideways at you, narrowing his eyes as he puzzled over your meaning. As a royal, he was no stranger to the language of flowers- but why would you be referencing ‘hidden worth’ to him?

“What was yours?” you asked, your expression soft.

“My what?”

“Your flower. Aang said you had come down with Hanahaki, like me.” Zuko’s eyes widened, and he raised his chin.

“You- you had- too?” Your expression got softer, and you tilted your head with even more kindness in your eyes.

“Imagine how angry I was at myself, considering the circumstances we met in.” A smile broke out across Zuko’s face, but his sharp intake of breath caused him to fall into a fit of hacking. Gently you rubbed his back.

“It gets better in a few weeks,” you promised him, speaking from your own experience, as the voyage to the Fire Nation capital had been your detox. The letter from the avatar had explained everything, and let you heal before you even saw the Fire Lord.

“Wallflower,” answered Zuko, pulling himself from his coughs, “an orange flower.” Only now did he consider the meaning of such a flower- faithfulness in adversity. Did the flowers truly have some sort of meaning in their relationship, to the nations, to the world?

It didn’t matter, really. Zuko was happy to watch the roots recede from his veins, and cough out the last of the petals. He was happy to have you by his side, through it all, turning over a new chapter of the world’s history.

Orange and white- a combination the world hadn’t seen much of, before the story of the chief and fire lord spread. But wallflower and coriander, soon, became the symbol for love in all of the nations.

-🦌 Roe

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benisasoftboi · 4 years

Text

Gushing time.

Rune Factory 4 Special arrived a day early, so my entire day has been consumed in nostalgia. The original Rune Factory 4 was the first video game I ever bought on release day - I remember saving up all my money and making my mum drive me to like three different shops trying to find one that had it. I was already a fan of the franchise - before then, Rune Factory 3 had been my favourite video game, across the board. Aside from a playthrough of the first game last year, I haven’t played a Rune Factory game in a long time, certainly not RF4. But just starting up the game and hearing the music again, it was like it was suddenly seven years ago. Running around Selphia and seeing all the characters again - I love JRPGs, have played a lot of them, and I can think of very few that have characters that have stuck with me this long. And the aesthetics - the best thing about the Rune Factory franchise has always been the aesthetics, the music, the scenic and character design, just the general world. It’s a beautifully whimsical balance of urban and fantasy, and it’s the only JRPG world I think I’ve ever come across that I would genuinely want to live in. Rune Factory may no longer be my favourite game franchise - but I don’t think there has ever been another series that has felt so much like home to me.

Here’s a very long selection of personal highlights from the art book (by which I mean photos of the art followed by my rambling opinions):

Yeah, see, here’s the thing - Rune Factory 1 is not a good game. I could write an entire essay on why it’s bad (I actually started and got pretty damn far before realising no one’s interested in my two thousand word review of a game that came out over a decade ago - the short version is ‘Misty Bloom-fucking-Cave’. Anyone who’s played RF1 knows exactly what I mean). Don’t get me wrong, it has good qualities - excellent boss fights, for one, and also, as with the rest of the franchise, it is aesthetically wonderful. But ultimately, it feels less like playing a video game, and more like playing a proof of concept for a game. Which I guess it kind of was - and I can’t hate it because we wouldn’t have the rest of the series without it.

But it literally ends with a dragon spewing plant breath on a tank to make a turnip grow out of the gun. ‘Profound’, my arse.

It’s Raguna! The “master sowrdsman!” (that is not a typo on my part that is a direct quote from the ending of Rune Factory 1 this game’s script had so many issues-). And Mist! My favourite of the ‘canon’ love interests!

Best girl! When I was a kid, my favourite love interest in RF1 was Rosetta. As an adult, it is Tabatha. I don’t know what it is about her that I find so likeable (she’s as lacking in personality as any other RF1 character), but... idk, I just like her a lot.

Camus’s big ambition is to leave town like even once. He will never achieve it

Fun fact about Melody is that she’s extremely depressed, a fact that comes up once in an optional side quest and is never addressed again. It’s incredibly dark for an RF game

Fun fact about Lukas is that he sucks (he’s one of those ‘obsessed with talking about how hot all the girls are’ characters, an archetype that thankfully doesn’t show up again in these games). But also, interestingly enough, thanks to one of RF1′s many, many script errors, if you marry Rosetta (the girl Lukas is the most obsessed with), he’s supposed to express disappointment that he lost her to Raguna - but instead, he implies that he’s disappointed to have lost Raguna to her. The translators typoed their way into giving him a sexuality change. Which is honestly kind of amazing.

LOOK AT THIS SLIME THIS IS SUCH A COOL SLIME LITERALLY EVERY OTHER JPRG SLIME GO HOME DRAGON QUEST GET FUCKED (jk I like Dragon Quest a lot and its slimes are cool too). Wish you could see in-game that this is what they’re meant to be like.

I just generally love the monster designs, they’re really charming

Rune Factory 2! The RF game with the most weirdly mundane protagonist name (Kyle. In the main four games of this franchise we’ve got Raguna, Micah, Lest, Frey... and Kyle). The two generations thing was actually very cool, but when they say ‘each chapter captures a different lifestyle’, what they really mean is ‘the first half is a weak Harvest Moon I’m sorry, STORY OF SEASONS game, and the second half is a pretty good Rune Factory game’

lookit this little fuck

Yue Yue Yue! I love Yue so much, she’s great. She’s kind of like a much chiller version of Anna from Fire Emblem.

It’s really cool that we got to see grown up Cecilia (she was in RF1). I have this silly headcanon that if Kyle doesn’t marry Mana, Nicholas (her friend in 1) comes to visit Cecilia one day in the hazy-post game future, and meets Mana, and they get together. While Yue is my favourite, I do genuinely like Mana a lot, and I just want her to find love, I guess.

Here’s original Barrett! There’s a reason he was popular enough to make a reappearance (well, aside from the whole grumpy pretty boy thing he’s got going on) - he was a great character in this game. His and Dorothy’s relationship is also definitely the most compelling of the rival romances. Bonus Max, who also has a little shout-out in RF4 (check the diary in what will become Dylas’s bedroom at the start of the game)

Ray is male, but apparently he was originally going to be a female character, as he has an unused portrait in a wedding dress. My friend and I agree that this makes him a Trans Icon

Monster designs remain excellent. Especially the goblins

Skipping over Frontier (and also Oceans later), as I never got to play it growing up due to not having a console, and still haven’t got around to it - might try this summer. Except I do need to point out that these guys should be memes. I don’t know in what way. But they should.

Rune Factory 3! My first RF game. The transformation thing was very cool, even if it was basically useless outside the main story. My friend and I spent hours mucking about in the WiFi dungeon. I loved the desert settlement and all of the dungeon designs in general, and man, RF3 is just great. I hope it gets a remake one day.

Raven Raven Raven! I LOVE Raven (as do most). Her story with Micah is the first time I can remember getting genuinely invested in a video game romance. I’m so glad she cameos in RF4. I love her. She’s wonderful.

I have an odd fondness for Marian. When I was about twelve, I decided to do a playthrough where I deliberately romanced the least popular bachelorette. After poking around on forums, I determined that character to be Marian, and did a run with her. And... I actually came to really like her. I find her endearing. I get that people find her annoying and don’t like her... unethical medical practices, but doing that run has still made me a pretty protective of her. It’s been a long time since I played RF3, so maybe I’d change my mind if I replayed now, but currently, as far as I’m concerned, Marian’s a good’un.

I think I also used to low key ship her with Collette lol

Pia’s official art has always been super weird to me because it’s so not what her character is like in-game. She’s a ditzy airhead. This makes her look so serious

RAINBOW! Another character whose art makes them look way more serious than they actually are. Daria is great and would be a meme if this game was more popular. I think she’s also implied to be a relative of Margaret.

I’ve always been super confused about what Kuruna’s skirt is meant to be. Is it fur? Is it part of her shirt? Is it even a skirt at all?

Check it out, it’s the guy everyone would ship Micah with if this game was more popular

I want Zaid to make a reappearance and interact with Doug. Pretty sure it’s canon that they’re from the same clan? Think it would be very interesting.

RF3 definitely had the coolest farm. Also, still love the desert settlement.

This is from Oceans, so I have no context, but it’s just so cool that I had to share

Rune Factory 4. Culmination of the series is right - when I was playing it for the first time, I remember being blown away by just how much it is a true love letter to the franchise. I have never come across another game series that so consistently grew and improved from entry to entry. RF4 was a perfect ending.

Not that I’m complaining about getting RF5. Quite the opposite.

But if it had been the end (as we all thought it was until about a year ago), well, like I say. Perfect.

Well. Aside from soda can nipples. Can’t believe they didn’t fix those. Though in some ways, that would have made me sad too

Dolce has such a cool design, in both human and monster form. I’ve always kind of crack-shipped her with Margaret, for no real reason at all

Vishnal! I love Vishnal. Vishnal is pure as heck. Marrying him this time around.

Doug! My choice from last time around. Another character who looks more serious in his official art than he is in-game (well... most of the time)

And then there’s Dylas, who looks much happier here than he does most of the time. Kind of looks like he and Doug swapped bodies, actually. There’s a fanfic prompt for you.

Their ship name is Dyldo. I love them

Leon is nostalgic for me mostly because my friend and I used to get into a lot of arguments about whether or not he’s the hottest character in the game. She maintains that he is, because muscles. I maintain that muscles aren’t actually that attractive. It is a rift that divides us to this day

(He looks oddly... younger in this art though? Weird)

Sechs Empire is such an unfortunate name. Seriously. How rushed was RF1′s localisation team? All those script errors, and then this (the Sechs were the antagonists in the first game, and were only referenced in passing in the rest until RF4 - so it was a bit of a ‘sins of the father’ situation by then).

Seriously, try saying ‘Sechs Emperor’ out loud and tell me you can take this man seriously

I??? Love??? Them???

I??? LOVE??? THEM???

Still confused as to why Kiel, Xiao Pai, Arthur and Margaret are on the cover now. Don’t get me wrong, I like them, but... Amber, Dylas, Dolce and Leon made way more sense? Even the Archival Cover makes more sense (Vishnal, Clorica, Forte), as those three are all kind of Lest/Frey’s servants (well, Forte for the whole town, but still). Of those first four, all but Arthur basically lift right out of the game with little-to-no impact on the story

NO HAT TABATHA NO HAT TABATHA

I’ve always really loved this Raven picture

And I am thankful for you <3

#rune factory #rune factory 4 #rune factory 4 special #rf4 #rf4s #rf4srelease #i love these games <3

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astoldbygingersnaps · 4 years

Note

Of course I have to ask for "something bigger than the sky" for the director's cut meme! Any bit with something you've been burning to talk about! :D

YESSSSSSS i love talking about my baby. also i apologize in advance because this is probably going to be way too long.

SO! let’s talk about my personal favorite chapter so far, chapter three (also known as chapter four according to ao3, because they don’t let you mark something as a prologue)

when i sat down to outline this fic (and quietly died inside when i realized how many chapters it would take to achieve my ~vision of what i wanted this story to be) i knew that this chapter would be one of the most important chapters because it was where you finally saw all the mess between itachi and shisui come to light. it was also where their relationship started to change from intense dislike to a more neutral understanding and perhaps even some fondness for one another, which would hopefully make their progression to a romantic relationship (far, far down the road) more natural.

one of the things i really wanted to do with this chapter is show that they’re both right and they’re both wrong. even though it was a shisui pov chapter and he’s very set in his ‘itachi is a jerk and i’m lovely’ mindset, i wanted to create a push-pull dynamic where they were both making efforts to make amends that were, for one reason or another, rebuffed, which would give them both ammunition and setting the stage for The Big Fight.

so first, when the original argument about the coridan assignment happens and shisui decides to put on his big boy pants and apologize, we get this:

Deciding to throw caution to the wind and swallow what’s left of his pride, he starts, “The truth is I wanted to apologize for what happened on the bridge yesterday. You raised valid points about our mission to Coridan, and I should have taken your input more seriously. So, I’m sorry.”

He’s hoping the words, messy and scrambled as they are, will be enough of an olive branch to get the trip to Coridan off on the right foot. But, of course, they aren’t, and Itachi simply stares at him, as annoyingly expressionless as ever.

then, when he and itachi are swamping it in coridan, itachi flips the script and says:

“I have been thinking,” Itachi begins, tone uncharacteristically tentative, “about our conversation this morning.”

Shisui glances at him, raising an eyebrow at the way Itachi very noticeably avoids his gaze. By this point in the day Shisui is exhausted, irritated, and covered in slime, miles and miles away from his better nature. So, rather than taking the much-needed opportunity to hash out their issues, he instead chooses to be a complete asshole. “Perhaps we should focus on the task at hand,” he mimics snottily, and is grateful when for once Itachi has no clever retort prepared.

and both interactions, i think, cause them to become even more entrenched in these notions that they’re in the right and it worsens their relationship with one another. it isn’t until they have literally no other option except to talk to each other that they both realize they’ve been seeing the other person entirely through their very biased perceptions. that bias is one of the reasons i wanted them both to be pov characters in this, because i wanted it to be clear that, to some extent, they’re both unreliable narrators when it comes to each other, just like how in life we’re unreliable narrators when we’re telling stories to friends or lovers or coworkers. your perceptions will always lend a specific coloring to any interactions you have in life and these two have Very Different perceptions.

my main goal with this fic is to follow two people through five (or more? who knows!) years of their lives and see how this situation they’ve been thrust into changes them for the better and maybe for the worst, as well. and i think this is the first chapter where we see itachi and shisui change in a meaningful and necessary way, paving the way for all the developments that come after it.

ANYWAY that’s my super rambly answer that probably made no sense. thanks for giving me the chance to rant about this silly fic i love so much!

#itwasyummy #asks and memes #star trek au

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kumeko · 4 years

Photo

A/N: For the @ultimateheroicdespair zine, a Bnha x Danganronpa zine! I wanted to write a shattering Asui, and how she could turn to despair. I like the imagery in this one!

…

Once, when Asui was young, she spotted a frog on a rock next to a pond. A big green frog, standing out against the light grey of the rock. It ribbited once, twice, a big balloon expanding at its throat as it breathed in and out.

What a silly creature. She crouched a short distance away, watching as it sat there. The balloon expanded. Deflated. Expanded once more.

And stopped. Nothing happened and she cocked her head, unsure of why it was holding its breath. Before she could stand, she spotted a snake with bright yellow eyes slithering closer and closer to the rock. It stared at the frog unblinking, a tongue flickering in the air as it carved a path through the mud. Frozen in fear, the frog didn’t move, not even as the snake’s jaw unhinged and swooped down for the kill.

-x-

“Upupupupu!” Monokuma sang through the speakers, his childish voice echoing through every room of the school and dormitory. “Time for good girls and boys to wake up! Though I guess you all aren’t good, killing each other like that!”

Asui blearily sat up, running a hand through her hair. It was quiet in the mornings. No, that wasn’t right, it was silent. In the morning, in the afternoon, in the night, there were no sounds outside of the school’s walls. Despite the school’s location in the heart of the city, there were no signs of traffic. Even her home in the boonies had the sound of birds every morning. Here, it was silent as the grave and it was hard not to convince herself that the rest of the world was in that grave.

Maybe they all were. This school might as well be a coffin. In the span of a month, no one had come to save them, no rescue mounted by friends or family. Maybe the world outside was destroyed. Or maybe no one cared. As Asui exited her room, locking it behind her, she heard eager footsteps behind her and a bright cheerful voice. “Asui! Good morning!”

“Morning, Ashido.” Asui yawned, covering her mouth with a hand.

“Tired?” Ashido bounced on her feet, her smile too big to be natural. It was a fragile thing, most like, easily broken.

Asui understood the feeling. She herself felt delicate, like glass waiting to shatter. “Just a little.”

Asahina joined them now, a donut in her mouth. Asui was ninety percent certain that she had stolen one of the donut machines, it was the only explanation of how she always had a donut, no matter what they did. She was chewing it slowly, thoughtfully as she stared at Asui. “How do you keep finding them?’

“What—oh.” Asui tilted her head to peek at her shoulder, a green toad sitting on it. With a smile, she rubbed its head. “You’re far from home.”

“Seriously, we’re in a locked school where nothing can get in or out. How do you keep finding frogs?” Ashahina asked, peering closer at the frog. It ribbited loudly and she jumped back. “It’s completely different from the last one you showed me. You’re telling me another frog got in here?”

Asui shrugged, careful not to disturb the amphibian. “Well, I am the ultimate catcher.”

“More like ultimate magician,” Ashido cut in, cocking her head curiously. “You sure you’re not Doctor Doolittle?”

“Definitely not.” Asui opened the doors to the cafeteria and whatever banter they had going died at the sight in front of them. Half of their class was already inside, sitting on tables and chairs and looking depressed. Even Midoriya and Ishimaru were slouching, none of their usual cheer or energy in the room.

It had been that way for the past week, ever since Iida had killed Minato and started the first round of the killing game.

First round. The worst part of that was that it meant there could be a second. A third. Any number, really, until someone got out or everyone died.

Midoriya gave a small wave, his lips quirking into a fake smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Asui rubbed the frog on her shoulder, his wet skin comforting her. Frog slime could be a poison or cure, she remembered. Maybe they’d need it if they got trapped here forever.

Next to Midoriya, Kaminari rested on the table, his head buried in his arms. His voice was muffled as he muttered, “I still can’t believe Bakugou wasn’t the first one.”

Fortunately, he was too quiet for Bakugou to hear. The surly explosive maker sat at the far end of the room, angrily munching on a sandwich as he glared at everyone who entered. Ever since they first met, he had been a ball of rage and aggressively argued or attacked almost everyone he interacted with.

“Then he isn’t a killer,” Asui muttered, before covering her mouth.

It was too late. Midoriya paled, a hand rubbing his forearm. “Iida…he…he was just desperate.”

She closed her eyes. Her parents had raised her to always speak her mind but sometimes that wasn’t the right thing to do. “You’re right. Sorry. He…I didn’t mean that.”

The atmosphere grew heavy. Not even the frog could prevent the sinking feeling in her stomach. Iida wasn’t a killer either. But maybe that was the point of this all, to show that even the most innocent could have a dark side.

“Hey!” Ashido broke through the gloom, her voice wobbling a little as she gave her usual cheerful attitude. “I made something new.” In her hands was a small glass of murky coloured liquid.

Asui blinked, not sure how to respond. As Ashido’s smile grew more strained, she tapped the glass and played along. “What is it?”

“Don’t know.” Ashido laughed. Despite being the ultimate chemist, almost all her creations were complete accidents. “But it’s an energy drink. I think.”

“You think?” Asahina frowned, taking a deep sniff. “Ugh. Smells rotten.”

“Good things taste bad?” Ashido held it out. “Want to try?”

When no one offered to be the guinea pig, Midoriya reluctantly took the flask. “We have a medic, right?”

“Probably.” Asui tapped her chin, running through their class. “Though Ashido might also have to make your medicine.”

“Oh.” Midoriya stared at the flask, looking greener than her frog. “Maybe I should pass, then.”

“It’s not poison!” Ashido crossed her arms, glaring at him angrily.

“It’s not?” Midoriya sniffed the glass once more, his expression twisting with revulsion before he finally took a sip. Within two seconds, he spit it out, coughing hard. “So…vile…”

“Huh.” She stared at the glass, rubbing the back of head sheepishly. “Well, it probably isn’t poison.”

Asui chuckled and after a moment, they all joined in, the tension broken if only for the moment.

-x-

The hallways all looked strange, like some exhibit in a modern art museum. The windows were all bolted, most rooms were locked, and the garish colours painted on the wall reminded Asui of a poison dart frog. Keep away, they warned. Danger.

Despite nature’s warnings, she couldn’t run from this. There was no where to go. As she passed door after door, the light flickered on in the room to her right. The AV room. She turned her head, watching as the door slowly opened.

“Hello?” Asui croaked, taking a step forward. She poked her head inside, wary, but no one was inside. The only thing there was a projector and a cassette on one of the tables. Slowly, she approached the cassette. On the white label, Asui was scribbled in black marker, a small heart after her name.

A trap. She didn’t have to hear Monokuma’s voice to know what it was. This must have been how they got Iida. It was a trap. She remembered the frog, its mortality reflected in its eyes as it stared at the snake.

Her hand reached out for the cassette.

-x-

There was a secret to frogs: they were maybe the most poisonous animals on earth. Even more than spiders. Even more than snakes.

A golden dart frog could kill a hundred people while being as small as a finger. Asui opened her bedside drawer, staring at the small group of frogs inside. There were no proper terrariums here and she had carefully set inside a long plate filled with water and small morsels of food. Amongst the dark green and grey frogs were several small colourful ones: a red one, an orange one, and a gold one.

With a gloved finger, she gently swiped its glands. “Just a little,” she whispered. “I need just a little.”

-x-

He was not a killer.

Asui hadn’t realized how quickly those words would come to haunt her. Had Iida felt like this, sitting in the cafeteria with everyone, trying to pick which classmate would be the easiest target? Even her walk to and from her room felt like the laying of a trap, her eyes darting around as she tried to pick up information on who liked to be alone and when was the easiest time to escape notice.

Midoriya would often read alone in hallways and rooms, his nose in a book as he tried to find a way out. Kaminari was always cowering around someone, unable to adjust to this new environment. Kirigiri was always walking somewhere alone. Fukawa never left her room. Asahina took a swim every morning at six am.

He is not a killer, she had said and now here she was, weighing her classmates’ lives, playing god as she decided who would live and who would die.

-x-

“You’re up early.” Asahina looked up in surprise as Asui stepped onto the pool deck. She rubbed her body with a towel, cleaning up most stray droplets of water.

“Thought I’d swim a bit.” Asui smiled, her heart sinking with each step she took.

“Really?” Asahina’s expression brightened before dropping into a pout. “You should have told me! We could have swum together.”

“Awww…I was hoping you could give me some pointers.” Asui sighed as she held out a lightly glazed donut. “And I even got you a treat.”

Asahina dropped the towel, clenching her fist. “You will become an excellent swimmer.”

Averting her eyes, Asui stared at the wall as Asahina gleefully took the donut. It would have been easier if the swimmer hadn’t been so happy or if they hadn’t become friends before this.

It would have been better if they had never come to this damn school in the first place. There was a soft chomping sound as Asahina bit into the donut and Asui closed her eyes. If there was one good thing, it was that Asahina would be dead before she felt any pain.

-x-

“Upupupupu!” Monokuma popped into Asui’s room the second she closed the door, a paw covering his mouth as he smiled. It was a sound she would never forget, a sound she would carry to her death bed.

Which, depending on how this trial went, could be in a few hours or even days.

“It’s always the quiet ones.” The bear laughed, rubbing his paws together gleefully. “And what a clever trap you set up! Putting the poison in the chemist’s room! I wonder if they’ll all blame Ashido?”

Asui didn’t say anything. For all his words, all she could hear was the soft hiss of the snake, its tongue flickering as it stared at her unblinking. Too late, she realized that it didn’t make a difference if she got away with it or if she didn’t.

Whether it was today or ten years from now, the snake would strike and Monokuma would get her.

#bnha #danganronpa #izuku midoriya #tsuyu asui #asahina aoi #mina ashido #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfic

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wellmeaningshutin · 7 years

Text

Short Story #25: Gambling.

Written: 1/19/2017

Living life was a luxury he no longer had. His days were spent wallowing in bed, thinking about his past fuck ups, slowly getting dirtier and dirtier, only getting up to use the bathroom or answer the door to get pizza, a food he didn’t care too much about but was the only thing that could be delivered. He always ordered at night, because he’d grown accustomed to the dark, blinds were always dark, and he didn’t want to deal with sunlight when he would open his front door. It wasn’t known to him why he didn’t simply kill himself. Being dead would surely be better than crying and hating himself, but as long as he had his memories, he would never do it.

His computer was always on, he had to use it to order pizza online, as little human interaction as possible, and, even though he didn’t know it, his web cam was also on, and allowed for a group of strangers to watch him. None of them really payed too much direct attention, the guy really just cried and ate, but watching him wasn’t the main point. They would all watch him while doing other things, stuff of actual interest, but they kept their focus because they were running a betting pool to see how long it would take the pathetic guy to die. It had been two months since somebody hacked into his camera, and a week after that the bets started. It began as a small thing among friends, but it grew to include around sixty people, all watching, hoping to make a lot of money out of the miserable guy.

Looking in the reflection of his television, which he had to look at if he lied on his left side, he thought about draping a blanket over it so he wouldn’t have to see himself. It was a task that would have to be done later, maybe never, he only had the energy for things he had to do. No time to fulfill his silly whims. The reflection made him think of better times, where he wasn’t a depressing slob, when he played tennis back in college. He was much more fit then, and he was actually well liked about people. All of his time was either spent out on the courts, where he was proving to be a fierce player, or out on the town, either drinking or fucking, it was what he thought he wanted out of life. Youth was wasted by him though, because a drunk driving accident tore up his shoulder, then he couldn’t play tennis anymore, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do in life. That was his only skill, and looking back he wish he picked up something else, took his major seriously, or at least quit drinking. Now what did he know how to do? Who cared about him anymore? He thought about his high school girlfriend, she was really sweet on him.

There was a group IM chat set up to place bets and notify the others if anything interesting was happening. The main interesting thing that would happen was when he masturbated, and even though it was gross to watch a lot of them would, it was funny in a way. Sometimes side bets would develop, trying to see if he would cry afterwards, what porn he’d look at, or if he’d even be able to get it up. They didn’t know specifically what he watched, but when he wore his glasses the screen would reflect on to him, and they’d get a general idea of what was happening. One guy made $80 from a bet that he’d watch some piss videos, and although it was hard to prove at first, the guy found the actual video and then compared stills with what was reflected on the guy’s lenses. It impressed quite a few people, but a couple others tried to make fun of the guy for being knowledgeable about that type of porn, to which he replied: You’re watching a disgusting man masturbate. Do you really think you’re above judgment here?

He knew he should’ve married his high school girlfriend, he shouldn’t of taken that tennis scholarship, he should’ve stayed back in his home town with her, settled down, and stayed happy. A couple years back she married some abusive asshole who ended up killing her, and it made him feel incredibly guilty because if he never left, she’d be alive now. Although, what made him really guilty was that the main reason he wished he stayed with her was mostly because she was good in bed, and if he did settle down she’d be a steady lay for him. He was so lonely, but he hated himself for that, so he punished himself with even more loneliness. That wasn’t the only sexual thing that caused his depression to flare up, lately he’d been watching weirder and weirder porn, which filled him with pleasure and self hatred. It was like he was falling into a bottomless pit that he couldn’t escape. If he stayed with her maybe he wouldn’t have become so depraved, maybe…

Somebody got the idea of making t-shirts of the guy, but it never really became a thing. Nobody really understood why it was suggested, and the guy who brought it up later lost his bet (he thought the guy would be dead in four weeks), and then he became a target of ridicule. Somebody made a shirt, with a screen cap of the suggestion to put the depressed guy on a shirt, and even though it was only meant as a joke at first, he was able to auction it off for $63. It turned out that the person who bought it was the guy who suggested it, he wanted it so that he could avoid further harassment, but that just caused the ridicule to turn more aggressive. Every time he tried to post something everyone would harass him, and it was confusing to them why he still stuck around, they thought of him as pathetic. An attempt was made to remedy this when he placed a large bet of $320, hoping that the guy would kill himself a month from then, but it just made his situation worse.

How did his life get to the point where he became this disgusting slob, this breeding ground for bacteria? One night, when pizza was delivered, the delivery guy starting tearing up from the smell, and later the restaurant called, telling him that if he wanted to keep ordering he would have to either pay online, or leave the money out in front of the porch, and the pizza guys would leave the food at the door. They insisted that they weren’t trying to be rude, but that it was becoming a health risk for their drivers. He was at least a little happy that he would never have to interact with people anymore, maybe that’s what got him to this point. People. Being a social creature could’ve been what destroyed him, maybe the isolation was good for him.

The betting pool was anonymous, because people did have usernames, but no real names were ever used. There was a level of freedom of what people were able to say, they could be more of themselves, and this was why the desperate guy stayed with the group, because they didn’t know who he really was and the insults were reasonably contained. That is, until one night where he got drunk and ranted about how he was better than everyone in the chat, they didn’t know his real life, they didn’t know how successful he was, he was better than all of them and was only putting up with their childish and uncultured behavior because he was going to win the suicide bet, and then they would all realize how they were actually the pathetic ones. He didn’t need their approval, he was only humoring their simple desires and childish games. In response to this rant, the guy who sold him the shirt posted the desperate guy’s name and address into the chat. Then he started getting letters in the mail, some of them were pre-written suicide notes, the one that really got to him was:

I like to act like I’m better than others, but the weight of the world is holding me down, so alas I can go on no longer. There are no more pleasures in life, and I’m tired of this pathetic game I’ve played. I tried betting on another man’s misery, but really it was me that the bet was placed on, and I will have to say goodbye on my predicted date, because I can’t bear my misery any longer. My life has become a mess, I’m 27 but all I’ve spent my days doing is seeking approval from internet strangers, but they were able to see through my pathetic lies, my undeserved arrogance, my thin skin, my bad ideas, and if I can’t even pretend to be a competent person, what hopes do I have for continuing life?

Every day I watch a man who I like to pretend is more miserable than myself, but at least he is free in his misery. I, however, am not. I live in the prison of his world and I have no hopes escaping. I tried to pretend so that I could finally escape from this cage of mediocrity, but like I said, I could not. Apparently I’m too much of a failure to even write this letter right. For these reasons I have decided to kill myself, and I know I don’t have anyone to care. I’m only writing this so that when my body is found, dump me in the trash where I belong. Nobody will be upset. I deserve nothing more. At the bottom of the note was a line for the guy to sign, to make it official.

Lying in bed, he wished he was able to brave the outside world so that he could go back to being an alcoholic. It would make the days easier to bear, but he could hardly move around his own house, and if he could leave who would be happy with seeing him? He was a creature made only of filth. The other day he decided to lie on his couch, just to change things up, but when he got up to go to the bathroom he realized he’d left a massive, dark, damp stain. When did he stop bothering to take showers? Pondering this for a while, he shambled into the bathroom and inspected his shower for the first time in… how long? He wasn’t sure what day, month, or even year it was. How long had he been rotting away? After questioning time for what seemed like hours, but was most likely minutes, he remembered to inspect the shower, and it seemed to work. It ran for some time, eventually building up steam, and he decided to put his hand under it, to see what would happen. At first he couldn’t feel anything on his hand, but eventually the water worked at the grime, slime, and crust, and actual skin could start to be seen. It made him feel weird that he had a bare patch, so he decided to clear off the rest of his hand, and before he knew it his whole body was under the water, and for the first time in a long time, he felt good.

The mail kept coming, and nobody would listen to him in the chat anymore. They even took down his bet. He was starting to lose it, and out of desperation he told everyone that he was placing a $1,000 bet that the guy on the web cam would die the next night, which peaked everyone’s interests. Nobody noticed the intent behind the careful wording of the bet, since cause of death was never specified. His plan was to drive over to the creature’s house (mail of his had happened to have been shown on the feed several times, so the address was known), which would take him over a day, and he was going to shoot the pathetic thing until he died. Then he was going to flip of the web cam, drive home, collect his winnings, then earn the other guy’s respect. No time was really spent about thinking the plan over, for the guy mostly packed his stuff and drove in anger, thinking about how he was finally going to prove how better he was. Any time he did question his plan, he would just look down at his shirt (he wore the one that he bought for $63) and his anger would blind him again.

After getting clean, the man felt free of everything. Looking in the mirror, his reflection really wasn’t so bad now, even if he was incredibly pale. Searching around the house, he found a pair of old sunglasses and decided to look outside, and it was a beautiful-and bright-day outside, was it Spring? His neighborhood was alive with vibrant colors and movement, and for the first time in a while he finally felt like he could be active again. His mistakes in life were still regrettable, but that was the past, and this was the present, so he could finally look towards the future and say “Go fuck yourself.” He decided that he finally had the strength to die, and it made him happier than he had ever been. Being clean, he felt weird navigating through his house. He could finally feel the damp air, notice the crust on his carpet, smell what must’ve been death, pay attention to the garbage that was everywhere and what grew on all of it. There was a lot of awkward maneuvering to not touch anything gross, which seemed to be almost everything, but he was able to comfortably go into the kitchen and back to his room. In the room, he opened his blinds to look out at the neighborhood, to fill his room with natural light, and sat on the edge of his bed, facing the television screen that he spend so much of his life staring into, and he slit his throat.

35 hours later the desperate murderer finally arrived at the house, and was surprised to see some windows were open, but it didn’t matter, he had to prove himself. He hopped the fence, made his way through the backyard, and threw a rock through a back window. When he climbed through some glass cut his side but he was to focused to notice the pain, or even the awful stench of the house. It was weird for him to be inside the place that seemed unreal, it was like being on the set of a television show, but he didn’t know which room the guy was lying around in so he had to work his way through the disgusting place. Eventually he found the mans room, saw his corpse on the floor, looked right into the web cam, and emptied his clip into the man anyways.

#Well Meaning Shut In #Free Write #Short Story #Writers on Tumblr #Getting Better

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