I wrote a story for a friend as a birthday present, and since she likes gothic fantasy, I thought Elsewhere University would be a good setting for it.
You weren’t sure what to do when your six choice universities all rejected you. You’d expected at least one of them to accept you, since your grades weren’t bad and your student record was clean.
But none of them did. The day you got the last polite form rejection letter, you set it down and sat there, staring out the window. What went wrong?
Elsewhere University offered you an opportunity, one you thought was a joke. But you took it anyway.
And they took you.
Not Them. That would be a different kind of Taken. But you went to Elsewhere.
Move-in day was normal; the dorm was nice, and while it looked old from the outside, the rooms were spacious and comfortable, and you only had one roommate. Yours was a young, rather timid girl named Melanie. She didn’t talk to you much, though you and her were both fans of the same shows and generally had the same sleep patterns, hence the match.
She was quiet. She put up some posters; you put up some posters. Your stuff stayed in boxes for the first few days.
There were immediately meetings. Your parents weren’t invited; no one’s were.
Your RA was a tall girl with an incredible afro and a few jangling silver necklaces that didn’t match her outfit. “I’m Kiera,” she said, standing on a rock and gesturing with a packet of papers. “I’m your RA for the northern wing of the third floor. The southern wing belongs to Jordan.” She indicated the young man standing next to her; he waved, hand half-buried in the sleeve of his blue hoodie.
“First things first,” Kiera started, “welcome to Elsewhere University! You’re very brave.”
What? You wished you knew someone well enough to make confused eye contact. As it was, most of the freshmen looked a little baffled.
“A couple of notes about common courtesy. One, no extraneous loud noises after ten PM on weeknights, except for Fridays. The curfew for Fridays and Saturdays is midnight. Don’t run or throw things in the hallways, it might hit the fire extinguishers. Also, don’t touch anybody else’s bowls or cups that they leave in the hall. If you find a piece of lost jewelry, don’t touch it. If you see anything that isn’t yours, don’t touch it. Don’t run out of salt and don’t take it out of the kitchen. Don’t eat food you find in the kitchen.”
And on and on and on. You were baffled by a few of the rules, but most of them made sense (be careful about who you accept food from, be careful about going places with strangers, et cetera. You weren’t sure why they stressed it so much. That was just basic college knowledge – hell, basic life knowledge.
It got weirder when you noticed that most people seemed to leave bowls of milk by their doors, and seemed to have salt spilled under their windows. Metal jewelry seemed popular; iron necklaces and earrings, dark metal rings, silver studs and bangles.
After a month, you’d started to make some friends, and you and Melanie were comfortable being around each other. And you’d started learning about Elsewhere, and what Kiera had meant by brave. Extra footprints in on the pavement. Strangers at parties, queens striding past robed in shadow, parts of the campus where time didn’t pass or parts where it went too quickly.
Another month, and your delusions were dispelled. You bought iron jewelry, learned how to scrawl sigils on paper and pin them on doors and windows, ran a thin line of salt on the windowsill. Melanie didn’t complain.
You sat on the quad on sunny days, because in early spring (and it was always early spring, somehow) those days were nice, and it was good to be outside.
There were sculpted gardens to sit in, but those were more dangerous. You were playing with fire if you stayed there until nightfall. You came perilously close a few times.
The first time, you found your way out. The second time you did not.
The gardens held such strangeness, and were absolutely a fascinating place to be. Horticulture students set up projects here, taking care not to disturb the ones they didn’t make. So it was usually safe.
But you were caught wandering after dark. And you didn’t realize, marveling at a rose-vine and honeysuckle trellis, that the sunlight was fading until it was nearly too late.
You tried to follow the path out, but it led you in circles, and to places you didn’t know existed. This is how people get Taken, you thought desperately, hoping and praying that somehow it would be okay.
As if it were answering your prayer – and perhaps it was – the cat appeared. You froze at the sight of slitted eyes, but realized it wasn’t one of Them when the eyes leaped down and came over to rub against your leg and stare upwards.
Green Eyes, the cat was called, because that’s what it had. Green eyes set deep in its long face, sandy fur with black hints at the ears, paws, and tail-tip. You didn’t learn its name until later, and you never really figured out if it was an ordinary cat, or one of Them, or something else entirely.
“Can you lead me out?” you asked it, and it stared back. Your heart was pounding; you had no other lifeline.
It flicked its tail in the air like a banner and trotted away through the dusk. You followed it (because you had no other choice) and like a charm you found yourself stumbling out onto the quad. A few surprised upperclassmen watched, and when you looked for the cat, it was gone.
You tried to figure out how to repay the cat, if in fact you could. Next time you saw it, you promised yourself, you would give it something.
And you did see it again. Quite often, in fact. It was skirting the parking lot behind the biochemistry building, and when you crouched down and held out your hand, it came over and sniffed at your fingers before rubbing on you.
Then it was over by the dining hall, then walking alongside you on your way to one of your classes, then to all of them. Eventually, it came up to you while you were on the quad.
Melanie was there (though, like most other students, she’d quickly adopted a pseudonym and now went by Melody), and a few other friends you’d made, including a couple of upperclassmen. At Elsewhere, for some reason, the classes mixed a lot more than they did at other colleges. You weren’t sure why.
Green Eyes trotted up to you while you were sitting on a blanket in the grass. The upperclassmen stopped talking entirely and tried to avert their eyes, but when you reached out your hand and let Green Eyes sniff it and rub against you, they couldn’t help but stare.
“How are you doing that?”
You glanced up, at Shine, a girl with spiky white hair. “Doing what?”
“Green Eyes. You…” she paused, indicating the cat. Green Eyes looked to her – she shuddered – and lay down next to you, allowing you to stroke its fur and play with its ears.
The other upperclassman looked you in the eyes. “What did you do?” they asked, dead serious.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s claimed you.”
That you didn’t understand. You didn’t know how to ask if it was one of Them, but you said, “In… what sort of way?”
“I’m not sure.”
That answer wasn’t good.
Green Eyes didn’t interact with others much, and seemed to seek me out often. It always rubbed against me – I knew that’s how cats designated things as theirs, but I didn’t realize the full extent of Green Eyes’ claim.
During a party one night you found yourself stepping outside with a handsome boy, a soft-spoken boy with white hair and the whisper of fall wind (you missed fall, here in this place where the seasons never seemed to change properly) in his voice. You saw Green Eyes watching from the top of a fence, and the boy excused himself after a moment and didn’t come back. Your hands itched under the skin where he’d held them, but looked no different; your lips remained numb for days until you shook off the longing, kept inside by the memory of lantern-green eyes in the night air.
Labs never ended after dark, but your study session did, and when you braved the night (because the library closed, and you did not want to interrupt any of the Courtly business that goes on there) and the sound of baying hounds and the fell piercing blasts of hunting horns, when you stepped along the solid concrete while the rest of the world shifted and you passed the student center and the native plant garden and the towering trees that dropped leaves like silver and shadows like blood, Green Eyes went with you. You felt it join you when you walked outside, and it brought you to safety, tail held high.
You saw it everywhere. Legend said Siamese cats had kinked tails because they’d once held rings for royalty. You wondered which royalty; tall tales said Egyptian, but Green Eyes felt like something Else.
It’s hard to remember when you graduated. A lot of your time at Elsewhere is blurry, indistinct, like a fogged glass. But you have never forgotten Green Eyes, and when you return to Elsewhere – because all those who love Elsewhere come back eventually – you see it waiting for you on the sidewalk next to the drive, tail curled over its paws, the stream of students dividing gently around it.
You don’t lean down to pet it, because that’s not what you’re supposed to do right now. But it does rub against your leg again when you get out of the car, and when you step inside your new (old, very old, old enough to have memories and old enough to act on them) house, it waits patiently for you to invite it inside.
Its motives are mysterious. The aura it gives you is one of fear and mystery. The librarian who hunts monsters eyes it occasionally, but never makes a move; she doesn’t understand it either.
But you go into the sculpted gardens, and you go there at night. Green Eyes is always with you, to lead you out. Someday, you fear, Green Eyes will abandon you in the lilac labyrinth and you’ll finally be Taken; but it doesn’t feel like that’s what it wants to do.
You asked it one night, sitting on a bench surrounded by fireflies and watching shadows silently pass by with no people to cast them. Green Eyes sat on your lap.
“Why do you help me?” you asked it, glancing down. “Why did you do all of this?”
Green Eyes stared back up, and flicked its ears back and yawned; a smile, you recognize, from reading its behavior over the years.
“Is it because I asked for help? What did you want in return?”
Silence, but Green Eyes bumped your hand and began to purr loudly enough to shake. There’s something about Green Eyes that resists Them and Their works; its ability to navigate the gardens, and its aid to you over the years, has proved that. It does not need your companionship; it does not need you as you needed it.
You look up. Green Eyes flicks its tail back and forth and you realize that while you are its companion, now, and it wouldn’t leave you, you don’t actually need it to get through the gardens. You know them in your mind, like a house you’ve lived in for a long time. When you step through the flowers and topiary you go where you want to go, not where anything else wants you to go. Green Eyes has taught you how.
When you walk through the gardens sometimes you see lost students stumbling under the trellises, eyes haunted, breath rasping in their mouths as they struggle to get out. You approach them.
You look about their age (Age is funny at Elsewhere; when you came back, you seemed to return to who you were when you left. The rest of the world is all iron and highways and radios, and you remember the things you learned here when you came back) and you realize now that they are too scared of Green Eyes to ask for help.
But they don’t need to ask you. You can offer. And when they see your human features and Green Eyes at your feet, they accept.
Victor groaned, dropping his head onto the bar with a heavy ‘thunk.’ He did not look up, dramatic in his exaggeration as he sighed into folded arms. His glass of beer rocked precariously, knocked by the sudden movement. “How does everyone know?”
“Sara said she saw you in the port market with one last time your crew came in,” Minako replied, saving the beer glass from toppling and spilling all over her floor.
“How did what a siren looks like suddenly become such common knowledge?” Victor muttered. He had never truly known until he had first seen Yuuri and understood what he was. Without his feathers and wings, Yuuri looked ordinary enough. Unfairly gorgeous, but Victor always wondered if his personal bias influenced that. Perhaps he would need to purchase Yuuri gloves to hide his arm markings, though they would appear simply as tattoos to anyone unaware.
“She said the whole market heard him speak. That it was like hearing all your desires promised to you in a single word,” Minako explained. When Victor glanced up, she smirked in accomplishment. “So it’s true?”
“We can neither confirm nor deny such allegations,” Chris chimed in, patting his companion on the back. “Safer that way. Victor has had enough excitement with his new… crew mate.”
Minako laughed, throwing her head back. “Wait, are you– Don’t tell me the great Victor Nikiforov has fallen for a siren?”
Chris pointedly arched an eyebrow, smiling into his drink.
“Really! A siren?!”
“How could I not?” Victor said, sighing like a lovesick fool. “He’s so beautiful… Hypothetically.”
“How do you even have sex, if he’s– you know?” Voice hushed, Minako leaned in, curious.
“If he’s what?” Victor asked, brows furrowed. “Male?”
“No, I’ve been around enough years to know how that goes. Hasn’t he got… fins?”
Victor sat up, mouth twisting into a frown. “What, no, he’s got wings– Why does everyone think he’s a mermaid? He’s not a mermaid.”
“Sorry, merman?” Minako corrected, shrugging her shoulders.
“No, it’s mermaid,” Chris cut in firmly. When both heads turned to him, he cleared his throat. “They prefer mermaid, for both sexes. Said merman sounds too butch and that some cultures consider mermen far more vicious and unattractive. Plus everyone already says mermaids, so it’s better.”
Minako blinked. Victor chuckled. “Been chatting with Phichit?”
“I’m allowed to live a life outside the kitchen,” Chris defended, smirking. “Unlike your murderbird, he makes for pleasant conversation.”
Victor glared. Chris laughed.
Minako simply took a step back. “I don’t think I need to know anymore about what’s going on with your crew, Nikiforov. Sirens, mermaids. What’s next, harpies?”
Both Chris and Victor bristled, hastily waving off her words.
The Beast x Belle's relationship throughout the movie
Really love how the roles changed.
In the original, Beast seemed to be the only one who’s infatuated with Belle (until Belle reciprocate his feelings at the end) but in the movie, it’s the other way around:
1. when Beast snorted at her favorite book like ‘are you f*cking kidding me’ and that’s when Belle starts to pay attention
2. when Beast guided her to the legendary library to show that’s so much more to the literature than ‘Romeo and Juliet’.
“Well. Some of them are in Greek.”
“Are you making jokes right now?”
That gesture. And that expression. Like she’s looking at an intriguing specimen.
3. when they were sharing a moment at the bridge before looking away abruptly at the same time. Awkwaaaaard
oh, and before that when Belle literally hold her breath on how extra Beast is
I know she said later that she doesn’t know whether she can return his affection but
GURL JUDGING FROM YOUR EXPRESSION AND GESTURES I DARESAY YOU’RE THE ONE WHO FELL FIRST. You even approach him most of the timeeee (altho perhaps Beast just being shy but—)
4. when Belle gave him a meaningful stare but Beast just gave her another stack of books to be arranged in order as the furnitures gossiping
5. when Belle approach Beast as he immersed himself in the book inside the white rose branches. The Beast that ACTUALLY read books and SPEND MOST OF THE TIME reading books than looking at Belle is GOLD. Including in “Something There”, Belle singing about her newfound curiosity in him while he’s READING A BOOK and having a meal at the same time (and pretending to not notice her ‘smh different’ glances) like folks, we’re looking at TWO bibliophiles here… or are we?
Note: when everyone’s crazy about how a movie should be all about empowering female and then The Beast gave Belle a taste of her own (bigger) medicine and everyone was like screaming what a dick he could broke her nose like yeah he’s so petty like that he’s not exactly a gentleman what d y'all expect
lotor, a cishet: hand over the lions now or prepare to be defeated in the battle!
team voltron, gays: ??????
lotor: oh, right. apologies.
lotor, clearing his throat: asfgshs fight me?? umm lol @ voltron meet me behind the space mall,,,,,, i jus wanna talk … or could i myb get the uhhhhhh lions ? ghagsfav yeet
team voltron: ooooooh ,, lmaoo !! hey um op do u take constrictive criticism?? bc u suck adsvsgags binch wtf i’m sobbingh … btw lion machine broke ,, better luck next time sweaty ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ take a sip of this tea babes,
Bewildered; the first time someone used the word, I nearly laughed aloud. There was a group of varied students sitting across the lawn, grouped together in the shade of a tree, all decked out in weird jewelry and with circles around their eyes, hurried pen ink on their wrists. I was at a picnic bench, sitting with my friends from lab, working on some report or something. There was a lull in the conversation, and the hushed voices, filled with awe, scattered across the grass of the lawn towards us. I was looking absentmindedly at my phone, and when I heard the strange phrase, I burst out laughing. Their voices were so quiet, almost afraid, and like so much else at this school, I didn’t take it into account. I instantly lumped them in with the other students, overly superstitious and quiet, clinging to their iron and their salt like this was some episode of Supernatural. The first time I heard bewildered, I laughed.
The second time, it was coming from the mouth of my Hall Advisor, in the longest informational lecture I’d gotten that year. I was sitting on a couch in the overly cramped common room, squished in-between two of my closest friends from bio lab, and we were already bored and over dramatically rolling our eyes at one another before it even began. They were talking firmly, as if they believed in everything they were saying, reminding us very sternly of the “advice” from the beginning of the year. Every year. It was about the third or fourth time I’d heard this lecture, despite not having been here that many years. Sometimes, I wondered if the weirdness would ever end, and just leave me to do my labs and lose my mind in peace. “Don’t go out late at night, if you have to, make sure you stay on the path.” Well, duh. I looked to my right, and met the eyes of my lab partner, who was just perishing of boredom. I could tell she wanted to be on her phone, but we’d managed to be polite this far, so maybe we could make it to the end of the meeting. Our HA would appreciate it. “Don’t go near the woods. We’ve had way more kids get bewildered this year, it’s not normal and you all really need to step it up.” I snickered. The friend to my left said something under eir breath, and my other friend suppressed a laugh, and we tried, really hard. Our HA didn’t appreciate it. They stared us down for a moment, while some other students clutched their iron necklaces or slipped hands into pockets, making fists around what was probably salt, if I knew this floor well enough. I elbowed my lab partner in the side, and she shut up, em quickly following suit. Shockingly, we managed the rest of the meeting, finally slipping out and snickering, finally sharing all of the snide comments that had built up the whole time. Other students walked out glumly, faces pale, shoulders slumped.
《 eh a little something by @smolgoth.
based off that recent photo of crossink.
also if it was ibvs or just dreamtale idk but I made it human dreamswap. 》
Cross was sitting in the castle, casually browsing the TV channels in a lazy position. He wasn’t participating and the absurd ideas to take down the justice league again. He just sighed under his breath at the idea. What an idiot. We’ve been trying for almost five years, he still honestly expects some sort of victory.
He didn’t try to think about it, and opened one of the chocolate bars from the bag of chocolate bars sitting on the table. From some crazy fan.
Cross adjusted himself on the couch to where he was laying down. In some weird position on the couch. He didn’t even try making himself comfortable, and for some reason, he stared up into the rocky ceiling. And soon, his eyes drifted closed and a quiet snore came out.
He was asleep. With a half eaten chocolate bar in his hand. Slowly melting.
“No Ink! I refuse to take such stupid measures. That idea was definitely one of your worst.”
Ink stared at him with his mouth agap. How dare him? Dream gave him a smug look in melicion. Ink felt something boil inside, and he screamed.
“Okay Dream, You knew damn well that you just slammed a caseload of fucking work on me, and then when I start to fucking help you. You call it stupid and walk away?”
Dream got a cross look in return, and started to spit his harmful venom back at ink.
“Well, maybe if you weren’t just an emotionless basketcase who thinks they own the whole world, only because you are the guardian..?”
Dream stepped a threading way forwards him, his manipulative words to make ink hurt taking effect.
“And then you give me this absurd idea that maybe, /maybe/, destroying their whole world would just,,, just,, ‘Wow, this is going to magically fix the whole damn multiverses problems!!’.”
Dream pretended to do some very sarcastic magical girl shit.
“Wow ink, I may some what hate you, but at least I didn’t fall for one of the bad sides abominations, why would you ever think–”
“SHUT UP, DREAM.”
Dream, was of course taken back by this, and backed up and made an offended face.
“Okay, you can insult me all you fucking want, but how dare you? You hate your only brother you have. And your pathetic ass tells me I cannot so much as comfort his ass when he comes crying?”
Ink clearly had tears streaming down his face. He took a breath, before walking forwards the door.
“Im not pathetic, you are.”
Dream while all this, gasped. Ink comforted his brother. Nightmare crying after hurting him. He always thought that’s what nightmare wanted.
Before his eyes caught it, the door was slammed closed with a quiet sobbing faded away. Dream wanted to storm out and demand him back.
But he was too exhausted. He walked back with a wimp, and sat down at his desk.
He didn’t finish the paperwork.
Ink angrily and sadily teleported to the castle, and flopped onto the very couch was sleeping on, not aware from his tear stained vision.
There was a loud pained groan as ink layer on top of Cross. But he let it out really low, almost like nightmare.
Almost just assuming, ink started to cry heavy tears and started to ramble.
“Your brother is such a fucking jerk nightmare, you don’t even understand. He called you fucking worthless, worthless! In front of my face, your brother is so fucking sick! I can’t belive that I would go to hell and back for him, but then he treats me like shit. What the fuck did he thin–!”
His mouth was covered by a hand, and then a voice that indeed, wasn’t nightmares.
Ink gasped in the hand, and turned around. It was cross. He immediately dragged his hand away, and started getting shaky.
He knew that cross and nightmare liked each other, and he started to know that cross would be angry of him. He apologized furiously but only a shushing finger to inks mouth was returned.
He relaxed, and of course, got into a more comfortable sitting position. Cross only offered him a chocolate bar, and only open arms. Ink gladly accepted.
Seconds later, he stared at him with tear stained eyes. But only cross strokes his hand in his hair and shushed him.
“I forgive you.”
Ink freely sobbed, as cross’ eye glowed, he would give dream a peace of his fuckin mind.
mind: oooOOOH oN tHE oUTsIdE alwAYs LoOKIng In WiLL I aM an IsLanDEr I’M An isLanDer I am an ISLANDER wATCH Me aS I wALk aWAY I bbbEEEEEENNNNDDDD and snAP EVERYONE GIVE IT UP FOR AMERICAS FAVORITE FIGHTING fREnChMen welCoMe tO mAh CanDy StoooOOOOORRREEEE and it’s HARD iT’S HARD IT’S rEaLLY ReALly HAAAAARRRRRDDDDDD iF I wIN ThE LoTTErY yOU’Ll NeeeeeEEEEvAA SEE Me Agaaainnnnnn sO IF yOu CaRE TO FIND MEEEEE lOOK tO the WESTERN skKKKYYYYY aINT iT A FIIIINE LIFE cArrYinG tHE BaNNeR I belieeEEEEVVVVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE thaT ThE lORd GOd CrEAtED THEEE bathroom michael in the bathroom at a pararty.