“I’m a dragonslayer, you fucking asspirate, get the fuck away from me!” Bakugou waves his sword at the dragon–well, mostly human dragon-thing. “Half and half bastard!”
Todoroki isn’t put off. “You’re cold,” he points out. “I can see you shivering.”
Like hell Bakugou is shivering.
Todoroki tilts his head to the side. “If you were going on a quest to my lair, shouldn’t you have packed for mountain weather?”
“Yes, alright, I get it, I’m still in summer clothes,” Bakugou snaps. “I don’t care! Fight me!”
“I’m not going to fight you if you can barely handle your sword from hypothermia,” Todoroki says. “That hardly seems fair to you. Come in, I’ll warm you up.”
“How stupid do you think–” Todoroki cut him off by ducking around his sword and into his space, pressing the warm, red half of his body against Bakugou. His scales sear with just enough heat to leech the cold from Bakugou’s bones.
“The fuck are you–oh,” Bakugou says. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until he was sinking against the warm body of the human-dragon. Todoroki’s claws settle gently around his shoulder and he guides Bakugou further into his lair.
“I’m warning you,” Bakugou says, still slumped against Todoroki. “As soon as I warm up…gonna beat your ass…carve you up with my sword…”
You sit in the vacant library and stare blankly at the script in front of you, it is merely a swirl of ink. You think it is devnagari, you blink, it is now gurmukhi, you blink again, and the void stares back at you. You have made a grave mistake, you hurry out of the library hoping the gods do not notice you today.
You stare at the syllable in front of you, it is an aspirated consonant, your throat catches pronouncing it. They find you dead in the morning, your death caused by the evasive retroflex aspirated re, they do not know you have ascended to nasal retroflexes now.
A girl in front of you murmurs in hindi, no– it is oriya, she switches mid-sentence to rajisthani. Her head move 360 degrees around to face you. Her eyes are red. The gods have sent for you. You hope the retribution will be swift.
A European language learner talks to how about how interesting the grammar of his target language is, you smile, remembering simpler times. Now, there is only asspirated consonants. There have always been asspirated consonants.
Your eyes glaze over your grammar book, your lips dry. You do not know what the oblique case is. You do not know what language you are studying. You see tones, perhaps it is Punjabi. You look up the oblique case in Punjabi. There has never been an oblique case in Punjabi. Punjabi does not exist. The land of Punjab is a myth by the government.
Your white classmate asks you how the learning Hindu is going. You fall down and beg the gods forgiveness for his crime. They do not listen. You look up and see ash where he once stood. None shall blight the gods like this.
CRAIG: Apparently Captain Loudmouth didn’t spill everything. STAN: Hey! CRAIG: Whatever. CRAIG: If anyone’s gonna narrate my life it should be me.
CRAIG: Clyde and I dated since Sophomore year. He probably finished cycling through all the girls and got bored. CRAIG: He was a lot of firsts for me. CRAIG: Like the first time I realized I was a fucking idiot. CRAIG: Clyde is an irresponsible insensitive douche who only cares about what other people think of him. CRAIG: Too many people must’ve caught on that he was an asspirate, so he went back to chicks.
CRAIG: It’s fine though. If he’s not into dicks then he shouldn’t date guys. STAN: That sucks, dude. I’m sorry. CRAIG: Not your fault. You didn’t do anything. CRAIG: Don’t make me talk about this ever again.