Bread Toss

chaos walking fancast

todd:

viola: 

davy:

mayor prentiss:

mistress coyle:

the return:

manchee:

Send My Love (To Your New Lover) - Part 2

Summary of Part 1:  You come home to find Baekhyun has been unfaithful, which you expected, but what no one expected is your reaction.

Part 2: Requested (by many lovely people):  Hi! I know that this is probably a longshot, but I wanted to request a sequel for Send My Love? That scenario left me aching, and I need closure. Lol. More angst of course, but can the reader find a new love interest? I just want Baek to squirm a lot for what he has done, and of course there should be a big dallop about his jealousy

So this was supposed to be a one shot, and as I said in Part 1, you can end it there. BUT if you need closure, here’s more to help satisfy your needs. 

Also I’m tagging these babes because they inspired this: @tousdae, @byunshim, and @imbaekhyunstrash <3 thanks loves 

[Part 1] [Part 3] [Coda

SPECIAL FEATURE ALERT: This is a reader-interactive fic, so in the box below, if you enter a name (yours or a character’s, for example), and click “submit”, it will swap out “Y/N” for that name. This feature does not work on dashboard/feed/mobile app unfortunately.

Your name: submit What is this?

Originally posted by porkdo-bi

Julie’s POV (Mistress) – One Month Later

The bed is empty when Julie wakes. It wasn’t a sound that woke her or a movement – it was the absence of it. The room is too still, too empty. She blinks groggily as she turns over to check the time on her phone. 5:12 AM. Always 5 AM, she thinks to herself tiredly. Like clockwork. Like Cinderella, except instead of a princess running away from the ball at midnight, it’s Baekhyun shuffling out of the house at the crack of dawn.

Sighing, she gives up on the idea of sleep and rolls out of bed, grabbing her bathrobe and the apartment keys on her way out.  

It’s a cool August morning when Julie steps out of the apartment complex, not quite cold but not warm either. She draws her robe tighter around her and pads down the sidewalk in her slippers, trying to push down the nagging sense of foreboding that’s been building in her chest for a while now. At the corner of the complex, she takes a left and follows the path into the courtyard. The leaves on the trees are just starting to curl at the ends as if drawing in on themselves from the coming cold, but she keeps her eyes on the path as she makes her way to the gazebo where a familiar silhouette stands, half-hidden.

Baekhyun.

A pang goes through Julie at the sight of him, and she steps onto the gazebo. He’s standing utterly still, a statue, leaning against the railing with his hand slightly extended as if reaching for something. His eyes are glazed.

“Baekhyun,” she says as she catches his hand. “Baek.” He’s still frozen, so she gently shakes him. Sometimes it takes a little bit of extra coaxing from her to pull him from his daze. He finally blinks, coming back to his senses, and he looks down at her with confusion that quickly gives way to understanding. Shame – and wretchedness.

“I was sleepwalking again,” he says. It’s not a question.

Julie tries for a reassuring smile. “But you didn’t yesterday, so that’s progress.”

“It’s not progress. None of this is progress. I don’t…I can’t…” His face is pale and his eyes are wide and glassy like an animal’s caught in headlights. Not terrified. Just…helpless. Resigned.

“Please,” Julie clutches at Baekhyun’s hand. “Please go see a doctor, jagiya. They can help you with whatever is going on. I know you won’t talk to me about it, but you have to talk to someone. You can’t live your life like this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Julie.”

“Baekhyun, don’t be stubborn. This has been going on for almost a month! This is a problem, but we can fix it—”

“I don’t want to fix it!” He yanks his hand away as he barks this out, but almost immediately after, the anger drains out of him and he slumps against the railing. His eyes have that vacant look again and he says once more, softly this time, “I don’t want to fix it.”

“Okay, baby,” Julie murmurs soothingly. Behind her calm voice though is a growing fear. If Baekhyun doesn’t try to get better, he’s only going to get worse – and she has no idea how to help him. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed, okay?” Hesitantly, she reaches for his hand, and this time he lets her lead him back to their apartment. When they make it back to the bedroom, Baekhyun just stares at the bed for a while before climbing in beside her. She turns to him, ready to curl up against his chest, but he faces the other way before she can do this.

Julie waits for him to fall asleep before she whispers, “I love you.” Because she can’t bear it if he doesn’t whisper it back. And she’s not sure anymore if he will.


The morning – well, the afternoon, really – brings the scent of coffee. It’s part of Julie’s ritual: wake up, brush teeth, toss some bread in the toaster, and brew coffee for herself and Baek. She twists her hair into a messy bun as she potters around the kitchen. Unbeknownst to Baekhyun, she has a plan. A plan to break him out of this drowning stupor and transform him back into the guy she fell in love with. The guy she broke all the rules for.

Apparently the smells from the kitchen are enough to rouse him because Baekhyun appears in the doorway, yawning. Julie pauses for a moment, distracted by the sight of him. His loose shirt and baggy pajama pants still can’t hide the hard lines of his sculpted frame, and she watches the way his body moves as he makes his way over to her. Even with his bedhead and dark circles, he’s breathtaking.

“Good morning, honey,” she pecks him on the cheek as he passes her to get to the coffee.

“Morning,” he says absently.

“Do you want me to make you an omelet? With chives and tomatoes and cheese? I know you like that.”

“That’s okay.” The clouds on his face clear for a moment as he offers her a smile, and Julie feels her breath catch. “Thank you though, Jules.” His appetite is still next to nonexistent.

“Anytime.” Plucking the toast from the toaster and placing them on two plates, Julie snags the butter from the fridge on her way to the table. Baekhyun joins her with the coffee, and they settle into comfortable silence as they eat.

That is, until she breaks it.

“So I was thinking…” Julie begins, trying not to feel discouraged by Baekhyun’s mental distance, “we should look at houses together.”

This catches his attention and he freezes with his toast halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he puts its down and meets her gaze. “What made you come to that decision?” he asks carefully.

Well, that wasn’t the response she was hoping for.

“I don’t know. This apartment seems so abandoned. Ever since Y/N left and took all her stuff with her, this place feels so impersonal, like a rest stop. Just somewhere to crash in between work and errands and all that.”

His shoulders have become rigid under his shirt. “Don’t talk about her, okay?” he says in a strained voice. The break up was hard on him, Julie knows this. There’s nothing Baekhyun hates more than hurting people, and he’s still probably feeling guilty.

She shrugs. “Okay. My point is, I want a home with you, Baek. I think maybe your soul is feeling restless, and building something new with me could help you find peace. You might even sleep through the night for once.”

He’s tearing his bread into smaller and smaller pieces as he considers this with a frown. “I just don’t know if I want to go house-hunting right now,” he finally admits. “I’m exhausted, and that sounds like an ordeal.”

“Or we can just do up this place.” Baekhyun still seems reluctant. “Come on, please?”

“Fine,” he groans, and Julie squeals, throwing her arms around him.

“Hurry up and finish your breakfast then.”

He glances at her apprehensively. “Why?”

“Because we’re going to the mall right after. And I’m driving.”

Baekhyun’s POV

The mall is packed. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and everyone and his mother are hanging out here. But then, it’s a small town and this is the only place to go.

Julie drags Baekhyun from store to store, and he struggles to keep up with her as she weaves easily through the clusters of shoppers, towing him in hand. His body feels heavy and clumsy from so many hours – so many nights of disturbed sleep, and his head is beginning to pound. But when Julie points out an intricate lamp or a patterned rug or a potted plant, looking for his opinion, Baekhyun does his best to show interest. Because this girl genuinely cares about him – and he cares about her too. Just not the way he cares about –

Stop. He shakes his head and grinds his teeth together. Don’t go there. Don’t think about her. But how can he not when every damn thing reminds him of her, of Y/N? The way the sun slants through the window of the bedroom they once shared – it used to slip through the blinds and fall directly on her face, and she would complain every morning to Baekhyun about this. But he never bought new curtains because he loved the way the light touched her soft features and made her into something celestial. The sound of rain against the roof of the car brings her to mind. The first time he kissed her – a real kiss, with his hands in her hair and her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer – was in the car, and it had been pouring out. He can’t even bring himself to eat omelets anymore because that was her favorite breakfast food.

Julie is marveling at different ceramic figurines to liven up their living room when Baekhyun suddenly excuses himself to go to the bathroom. As he makes his way out of the Pottery Barn, he pulls his phone from his pocket. He needs to make a call.


The mall is thinning out now. Baekhyun and Julie have been here for a few hours, and people are starting to trickle out. He’s on his way back from the bathroom, trying to remember how to get back to the Pottery Barn, when something catches his attention. A familiar sound, like the tinkling of wind chimes. Laughter. He whips his head around in search of the source of the noise, and his eyes land on a couple standing by a food court kiosk, trying out samples of cheese.

The guy is tall, taller than him, with a white smile, gelled hair, and an expensive fall coat. And the girl beside him is…Y/N.

Baekhyun feels the color leave his face as he reflexively steps back, allowing the people walking to partially hide him as he watches them. He hasn’t seen her since…that day.

The kiosk vendor looks bored as he offers them more cheese samples, but Y/N and the guy seem to be having a great time. She looks radiant, Baekhyun realizes with a twist of longing in his stomach, happier than he’s seen her in a long time. He can only stare as the guy places a sample in his mouth, makes a face, and then leans down to say something in her ear, and she throws her head back and laughs. The sound reaches him again like a caress, like a slap in the face, and Baekhyun’s legs can’t seem to decide if they want to run over to Y/N and the guy and yank them apart – or if they should carry him far, far away. It’s only when he watches the guy reach over to tuck a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear that Baekhyun finally can’t take anymore, and he slips into the throng of walking people, letting the tide of their bodies tug him away from her. It almost feels natural to do this.

After all, this isn’t the first time he’s let life pull them apart.  

Julie’s POV

Baekhyun is silent during the ride home, but it’s the kind of silence that feels loaded, ready to burst messily. Something happened while he was in the bathroom, that much she’s figured, and she flexes her fingers around the steering wheel uneasily. Every move she makes only seems to drive him further from her – but she also can’t just stand by and watch him spiral.

“I love you, Baekhyun,” she says softly, tentatively.

“I love you too, Julie.” She bites her lip at how automated his words sound.

“Do you?”

At this, he finally looks away from the window to her. “Of course I do. How could I not?”

That should have been comforting, his answer, but something unsettles her about the way he says the last bit – how could I not? – as if there’s more to the question, something he’s leaving unsaid.

How could I not – because I have to at this point.


Even though it’s 6 PM when they get back to the apartment, Baekhyun tells Julie that he’s going to go take a nap and disappears into the bedroom, leaving her alone in the living room with her newly purchased home furnishings. She wilts onto the couch and pulls her knees up to her chin. Without Baekhyun’s company, there’s too many hours to fill, and she doesn’t want to start clattering around with the décor while he’s sleeping. It’s a small apartment.

So she fills the time with busy work – organizing the book shelf, going through her emails, taking out the garbage. On her way back in from the dumpster, she stops by the mailbox to collect their mail and flips through the envelopes as she heads back into the living room. Might as well attend to the bills and cut out the coupons now.

Going through the mail is as dull as she’d expected – until she gets to the phone bill. Julie straightens up in her chair as she scans the page, her interest peaked – and not in a good way. It seems in the last month, Baekhyun has made over fifty calls to the same number, and it’s not one that she recognizes. Shoving the other papers aside on the dining table, she unearths her cell phone and dials the number, not sure what to expect. Hopefully it isn’t some phone sex service—

We’re sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.

Julie stares at her phone as the intercept message ends. What the hell? She quickly compares the number she dialed to the one on the bill, and it’s the same. Baekhyun has been calling a disconnected number – multiple times.

Well. It wasn’t always a disconnected number. Pulling her laptop in front of her, she drums her fingers on the table as she waits for it to power on. She’s got some research to do.


It’s late when Julie finally climbs into bed, and not because she had too much trouble with her research. It’s because she had to go take a walk after she was finished to clear her head.

She settles against the pillow and traces the line of Baekhyun’s sleeping form with her eyes, considering waking him. But this might be one of those rare nights when he manages to stay asleep, when he’s not moved to wander, and so she holds herself back, albeit with some difficulty. She can talk with him in the morning, and it’s probably better to sleep on her thoughts anyway. Sighing, Julie closes her eyes and lets the storm in her mind lull her into oblivion.

She wakes a few hours later to an empty bed and rolls over to check the time. 5:15 AM.

“Like clockwork,” she exhales and scrubs her face with her hand. When did this become a normal part of her life? Running after her somnambulistic boyfriend who she’s not even sure loves her, at ungodly hours of the day? A flash of anger goes through Julie as she throws her legs off the bed and gets to her feet. This isn’t the guy she fell for, the guy that could make her laugh even when she felt like crying, who kissed her so deeply that she felt it in her toes. The guy she had been willing to hurt another girl to have.

The guilt comes back in waves as Julie walks out of the apartment complex, repressed emotion set free. She’d never been the type of girl to do what she did, set her sights on a taken man, become a…mistress. Ugh, what a dirty word. But Baekhyun was like no other man – no other person she’d ever met before, and at the time, she probably would have done anything for him. Maybe even still. It hadn’t felt wrong to be with him then because he felt so right by her side, the missing piece in her life. But today, for the first time, she’s feeling something new.

Regret.  

The gazebo comes into sight, and Julie shakes her head, snapping back to attention. Then she blinks. Looks around. Looks around again, feeling panic rising in her chest now, and she hurries over to the gazebo before stopping in her tracks when she finds it unoccupied.

Baekhyun isn’t here.

Julie braces herself against the railing and tries to stay calm. The car is still in the lot, so he can’t have gotten that far, right? But then, he could have started walking hours ago, and she can’t call him because his phone is still on the nightstand. He could be anywhere by now. Oh god, there’s a lake a few blocks away. What if he walked into it and just kept on walking? Forget the lake, what if someone found him in his defenseless state and tried to mug him? What if—

Julie’s bathrobe pocket vibrates – her cell phone. Thank god she took it with her. Snatching it up, she answers it without even checking the caller ID. “Hello? Baekhyun?”

“Is this Julia Lee?” an unfamiliar, commanding voice says from the other end.

“Um, yes.”

“Hello Julia, this is Officer Richards. You are Mr. Byun Baekhyun’s emergency contact, correct?”

Julie’s stomach drops. “Yes. Is he alright? Did something happen?” For the first time, she notices the sound of sirens and voices talking in the background of the call.

“It’s unclear right now as to what the situation is. You see, we found him lying on the side of the highway.”  

[Part 3] [Coda] [Masterlist]

Prompt: Newt is a food Horder

Since Newt travels so much. He doesn’t really have all that much money. The money he does have goes towards buying meat and other assorted feed for his creatures instead of for himself. So when he is offered free food, He constantly tucks it away.

Samples. He takes them all. Dinner bread, tosses it into his case. Friends let him board, left overs dissappear. Baked good and catered lunches, gone.

He tries to make the food last as long as possible, so he only eats the bare minimum to keep him healthy. Even then he purposely skips days.

Percival recognized this kind of behavior. He remembered a boy that shared his dorm that came from a family less fortunate than his own. He remembered stashed he had under his bed. Sneaking food into his pocket when he thought no one was looking. Behavior that spoke of long periods of time with little food.

So when Newt starts to inhabit the empty office for himself. Graves starts leaving food in his office and tries to get him to stop hording the food and start eating it. Learning all about the different characteristics of each beast, and making several observations on their protector. After all even a protector/Nurturer needs care themselves.

Waste Not

Fendrel was born into a poor family. They barely scraped by in their little town, and he remembers well his mothers scoldings.

“Waste not.” She would say with a smack on his hand when she found him tossing bread crust or fruit skins away. She was always mindful of using everything at her disposal and never wasting what could be used.

Fendrel loved his mother very much, and when sickness took her from him one winter, he knew he needed a change of scenery. Being only a young teenager, the road was difficult. A long journey west took him to a beautiful city where he could start anew. He began begging, but quickly caught the eye of an old wizard. The old man insisted that Fendrel had a hidden arcane talent just waiting to be released.

By the gods was he right, Fendrel quickly began to master the ways of the wizard in a few short years. He took every opportunity to copy spells from books and other wizards’ notes, learning spells from all sects of the arcane. He was truely starting to prove himself to his master.

Then the war began.

Every able-bodied young man in the city was called upon to fight, and a refusal would be imprisonment. Fendrel did not want to go, but he knew that he must. So he set out with a troop of soldiers who he would learn to call his family during  years of deployment.

Tragedy struck one afternoon as his squad was ambushed by orcs. Fendrel was knocked unconcious and tumbled down into a ditch before to much fighting even took place. When he awoke, he found the bodies. His friends. His brothers. His sisters. His companions. His family. They were all dead. The orcs had shown no mercy. Why then did he live? Why could he have not died honorably alongside those he cared so much for.

He would kill the orcs. He had to. Revenge was all that was on his mind. Fendrel was not so strong though, he was not proficient in the ways of blades. His friends were. Were. Not anymore. They still had their armor, still had their blades, but Fendrel could make no use of this. Then it dawned on him.

Fendrel stepped forward, tears running down his cheeks as he clutched his spellbook with one hand and raised his other arm, fingers trembling. He began chanting, starting the spell. A black mist poured from his sleeve, spilling onto the ground and enveloping the corpses of his allies. The bodies began to move then, rising and looking to Fendrel for command.

His head turned. He could see the fires of the orc camp on ridge in the distance, burning brightly in the night. Looking back to his undead companions, only two words escaped his lips.

“Waste not.”

———————————————————————————————————–

@mr-lazzywolf, hopefully this works for you. It is hard to make a good-aligned necromancer because of the evil implications of the act, but I love the concept alot. That’s why I went with the whole ‘no need to waste whats available’ approach. Feel free to let me know what you think.

anonymous asked:

does billy have any privileges in his prison known as your basement?

Who’s Billy, Alex tells me to sometimes toss some bread crumbs down below but I don’t see anything there most of the time

-Steel

Cackling Grackles

Nobody likes being the new kid. They like it even less when they move from a nice, familiar suburb to the backwoods of rural Florida. It’s hot, it’s humid, and it doesn’t look like it’s progressed much since the 1960s. After Mom and Dad divorced, Mom decided she wanted to “get back to her roots” and dragged me five hours south to settle in her childhood hometown.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she hadn’t done it mid school year and I’d had time to settle in and adjust. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d had some kind of chance to get to know some of the other kids. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t a giant nerd with an obsession for fantasy and role playing games at only ten years old (thanks for that, Dad).

I pretty much had a bullseye painted on my tie-dyed backpack.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Maybe rfa reacting to Mc talking to herself?? Like late at night? If that's doable ^^

Hello there! Thank you for the request! You did not deserve to wait this long though >.<

Yoosung

  • He would find you in the kitchen late at night getting a snack
  • You were talking to yourself about what would taste better on ice cream as you look in the cabinet
  • He rested on the wall and watched you
  • Than you asked yourself whether baking soda or baking powder reacted with vinegar
  • “What the hell is vinegar made out of?”
  • He snickered and blew his cover
  • “Hey you’re up. You want some ice cream?” you asked.
  • He smiled and walked over. “Sounds good.”
  • Not wanting to make you feel self-conscious he didn’t mention about you talking to yourself
  • He thought it was really cute how random and honest your thoughts were
  • “Hey,” you asked passing the chocolate syrup.
  • “Yeah?”
  • “Do you know what vinegar is made of?”
  • He started to chuckle again.
  • “What?” you asked confused.
  • “Geez, I love you so much,” the smile stuck as he pecked you on the lips.
  • “That doesn’t explain any of my questions!”

Zen

  • He was getting ready for bed when he heard you say something from the bathroom.
  • “Babe?” he called. “Were you talking to me?”
  • No response but he could still hear your voice.
  • He walked over to the closed bathroom door and listened for any queue that you were on the phone or calling him.
  • “—there’s the grocery store after work. We’re talking fruit, we’re talking veggies, and mama needs some proteins.”
  • What the hell? He smirked. Was she talking about her shopping list?
  • “Oh god, I wonder if that cashier guy is there. He always stares at my chest.”
  • What?! This is the first he heard about that.
  • At this point Zen was eavesdropping but he couldn’t stop now.
  • “But if I go to the other one it’s like fifteen minutes more and Lord knows I ain’t got time for that.”
  • The sink turned on for a few seconds.
  • “I wonder if Zen’s in bed yet…”
  • The door opened to reveal Zen pressed up against it.
  • “What are you doing?”
  • He straightened up. “I thought you called me but I guess you were on the phone?”
  • “Oh , I was just talking to myself.”
  • “You do that too?” Zen asked.
  • “So you don’t think it’s weird?” You asked. 
  • “No way,” he smiled. “I thought you would think it was unattractive so I tried to hide it.”
  • You had to smile back. “I’ve caught you doing it a few times and thought it was so great. Your especially handsome when you model in the mirror and talk to yourself,” you giggled at the memory.
  • His happiness overflowed as he hugged you tight and swung you around. Placing kisses all over your face as you laughed.

Jaehee

  • She woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom but found that you weren’t in bed.
  • But she could hear your voice clearly and followed the sound.
  • She found you sitting at the kitchen table staring at your laptop and…talking to it?
  • “Look, it’s not you. You’re great and you’ve been with me since the beginning.”
  • Was she Skyping with someone?
  • She continued to talk but Jaehee didn’t hear a voice talk back.
  • “I mean do you think I want you to die? No! I don’t! But it’s the only thing that would make sense.”
  • What was going on?
  • Jaehee stepped closer. “Hey, is everything ok?”
  • You put a hand over your heart. “You scared me.”
  • “I was just making sure everything was ok since you weren’t in bed.”
  • “Yeah, sorry. I just woke up and had this sudden inspiration to write.”
  • Oh, you were talking about the new book you were writing.
  • “So the dying part?” she inquired.
  • You sighed. “My main characters best friend Lin. It only makes sense to have him sacrifice himself for his friend for the plot but I can’t seem to let him go so easily.”
  • Jaehee didn’t quite understand but patted you on the shoulder. “I’m sure everything will be ok.”
  • It was the best she had.
  • You nodded. “I’ll take a break for tonight. Thanks baby.”
  • Jaehee had never seen someone talk aloud like that so passionately to themselves, or an imaginary character at that.
  • She decided maybe it was something writers did and maybe it was best not to interrupt them.

Jumin

  • He finished work late in his study and headed to bed.
  • Only to find that you were also up late and talking to yourself?
  • “And what was her response?”
  • You put a hand on your hip and waved your other hand around, imitating someone you knew with a high pitch voice.
  • Oh sweetheart, the clocks ticking. You better get married so your mother can have grandchildren, poor dear.
  • You threw a pillow on the bed. “Cry me a river and drown in it you old hag.”
  • You paused. “Damn, I should have told her that too.”
  • “Agreed,” Jumin commented.
  • You turned around. “You and Elizabeth have got to stop walking so lightly. It’s not good for my heart.”
  • He smirked. “Do you often talk to yourself?”
  • You weren’t expecting that. “Well yeah, most people do.”
  • “Really?”
  • “Wait, have you never talked to yourself out loud?”
  • “No, it seemed odd when I could just organize my thoughts.”
  • “People talk out loud to do that too. Sometimes it’s easier to think when you hear the words leave your mouth. Plus if it’s too quiet it helps to talk out loud or do your own private comedy show to express how you’re feeling.”
  • He seemed thoughtful about it. “That seems rational.”
  • “Give it a try once in a while. Let’s practice, even though I’m here, just blurt out whatever you’re thinking to yourself.”
  • Jumin thought about what he had been thinking but the pause got him scolded. 
  • “Eh! Just talk out what you’re thinking.”
  • “Ok, well I was thinking that this was a strange way of expression…”
  • “Aha?” you said expectantly.
  • “But you are very sexy when you get riled up.”
  • “Oh…well than,” you swallowed.
  • He got closer. “The way you get flustered when I merely compliment you gets me excited.”
  • “I think that’s enough practice,” you say not being able take his unwavering gaze and honesty.
  • His hands wrapped around your waist to keep you close. “I think I prefer to share my thoughts out loud with you rather then myself.”
  • You tilted your chin up, “Is that so?”
  • “Mhm,” he hummed as he closed in for a passionate kiss.

Saeyoung

  • He checked on you every once in a while through the security camera.
  • He tried to distance himself but all he did was wonder what you were up to.
  • How you were feeling…
  • At that thought he checked the camera and saw your hands being thrown in the air dramatically.
  • He tuned in and turned up the volume to make sure everything was ok.
  • “Can’t I at least get an answer to my questions,” you say putting away groceries.
  • “Honestly why do I have to like him. Sometimes I want to throw this phone right out the window.”
  • The bread was tossed onto the counter.
  • Saeyoung waited anxiously for the who. Was it him? Had she listened to him and found someone else?
  • “If you think you’re all that and a bag of Honey Buddah chips, 707, you got another thing coming!”
  • He smirked.
  • There was some sort of relief knowing that MC hadn’t changed their mind after all.
  • “You let me in, you kick me out. Let me in, kick me out. In, out, in, out.”
  • Yeah MC was still mad at him for sure.
  • You paused holding a bag of chips. “But I’ll be damned if I’ll give up. You hear that Mr. Acts-like-he-has no-feelings!  Challenge accepted!”
  • He chuckled and sat back in his chair. Even when MC talked to themselves it was honest.
  • Maybe that’s why he caught himself telling them feelings he thought he had locked up long ago.
  • It’s not like he could stop MC from fighting.
  • Plus he did like a challenge after all.
  • It was a question of whether he would come to regret it or not.

Tuesday Boy | Junhui

Summary: A popcorn and a drink weren’t enough to keep the Tuesday Boy company.


Originally posted by beautifulshuas


If you take the 07.56 train to Seongdong-gu, scurry past its sliding doors and cease before the sun-drenched, spread out streets, you would catch a glimpse of an Aporia hippia with kaleidoscopic wings fluttering no more than a little over your eyelashes. The thick furred German Shepherd now tethered to a post would flash its canines at you before softening its growl. If you turn left after the first green public bin ahead of the entrance, you would come across the hotdog stall where people would both patiently and peevishly line up in front of.

And for the past few years, Junhui had already been taking this route to college.

There is an alternative, though. If he lingers in the bakery and waits until the owner approaches him with a smile, he could ask for one pepperoni pizza bread and please a girl. She would kiss him on the cheek and fly into the doors of the movie theatre she works at. He’d have to agree to forsake the morning butterfly and the sizzling hotdogs prior to taking this route, though. 

Junhui had only discovered this a few months ago, but it had become an established route of his every Tuesday.

You were standing on your toes, pleading for a reduction on your customary breakfast as you’d left your wallet somewhere under the soft quilt at home. Your attempt would’ve been futile if it hadn’t been for that one stranger sticking around.

“I have some money left,” he handed his money in exchange for your favourite bread. He tossed it upwards and passed it to you with a heart fluttering smile. “Here you go.”

The redness on your pallid cheeks started to show, your jaw twitching as you tried to free the words scrambled on the tip of your tongue. “Y-you really didn’t have to!” 

He shrugged, “Breakfast’s the most vital meal of the day.”

You used to think people like him only existed in films. The kind souled and genuine people who greet each other and offer a hand - would it not sound very peculiar if it were to happen in real life? You were so accustomed to studying every particular in a two-hour movie that witnessing the same event materialise before you formed a horripilation on your skin. You swallowed. “C-come by the movie theatre sometime, I’ll give you free snacks. I work there.” 

“A popcorn and a drink?” He lightened up. Considering how he sounded, people near him would’ve guessed he resented diets and would prefer snacking off and on. In all honesty, the pink tinge outspread across your cheeks and the shimmer that flickered within your amber orbs had been the only ones bringing about this behaviour. 

“Sure,” you bobbed your head. After what he had done, you weren’t letting him go in possession of nothing. “Your name..?”

“Ah,” he snapped his fingers, “it’s Junhui.”


As seven suns have drowned in the horizon and the sound of hurrying trains continued to resonate in your ears, Junhui has yet to drop by the movie theatre. Did he not want something in return? But he sounded so excited the other day! Although you finally surmised he most likely failed to recall your promise, a part of you agonised over the fact that he might not want to see you again.

But when the doors to the movie theatre opened with an abrupt whirl of wind on an inclement Tuesday afternoon, you knew you shouldn’t have had anything to worry about.

“Woah,” Junhui took in his surroundings - including the uniform you bore. He took giddy steps toward the counter, eyes dilating with incredulity at the variegated refreshments available to purchase. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been to a cinema before,” you descried the quick glitter somewhere within his eyes. Junhui glanced at you before quietly deciding on a popcorn flavour. 

“I’ve been to several, but that’s a couple of years ago. Oh, caramel, please.” 

You grinned to yourself, stunned for a second at how surprisingly pure this boy was. You began filling the empty popcorn bucket before realising you weren’t aware of his desired size. “Large, medium, or small?”

Junhui returned his gaze at you. “I’ll take small.”

And then you offered him a drink, but he refused, saying he thought about it the other day and he didn’t pay you this much. But you insisted that he accepted your offer, telling him “breakfast’s the most vital meal of the day”, and if you had missed it, it would feel worse than losing a couple of dollars. 

The amount of people in the cinema was too little to be considered a crowd, each room being occupied by roughly ten, if not, less. You told Junhui he could watch something if he wanted to - and that he still had to pay - which he agreed to. The movie would only start an hour later though, so Junhui had enough time to keep himself busy - which he finally determined to get to know you better.

The movie - horror, he previously picked - began, and while Jun relished his two hours inside theatre four, you had theatre three free of mess. Once in a while, you would sit down on one of the seats in the back row and think about Jun and his irresistible appeals, your heart thumping an unnecessary amount of times. You were being ridiculous; you had only met Junhui twice.

As time is extended, you were so sure you had developed feelings for Jun. You realised first you had fallen in love with his eyes. Every time he scanned the menu for something more than a popcorn and a drink, you would sneakily search within them.

Junhui stopped by more than you expected him to.  He had once come with a friend, who insisted they watch the latest comedy film. He came with more friends after - four or five, you couldn’t remember - in which you had given Jun a little price cut instead of a hundred percent discount, so his friends wouldn’t be too envious. They would finish two and a half hours later, your eyes already groggy as you tried to resist the urge to shut them. You didn’t know this, but Jun would look back at you refilling drink dispensers or scrubbing the bar before catching up with his friends who are already outside. On some days your head would be tilted over your crossed arms on the far corner of the counter, as your co-workers did their portion of the job. He would fret over your weary figure, hesitating in his tracks before stepping out of the theatre. With this, Junhui had become aware that he might also be developing feelings for you.

Jun would habitually come on Tuesday afternoons, around two or three. But today, he didn’t show up until the sun had set. He’d asked you earlier if you worked the night shift. You don’t, but your co-worker had a dental appointment so you covered up for her.

He looked a little enervated. His head was hung low, his hair a tad dishevelled, and his smile didn’t stretch until the crinkle beneath his eyes emerged. You asked him why he had come this late, he replied with a quick “I had something to do”. Jun declined your treat of popcorn and a drink - which was weird - although he did pick to watch a movie.

If it hadn’t been for Jun, the theatre would’ve been completely vacant. Still, he chose to sit in the back row with nothing in hand - not a meal, not a phone, not a friend, nothing. Jun looked strange and uneasy today. He picked romance, a genre you knew he wasn’t interested in. You shrugged it off though, Jun was full of surprises.

You didn’t have much cleaning to do, as the movie theatre had been almost empty the entire day. Maybe it was finals week, you thought. 

You glanced at the doors of theatre four - the room Jun was in - and came up with a very risky idea. You pulled off the hairband that fastened your ponytail and let your hair down. You switched into a white pussy bow, paired with a leather look legging. You peeked through the doors of theatre four and made sure no one but Jun was inside before entering.

He squinted his eyes at you climbing up the aisle, trying to figure out if they were functioning well because it couldn’t be you - it shouldn’t be you. 

When you asked Jun if you could sit next to him, he nodded, feeling a lump rising in his throat. His hands were fidgety, you noticed. You stared at the widespread screen in front of you, trying to fight the urge to stop his hands from moving too restlessly. 

You weren’t into romance either, so the movie didn’t do much in piquing your interest. Your eyelids grew heavier every passing second, the view in front of you starting to blur. You were about shut your eyes for good when a hand slipped into yours, your fingers intertwined perfectly with Jun’s.

You stared at your hands impassively, still not believing your fingers were coiled around his soft and slender ones. Now you could really feel the moistness in his hand, the same one that was unsure and fidgety awhile ago. You uttered a giggle, causing Jun to nervously face you and lick his chapped lips. 

“I have a, uh,” he coughed, “a confession to make.”

You chuckled, “I like you too, Junhui.”

He grinned. He grinned with patent bliss. In fact, very widely you swore you heard his cheekbones crack. His ebony eyes returned to glistening again, the radiant joy that he used to bear now visible. 

Junhui was back to Jun, and all it took was a confession from you.


You would be waiting in front of the theatre every Tuesday, he’d be panting, droplets of sweat evident on his shirt by the time he arrived with your favourite pepperoni pizza bread in his grip. He would come back in the afternoon, hair slicked back, his espadrilles intermittently dripping with rainwater, and breath always a little minty. You would kiss him on the lips and head out on a date with your Tuesday boy.

Not Dead Yet (Part 34)

*Well I had a feeling this was what was going to go down when I asked for suggestions. When in doubt do the nasty!*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warning: language, smut


“You know, I thought this was going in another direction when you said you were ready.”

“Yeah, ready for breakfast.” I sat down at one of the tables. “Is it a problem that I’m hungry?”

“No, I am too but my appetite is for something other than a poorly made inn breakfast.”

“Let me guess, it’s sitting right across from you?”

“Stop guessing what I’m going to say.”

“Only when you stop being predictable.” I looked around but the inn was a ghost town. Last night it had been packed, where had everyone gone? It wasn’t even noon yet. “Where did everyone go?”

“I figured this might happen.” Peter reached behind the abandoned bar and pulled a loaf of bread and wheel of cheese that was hiding under on one of the lower shelves. “People are so easily frightened.”

“What did you do?”

“Snapped someone’s neck. Not important why.”

“Peter!”

“Don’t give me that look. I had a perfectly acceptable reason.” he broke off some bread and tossed me the loaf, “At least we know no one will disturb us.”

“Codfish.” I caught the bread and bit into it. “Anything to drink?”

“Well there’s some mead back here.” he grinned picking up a bottle.

“Ha ha, something else please. Anything else.” Peter pulled a pitcher of water out and two glasses. “Thanks.”

We ate in silence, the din of the town outside bustling from the open windows. A couple people came in unaware of any danger. Others saw Peter and turned right back out the doors. “What exactly did happen last night?” I asked, “I know you killed someone and I have the feeling I was a bit of an easy target but that’s not all, is it?”

“It doesn’t matter what happened.” He picked at some dirt under his nails, “Now if we could retire back to our room. I believe I have a favor to fulfill.” He pulled me up off my chair and started heading back upstairs.

“Peter,” I followed shortly behind, “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because this is one of those instances where ignorance truly is bliss. Can you accept that?”

“I believe so.”

“Then for once in your miserable little life, listen to me. The details of what went on last night that you can no longer remember are no concern of yours. Even if they were, those details are now dead.” he held the door open for me, “May we?”

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Mornings with Viktor (ft Yurio)
  • Viktor: *sees Yurio having toast* Great you're having toast. Can you make one for me too?
  • Yurio: *finishes toast* There's none left.
  • Viktor: Well there's a piece of bread there and next to it is a toaster.
  • Yurio: Where? *chomps down the piece bread* *tosses the toaster outside the window*
  • Viktor: Uhh... never mind.
  • Yurio: *shrugs* Suit yourself.
Taming Birds

Well, if you know anything about me you know I have a bad habit of writing stuff and then just sitting on it like a giant protective and sarcastic bird.  I wrote this back in.. seriously, July?  Ok, I’m pushing it out of the nest, finally.

Cullen x Inquisitor - very early, pre-relationship, pre-Skyhold

Read here on AO3


Cullen emerged from his tent, muscles sore and barking their protests.  Another night of sweat and panic had swept his energy, his mood, and his health from his grasp.  He stood in the purple twilight of morning, rubbing his tired eyes to chase away the sleep that whispered so sweet in his ears.  He knew better than to fall for that saccharine song.  It would only hold more torment and terror.   It was better to begin his day and find things to occupy his mind than lie in that tiny cot and contemplate.  He reached back into the tent and grabbed the hunk of bread left beside the meal he had poked at last night.

Even his toes felt tired and cramped as he journeyed away from the little collection of tents outside the city walls.  The sun was just beginning to peek its way through the weak canopy of the winter battered trees.  Its newly woken rays warmed his chilled flesh, but he wished it could penetrate deeper to where he felt his bones were made of ice, ice that chipped away at his joints and made him feel years beyond his true age.

Only steps away from the camp he stopped, pausing to bask a moment in the growing beams of sunlight that struggled over the horizon.  Despite the warmth, his breath puffed into the air and crystallized into little clouds.

He tore off bits of the bread and cast it in a wide net around himself.  Within minutes a party of little birds danced around him, hopping and flapping after the crumbs he tossed out.  He found himself smiling at their peaceful company.  They wanted only this small morsel of food and nothing more from him.  In fact, if he moved too quickly or tried to approach them they would wing away, only to return moments later.  He savored the simplicity.

The birds reminded him of childhood.  They reminded him of Ferelden. And not in that painful stabbing way that remembering his family and his voluntary absence from them caused.  These small creatures reminded him of expansive forests, of skinned knees, and of fanciful adventures. Their subtle song brought back warm evening nights and early mornings. He sighed and felt some of the tension from the previous night ebb away.

But eyes were on him.  The hair on the back of his neck rose.  He froze for a moment.  If he jerked his head to try and locate the person watching him the birds would fly away, alerting the stranger.  Instead, he maintained that composed, careful observation of his avian company, chancing a casual glance that spoke only of a man enjoying the outdoors on a brisk early morning.

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James and Lily live...

Snapshots of the Potter Family if James and Lily hadn’t died:

  • The Potter house is huge and warm, with red brick walls and giant windows. Sunlight streams through the open curtains, and tiny specks of dust hang suspended in the warm glow of the beams.
  • The color of the walls are a slightly different shade in every room, ranging from burgundy, to gold, to chestnut, to white, and to scarlet (and just about every color in between).
  • The coloring, of course, is a result of Lily’s multiple attempts to paint the house, but getting sidetracked partway through each time.
  • The floors are hardwood (with some tiling in the bathrooms) but they’re covered in a mismatched assortment of rugs.
  • Some are large and shaggy, other are small with pretty designs, and there’s a horrid olive-green one under the couch that no one really knows where it came from.
  • James thinks the rugs are charming, that they “bring character to the house.” Lily says that she hates them (but, in truth, she has a soft spot for the hazardous appearance of their house).
  • Their house is full of family pictures, and they also have a strange painting of a daffodil yellow clad wizard fighting a dragon (the wizard is awfully loud with a high-pitched voice, but the dragon is sweet and bashful).
  • Of course, there’s cat fur over everything (furniture, clothes, everything).
  • A patchwork pile of pillows covers every piece of furniture, and blankets can be found in every inch of the house (they’re warm and woolly, a mix of nice plaid ones and some chunky, misshapen ones that Lily knitted)
  • Outside, there’s a small garden, and it’s just as much of a palette of random colors as everything else they own. There’s a big yard and giant trees that Lily like to sit beneath and watch the leaves fall.
  • The yard and house alike are strewn with Harry’s toys.
  • Lily is constantly tripping over them, and James is constantly caught playing with them when he’s supposed to clean up.
  • Harry, of course, is a bubbly bundle of joy who never stops smiling. He wears hand-me-down glasses from James, and both of them have the crazy messy hair (sometimes, Lily thinks that Harry is her Husband’s clone)
  • And their life is full of joy and little happy things:
  • Lily and James take Harry to the pond to feed ducks. The sky is kind of cloudy, but it’s warm enough that they only need light jackets. Harry claps when he sees the birds, a smile breaking across his cheeks as ducklings follow their mother. Lily shows him how to toss them bread, and he copies her, laughing as he does so. James steals some of the bread because he’s hungry, and the duck-feeding adventure quickly turns into Lily throwing bread at him while he apologizes, and Harry almost wandering into the pond to catch a duck.
  • James teaches Harry quidditch at a young age, and Lily often catches the two of them wasting the entire day in the yard tossing the balls around and red-faced from exhaustion. Harry is a natural (just as James always hoped he would be), but unlike his father, he excels at being a seeker. James tries his best to convert his son to being a chaser, but fails miserably (aka, Harry accidentally throws the quaffle too hard and breaks his father’s nose).
  • Their family dinners are always loud and happy. The dinner is usually sort of burnt b/c Lily made it and she can’t cook at all (James tells her to use magic, but she refuses). They do more talking than eating. James and Lily are smiling and laughing, and Harry rambles on about something he read/saw/did that day. Sometimes, their cat jumps on the table (cue ensuing chaos). Other times, Sirius or Remus join them (when either visits, they help cook, and the food is drastically better). Then, the dinners turn louder and fill with more laughter, interspersed with stories of Hogwarts and mischief. The table is always a mess and the kitchen is always worse, but everyone is smiling too hard to care.
  • As mentioned above, the Potters own a cat. He’s a big fluffy thing with thick gray fur and a mushy face. James named him Elvendork despite Lily’s pleas for something different, but the name fits the cat perfectly. He’s big and fluffy and grouchy, and he’s a terrible menace: always jumping on the table, knocking things over, or sleeping on people’s heads (the Potters, of course, couldn’t love him more).
  • Harry’s first day of Hogwarts begins with chaos. They forget Harry’s owl the first time out of the house, and then have to return a second time because Lily realized that he was missing his glasses too. Their time at the station is sweet and short (if not a bit chaotic). It’s full of goodbyes, and checklists, and hair ruffling (”Dad! Stop it!”), and promises of mischief (”James, don’t encourage him!”), and the promise to write every day. Then, he’s off on the train and Lily and James are both waving and kissing (and Harry is hiding his face in embarrassment).
    • Also, even though he doesn’t have the scar, he still becomes friends with Ron and Hermione. Though they meet more through a: “Can I sit here?” “Yeah sure, cool rat by the way.” “It’s a hand-me-down.” “My cat can eat it if you want.” “What?!?” “Joking. Harry Potter.” “Ron Weasley.” (and then, of course, Hermione comes in asking about toads, and later in the school year they become friends by consoling her after she’s bullied, instead of the troll thing). And they’re friends through laughter, and standing up for each other, and quidditch, and stuff like that.
  • The Weasleys and the Potters quickly start to have holidays and dinners together. Which, ofc, only strengthens Harry and Ron’s friendship.
  • And James comes to every one of Harry’s quidditch games (lets pretend parents come to watch them) (and he gets a little too enthusiastic, but Lily’s too busy being split between cheering and laughing at his gold and red face to care).
  • Also: Christmases filled with warm smells and too much wrapping paper. And there are so many people and a ton of burnt cookies, and eggnog and laughter. There are snowball fights at midnight (always including the Potters, and often bringing in Sirius, Remus, some Weasleys, and Hermione). And the day is loud and exciting, but it always ends with Harry huddled up beneath a blanket, asleep with his glasses crooked and his hair everywhere. And James and Lily slow-dancing in front of the fire (usually to non-slow-dance songs) both of them with their eyes closed, and heads on each other’s shoulders.
  • And then there are the letters for Harry’s random detentions (for which James cheers and Lily scolds, but smiles fondly). There are trips to Diagon Alley where nothing but wandering is achieved, and Lily taking Harry to experience the muggle world.
  • There are impromptu family quidditch matches, where Harry and James are super competitive, and Lily can barely fly straight. Rules are abandoned and bludgers break windows, but no one cares b/c they’re happy.
  • And then there’s Ginny and Harry’s love for her. James’ teasing and Lily slapping him because, “you pined over a girl too, you know.” There’s her loud laugh and gleeful voice, her competitive personality, the confident way she talks, and how proud, and strong of a woman she is. James and Lily love her and treat her like a daughter. And they try their best to make things as awkward between the two as possible: James teases them, and Lily always tries to show Ginny baby pictures, they do embarrassing parent things when she’s over at dinner, and James tries to scare her away with his skill at quidditch.
    • Ginny, of course, is just as good at quidditch (if not better), and as soon as he finds out that she’s a chaser James instantly loves her. (And she holds great, engaging conversations with him. IE: the mischievous part of her and the same part of his converging together).
  • And their life is full of walks in autumn: James and Lily holding hands as they watch Harry kick up leaves. Nights of stargazing where Lily falls asleep and James spends the entire night breathlessly naming constellations. Inside family jokes and traditions. Mismatched socks everywhere in the house and James taking April Fool’s to the extreme. Burnt food, and quidditch, and red and gold. Impromptu hexes and bertie botts beans. Lily and Harry making James a lopsided birthday cake (and him loving it anyway). Cat fur sweaters, and laughter, and spring cleaning (which turns into forts and pillow fights).
  • And their family is quirky, and colorful, and loud. It’s sweet, and cozy, and happy. They’re together, they’re alive.
  • And all is well.
  • Kilvin: Do you want to know how I actually hurt my wrist?
  • Kvothe: Yes.
  • Kilvin: I was hula hooping. I attend a class for fitness and for fun.
  • Kvothe: Oh, my God.
  • Kilvin: I've mastered all the moves. The bread toss, the tornado, the scorpion, the oopsie-doodle.
  • Kvothe: Why are you telling me this?
  • Kilvin: Because no one will ever believe you.
  • Kvothe: You sick son of a bitch.
Butterfly Effect: Prologue

Originally posted by pourup

Description: The Butterfly Effect is part of Chaos Theory. In short, it’s the idea that every decision you’ve made and will make, affects your future. Whether it be something as insignificant as what cereal you ate today, or if you decided to jump ship and move to a new country. Of course, that’s just a theory. 

Warning: None

The little bell above the door rang as you stepped into the cool shop. Scooping up one of the red baskets stacked beside the door, you calmly made your way towards the frozen food, contemplating what you should cook for dinner. 
Hamburgers? Maybe spaghetti and meatballs? Garlic bread sounds good…
You decided on spaghetti, meatballs, and garlic bread. Tossing a pack of frozen meatballs and a pack of cheese into your basket, you turned down the bread isle, you grabbed a bag of Italian bread and added that to the basket. Three isles over were noodles and spices. You picked two bags of different style noodles, and moved on to looking at the various spices for garlic powder before you called it a day and went home to make an actually dinner for the first time all week.
“Forgetful, aren’t you?” The deep voice beside you asked, startling you out of your daze. Glancing over, you were met with the sight of a young man with intense eyes and odd white hair with an amused smile hanging lazily on his lips.
“Sorry?” You scrunched your eyebrows, confused.
“Your finger.” The man pointed down at the hand carrying your basket. “You tie a string around your finger. I do it too, my mom says I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached.” He lifted his free hand to show off the blue thread tried around his pointer finger. Looking down, you’d almost forget about the red string tied around your ring finger. 
“So, what was it you were supposed to remember?” He asked. Your confusion must have shown on your face, because he chuckled. “Forgot you weren’t supposed to forget, huh? It’s okay, happens to the best of us.”
“I’m sure it does.” You replied, pretty over this conversation and now more focused on trying to remember what you forgot you were supposed to remember. Locating and tossing the garlic into your basket, you turned on your heel to wander further through the store, hoping it’d jog your memory. 
“Hey, do you believe in fate?” The man asked, speed walking to meet your pace. “I do, it’s a nice thought, that you don’t really have to do anything, that it’s already set for you. Kind of freeing, isn’t it?”
“It can be, I suppose.” You said. “Or it could make you feel powerless; that everything you do is pointless because it’s already been decided for you.”
“That’s why you have to look at the glass half full!” He exclaimed, only to be shush by an elderly lady in the same isle, annoyed at the young man’s outburst. “It takes the stress off in life! You can just go with the flow!”
“Mhmm.” You hummed, not entertained. 
“Maybe it’s fate you met me.” He grinned, not deterred by you brushing his attempts at conversation off. 
“Maybe.”
“I’m Taeyong.” He introduced himself, putting his hand out for you to shake. You barely glanced at his hand but you muttered your name back, making him grin. “Well nice to meet you. I have to run, but maybe we’ll run into each other again, yeah?”
“Maybe.”
“Cool.” Taeyong smiled, making to walk away. “Oh, and you’re probably forgetting toilet paper. I always do.” 
Glancing at the thread on your finger, you frowned, dammit he’s right.

Caesar and Joseph go to feed the ducks 

Anyway Caesar is by himself for a little bit and he’s happily tossing bread to this little group of ducks that have settled near the log he’s sitting on and then he hears faint screaming?

and it gets louder

and louder 

and the next thing he knows Joseph is vaulting over him and into the pond, still screaming and being chased by an entire gaggle of aggressive geese 

Psychic Ability

I live in Osaka, Japan and often use the subway to go to work in the morning. One day, when I was waiting for the train, I noticed a homeless man standing in a corner of the subway station, muttering to himself as people passed by. He was holding out a cup and seemed to be begging for spare change.

A fat woman passed by the homeless man and I distinctly heard him say, “Pig.”

Wow, I thought to myself. This homeless man is insulting people and he still expects them to give him money?

Then a tall businessman went by and the homeless guy muttered, “Human.”

Human? I can’t argue with that. Obviously, he was human.

The next day, I arrived early at the subway station and had some time to kill, so I decided to stand close to the homeless man and listen to his strange mutterings.

A thin, haggard-looking man passed in front of him and I heard the homeless guy mutter, “Cow.”

Cow? I thought. The man was much too skinny to be a cow. He looked more like a turkey or a chicken to me.

A minute or so later, a fat man went by and the homeless man said, “Potato.”

Potato? I was under the impression that he called all fat people “Pig”.

That day, at work, I couldn’t stop thinking about the homeless man and his puzzling behavior. I kept trying to find some logic or pattern in what he was muttering.

Perhaps he has some kind of psychic ability, I thought. Maybe he knows what these people were in a previous life. In Japan, many people believe in reincarnation.

I observed the homeless man many times and began to think my theory was right. I often heard him calling people things like “Rabbit” or “Onion” or “Sheep” or “Tomato”.

One day, curiosity got the better of me and I decided to ask him what was going on.

As I walked up to him, he looked at me and said “Bread.”

I tossed some money into his cup and asked him if he had some kind of psychic ability.

The homeless man smiled and said, “Yes, indeed. I do have a psychic ability. It is an ability I obtained years ago. But it is not what you might expect. I can’t tell the future or read minds or anything like that.”

“Then what is your ability?” I asked eagerly.

“The ability is merely to know the last thing somebody ate.” he said.

I laughed because I realized he was right. He said “Bread.” The last thing I had eaten for breakfast that day was toast. I walked away shaking my head. Of all the psychic abilities someone could have, that one must be the most useless.

this is so angsty o h my g o d

AU in which you and 10k drift apart after Cassandras death, you get kidnapped, and he thinks its his fault (AKA a doc and 10k moment, you almost dying, and the aftermath)

requested by my fav @stawmay12

YOUR POV

NOW

You tried to keep track of the days, but eventually lost count. All there is is the bars of the cage around you, the bread that gets tossed in randomly. There is the knife that is slipped through the bars, cutting into your skin. Your left eye is swollen shut, a prize from a beating you got for trying to dig out under the bars. Your ribs are cracked, more than a few of them. You had no choice but to rip your thin tank up and wrap it around your torso.

You want to believe they’re coming for you.

You want to believe you’ll survive this.

You’ve made it up to this point. Through everything.

It’s your fault you’re here. You were the one who got distracted. You were the one who went back after dark to check it out. You were the one who got stuck in the trap. You were the one who woke up here.

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