°MacarronCaramel°

°Just a lazy writer (and Artist)° °|17| 🇧🇷🇨🇭| She/her|°

[macarroncaramel]

The Sin of Loving

°King Baldwin IV x OC! Angel.

° Warnings!: Reference to leprosy; character "death." Reference to hell. I do not intend to offend any religion; this is just a one-shot based on the movie set in an alternate universe. °Notes: This is just an idea that was gathering dust in my files. And I decided to just post it here. This King deserved a better life 😩 Summary: "The Leper King of Jerusalem receives a visit from an angel while praying at dawn. She came bearing a miracle, and a sacrifice."

It felt like fire on his skin. He had grown accustomed to it; the bandages he’d been forced to wear every day for years pressed against his sensitive skin and open wounds, causing more pain and agony, like an itch he knew would never go away. Without causing more pain, of course, it was impossible.

Not even the chill of the chapel or the silence of the place was enough to drive away the heretical thoughts that had crept into his mind.

“Pater noster, qui es in caelis:

sanctificetur nomen tuum;

adveniat regnum tuum”

He prayed. He tried to focus on the sacred words in Latin, but even that—which had once helped him fall asleep—wasn’t working now. And once again, his pleas would go unanswered. And once again, his tears and his supplications would be in vain.

“fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra.

Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie;”

His mother’s prayers must have been ignored, just like Sibylla's—just a few more among the heavenly mountains of prayers in Paradise. God must have been busy, listening to the prayers of those who were more valuable to him; why would he care to hear the cries of a leper? Why was he left in the darkness, left to rot in the desert of Jerusalem, and with his imminent death, it would be the end of the holy city.And he knew it, everyone knew it.

“et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris;

et ne nos inducas in tentationem;sed libera nos a malo.

Amém."

Baldwin sighed. The burning sensation in his lungs with every breath he exhaled made the next one even more painful. Despite that, the air in the chapel really helped him think.The Church of the Holy Sepulchre—that was his moment of peace; of feeling close to the Creator. So why did heretical thoughts return to his mind? He knew how wrong they were, so why did he still have them? Why had God stopped answering?

Everything was empty; it was a silent dawn. The sun was far from rising, and he had given clear orders for his soldiers to remain outside the church, to stay outside so as to give his dying king some privacy. Yet even that was not enough, for the illness that was consuming him never left him alone.

At least he thought he was alone.

“Who’s there?” Baldwin muttered. Out of the corner of his eye, he had caught a glimpse of a slight movement. Too small to be a soldier, too big to be a rat. “The church is closed. If you had something to say, you should have said it before sunset.”

However, all the King heard… was silence. But it wasn’t the same silence that had once filled the chapel; it was different—whether heavy or light, he couldn’t describe it.It was as if something, or someone, was out of place. It wasn’t supposed to be there.

“I’ll ask…” the King sighed, trailing off. “Just one more time. Who’s there?”

Baldwin turned to face the rest of the chapel. It was empty. Nothing but darkness, the faint glow of the candles and chandeliers on the walls, and painted murals depicting the deeds of his Savior on colorful tiles.

A faltering step forward, moving away from the altar. And the feeling that he was being watched never left him.A second step, this one more confident than the first.

“Do not be afraid.”

A woman's voice, light as a feather. Yet at the same time, strong and confident as a soldier. Baldwin turned around as quickly as he could, and his throat went dry.

There, at the altar of your Lord, stood a woman—no, something closer to the Divine. With dark skin and a physique worthy of a warrior, she was one of the most dazzling women the ruler of Jerusalem had ever seen.She was certainly taller than him, perhaps half a sword’s length taller. Clad in armor of pure gold and ornate linen, her hair—long and braided with colorful beads and rings bearing ancient, long-forgotten symbols—flowed down her back.

Her face, however, like his, was concealed by a mask. But it was not one made of silver and metal, designed to hide the decay of her flesh and the deterioration of her features. The mask worn by the woman before him was made of fine, delicate porcelain, inlaid with roses and rubies. It stood in stark contrast to her armor.

“Who are you?” Baldwin sighed, holding back the emotion and surprise in his voice.

“I have many names…” she began. “So many… that I’ve already forgotten which one came first.”

The woman took a step forward, keeping her gaze fixed on the little King. A second step closer, and suddenly, she seemed taller than before.

“In the early battles of Jerusalem, they called me Little Rosie….”

With every sentence the woman spoke, she drew closer. Not as a servant, a subject, or even an assassin. Something greater—almost joyful to see him there, so close. It was so hard not to draw near to a being who seemed capable of melting the purest steel of the Levant with the mere touch of his fingers.

“Some time ago, however, you began calling me simply Rosie. Rose… Ross… Rosset, Rossete.”

The woman stopped in front of the young Leper King. She raised her hand, which was clad in a metal glove adorned with crisscrossing chains. A rosary hung from her wrist. Using just one finger, she touched the metal surface of the mask. So gently, as if she might break it simply by holding it too tightly—which, in fact, was true. Both of them could feel it. He felt the open wounds on his skin that would never heal, and she felt the pure light within her temporarily material body.

“I am Rossete, my King. I am an angel of the Lord, a warrior sent to see you.”

Her voice, once firm and strong, softened. She almost whispered, as if sharing a secret to be kept under lock and key. Baldwin thought he was going mad.Had the disease that would eventually strip away his face finally reached his brain? Or was it God, turning his suffering into a joke—a glimmer of hope—to punish him for harboring such heretical thoughts? Was it a trick of his mortal, filthy mind, playing pranks on him to torture him?

“I’m here"

Rossete whispered. He crouched down, and through the slits in his mask, his eyes shone as golden as the gold he wore on his armor. They reflected not sorrow, anguish, or fear. They reflected love, passion, and care—something Baldwin had never thought possible to see behind someone’s eyes. His throat was dry, his mind spinning; he was hallucinating! Wasn’t he? He was daydreaming. His head was filled with the war, with his concerns for the people, and with Saladin’s advance. It wasn’t possible—an angel, in flesh and blood, touching his mask and looking at him so intently. It wasn’t possible for a being of such power, of such purity and with an intact soul, to be present before him.

“I’ve always been here, my King. And I always will be.” The angel stammered, his eyes filling with deep sadness. And there, mask to mask, face to face, Baldwin let a single, solitary tear fall from his one good eye. Unable to look away from those beautiful and unusual pieces of paradise, he had almost forgotten just how brilliant gold could be, having been too focused on the gleam of the swords. “It’s not your time yet.”

The young king choked on the words that simply would not come out. He barely paid attention to the sweet sounds coming from his mouth, forming words whose meaning eluded him.

I think I’m hallucinating…

Even as he felt his body fail him, just as it had so many times before. As his vision darkened, and the numbness already present in his body spread even further. Even as he fainted, the last thing his weary mind registered was the angel’s tearful expression.

Rossete knelt on the chapel floor, holding the unconscious body of the dying King in her arms—with care and tenderness, as if a single touch might tear and further damage his skin. 'You can’t heal him! And you know it!' She heard the voice of her kindred spirit. It came from the depths of her consciousness. A kindred spirit, who was supposed to be making sure she didn’t do anything stupid—like what she was about to do.

“I don’t care… I can’t bear to lose him like this! He needs to live, Horiel.” Rossete muttered into the void, letting tears fall from her eyes and stream down her thin mask. They gathered at her chin, only to fall onto the King’s covered face. Her tears, transparent and almost crystal-like, lightly dampened the white Egyptian linen tunic. Perhaps that was the only mark of her existence, the only thing that might lead someone to consider the possibility that she was preparing for it.

'It's not our responsibility' Horiel muttered. Even though he wasn't in the chapel, his voice seemed to come from every corner. Every wall, every windowpane, a warning—like a conscience that knows how to follow the rules. Which, unfortunately, is always the first to be ignored. 'He's going to die, Rossete. And there's nothing we can do. Our Father would be furious. You’re an angel, you’re a warrior! Why did you have to fall in love with a mortal!?'

'You can’t grant him your grace! Tomorrow he’ll be healed, but you’ll be burning in hell! This is one of the greatest sins; you’ll be a heretic, you’re betraying us; you’re throwing away the greatest of all virtues!'

Rossete sighed. She looked at the man in her arms. And her heart tightened.It was already risky for her to be there, in the flesh, not as a spirit or a presence. Much less as a mere observer. She was actually holding him; she could feel his light weight; the strange texture of the linen of his tunic; the coldness of the metal mask covering his deformity—which she had observed so many times.She remembered when it all happened. She was still a newly created angel. She was still a little guardian angel. How could she have missed that boy’s birth? How could she have resisted falling in love with such a sweet soul? They were technically the same age, separated by their divine origins, even though he couldn’t see her; didn’t know she existed.

How could she bear to watch him waste away day after day? Hadn’t she fought alongside him in his great battle when he was a sixteen-year-old boy and she was already an archangel? She had been created to fight, not to protect him anymore. And yet, she couldn’t keep her distance. She couldn’t forget him; she couldn’t help but worry.She wept for him for days, prayed, and begged the Father to help him.If He couldn’t or wouldn’t, then she would do it on her own. How could her Father blame her? Wasn’t He the one who gave her the virtue of love? If she had a choice, she would never have accepted this damned feeling. But she did; she felt it. And look where that had led her. He was dying, wasting away, and it was her fault. It was high time to put an end to this.

“It’s totally worth it…”

Rossete murmured softly. He looked at Baldwin, touched his mask once more, and took it off, setting it aside.

He wouldn’t need it anymore anyway; by tomorrow, he would be healed. He could live a good life.

Rossete touched him, massaging each wound. Wherever something was missing, she remade it from nothing. Like a talented artisan, the angel was meticulous with every detail.

He could run without falling; he could fight and defend himself on his own.He would rule—he would be like no other.

With Baldwin’s face healed. Restoring his youthful beauty, his nose had been restored; his lips, perfect. His eye would soon see again. As Rossete healed every wound on his skin, his mind filled with thoughts.

He’ll get married; he’ll have children with another woman. He’ll have a long life… He’ll truly live. Without having to worry about every step, without the worry and fear of death every day. Every morning.

His wings were already beginning to ache. Burning like fire, each feather was crushed and turned to ash, each new feather melting like mere leaves in an eruption. The sin of going against God’s plans was being consumed with the same intensity with which it healed the open wounds of the man in her lap. Then she bent down, just enough to get close to his face. All the rot of the disease, the punishment, and the pain—which he didn’t even know why he was carrying—was drawn out, washed away; it was with her now.

He’ll have a happy ending. Well, except for me, of course. But that’s okay.

When the last wound had healed, Rossete felt the ground lose its gravity beneath her feet as the King’s head was gently laid upon the stone floor. Meanwhile, her own body was returning to its spiritual form, allowing its physical matter to dissolve into the air, while the fiery arms of hell seized her ankles. She offered no resistance as she was pulled into the ground.No longer a spirit filled with the Lord’s grace, but an empty shell—soulless, lifeless. Just a filthy, sinful soul among many others. She was no longer a warrior; she was no longer Rossete, “the Sword of Jerusalem.” Now, as she was swallowed by the darkness clutching her ankles… she was Nothing.

As she drifted gently into hell, her mind could think of only one thing: “I love him. And even though he didn’t know me, and doesn’t even remember I existed… I’m happy for him. The happy ending he deserved is good enough… for me.”

[macarroncaramel]

Dysnathy of predators

°Word count: ±4000 °Johnny Worthington/ F! OC ° Warnings!: None? A light kiss °Chapter III °Chapter V °Masterlist °Chapter IV. "Pink fashion"

“Do you think I’m fat?”

I ask Carrie.

She was sitting on her Victorian sofa—white wood with light pink upholstery, featuring those old royal coat-of-arms patterns. She was sorting through different scarves, ranging from pink to red, patterned, colorful, polka-dotted, and striped, in various types of fabric. Velvet, 100% linen, and some special ones made of Egyptian cotton.

In exactly 7 days, classes will start, and looking for a second opinion, I agreed to spend the afternoon with Carrie. Sorting through and trying on her clothes; seeing which ones are still in style and will continue to be worn, and which ones are going in the trash or to a donation center. My old teal jacket, one of several I own, was already spread out on one of the upholstered chairs. While my attention was entirely on the slender silhouette of my body reflected in the mirrors.

“Not at all, you look great!” Carrie said, her cheerful tone returning as she set the handkerchiefs aside and jumped off the couch. Her quick steps brought her over to me, next to one of the huge mirrors in the walk-in closet.

It was literally a princess’s closet. A rectangular room with closets full of clothes and accessories; of course, completely built into the walls. A plush pink rug and opaque white walls. But that only served to highlight the lighting; coming from a huge crystal chandelier that hung in the center. Right below the chandelier was the two-seater sofa from before, along with a single coffee table. It was the only furniture in the room, not counting the small bench that sat in the center of the half-moon-shaped bay window.

“I used to have incredible muscles… I’m not even toned anymore...” I muttered. Looking at myself in the mirror of the huge bedroom, spreading my wings. Stretching them out, and exposing the reflection of my back, allowing me to see my shoulders, which were still defined. But they’re nowhere near what they were three months ago.

“I have to go back to the gym…”

“Why don’t you do gymnastics? The girls and I do it every day.”

“Gymnastics? My dear, I used to fight. Gymnastics is good, but it won’t help me build the muscles I used to have.”

I grumbled. As the pink-haired girl stood up, she grabbed a pile of clothes and tossed them onto the couch, where she had been sitting

“Wrestling, huh? Well, we don’t have that here, dear. The guys at JOX even tried to open a karate gym, and it didn’t work out. They found out that they were actually throwing parties inside the gym.” Carrie smiled cheerfully. As she picked up some shirts, standing next to me and holding them under my chest, checking to see if they fit me.

“Parties? Is that all you guys think about?”

“Of course not, silly! Are you going to tell me you didn’t party at your old college either?” Carrie laughed. I just rolled my eyes.Of course I partied—I was the one who organized the biggest parties and brought in the best acts that rocked our entire Frat Row.

Who at NWC doesn’t remember the huge party I threw my freshman year? With that German craft beer, imported vodka, and music blasting from speakers of all sizes. I miss those days.

“Of course I partied—I was the best hostess.” I stepped down from the small stool, leaving the spot open for Carrie to climb up and try the clothes on herself.

“Oh, really? I can’t wait to see how you party! Rush Week is in a week, and I’m dying to see it!”

“Rush Week?"

I asked, raising an eyebrow. I’d heard about it before—it seems to be a huge party—but I didn’t know it was happening in a week. Classes start in seven days; how do they plan to throw a massive party the night after classes begin? These Americans are crazier than I thought.

“Exactly, Sweet!” Carrie smiled. She tapped her feet quickly on the floor, like a happy rabbit. Her joy was strangely touching. “It’s the first and biggest party! And to welcome the freshmen, that’s when lots of new members are chosen for the fraternities and sororities!”

“Really?” What a joy. A bunch of freshmen trying to prove they’re scary enough to get into a fraternity, where they’ll be treated as the lowest of the low in the group’s hierarchy. I think I lost my focus; I need to work on that.

“Yes, yes! You’re coming, right? Every house is throwing an exclusive party…! And then, the party spills out onto the street, and everyone has a blast!” Laughter smiled, clapping her hands in delight. I can almost see her mind conjuring up scenes, people she wants to talk to, and just how many pink, sugary drinks she’s going to down. I’m going to make sure to stay away from any drink a PNK offers me—I don’t want to get diabetes just yet.

As she thought about it, Williams turned on her heel. She walked over to the nearest cabinet, opened it, and revealed a veritable treasure trove of jewelry. Necklaces; earrings; bracelets; horn chains; in every color imaginable and sorted by price. And nothing there cost less than $9,000.It was so opulent, so extravagant…I want one of those.

“I don’t know… I’m not sure…" I’m sure. "You know, I’m still getting used to college life. A party this big is too much.”

Of course I’m going, honey. I’m not going to miss the chance to drink and dance—I need it! That purple demon ruined my last night; it was the last time I relaxed in the comfort of a vodka. Bad, but still vodka. And now, I’d really love a party.

“Too much? Come on! Aria, you have to give it a chance!” Carrie turned back to me quickly. A determined look on her face, making her smile widen even more. “Trust me, please? The girls and I would love to accompany you to your first party here at MU!”

“I’m not sure, Carrie….” Yes, I am!

“It’ll be fun! I want to introduce you to the other sororities!”

“Do you think they’d like me?” Of course they would. Monsters like having someone pretty around; it makes them feel… special. Or totally undesirable, depending.

“They’ll love you!” The PNK laughed out loud. With a grace that belied her spontaneity, she twirled and spun among the cabinets. Picking up piece after piece of jewelry, adding to the small, expensive pile accumulating on her arm. It was like looking at an ancient pirate’s treasure.

“All right… You’ve convinced me.” I smiled. Giving Carrie’s forehead a light tap, she just let out a cheerful giggle. Picking up some jewelry in her arms, she pressed them against my skin. “…And what are you doing?”

“Seeing what suits you! We have to see what you’re going to wear.”

“I think I can do that myself.”

Carrie held the jewelry against her own chest in a quick, dramatic motion. As her mouth opened into a perfect “O” of indignation, I couldn’t help but laugh—and I must admit, it was a cynical laugh. I couldn’t resist.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Carrie. But I think I can handle this on my own.” I laughed. I looked at myself in the mirror again, while the pink-haired girl turned her back and walked back to the jewelry cabinet. This time, her gait was dramatic and heavy, causing one or two pieces of jewelry—chains and expensive stones—to fall to the floor. Strangely, she didn’t even seem to mind.

“All right, all right. Let’s see how you do without my help!” Carrie hummed.

“And I’ll eagerly await your reaction!” I hummed back.

As I listened to the rhythmic sound of the hostess organizing and reorganizing the thousands of pieces and luxury items, I couldn’t help but notice a specific little sparkle out of the corner of my eye.

A small, gleaming box. In the center of the cabinet where Carrie stood, a small box adorned with pieces of polished copper and silver, in spiral shapes that reminded me of tulip buds and lotus flowers, intricately carved into the patterns of the polished wooden box.It was old, it was rare. And that naturally reminded me of the pocket watch I had in my jacket.

“Carrie~” I called softly. Being careful with my tone of voice. The slightest sign of interest, a dose more than mere curiosity, and she would likely shut down.

“Yeah?~” she hummed again. Returning to softly mumbling the lyrics of a pop song.

“What’s that little box?” I pointed with one of my claws. My tail was probably making an automatic swaying motion, and then stopping, leaving only the tip to move.Carrie, however, seemed to snap out of her musical reverie. She set aside what she had been working on, letting the rings fall back into the drawer, mixing them all together into a jumble of gold and silver circles.

“This?” The PNK picked up the box gently between her claws. She didn’t scratch it, much less squeeze it.

“It’s simply one of my greatest treasures.”She smiled slightly, running one of her claws over the box. And then, smiling happily again.

“Look, it’s simply my grandmother’s necklace. She always wore this very same pearl necklace, every day.” Carrie opened the box, moving closer to me; allowing me to see the necklace.,

They were almost perfectly round pearls, with that characteristic opaque white hue. The thin line connecting them was a very fine white gold chain, which matched the small pink tourmalines that served as delicate pendants wherever one pearl met another.

“It’s beautiful…”

“I know, it’s perfect.” Carrie closed the box. And as she held it close to her body, she looked at me with a serious expression. “Look, I know we haven’t known each other for very long, Aria. But this necklace is simply one of my most valuable possessions. So…could you keep this a secret?”

“Of course. I’m not that kind of person.” I replied almost automatically as I stepped down from the small stool. “Thanks for trusting me. So how about I return the favor?”

Carrie looked slightly confused, but that expression was quickly replaced by one of gentle joy—different from the popular-girl energy she’d had before. I took the moment to grab my coat, the beautiful French jacket that was practically rotting in those dirty boxes I’d been forced to bring. And right there, in the inside pocket, I pulled out my grandfather’s watch.

“Here it is… my grandfather’s pocket watch. But he didn’t make it himself; it’s even older than that. Isn’t it lovely?” I smiled genuinely at the girl beside me. “It’s a Swiss watch, by Blancpain. It’s entirely handmade, and it’s over 200 years old…” I couldn’t help but let the pure pride show in my voice. It’s a family heirloom, something so old and yet so new compared to my lineage. Especially on my father’s side.

“A Blancpain!?” Carrie whispered, in shock. Her slender, elegant fingers brushed against the tiny translucent diamonds set around the hands. I let her hold the heavy pocket watch, while the soft ticking of “Tick; Tock.” And again, grew louder to me with every passing second. “Girl, my Dad wouldn’t let me touch his collectibles…and you’re just walking around with a jewel like this in your pocket? As if it were nothing?”

“Hey, I’m not walking around showing this off. It’s always safely in my pocket” I say with feigned offense, holding the thin chain of the heirloom in a controlled manner. “And believe me, it’s safer with me than inside a little box in some safe.”

Carrie shrugged, looking more closely at the carved details. Her claws—not sharp, but clipped—touched the coat of arms on the back. The patterns of Russian words and rhymes, symbols so ancient they’ve been lost in time. In fact, some of my relatives have even tried to figure out where this watch came from. It’s been in the family for so long that no one is really sure. Although it has the Blancpain symbol engraved on one of the sides, I’ve always found the brand strangely too new for the rest of the piece. After all, the brand is over 100 years old. But to be honest, the watch strangely seems older than that, even though it’s very well preserved.

“What’s written here?...” the girl in pink whispered. Snapping me out of my thoughts for a moment.

“Nothing much, just the family name. Nordenov.” I replied.

“Never heard of it…”

“And it’s better that way, trust me.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. Carrie’s confused expression, the way her thin eyebrows furrowed almost automatically. And then, they widened in surprise when I took the old watch back. “But, hey. I didn’t come here to hear old Slavic stories; I want to hear from you.”

I put the watch in my pocket. With my hands on Carrie’s hips, I helped her climb onto the stool.

“Tell me a little about your grandmother. She must have had good taste to like those pearls.”

The girl clearly wasn’t too keen on changing the subject. I can see it in her suspicious gaze—well, that is, before it’s replaced by a proud look. It’s always like this. The problem with monsters like this, from elite families, is their clear desire to show off. Even if discreetly, what they have or what they’ve been through. Whether it’s a family history, a rare object… and I won’t lie, it’s a delightful feeling. Not even I am immune to that proud and arrogant feeling.

“Ah… my Grandma Cherry. I don’t remember much about her, you know? But the few things I do remember are amazing.” As Carrie began to speak, her voice filled with longing, I grabbed a small stool, a brush from the vanity, and some bobby pins. Nothing brings two girls closer together than a new hairstyle

“She used to tuck me in at night. She called me ‘little glitter,’ and in fact, I was going through that unicorn phase.”

I mumbled a reply. Focusing on the Channel cut in front of me, I ran the brush gently through her already styled hair. Starting at the bottom, then working my way up little by little. The straight strands were easy to work with; they didn’t tangle like the mess of white, curly hair I have myself.

“...She was a sweetheart. Everyone listened when Ms. Cherry spoke. And no wonder—she had this habit of never stopping staring. It was scary, but it helped me relax… it was as if she’d never leave my side…”

I started by braiding her hair, adding a more sophisticated touch with four long red strands. I gathered them at the end, creating a sort of tiara around Carrie’s head.

“...She was the one who brought the family to Elite. She bought Scream Inc. They say it was during a really tough time, but she made it happen with her own blood and sweat.”

My hands stopped in the middle of working on the secondary braids, just above the first ones.

“Scream Inc.?”

“Yeah, you know, one of the top three scream factories in the city—we’re only behind Fear Co. and Monsters Inc.”

Scream Inc., then… that means… Oh, right.

“Fear Co. Isn’t that the company owned by that idiot demon?” I smiled, hiding my sudden enthusiasm for the new information I’d just acquired.

“Johnny? Yeah, that’s him.” Carrie said casually, looking at herself in the mirror and trying, unsuccessfully, to check my work. When suddenly, she remembers something important. “And speaking of him, what the hell is going on between you two? I’ve been hearing from everywhere about what happened at the diner. And was it you who scratched his horns?”

Oh yeah. Here we go again.

“Yeah. It was me.” I replied, without thinking. Almost rolling my eyes. Holding Carrie’s head forward just as she tried to look at me over her shoulder. And going back to braiding her hair. “He bumped into me that day I met you and went out drinking with the girls; he was rude to me. I went after him—it’s just payback.”

“And the diner? Honey, the whole campus is talking about it!” the girl said, putting her hands on her hips.

*Tsk* “No big deal, at least in my opinion. Just small talk—he insults me, I insult him. He gets a little mad, we argue a bit. And you guys take it from there.” I muttered, working on the composition of the masterpiece I’m creating.

“Just arguing? Aria, nobody argues with Johnny.” Carrie chuckled softly. A polite smile, but not a genuine one, almost worried. “Look, he’s not the kind of guy who always takes things as a joke. It might seem that way in the moment, but he really has a good memory.”

“Aria, look, Johnny is the dangerous type. He might seem approachable, but he’s not. I was here when a guy embarrassed him in sophomore year, and that guy was simply expelled after that.” Carrie said with genuine concern in her voice, a warning. A plea, perhaps? “You really seem like a nice person, just don’t get yourself into trouble. He might give you more trouble than you can handle. Trust me.”

Oh, if only you knew what I’m planning, Carrie.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got my tricks, sweetie. I’ll be fine.” I replied with a smile. Baring my fangs, but keeping my gaze down and relaxed. As I finish another braid.

“Yeah… but that warning goes for that girl you’re hanging out with, too…” Carrie said, returning with that popular-girl air about her.

“Chloe?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. She tried to join PNK a few weeks ago, but, yeah, it’s not happening,” Carrie argued.

“Like, she’s blue and doesn’t fit with the pink aesthetic. And besides, she’s… weird, I don’t know. Britney’s all shy and timid too, but Chloe… she’s just beyond help. At least Britty follows the aesthetic.”

I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Yeah, we were having a nice moment here, and still, I like Chloe. And maybe Britney really did deserve the position and Chloe just wasn’t ready to join a sorority like PNK. But “out of the aesthetic”? Hmm, we’ll see about that.

“Seriously? Oh, she didn’t tell me any of that. She didn’t even mention that she wanted to join PNK.” I say, using the most surprised voice I can fake.

“Of course she didn’t. Girls like her never do.” Carrie rolled her eyes. All three of them. “So, just stay away from the riffraff, honey. That’s my advice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I smile. Of course, I’ll take her advice. “And there we go.”

I say, picking up a small, jeweled comb from Rosada’s collection—it was a very delicate Japanese style. And it fit perfectly between the pairs of braids I’d made, serving as the centerpiece of a red museum.

“Wow, Aria, that looks beautiful!” Carrie smiled with that infectious joy again. Turning to look in the mirror. “You have to do this more often!”

I chuckled softly. Unable to escape the not-so-far-fetched thoughts and plans forming in my head.

“Yeah, I know.”

==================================

“Miss Ária! Why are you doing this!?”

“Doing what? Be more specific!y”

“Dragging me to your dorm room!”

Chloe complained. As I held her by the wrist, I walked her down the increasingly crowded dormitory hallway. I led the way, pushing through the sea of bodies, pulling the beautiful blue creature within my reach.

“You’ll see!” I say, smiling, pulling Bluey into my arms. Holding her in classic princess style, though I’d rather not touch that gray, stained sweatshirt she’s wearing—it’s worth it. The girl is light as a feather; I don’t know if it’s because she probably has a terrible college diet, or because my muscle strength still exists.

“Miss Ária!” Chloe muttered under her breath, trying not to draw attention to herself even though she was basically already doing just that. Her face had taken on that lovely shade of dark blue; she was embarrassed and trying to hide her face in her hands.

I should watch this scene a little longer, but unfortunately I’m on a mission here. Quickly, I climb the stairs. Using only the tips of my flat feet, which help me move better. And finally, I arrive at my dorm: Room 320.

“We’re here.” I entered the room and locked the door with my tail holding the key. I didn’t think much as I left Bluey on my bed—maybe I just tossed her onto the mattress. I’m too excited for that, opening my closet and coming face-to-face with all my clothes. Some were still scattered in the corner, but we won’t pay attention to that now.

“Wh-why did you bring me here?” Chloe stammered. Watching me rummage through the clothes, pulling out and unfolding shirts, useless pants, jackets, and overcoats, as well as scarves and short skirts. This is a mess.

“Why didn’t you tell me about PNK?” I muttered. Still without looking at herI hear the blue-haired girl choke. Maybe the words are stuck in her throat. I’m not fully focused on her yet; my jewelry practically cries out for my attention. So I get up and go to the one I left in the bathroom.

“I… I thought it was better not to tell you, Aria… I was the one who was stupid for trying to get in.” Chloe stammered again, this time her voice was racing. Panicking, once again. “I already knew I didn’t fit in! They’re popular, they go together! And, and I’m weird! Even Carrie said it to my face.”

“Listen.” I interrupted her. I gathered several pieces of clothing in my arms, just like Carrie did to me this morning. And I walked over to Bluey.

“Don’t ever say that again, Bluey.” I held the girl’s face by the chin, using only my claws. Not gently like I’d done before—it was stronger. She had to look only at me. I’m sure that if I’d squeezed just a little harder, just a touch more force, I could have left a mark on her cheek.

“You’re not a weirdo. You hang out with me, and that, my dear, isn’t synonymous with being a weirdo. It’s synonymous with elite.” I keep my gaze fixed on those three sky-blue eyes belonging to that girl. “Do you want to be a weirdo? Do you want to let Carrie drag you down to that level?”

“No…” Chloe murmured. Softly, as her eyes filled with tears. But not daring to look away from mine.

“Then be great, Bluey. And I’ll help you with that. You need me… I’ll take you to the top with me.” I smile. Watching her little face light up more and more, her mouth was slightly open—speechless, perhaps? I let the clothes fall from my arms; I can pick them up later.

I couldn’t help but move closer, closer to those thin lips. And finally, we both closed our eyes.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss. Or an intense one. It was small, light—just a meeting of lips and a gentle brush of fangs. Chloe’s lips were soft and thin, and even warmer. Maybe even warm, like cold coffee with milk on a winter afternoon. I feel the small cuts on her lips; the closeness of her skin, the lack of sharp fangs on her lips, make mine stand out more. Which probably causes a strange sensation for her. It wasn’t long—just a peck lasting three seconds at most.

“So…” I smiled, pulling away from her slightly. Letting go of her face, I stand up, straightening my posture with my head held high. “How do you plan to reach the top by my side, wearing those rags?”

Chloe doesn’t answer me. Although her gaze follows my every move, I see her start to breathe again, almost like a sigh of relief as she closes her half-open mouth.

“Today. I’ll transform you into someone worthy of royalty.” I smiled, picking up the clothes again. “It was just as I told you, Bluey...”

I turned almost dramatically, going to find more clothes that would suit her.

“Stay close to me, so you’ll learn everything.”

[macarroncaramel]

Dysnathy of predators

°Johnny Worthington III/ F! OC

° Warning In the first chapter

Chapter I • "First day"

Chapter II • "Shades of Blue"

Chapter III • "Parental Care"

[macarroncaramel]

Dysnathy of predators

°Word count: ±6000 °Johnny Worthington/ F! OC ° Warnings!: None? °Chapter II °Chapter IV °Masterlist Chapter III. "Parental Care"

"Unacceptable. Unbelievable.” I mutter, stomping my feet as I walk out of the café.Who does that… girl think she is? The damn Queen of England!?

Ha! Garriver.

Damn family. My dad warned me about them—crooks, idiots, dumb enough to get caught by the police and run away like cowards! And then they lost everything! Absolutely everything—the scream factory; houses; mansions; cars; dignity; prestige; and honor. And now…almost 30 years later, they’re back!? As if they still had anything here? In my city!?Disrespecting me like this!? Scratching my horns? And still being proud of it? I should have ripped those wings off in retaliation.

“Johnny, you need to calm down” Javier muttered. Everyone following me with their heads down, ashamed perhaps. Since everyone in the cafeteria was talking about… whispering, staring, commenting like a bunch of worms!

“Calm down? Calm down!?” I growled. Stopping in my tracks and turning to face the group. “That girl really got under my skin. Did you hear how she treated me? Mocking my university? And on top of that, how could I not have realized she’s the same girl who threw vodka at me!?”

Even now, I can’t believe it. How could I not have realized!? There aren’t many monsters with wings like that. I have to admit, they’re truly majestic. But… that tail. It was the only thing my brain registered. In my defense, it was dark when I first saw her; I didn’t pay attention to her face or the rest of her features. I just wanted to have a few drinks with Carrie and get rid of Chet for a few hours, since he’s not allowed in the PNKs’ house. Is that too much to ask!? This week is hell.

“Hell…” The grinding of my teeth is the only thing I can hear.

I just…don’t want to have another public meltdown. The embarrassment from the day before yesterday was bad enough. “I’m going to my room. Don’t bother me for the rest of this fucking day.”

Javier just nodded. And both Chip and Bruce made way for me to pass. Chip even did me the favor of holding Chet back so he wouldn’t follow me. If I were in a better mood, I’d even thank him. But I could do that later, when my head wasn’t about to explode.

It’s amazing how, even before classes started, I already had such a headache.The stinking smell of alcohol permeated my sweater. So much so that I had to throw it away, and it was my favorite! These sweaters are custom-made with imported cashmere—does that Aria girl even know how much one of these costs!

A lot. Simply put. Those things cost a pretty penny! And from my personal account, too—I hope my dad doesn’t come bugging me about this. Well, he doesn’t really care much or keep tabs on what I spend my money on or how I spend my time. Ah, never mind.

The frat row was empty.

Well, as empty as such a bustling place could be.But since it was still midday, there weren’t many people around besides those who are part of fraternities and sororities. Everyone was busy with their preparations for this year’s big Rush Week, and there are only 3 days left. I myself should be busy organizing RΩR’s first big party of the year—it’s our main attraction and trademark for decades.

I’ve been busy all week. It’s my senior year, and everything has to be perfect! And now? I’m about to have a second fit of rage because of a Russian girl who thinks she’s a star just because she came from a European university and has a beautiful tail.As I hurry toward the RΩR house, I try to ignore everyone who tries to strike up a conversation with me—which isn’t many, since I doubt my face looks very inviting right now.Arriving in front of the fraternity house, I pull the key from the inside pocket of my dress shirt. As soon as I unlock the thick, rough wooden door, the scent of pine and smoke from the candelabras is the first thing that hits me. Which, strangely, calms me down.

I shut the door with my foot and walk through the entrance hall.As I make my way to my suite, nothing can get that woman out of my mind.

Before I confronted her, I had already noticed her presence the moment we walked into that diner. And who wouldn’t notice? Those wings were enormous, incredible.

As a monster myself, I can say I’ve met many monsters of every imaginable and existing type and form in this city… And the only monster that came close to that sight was Dean Hardscrabble herself. It was simply impressive.

I noticed her gaze. Of course. I noticed the way she sized up and took in every little detail of my fraternity brothers, but while she watched them, I watched her too.

Finally, I arrive at my suite.And I fling myself onto my bed, which simply sinks under my weight.

And I let myself be carried away by the memory; trying to recall every little detail of that moment at the diner.

The way her claws held each fried tarantula by the tip; never letting a single scale touch the food. Her posture was so perfect; shoulders back; tail always tucked against her leg; chest out, and her gaze… Oh, that gaze. So sharp… And not once did I see her lower her head.

As I toss and turn in bed, my tail taps against the mattress in a steady rhythm.

This doesn’t make sense… The Garrivers went bankrupt, fled to Europe—like cowards who didn’t even have the courage to face the consequences of letting their employees talk too much. How is it possible that they still have so much purchasing power? I saw that beige jacket; that wasn’t bought at thrift stores or discount shops, much less luxury boutiques. That was “Horreur LIV.” How did she have access to such an exclusive brand? They only work with haute couture. Of the caliber that one of my most valuable suits, custom-made, was entirely tailored and crafted by them.

And that jewelry? It didn’t look like Tiffany’s.

I can say I know their horn chains and rings well—I wore them a lot in my teens. I thought they were cool back then. Maybe it’s from “Bvlgcchio”? They were too intricate to be just costume jewelry, and for a woman who walks around in a Horreur l'IV jacket and a necklace with actual crystal stones shaped like a “G” around her neck, I wouldn’t dare say it’s fake.

I’m going to lose my mind.

I just sat there staring at my bedroom ceiling for almost half an hour! I should be doing something productive.

Laughter catches my attention. Coming from outside, and even with my window closed, I can hear that wonderful feminine laughter I hear so often every day. Please don’t let it be a group of fans. Again...

“How am I supposed to rest… with all this commotion?” I growl. Stepping out of the comfort of my bed and opening the double window, but still keeping the long red velvet curtains almost closed. The view from my bedroom window was almost strategic, giving me a perfect view of the JOX house. But it’s not that crumbling house that catches my attention.

There, right in the center of the Frat Row courtyard, was that girl again. Aria Garriver.

Sitting on one of the benches a few meters in front of the HSS house. And she wasn’t alone—of course she wouldn’t be.

“What a load of crap…” I couldn’t help but mutter. What a ridiculous scene.

That woman who was driving me crazy, sitting so relaxed, in the center of a group of girls. Her blue-haired friend was sitting to her left; while Aria’s tail was wrapped around her hips;

On the left, a yellow girl with red spots—a pretty common kind of monster around here. Just like all the others, what?…seven? Nine? Girls drooling over the attention of that woman who scratched my horns? Seriously? Not even my efforts did anything to remove the marks.

It’s that look. Golden and smug, as if she were Aphrodite surrounded by her nymphs in her damn harem. She just smiled with those wonderful, thin, elegant fangs, chatting about whatever. How did she get a fan club so quickly? It’s barely been two hours since she left that diner.

I quickly grab my cell phone from the inside pocket of my yellow shirt under my sweater.I may not have much information about her… but I know someone who probably does.

My phone vibrates with that ringtone.

"Hello? Mr. Jonathan? How can I help you?” Hector’s voice is the first thing I hear.

Hector Flaverson. My father’s old, loyal lawyer. And the whole family’s, for that matter.

For as long as I can remember, he’s always been there, like a shadow that never strayed from old Jack Worthington—whether handling lawsuits and red tape or just sharing information that shouldn’t even be spoken aloud. And speaking of information, that’s exactly what I need right now

"Hey, my dear Hector. I need you to do me a favor.” I close the curtain. Of course, before taking a look at that woman’s face. “And please, once again, just call me Johnny. You’ve known me since I was born, and besides, that makes me sound old."

"I’ll take your advice. All right, Johnny, what’s the favor?"

“I want you to do some digging… about a little creature who’s giving me a huge headache.” As I speak on the phone, I can hear the sound of a pen and paper being picked up on the other end of the line.

“A little creature?...Hm, What’s her name?”

“Her name is…” Wait a minute. I didn’t even say she was a girl. “How did you know she was a girl?”

“I know you, Jonathan.” I hear Hector’s low laugh. I give up fighting the fact that he refers to me by my given name; no matter how much I protest, this man’s formality cannot be challenged. Which makes me smile without realizing it.

“I get it, and you’re right. She is, in fact, a girl. And a very pretty one.” I open the curtain again. Expecting to find the same scene as before, I now see that it has changed.

Ária was now standing on the lawn at the HSS house, the girls still surrounding her. But the number of onlookers had increased.Now, there were more than twelve girls surrounding the main star.Unbelievable—how does she manage to attract so many people? It took me almost two years to perfect this game, and how… Never mind. Not now.

“Pretty?” I hear Hector snort. “Young people never change. What’s her name, sir?”

In the middle of that chaos, this Ária V. Garriver was simply dancing. Dancing! I believe it’s what they call Russian ballet, but a scaled-down version of the grand performances. Her feet lift off the ground, returning quickly and forcefully to the floor. Her tail and wings follow her movements, rising and falling in rhythm.Some girls try to imitate her, and even manage to follow the simplest steps. Only to simply fall when Aria begins to spin.

It’s dazzling; unlike what I’ve seen in some performances, Aria thrusts her chest forward, giving her a more curved posture. This highlights her incredible wings, which open with every perfect spin—almost like a ballet turn. Her hands also hang loose, extended at her sides, as does her long tail, which twists and wraps around her slender waist. Only to unfurl, and touch the ground once more. Its full length on full display. Goodness, I loved that tail.

“Jhonatan? Are you still on the line?”

Damn! Damn! Damn!!!

“Sorry, Hector, I… got distracted.” I close the curtain completely. That was dangerous. “You can write down her name… Ária V. Garriver. Former NWC student.”

“Yeah… From NWC? Then she’s definitely not just any girl.” I hear Hector mutter.

That’s right, Hector, my friend, she’s definitely not just any girl.

“Call me when you have more information.” I mutter. Sitting up in bed, I already pull the phone away from my ear.

“Okay, I’ll call as soon as…”

“Hector.”

Oh...Shit.

“Oh… Mr. Worthington.” I hear Hector’s voice. I bring the phone back to my ear, getting up from the bed in the process. Of course he had to hear it, of course he’d be nearby.

“Yeah… Your son, sir,” Hector says quietly. Knowing him, he’s probably looking down, trying as hard as he can to look my father in the eye. I know how he feels; it’s awful being in the same room as him.

“Give me the phone.” I hear my father say, in that tone of voice that means I’m in trouble. Damn it.

My heart is pounding against my chest. I’m not a kid anymore; I’m not seven years old, but just this silence that follows… makes me want to just lower my head and accept the scolding I’m going to get for bothering Hector during his lunch break. Trying to argue with the incredible Jack Worthington is exactly like arguing with a rock. Even arguing with Chet would be more productive.

“Johnny? Why are you calling Hector… at this hour?” Jack mutters into the phone. Not angrily, just indifferently. He’s probably exhausted… as he always is, of course.

“I was just looking for some help...Dad. I’m having a little problem here at the university.” I say in the same tone. That is, neutral.

“Help?” Jack grumbles back. With a snort of indignation, or exhaustion. I can almost see this man, nearly twice my size, thumping his tail on the ground and rubbing his three eyes with his fingertips. “Hector.”

A silent command. The kind that says, “Tell me, right now.” And unfortunately for me, Hector is known for his loyalty; a faithful squire to his tyrannical king.

"They just want some information about a girl named…”

“A girl?” Jack interrupts him again. His voice wasn’t neutral like before, slowly growing more impatient—or just incredulous. “A girl, Johnny!? It’s barely been two weeks since you went back to college… and the first news I hear from you... is that you’re bothering my lawyer over a girl!?”

“She’s not just any girl, Dad!” I reply, stamping my foot on the floor. A terrible habit I’ve had since childhood. “She’s an arrogant girl who disrespects our family and is causing me a huge headache!”

“Why should I care what some girl is saying or not!? Our family is already established as one of the biggest in this city.” The sound of a chair being dragged can be heard in the background, much like the growl Jack had in his voice. “If a mere ant compared to us is bothering you, the problem is you!”

“Is the problem me!? She’s threatening me!” I growl.

"‘Threatening’!? What a stupid word, Johnny.” I can hear the thud of his fist hitting the table. “Now I’m the one who’s annoyed. How on earth could a girl possibly threaten you? Are you going to tell the teacher!? As if you two were kids!?"

“I don’t know… Maybe scratching my horns in public? Throwing cheap vodka at me?” I really didn’t want to have to share this… this… embarrassing situation. I feel like a spoiled brat who tells Daddy everything so he can fix it, but if I want the info on Aria, this will have to do.

“What!?” my Dad shouted.

“See what kind of girl she is now?” I smiled. That would be enough.

“That… is unacceptable. Unbelievable.” I hear him pacing around the office, probably.

“I told you she wasn’t just anyone…” I say in that velvety voice of mine. As I walk over to my window, once again. Ária was still there; she wasn’t dancing, but she was clearly trying to teach some girls in an impromptu dance class.

“Who is she? What family of the lowest scum would have a being of this caliber!?” I hear him growl at the end of the sentence. Oh, he’s furious. And why wouldn’t he be?

For as long as I can remember, he’s always made a point of checking to see if I was taking good care of my horns, as if I hadn’t learned how to do so since I was five.Wash, sand, apply serum to keep them looking good, and finally, polish them with horn polish and let them dry. An extremely tedious thing to do every morning, but it’s worth it. After all, these little beauties here are the ultimate symbol of nobility. Passed down through generations.

“Her name is Aria V. Garriver. It seems the Garrivers have returned to Monstropolis.” I couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle.

“Garriver? ... Impossible. Those... cowards are rotting away". I hear my father’s voice, heavy with disbelief.

“It seems not anymore, since that girl is a Garriver.” I click my tongue. The air feels strange; there’s something... wrong. My father might even be surprised, but that was so rare I can barely count on my fingers the number of times he’s shown surprise. “Dad?”

Silence. Too quiet.

“Dad? Are you listening to me?” I pull the phone away from my ear. The call is normal, and so is the signal.

“Where is she from?” His voice finally comes through again.

“Finally, I thought something had happened.” I joke. And right after, I hear a growl of frustration, and I’d venture to say it’s… not fear, but caution, coming from the phone. Yes, it was definitely caution.

“Jhonatan! What’s her name!?”

“Her name is Aria V. Garriver, Dad.” Before I can add any more information, I hear my dad smash something—either on the floor or the wall; the sound was muffled, but it was clearly the sound of a glass shattering.

“She’s Aria Viktoroava!? She’s from Russia!?”

“I think so, but…” I start to say, before something occurs to me. “…Dad, I never said her name was Viktoroava, let alone that she was from Russia.”

As soon as those words leave my mouth, nothing else is said. My dad falling completely silent, just like that? Out of nowhere? That’s definitely not normal. Very faintly, the only thing I hear on the phone is heavy breathing… from Hector. Definitely, yes, it must be him.

“Johnny.” He calls me. His voice wasn’t angry anymore; it sounded heavy. As if my name weighed a ton just to be said. “Don’t do anything against her.”

“What!? But…”

“No! Don’t even think about talking to that… girl.” Jack growled again. His voice was still heavy. But what does that matter now!? What do you mean I can’t do anything!?

“Dad! I have to do something. What’s so special about her!? Why can’t I…”

“Shut. up!” he exclaimed.

I hate the power his voice alone has over me. That just one command makes me feel like a child again.

I hate it, hate it, hate it, hate it, hate , hate, hate it, hate it. I hate this!

"You won’t lay a finger on that woman. No matter what she does, no matter what she says… Keep your distance, and don’t get involved with those people. And that’s enough." He began breathing heavily again. "I… I don’t want to hear a single word about this again. This discussion ends here."

"Yes…" I sighed. "Yes, sir."

Another moment of silence follows before he hangs up.Why doesn’t he even want me to fight back against this humiliation? This is unbelievable. “I don’t want to hear a single word about it”—why!?

What, who is this girl that, apparently, my Dad knows and doesn’t even want to hear about? She’s just the daughter of a bunch of cowards! My gaze turns to the lawn once more.

Aria was walking away, still being followed by her new group of admirers. Drawing more stares as she swayed her hips out of Frat Row.

Why her… Who is she? There must be a reason my dad doesn’t even want to hear her name again.

He’s already forbidden me from doing so many things: riding a motorcycle because that’s for delinquents; listening to metal rock because it wasn’t appropriate for me; and even eating processed food or anything remotely associated with poor nutrition. But he never forbade me from talking to people. Especially the most intriguing ones, even if they aren’t exactly the best people.

Military personnel? They can protect you from all sides.

The Mafia? Risky. They don’t mix with the true elite; they have their own criminal world. Don’t mess with them, and they won’t mess with you. Businesspeople? It depends.

The big ones can be allies, and great alliances can lead to even greater achievements, which means more recognition, money, and privilege.Meanwhile, the smaller ones are mere stepping stones, easy to manipulate. They never read the fine print or the second page of the contract.

Scary? Even better. You gain information, tips on who has the most potential, and as the heir to a scream factory, that’s worth its weight in gold. Of course, plus a little extra prestige.

The important thing is that I’ve always talked to everyone and been friends with them. So why is she any different? A family of cowards is nothing compared to the Worthingtons, so there’s no reason to keep my distance—especially without retaliation.

I won’t let that Garriver get away with this. No one speaks ill of my family and disrespects me like that. I’ve ruined other people’s lives for less; no matter who she thinks she is, she’ll go down just like everyone else.

“Seriously, Miss Aria! Where did you learn to dance like that?”

I hear Chloe trotting behind me as I smile triumphantly.

“High school—it was a performance, Bluey. But I enjoyed the dance.” I replied.

“At school? That’s awesome! You looked like a princess!” Chloe smiled widely as she walked me out of Frat Row.

It was already two in the afternoon, and today has been quite productive. I spent the entire last hour trying to teach some basic dance steps to a group of girls; they all came to me for the same reason.

They’d all seen what happened at the cafeteria. Curious about who I was, what I was capable of. That never changes; I think it’s a common trait in societies. Despite that, I heard a few more interesting things about the flamboyant "Johnny Worthington III". Who the hell thought a number would make a good name?

This man is truly one of a kind. In every way, but not in personality. I never thought anyone could have so many titles and be known by so many names: The Worthington Heir, Scare’s Number One Student, the hottest guy at this university. And a ladies’ man, too. Those are good titles, but I know a monster with even better ones: my Dad.

The Icy Demon; Steel Teeth; Eyes of Death. So many titles and names that tell stories. I wish I could have that many names one day.

“Stay close to me, Bluey.” I smiled at the succubus as I held her close, using my tail. “So you’ll learn everything.”

Chloe blushed slightly. I don’t know if it’s because she thinks I’m flirting; not that I’m not. Or just out of shyness for being so close to someone she considers important.

“Now… since we’re already far from that little group…” I look back; we’d already moved far enough away from Frat Row. And consequently, from those stares that were burning the back of my neck. I don’t know exactly where they were coming from; which means I’m getting rusty. How embarrassing. “...why don’t you tell me more about yourself? I’m getting tired of just talking about me, Blue.”

“Oh, me!?” The poor girl froze for a moment. Then she began twirling a strand of blue hair with one of her claws. “Well… I’m from Talonstown. It’s just a small neighborhood in the northern part of the city, you know, a really quiet place…”

As I listened to Chloe talk about her little life in the suburbs, I couldn’t help but notice her demeanor.She’s so clumsy, so innocent at first glance; she followed me around all day like a little duckling, tripping over her own feet, addressing me as “Miss.” Just because I’m the daughter of her idol.

Despite that, I noticed a few moments when she relaxes, when she talks about her own story or when she tells me about her dreams.

“... It was really fun; playing in the backyard was always so much fun!” the girl practically beamed. Her memories must be good. “And you, Miss Ária? Do you have good memories of childhood games?”

“I have a few.” I let out a little laugh, diving into the memories of my childhood. “You know, I didn’t have that many friends when I was a kid. So I was content playing with my dad’s coworkers.”

Chloe seemed really interested, which caught my attention. And so, I held her tighter, wrapping my tail firmly around her waist.

“They were nice; they entertained me as best they could. They even built a mini-office for me, imitating my father’s office.”

“A mini office?” The girl in blue looked confused. “That… is interesting. Your dad seems like a nice guy. Oh...And his coworkers too, of course.”

“Yeah, they are,” I say.

My phone started ringing in my jacket pocket; as soon as I pulled it out, both Chloe and I stopped on the sidewalk. “Speaking of him.” I smiled, showing her the screen. The contact name was listed as ‘Dad’ with a happy monster emoji

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” I said before Chloe could answer, and quickly headed toward the nearest building: the business school. It was almost empty at that moment, but I still went around to the back of the square building.

“Hello, Dad!” I smile broadly. It’s been so long since I’ve talked to him.

“Hello, my Доченька! My little snow-flake!” I hear Dad’s voice. Hoarse from smoking, but still as cheerful as could be. His accent was stronger than mine, making his tone sound more aggressive. “How ist the new college going, zefir?”

“It’s going well… Eh, so-so.” I murmur. “But I can tell you later; I’m more curious about the fact that the Icy Demon is speaking English.”

“Oh, don’t... no mention it,” I hear him mutter. With his little slip-ups here and there. Probably grabbing a glass of vodka, since he loves to drink at this hour. “You mom ist giving me a hard time. She say I have to learn this идиотский language. Something about a universal language and blah,blah,blah.”

“Hmm, you know the woman you married.” I say, leaning against the wall behind me. Of course, being careful not to get my wings dirty. “But she’s right. For a man who speaks so many languages, you need to improve your English, old man."

“Don’t call me that! And how do you tell someone to 'Quiet' ? How you young people say?”

“Shut up?”

“Yes, shut up! Oh no, that its too aggressive. Try another one" I hear Dad mutter, as he whispers to himself.

“Pipe down?”

“Better.” I hear old Nordenov grumble. Clearly liking that version better.

Dad and I shared a few laughs. Then we fell silent—a heavy silence, but not an uncomfortable one, perhaps a little sad. That is, until Dad let out a soft “tsk.”

“I miss you, my little snow-flake.”

“I miss you too, Dad. But I’ll still be away for a few months before the holidays.” As soon as I say that. I hear Dad grumble. “Dad… will I still see you during the holidays?”

Old Mr. Nordenov sighed heavily.

“I am not… sure, Доченька” I hear Dad’s leather chair creak under his weight. “You know it ist dangerous. You are safe there; that ist why I enrolled you to stay the whole year.”

“But…”

“No 'but', Lady. It’s for your own good.” I hear Dad’s voice grow even heavier. I can almost feel his pain, even over the phone. “Until I find the person responsible…for the day. You are staying there.”

I wanted to argue. I really did.

But it’s a lost cause; I know that. Dad is flexible; he listens to me and always knows what’s best for me. All the parenting books on the shelves in his office are proof of that; and that’s why, this time, he won’t budge. “I understand, Dad.”

“That’s my girl.”

After a few seconds of silence, old Mr. Nordenov breaks the silence again.“But…it ist not all bad. I sent you a gift.”

“A Gift?”

“Exactly! You are going to love It, Доченька. It’ll arrive in a few days—you will see.” Dad laughed. He was up to something. “But I’m not going to say anything more than that. where be the fun in that? Come on, tell me how things are going at American University. Have class start yet?”

His cheerful, hoarse voice—worn out from fatigue—brings a shy smile to my face.

“No, classes haven’t started yet.” I smiled. As I pulled my pocket watch out from inside my jacket. It was still 2:40 in the afternoon. “And overall, everything’s fine. I’ve made friends with some girls. They’re in a sorority—the popular ones, you know?”

“The popular ones, huh? Company for when you want to spend your allowance at the store.” Dad chuckled softly. Probably tapping his tail lightly on the floor. “And are they pretty?”

“Dad!"

“What? Can I no ask? All right, Ok. I just wanted to know.” The old man pretended to be offended by my tone.

“Yes, they’re pretty. But, no, I’m not interested in any of them.” I rolled my eyes, shifting my phone from one hand to the other

“What a shame. I’d love to have a daughter-in-law or a son-in-law already. You can never make up your mind! You make that old Dad suffer all alone.” I just smiled while this old, cold-hearted devil put on his little show.

“Would it help if I told you I met an interesting girl today?”

“That its better,” Dad admitted without even thinking. “But don’t tell me! I don’t want to suffer in advance… just let me know if you want to ask someone to marry.”

“Thanks, but that’s not going to happen.” I laugh. I’m in the prime of my 22 years—why on earth would I get married now? Oh no, I still want to do so much before I walk down the aisle. “Besides, I’ve met an interesting guy.”

“Another? See? You can’t make up your mind!” Dad grumbled again. “Who is it this time?”

“Johnny Worthington III.” I smiled as I said the arrogant Devil’s name.

Dad fell silent, probably analyzing the name.

“That name ist familiar. I know the Worthingtons—a bunch of wimps. And what’s that word?...”

“Self-centered?”

“That right, good girl.” I hear him drinking from a glass, probably finishing it in one gulp and slamming his glass on the table. “I actually met a few of them a few… years ago. When you were just little ball of fur. I miss those days"

Before I start telling the story of the last few days, I hear a dull thud coming from the phone. Probably from the door to Dad’s office.

“What is it?” I hear Dad growl at someone.

I hear only muffled noises and remain silent, trying to make out what they’re saying.

“Sorry, Доченька. Dad muss to go now.” I hear old Mr. Nordenov get up. “But… before that, I’d like to tell you something: have fun. I know you will be fine.”

I sigh. Unfortunately, duty calls.

“Sure, Dad. Have a good day at work. I’ll be fine.”

“And one more thing… If that Worthington gets on your nerves... take him down.” I can almost see the smile on my father’s face.

“Sure, I’ll remember that.” I smile, baring my fangs to the world. “I love you. And be careful.”

I hear him laugh.

“I love you too, my daughter.” The call ends.

I put the phone back in my pocket, a heavy, warm feeling in my chest. I’ll be okay; I know I will.

“Miss Aria!”

I hear Chloe calling me. I can think about this later; I quickly shake out my hair and straighten up as I step out from behind the building and head toward the girl in blue.

“Hey, Chloe.” I smile, standing next to her again. “Do you mind if I go? I want to tidy up my dorm room a bit.”

“Oh! Oh, no, I don’t mind! I mean, I… why are you asking me!?” seems to panic. That amuses me.

Quickly, I wrap my tail around Chloe’s hips.

“I’ll take that as a yes. See you around, Bluey.” I say lightly. Keeping my face close to the girl’s, but still far enough away to be friendly. But never breaking eye contact with those three beautiful eyes.

Finally, I let go of her and start walking again without looking back.

“See you around…” I hear the blue-haired girl whisper. I’m already too far away to hear.

This day definitely made up for the whole week. And for the next ten days, I want to make the most of this free time before classes start… and when things get interesting.

[macarroncaramel]

Analysis of the Relationship Between Johnny and Jack Worthington

Warnings! : Symptoms of PTSD; gun-related trauma; parenting issues; rejection and fear of touch; absence; references to death and grief; death threats; (AU; non-canonical—don't take me seriously.)

(Johnny, at 3 weeks old. Practicing "Kangaroo Care" so the premature baby could leave the hospital soon.)

I truly believe that the relationship between these two was very close during Johnny’s childhood. Little baby Worthington literally had a small playpen in his father’s office, where he used to sneak into the open drawers and simply take a nap inside.However, things changed shortly thereafter, when Johnny was around two years old. And that’s where my AU comes into play.

Context:

Viktor B. Nordenov is the father of my OC, Ária, who is Johnny’s love interest. As I wrote in this post, Jack’s trauma is entirely connected to this man.

Many years ago, the Garriver family founded and owned the third-largest scream factory in all of Monstropolis, but they were falsely accused and persecuted. This was a scheme orchestrated by the matriarch of the Williams family. (Yes, Carrie Williams’s grandmother.) This may sound confusing, but it will all make sense in the end.

It’s important to note that Ária’s mother is, in fact, a Garriver. And being the good husband that Viktor is, he clearly wasn’t going to let those responsible for persecuting his wife’s family get away with it, especially after the Williams family bought Scream Ins. for such a low market price.

So, in 1962 (given that Monsters University takes place from 1980 to 1982, and Monsters at Work*is set 20 years later, in 2001, Johnny was a senior in 1981, making him 21 or 22 years old, so he was likely born between 1960 and 1959. That gives him a two-year range in this context.)

Viktor travels to America, to the city of Monstropolis, with a single goal in mind: revenge. And, of course, to honor his in-laws’ family. May they rest in peace.

At the time, a veritable industrial revolution was underway in Monstropolis and around the world—much like what has happened over the past 30 years, but condensed into a mere five. In other words, the city was growing rapidly, which led to a rise in crime and a surge in demand for energy. This essentially amounted to a golden age of profit for the Scream Factories. And amid all that chaos, Viktor managed to infiltrate the city with just a few henchmen from his mafia, and once there, he stayed for a mere 16 days—enough time to track down Matriarch Williams. Since I have no further information, I’ll refer to her as Cherry Williams.

Jack ended up getting involved in the situation by a stroke of luck; at the time, he was still the heir to Fear Co. He was handling small contracts and attending meetings on his father’s behalf, all while trying to be a good father to his clingy baby Johnny and his full-time “Daddy’s boy.” Jack was a bundle of nerves, trying to balance business and family during years of major breakthroughs.

Jack was also in charge of confidential deals with Cherry; the two got along well. Jack saw the old lady as a symbol of wisdom and a source of tips and old stories. Cherry even let him bring his son into the conference room, where little Worthington would play with baby Carrie, who was just a few months younger than him. (Of course, he had no idea about the whole scheme to make her the owner of Scream Ins.)

Around the time of Johnny’s third birthday, Jack ended up being followed and taken to Viktor, who proposed a deal to him.

A lot of money, in exchange for Cherry's life.

Normally, Viktor didn’t involve anyone outside his mafia in his plans. But he had reached a dead end. Cherry had used her years as CEO to strengthen her security, and she had bolstered it even further with Carrie’s birth. Combined with the Nordenovs’ lack of influence in the West—far from their territory, which at the time was limited to Russia—Viktor had no choice but to resort to such a desperate measure.

An agreement that Jack obviously rejected.

No amount of money could have convinced him to do such a thing. His father was very busy building up Fear Co. Business was booming, and his son would soon be turning three. Why would he risk it all?

Viktor then changed his strategy.

You know that cliché from movies about the mafia or something like that? The one where they threaten your family? Yeah, that one.

And Viktor was certain that it took a bullet to kill a 3-year-old boy. Sorry, almost 3 years old.

It was an affront, a clear threat—Jack couldn’t believe anyone would stoop to that level. And the matter-of-fact way Viktor spoke when he simply threatened to kill his son was too much; it was too much to comprehend.

At the AU, Johnny was a premature baby; he was born far too small. He was so weak he barely survived, and that’s one of the reasons Jack is so careful with his son. Because no matter how much that little baby annoyed him and drove him to the brink of pulling his hair out, he still saw that baby struggling to breathe. He still saw that tiny, hairless little creature clutching his finger. As he struggled to stay alive in that hospital crib.

So Jack accepted the deal.

Trauma:

It was quick; he slipped a mixture of thallium and lead into Cherry’s afternoon tea. The Matriarch died just a few days later; the doctors examined her, and the autopsy concluded it was lead poisoning.Since they were in the midst of an industrial revolution, and it hadn’t been that long since the Williams family had joined the elite, the mansion where they lived had been built in a hurry. This resulted in lead-based plumbing, and since Cherry was the oldest in the family, the autopsy was accepted by both the family and the media.

Back to Jack and Viktor, the two met once again. This time, however, Viktor didn’t want to leave any loose ends. He cornered Jack, who was holding Johnny in his arms, and led them into an alley.Both father and son only survived that day because Aria, who had just turned two at the time, became strangely attached to Johnny. Even though she herself didn’t understand why.

(Actually, she did know. Johnny had longer, softer fur when he was younger, and little Ária had a bit of a crush on him because of that. Later, she asked for a stuffed animal with the same fur color as Johnny’s, because she liked the color.)

Consequences:

Of course, an experience like that had a profound impact on Jack. And things started to fall apart from there.

The constant nightmares and memories of Cherry’s funeral were robbing his sleep. And the worst part was that he couldn’t share his anguish with anyone else. His family wouldn’t accept a murderer, much less the media; his name would be dragged through the mud, and he would drag everyone down with him.

Over the years, Jack’s overprotectiveness toward Johnny was one of the reasons the boy felt trapped and belittled from childhood onward. Despite this, Jack was still a present father and spent quality time with his little boy, though never engaging in physical activities. As for sports, Johnny never played baseball or softball with his father; he always played with coaches and friends from his private school.

To Jack, that was the right thing to do. His hands were dirty—stained with Cherry’s blood. How could he play with his son using those hands? Those hands and claws coated in poison? With heavy metal that could hurt his boy?

It turned out that Jack’s trauma had become so deep-seated that any mention of the mafia, firearms, or anything that even remotely reminded him of Viktor was enough to trigger a breakdown disguised as fatigue.

(And considering that the story takes place between 1962 and 1982, can I assume there was a sort of Cold War? Or perhaps just a rivalry between America and Russia in the monster universe—but not like it was in the human world.)

He still had nightmares about those drooping, golden eyes, and how he looked at them as if they were mere animals being led to the slaughter. As if they were nothing.He lost sleep wondering if that Russian would return to finish what he had started; he wasn’t a very religious man, but he prayed to God that he wouldn’t.

All that distance, the lack of physical contact, led Johnny to recognize his father by his presence—by the sound of his hooves on the floor, by the scent of expensive cologne and rotten wood, a scent few monsters possessed. During his childhood, Johnny would sneak into his Father’s office, and just like when he was little, he would hide in the largest drawers and just doze off. That was until he grew too big to fit in the drawers, and he settled for sleeping on the sofa near the window.

This went on until Johnny was 13, when his grandfather passed away from a heart attack. And what was already bad got even worse.

Anyone who spends time with 13-year-olds knows how complicated this stage can be. (I have a sister that age, so I know what I’m talking about.)

Johnny went through a rebellious phase around that time. This only added to his father’s headaches, as he had just been promoted to CEO of Fear Co.

What used to be a simple distance between them turned into arguments and fights. Johnny wanted more freedom in every way—the classic teenager. Why did he get an allowance if he couldn’t buy a motorcycle? Why couldn’t he play those violent video games? Why couldn’t he go skydiving!? So what if he was still too young for that?

Basically, Johnny was kept in a bubble.

No matter how hard Jack tried, he couldn’t look at that boy and accept that he was growing up. Where did that chubby little ball of purple fur go? When did it get replaced by this teenager who won’t listen to him? He’s just trying to protect him.

But Johnny Worthington III wasn’t going to give in easily. His rebellious streak was a secret—whether he was wearing spiked bracelets when Dad wasn’t looking, or skipping etiquette class when the old teacher was asleep.

(Based on the music video for “Marmalade” (feat. Lil Yachty)Macklemore.)

(Johnny has definitely thrown secret parties in his room or at some party house, using Jack’s money. Since Jack checked Johnny’s account to make sure he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but was too busy to check his own account.)

Years later, when Johnny was already 18, Jack worked overtime on the day Johnny left home. He spent an hour crying in his office, fighting the urge to call his son, and cried for another hour alone when he got home and found Johnny’s old room empty.

Well, "Jhonatan III", didn't make a point of visiting his father before leaving for MU either. He just packed his things into boxes, said goodbye to his mother, and left the mansion as quickly as possible.

Their relationship basically boils down to phone calls and nagging. Jack just wants his son to stay safe, stay out of trouble, and eat right. And of course, he always has to come first—he is a Worthington, after all.

Johnny, on the other hand, is enjoying his freedom. He spent years in a cage, without knowing why, and now he’s going to savor every second. During Johnny's first three years of MU, everything went "well"—until he reached his fourth and final year.

At AU, it’s very likely that Johnny will never find out what happened. His dad would never tell him, and his father-in-law, Viktor, believes that certain things should stay in the past. And so Jack finds out about Johnny and Aria’s relationship—a serious, romantic relationship between his son and that monster’s daughter. He’ll panic; she’s dangerous, and so is her father. Jack’s trauma makes him completely disapprove of the relationship.

In fact, he didn't attend Johnny's graduation and wedding because of that.

On the other hand, Viktor took it very well. Even though he’s a great father to his daughter, old man Nordenov always wanted a son. Or a son-in-law, or a daughter-in-law—he doesn’t mind—but he needed someone to keep an eye on his daughter when he was no longer around. And Johnny was the solution; they get along great, and he even makes his little girl happy. What could be better? He almost feels bad for nearly killing that boy.

Basically, the relationship between the two heirs was the last straw for Jack’s sanity. He couldn’t stay in the same room as Viktor without being reminded of the sleepless nights and nightmares, and as time went on, Johnny ended up drifting even further away from his father. Since everything related to the heir of Fear Co. had something that reminded him of his wife—which reminded him of her father—and triggered old Jack’s triggers. Whether it was the cologne Johnny started wearing, or the wedding ring.

As for Fear Co., it’s canon that Johnny never reached his full potential as a scarer after college, since he was too busy learning how to run the company. In the AU, things play out a little differently.

Johnny felt rejected, and the lack of information, combined with the freedom of being away from his father’s shadow, led him to seize the opportunity to become a master of Scare and learn from his father-in-law how to run a business. (Without the downsides of Vik’s second job.)This led our dear Worthington to view Viktor as a mentor, though they were more like business partners or just friends.

Despite this, Johnny and Jack didn’t reconcile until years later. With the help of other family members—some of whom weren’t even born yet.

Basically, both went through a grieving process over Shirley Worthington (a woman about whom there is almost no official information, and I’m still forming an opinion about). She didn’t get very involved in her husband and son’s relationship because she was so absent. Despite her death, it was the first step for father and son to try to reconnect.

(And for Jack to finally start therapy.)

That was me trying to write and explain this post. (It probably won't even be seen, so... Okay) :3s

I’m really proud of my drawings and animations. Mainly because I’ve realized I’m gradually improving, and even more so since this is my first time using Alight Motion.

Thank you for taking a few minutes to read this post.

[supermassiveautomaton]

Vee comes over on occasion to the Worthington estate for sleepovers and playdates with Johnny, given that Marsh Meadows is underwater, so Johnny can't really come over to play (it's also easier on his parents' schedule). Jack watching them often leads to the kids poking around and unintentionally roasting Jack. This is one of the rare times Johnny gets to really be a kid with his dad, not that Jack doesn't love him, but he's not the most playful dad in the world. Jack, I headcanon, lost the other half of his tusk in a spelunking accident when he was first exploring the subterranean caves in the construction of Fear. Co. That should've been the first sign that Fear Co. would drive him to the ground, but he thought nothing of the incident. Jack was batchmates with Derek, I like to think! Derek was part of JOX, (his color scheme and him announcing for the football game in MaW gave me the idea) but had a penchant for DJ'ing, which was very new in the 1940's. Jack found Derek hilarious. He respects Derek, of course! But Jack has to admit he looked forward to any party where Derek made an appearance. Bonus: Here's that picture of Young Professor Knight:

[macarroncaramel]

I’ve always been curious about the other universities in the Monsters Inc. universe.

That’s why I created my own university: “North Whistle College” or NWC.

I created NWC to be a worthy rival to MU (I’m a bit obsessed with the idea of rivals and opposing sides), and I’ll be using it a lot in my AU and spin-off stories.

North Whistle College was founded a few years after MU; its founder is practically... unknown. Since many important documents from that era were lost in a fire many years ago, theories about who founded NWC are still being debated.

NWC was built in a valley, in a remote region surrounded by pine and conifer forests, mountains, snow, and a large river with crystal-clear, icy waters that flowed through the valley. The valley is located between the Klaueberg Mountains in Germany (Claw Mountain) and the Montagne de la Veuve (Widow’s Mountain) in France. In other words, the university is situated on the border between the two countries.

And since it’s made of massive stone and marble blocks and bricks, cold weather and low temperatures are very common. However, the university has been renovated, so now the interior is warmer and more comfortable—perhaps even more charming. Featuring long hallways, blue carpeted floors, tentacle-shaped chandeliers, portraits of alumni, and various statues scattered throughout. As for other structures, only the School of Scaring is partially built inside the mountain.

What about prestige? Well, NCW is, well... elitist. Although MU is more famous, NCW is known for being more expensive but more comprehensive.

In other words, students from all over Europe, Asia, Oceania, and Africa are at NWC. Of course, there are also many scholarship students and academic stars, who are viewed with a certain degree of respect simply for being there.

It offers a wider variety of courses and higher difficulty levels; however, unlike MU, this university knows exactly how to “deal with the rich,” so accidents, inflated grades, and even... disappearances are commonplace.But don’t worry, if you just want to study and not get involved in those matters, just relax. Because the one in charge at this university is a Just Monster, and she’ll be nice to you—if you’re nice to her, of course.

If MU had RΩR, the cream of the crop, NWC had TAR (Terror Alpha Rex). Not just the cream of the crop—they were the dangerous ones. TAR was created to be a refuge for students with violent tendencies, the hopeless, or the lost causes. But over time, TAR became the symbol of one thing: Power.

Not just the outcasts, but the children of military personnel; mobsters; prisoners; those who had the strength to withstand everything the world threw at them. (And of course, they were also very good.)

For example, over the past three years, the TAR has been shaped by this group. (In chronological order, according to the AU)

Its President, the infamous Ária V. Garriver, the big star from Moscow.

She’s the best, and she knows it. Her boys are her soldiers, and they’ll obey her every command. Whether it’s getting rid of a rival or just carrying her groceries. She isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty; her father taught her how to play dirty behind the scenes, while her mother taught her to play the Elite’s game of smiles. And that’s what took her to the top. (She’s my main OC, so I have a lot to write about her.)

Her right-hand man, Oliver Brandock. Always by her side, but not in a romantic way—make no mistake, because he plays for the other team. Oliver and Aria have been friends since childhood, so much so that Oliver was practically raised to serve Aria, at the behest of her father, who was also Oliver’s father’s boss.

Mark Kenat, this explosive dinosaur monster and ice hockey player, is the muscle-bound beast of TAR. But he’s fun when he’s in a bad mood.

Eleanor Sajraw is just a cute little face at first glance. What else could a slime-covered Naga monster possibly have? Well, maybe two mouths. Or the ability to say the most absurd things while keeping that cute little smile?

Luter S. Crowley is the wildest of the bunch. (And one of the scariest, too.) Since this venomous monster didn’t get the memo that there are monsters on the same level as him, you’re either strong enough to be above him in the food chain, or you’re below him and become prey. (Especially crabs.)

As for Ben Connor Jr... He's just Ben Connor Jr. Or just Ben to his friends. He doesn't seem to be doing too well, so please don't bring up any conspiracy theories about him! The guy's already crazy enough as it is.

And here’s a little bonus from the story I’m currently writing: “Dysnathy of Predators” — TAR and RΩR are bound to cross paths sooner or later. Maybe at the Scare Games, if someone manages to set up a direct showdown between the two universities.

Right now, that's all I'm thinking about regarding North Whistle College. (Although I already have outlines for more fraternities and sororities, documents, and events.)

Well, I hope it’s at least decent. Depending on how this post goes, I’ll post more details and information about this first AU I’ve created.

Seriously, I really need to stop drawing in the wee hours of the morning—it’s killing me. But let’s keep going because time is running out and my social life is falling by the wayside.

[macarroncaramel]

Dysnathy of predators

°Word count: 6,832

°Johnny Worthington/ F! OC.

° Masterlist

Chapter II. Shades of Blue.

Chapter I. Chapter III.

Waking up was a shock.

I wasn’t in my bed, I wasn’t in my room—the room I’d called home for almost three years.

I yawn, stretching. My wings spread out and almost touch the wall, while my tail still lies draped over the blankets. Just like my pajamas, the headband holding my hair back was golden in color. One of my favorite colors.The clock reads exactly 8:10 a.m.—my usual time.

There are 10 days left until classes start. Ever since the incident with that purple demon the day before yesterday, I’ve been avoiding leaving my room. Just yesterday, I spent the whole day suffering from a hangover and organizing my books in alphabetical order. And the other days, I must say, were spent taking nighttime strolls through the sky.What a shame, what a fiasco. I spent almost a week without much contact with other monsters—that’s not like me at all.Well, at least I managed to spend a few more hours with the PNKS. Who would have thought that a day at the spa could be so tiring when you don’t have servants.

Summoning the courage to get up, I head straight to my bathroom. I hang my robe on the hook and step into the shower.The cold water shook off the last of the sleep I had left; water like that, ice-cold in the morning, was always welcome.

The shower cap protected my hair, so I contented myself with washing the fur on my legs and chest. Those were difficult parts to clean; thick fur that naturally repelled the water and soap I tried to use.My scales were easier, in theory. It’s one thing to wash the scales on your belly, and quite another to scrub the scales on your wings and tail.

It might have taken me nearly half an hour just to wash myself thoroughly and perfectly.Add that to the hour I spent just to keep my fur and hair perfectly wavy and curly. I don’t usually wear much makeup, but why not some mascara? And eyeliner.

My eyes have always been striking. At least that’s what everyone says. My eyes are droopy, which naturally gives me a serious or bored expression most of the time. Meanwhile, my eyes are golden and, in my opinion, almost metallic.

My phone starts ringing; that familiar ringtone that gives me chills. Because I know exactly who’s calling.

Setting down my makeup brush, I grab my phone and put it on speaker, still finishing up the shading on my eyelid.

“Good morning, my perfect daughter.” My mother’s syrupy voice is the first thing I hear

“Good morning, Mom” I say cautiously.Mom has always been so unpredictable… and I know that tone of voice well. She wasn’t in the best mood today. “How are things at home? Are you and Dad okay with me being away?”

“Oh, don’t say that, dear. Anyway, your father can’t sleep.” Her voice was heavy. If Dad wasn’t sleeping, neither was she. “It’s one thing for you to be on the other side of town, studying close to us. Under our protection. It’s another thing for you to be in another hemisphere, dear.”

I keep my makeup brush in my makeup bag. Protection. Of course—protection is so effective that now I have to stay at this university and start my social climb all over again from scratch.

"Tell him I’m fine. I’ve only been here three days; he’ll still have to put up with me for a few more months…" I sigh, looking at myself in the mirror. I hear Mom grumbling on the other end of the line. Silence settles in for a few seconds.

“And you’re smiling, aren’t you? You’re still my cheerful, smiling girl.” Mom almost purrs the words.

I swallow hard. Her voice still makes me uncomfortable.

“Of course, Mom… I’ve made friends with a sorority called ‘PNK.’ Athletic, popular girls. They might come in handy.” I choose my words carefully. I really liked the girls, especially Britney and Carrie. But I know that Matriarch Garriver isn’t really interested in that.

“Well, really.” Mom paused on the phone, then came back with her voice as light as a feather. “A Garriver always smiles, dear; don’t let your father’s genes get to you. You’re in America now, not in that frozen backwater anymore. It’s the perfect opportunity!”

I hear the sound of a bottle opening, the pop of a cork—probably from an Italian wine. “You’ve already made it into the best university in that godforsaken place. It’ll be easier in America; you’ll see.”

As I get up from my makeshift dressing table, I bite my lower lip, holding back my words. I wanted to argue; to scream or growl. That “godforsaken” was my home! Where I was born, where I grew up.

“I’m climbing to the top again. I already have plans here, Mama.” Keep your voice steady, Ária. Keep your voice steady!Damn it!

“Plans? That’s my perfect little girl.” I can almost hear her smile. With her short fangs grinding every time she smiles. “I’ll call you again in a few months. You know Mom’s schedule is never free. But I’ll still want to know about your grades, and how your reputation is holding up.”

I remain silent. Opening my little jewelry box—I used to have a bigger one.

“You have to be the best, Daughter. The best will always be respected. You know how this game works…” I hear Mom flip her phone, probably from one hand to the other. “Be the best, be feared. Be a Garriver. And have fun—you’ll be back home soon enough.”

She hung up.

No goodbye—it’s better this way. My mother, the Garriver Matriarch. A truly powerful woman. I remember accompanying her to meetings with bigwigs, back when she still braided my hair and told me old stories—from my grandmother all the way back to my great-great-grandmother. About how incredible those women were, how they struck fear into people’s hearts just by their last name: Garriver.

And I loved it.While Mom crushed the egos of those suits! I drank grape juice from a plastic cup. Courtesy of Dad. And why wouldn’t I love it? They feared her. They respected her. But at the first opportunity, they would betray her. Because fear is just a form of control. A form with a set date and time to end, because at the slightest sign of weakness, they notice and are drawn like flies to freshly slaughtered carcasses.

I toss my phone onto the bed. I turn my attention to my jewelry box and finally choose a delicate gold necklace, almost a choker. It has a snake-shaped pendant forming a “G.”

Today, my plan is to significantly expand my social circle. Sticking to just one person won’t help me at all around here, at least for now.Being friends with the “popular” crowd will keep me close to those who are technically at the top of this food chain. On the other hand, it will distance me from the rest of the monsters below. And that’s the problem.

As I pick out an outfit to wear, making a mess of part of my wardrobe in the process, I start mapping out my next steps.The love and affection of many monsters are directed toward various beings around them. Idols, for the most part. And people take a strange pleasure in siding with the weaker party. Compassion is something that can change a life; it can transform careers. And it can be a weapon for success.

If I always stay on the more powerful side of the scale, I’ll become unreachable to others. However, if my social circle is open enough… the balance shifts.

“No frizz, and not a single curl out of place…” I hum as I give my hair one last touch-up. Today, I’ll wear an outfit that’s more typical of me. A beige leather jacket; the choker matches the color of my eyes, as do the long, thin chains that adorn my hips—delicate… Just like my beautiful fangs.

I grab my phone and slip it into my jacket pocket. I glance at the pile of flyers scattered across my desk: events, dates, courses, clubs, and more college nonsense. I pick up a few I’d marked to look over—mostly clubs and small events that don’t take up more than five hours a week. The intensive course is going to take up a lot of my time. Almost 4–5 hours of class a day, except on Fridays and Thursdays, when I only have 3 hours.

And the rest of the day? In the afternoons, during the year I’ll be here, almost 3 hours a day for the advanced modeling course. What a load of nonsense.

So I definitely won’t have any free time for other extracurricular activities, except for sports or the gym.

I actually found something really good. One more free hour for extracurricular activities than at my old university. But enough thinking, I have to take action.

Finally, I step out and lock the door to my dorm room. To be honest, I haven’t the faintest idea where to go. But I’m sure that wherever I go, there’ll be plenty of monsters.

The last few days have been hectic, as new and returning students are coming back to the University for the next term. And everything seems more alive; the leaves are brighter and the streets are filled with chatter and laughter. Whilst everyone walks about with boxes, books and dreams on their minds. I can’t wait for classes to start

That’s when all this joy comes to an end. Especially for the toughest courses. Little by little, these freshers will discover how different this place is from secondary school. And it’ll be amazing to see that again.

Their faces when they realise this are priceless, you know that? That look of disappointment and frustration? When they realise that to be a good Scarer, it’s not enough just to know a few tricks? That you have to memorise every tiny angle for every Scare and every variation?

It’s going to be epic.

I spread my wings after a while of thinking about what to do, taking flight with ease. As I circle the nearby buildings, like the dormitory wing, and speed towards the troll bridge. And as I fly over the cold river, something catches my eye: “Le Cri café” Cute name. But not at all creative. Even in French, “The Scream Café” is already a well-worn name.

Pushing my thoughts aside, I stepped lightly in front of the café. The place was in the same building as the liberal arts and monstrosities courses, but to me it looked like a record store.

It had wooden pillars spray-painted green with cheap paint, and a chalkboard sign reading “Open” on the glass door.

The clinking sound that announced my entrance caused the waiter’s three pairs of eyes to quickly turn toward me.

“Welcome, miss. Would you like a table?” the slug of a waiter asked me while already

“Oh, hey, sweetheart. I’d like a… Fangccino. With extra worms.” I say, approaching the counter. Keeping my best and sharpest smile.

The little slug fumbles as he writes down my order. While avoiding eye contact, I wonder why. “And a snake sandwich. To go.”

As the slug quickly jotted it down and slithered into the kitchen. I tapped one of my claws lightly on the counter, content to observe the café’s surroundings.

Not as big as the old cafés at my beloved University. At least, it wasn’t exactly small. A comfortable, rectangular entrance with patched-up beanbags and a round table near the window, followed by a small staircase leading to the rest of the café, which extended in an “L” shape. The atmosphere was cozy, dark brown with recyclable yellow lamps. The café was clearly an art project, relying solely on references to famous painters that I noticed. Like Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry Night painted across the entire length of the right wall, or a chalk drawing of a replica of “The Scream” behind the counter.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when the slug returns with my order. I pay by simply tossing a bill on the counter and giving the waiter a classic wink. He was cute—how could I resist?

I don’t stick around long enough to see his reaction to that $100 bill I tossed on the table. Just that confused, flushed little face was enough.

As soon as I leave the café, I’m content to stroll down the main street. I’m not going to risk flying with a drink in my hand—I might even draw while I fly. But…drinks are already complicated. I think I’ve spilled juice and beer while flying more times than I could count on my claws. So, meh, I’m not going to risk it.

“Sorry! Sorry! My bad!”

It’s someone approaching from behind. Probably a woman, and here we go again.As soon as I felt the swift wind pass by my side, my tail was quick to swing to the side. And it made the little monster stumble. But she didn’t fall to the floor—I’m not that bad—I caught her before she did, trying to keep my balance with the Fangccino in my other hand.

“Sorry, I was distracted” I say, looking at the girl who almost fell at my feet.

And she vaguely reminds me of Carrie and the girls from PNK. A succubus, though this was a slightly different variation—blue instead of pink. With short, curved horns that resembled smaller versions of mine. The fur on her ankles was short and ended well before her knees, which was to be expected from a traditional succubus monster. Straight hair, though longer than Carrie’s, tied into two hastily made braids, and she was wearing a wrinkled UM uniform, and even from a distance, I can see the dark circles under her eyes. And is that a tomato sauce stain on the collar of her shirt? She’s actually a pretty cute variation, but she clearly wasn’t ready to leave the dorm.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I help her up. I can tell from her downcast gaze that she’s embarrassed.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. I’m just late for class. Oh my God, class!” The girl holds her breath again, already turning to run. But I grab her just in time.

“Calm down, classes don’t start for another 10 days, sweetie. Why the panic?”

“10 days!?” the girl exclaimed in disbelief. Her cry of disbelief draws many confused and curious stares, all of them staring at us. I try to ignore them, though it’s hard because this girl looks like she’s about to have a meltdown in broad daylight.

I decide to pull the girl away, using my tail to grab her by the waist and drag her to a more secluded area. Basically a few meters away from the center of the courtyard, while she’s still complaining.

“Okay, Sweetie. What’s all this fuss about?” I cross my arms. Waiting for the girl, who was now hysterical, to calm down, but she quickly began to explain everything in a rush.

“My phone’s wrong! I saw the wrong date! My phone told me it was 9 o’clock, and I thought classes started today! I was late—I thought I was late, Yeah. I didn’t even do my hair! And now here I am.” Chloe exclaimed nervously, stammering.

“That really is a comically awkward situation. It’s okay, these things happen" I say as casually as possible. I almost feel sorry for her. If this had happened to one of my old frat brothers, I probably would have laughed at such a lack of planning. "The important thing is that classes don’t start for another 10 days. You can relax."

"Yeah, yeah. Thank goodness" the girl sighs, exhausted. It seems she’s finally calmed down. “Thanks, and by the way, I’m Chloe Bailey… What’s your name?”

“Ária V. Garriver. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chloe.” I say, flashing my fangs. But as soon as I introduce myself, I catch a hint of recognition in the blue-eyed girl’s eyes. Could that be…

“Garriver? Like Charlotte Garriver?” Chloe asks me, almost out of breath. I don’t know if it’s disbelief or anxiety.

It’s okay, it’s okay. I didn’t expect that. Mom was well-known, yes, a top model. But she works in a very specialized field. She’s rarely recognized on the streets, much less by people outside of Europe.

“Exactly.” I smile slowly, waiting for Chloe’s reaction. I’ve never met anyone who recognized my last name like that so easily, so quickly. Not even the PNKs, those popular, fashion-forward girls, recognized it right away. Not even Taylor, who, from the little I’ve talked to her, really knows her way around fashion.

"Seriously!? You’re her daughter!? She’s one of my favorites!" Chloe practically jumps on me, grabbing my shoulders.

“Hey, hey. Calm down.” This girl is fun. And I can’t stop smiling; she’s like a… Golden Retriever. Well, if one of those dogs had anxiety. “Yeah, yeah. She’s my mom. It’s amazing that you know her; she’s not exactly a supermodel.”

"Yeah! I know! That’s why she’s so amazing! That hair and that long tail… " Chloe was practically gushing. Her eyes were sparkling, as if she saw stars around my head. This is going to be useful. Now that’s something to cheer me up.

I take one last sip of my now-cold Fangccino and toss it over my shoulder. Straight into the trash can.

“You know, not even the PNKs realized who I was that easily. You really are a fan of my mom” I remarked.

As soon as I mention the pink-haired girls, I see as if Chloe’s enchantment has been shattered. Her gaze drops, and her voice is almost a whisper.

“Are you friends with them?”

“I chatted with them for a bit...” I say, watching the girl’s reaction. “Why? Do you have a beef with them?”

"What!? No, no! I just…" Chloe goes into shock once again. "I just don’t… fit in… with them. You know? I tried to join the PNKs, but I couldn’t… And you know, we hold a little g-grudge."

I see. That explains her reaction, though I think there’s more to this story. Chloe’s reaction when I mentioned the PNKs was more than just resentment over being rejected. It was more personal. I’ll ask Britney about it, since Carrie is more tight-lipped about PNK-related matters.

“I totally get it, sweetie.” I smile. Patting the blue-haired girl on the shoulder helped her relax again. “Hey, why don’t you come with me for a walk? I’m curious about you.”

I turn on my heels, heading back toward the main courtyard.

“Really!? Oh, sure. Why not?”

Chloe follows me, just like a little puppy. Almost tripping over her own feet.For now, I can’t confirm my first impressions of her, only that she seems more open than the girls from PNK. She has that clumsy, cheerful gait, a small, gentle smile, and her eyes are always wide open. Round like three perfect circles with long lashes.

“I can’t believe I’m walking right next to my idol’s daughter! This is amazing!” Chloe murmured. Loud enough for me to hear, but quiet enough not to draw attention like before. Even though there are still plenty of Monsters staring at us out of the corner of their eyes. Something isn’t right.

“Believe it or not. So, what’s your major?” I try to ignore the stares. I’ve definitely gotten rusty. I used to pose for magazines in my hometown, and be in the spotlight. With literally the best cameras on the European market focused on me. And now I can’t even handle a few pairs of eyes on me? How embarrassing, Aria.

"Photography. I want to work for those fancy fashion magazines one day. Like Growl Girls, or Vogue, Marie Claire, even the amazing Glamour and Scary!" Chloe listed them on her fingers.

What a coincidence.While Chloe talked nonstop about her photography major, I try to observe her posture more closely. Her posture is relaxed, but she still tries to maintain a certain grace. She’s actually… really pretty. But it’s clear to me why the PNKs rejected her. Chloe is a very different kind of succubus from the PNKs; her opposite color and small horns don’t really help. Though there might be other reasons.

Monsters of the succubus class typically share several characteristics: more curvaceous bodies, scales covering most of their bodies, and hair on their hips, wrists, and shins; flat heads with long necks. And, of course, those alluring three eyes. Currently, one of the most attractive features in the world of monsters.

In such a diverse world… It’s intriguing to think that some traits are more attractive than others. The three eyes… so common; yet so sought after. Tails aren’t rare, but long and thick ones? Hard to find. Usually, they tend to be medium-sized, small, triangular, and scaly, with a few spikes. Oh, how grateful I am to my Father for my lovely tail—almost like a third arm, and on top of that, so attractive.

I look away from Chloe for a second and glance at the big clock. Almost lunchtime. Time flies when someone is talking nonstop.

Continuing with my inner monologue.Horns are also pretty… hot. Especially on guys. Big, tall, the kind that cast shadows on the ground—a symbol of nobility. Horns on women are appreciated too; I don’t really mind either way. Even though my own horns are perfectly filed down and matte. Chloe’s small, curved horns are… cute. Small, dark, and thick—a pair that really suits her face. They complement her dark blue hair.

And as I think about that, Chloe is still chattering away, taking little hops with every step. Well, I see no reason not to tag along with this Golden Retriever.

“Chloe, want to have lunch with me?”

After walking for a while, we ended up stopping at a diner. Right behind the School of Scream can design. It was simple, actually, mimicking a ’50s style. The whole package.

Red upholstery, metal tables, neon lights, and a diverse menu covering breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Plus an entire menu dedicated solely to milkshakes and homemade ice cream. Now, why would they sell quesadillas in a 1950s-style restaurant? That doesn’t even make sense.

“No… Really?” I mutter as I wipe my mouth.

“Yeah, yeah! It was really weird! Everyone was making fun of the EOP guys. But then again, it was his fault! Nobody told them to pull a prank on that level with the teachers” Chloe grumbled as she finished swallowing her quesadilla.

“So remind me never to pick on the teachers like that. I don’t want to be the next one to be publicly humiliated by a geology professor" I say as I grab another piece of the delicious fried tarantulas. Dipping the arachnid into the herb sauce—sour yogurt and chili peppers. And biting into it, with the perfect crunch and that wonderful burning sensation from the chili peppers.

Goodness, I was really hungry. And I hadn’t even noticed.

“I’ll keep that in mind. The guys from EOP will definitely remember.” The blue-haired girl laughed as she licked the cheese off her fingertips. “And speaking of fraternities… Ária, have you ever been part of a fraternity or sorority? Like, the PNKs?”

Oh shit.

Chloe looks at me with a certain sense of anticipation. I can’t tell what answer she’s expecting.

“I was. They were the best at my old university, good guys…” I smile. I hope that’s enough—please, don’t ask me anything else about it. Please, Chloe!

“And are they scary? What were they like?” The blue-haired girl smiled so eagerly and joyfully it almost made me feel bad. Damn it.

“Well, they were…” Hurry up, Aria! I know you don’t even want to think about Oliver, Mark… They’re far away. They’re better off without you. They’re safe without you!

Before I can form a coherent sentence. I hear the doorbell ring, followed by the echo of male voices. In fact, two of them were familiar to me. However, since I have my back to the front door, I don’t see the group right away. In front of me, I see Chloe following them with her gaze, still looking down, as if she were trying to hide. I finally decide to look at the new arrivals, and lo and behold, I was right.

Using one of my hands for support, I watch the group enter the diner and head to a table further away. But still within my line of sight.They’re clearly fraternity members—their sweaters, or even just a cap; they’re red with gold trim. And the lettering is unmistakable: RΩR.

While Chloe remained silent, watching the group sit down as they laughed like the rowdy young adults they were, I also took this time to observe the members of the prestigious fraternity I’d heard so much about. Something interesting was the way the atmosphere changed the moment they walked in. Not like ticking time bombs, but as if true gods were among us. Even the barista and the waiter seemed to hide, fleeing to the kitchen. Leaving a waitress, clearly a freshman in her first job, all alone. Little poor thing.

“Who are they?” I ask Chloe as I move on to the next monster, the one next to the insect.

“They’re from RΩR; they don’t usually come here…” Chloe whispered, Of course, my dear, I know that. I want to know their names! still keeping her eyes on the table in the back.

I muttered a reply. My attention was already on the bear-class monster, with opaque, pastel-wine-colored scales and large, darker patches here and there. From a distance, this is the most common member. With short horns on the sides of its head, and a slightly thicker one on its nose. I don’t see anything really special about this particular guy, maybe it’s his fangs; almost like a snake’s. Which can only be seen when he opens his mouth.

My gaze then shifts to the next monster.

Almost like a literal beast. It was a monster of the Circulus Oris Magni class. I know, a very long name. The more popular name is just the “Great Circle” class. Basically, large monsters with a circular body. This one in particular has small scales in a moss-green hue. With a few strands of bristly, stiff hair on its head. Irregular, yellow teeth, probably with some decay. And drool—lots of drool. It reminds me of a Bulldog.Its eyes are taking everything in, as if it were the first time it had ever been in a restaurant.

Chloe seemed to snap out of her trance. She shook her head and quickly looked away from the table. Her fingers tapped rapidly on the tabletop.

"Senhorita Aria, não fique olhando tanto!" sussurrou a garota de azul. O que me fez perder a concentração. "Principalmente para o Johnny. Desde que uma maluca jogou vodca no suéter dele, ele está de muito mau humor."

Que coincidência².

“A crazy woman?” I try not to smile. Yeah, sure, a crazy woman. A few days ago, I really hadn’t thought about it. So that arrogant jerk was Johnny Worthington. That explains a lot.

"Exactly! You’d have to be crazy to throw vodka on Johnny. And everyone’s talking about it. But no one really knows the girl’s name… Since the only thing Johnny kept complaining about was the ‘hot ass’ she had." Chloe told me almost as a secret.

"At least he has good taste." It’s the only thing I can say. Chloe gives me a confused look. But I ignore it; my attention is on that purple monster I’ve now discovered is Johnny himself.

Actually, he looks exactly as I remember him from that night. Although he seems less irritated now, the sunlight streaming through the windows gives me a clear view.

He really is a little bigger than I initially thought he was, and his fur is also lighter. A dark, opaque bluish-gray, with obvious liters of gel and conditioner in every strand. At least it must be soft. The eyes are striking, almond-shaped, and a vibrant shade of purple. The fangs, and the horns, particularly catch my attention. The fangs protrude from his mouth, almost resembling a rustic version of the perfection already present in my own fangs. The horns are also lighter, still bearing the marks of my claws. Which makes me let out a low chuckle—how pathetic. He didn’t even bother to try to hide it.

“Please, Miss Ária, don’t look at them!” Chloe tries to pull me aside, as if she fears for my life. But I still hold my ground, while the RΩR start placing their orders with the waitress, who is clearly trembling and whose cheeks are redder than usual. But then again, with those horns.... “Stop staring at his horns! That’s so vulgar. B-but, if you want, you can look.”

Chloe mumbled, stumbling over her words. Trying to hide the fact that she was so nervous she was stuttering. But as soon as the blue-haired girl takes her first sip of the milkshake—which until now had been untouched, because Chloe is the kind of monster who doesn’t drink anything while she eats—she spits it out almost immediately.

"Damn, sorry, sorry! It's just that the milkshake has... uh, pieces of tentacles." Chloe tries to explain, grabbing extra napkins as she tries to clean the table. "You know, I'm not a fan, but I'll eat it. I even asked them not to put it in!" I think the waitress didn’t hear me, it’s no big deal! I’m not complaining, it’s just that..."

I use one of my claws to hold Chloe’s cheeks and chin, making her stay still.

"Ei, relaxa. Vou pedir para eles fazerem outro para você."

"But..."

"No. I’ll take care of it." I rise slightly from the table. Already grabbing the milkshake, with those pieces of pink tentacles. Camouflaged by the strawberry pieces. That must be why she didn’t notice before. Anyway, I can take a closer look at the guys from RΩR.

Before Chloe can stop me. I walk over to the waitress who was walking away from the table; she was the only one there at the moment, much to her misfortune.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I smile as I approach. The girl almost jumps back; I think I got too close.She quickly tries to regain her composure, and I think she’s feeling those pairs of eyes on us too. A lot of them, actually.

“Y-yes, how can I help you?” The waitress flipped through the notes on her clipboard, gripping her pen tightly. Is my shadow getting in the way? It must be because I’m standing in front of the nearest light. Anyway, I took a step to the side and movedone of my wings to the side, letting the light shine on the girl normally.

“My friend over there ordered a milkshake without tentacles, and yet it still has... tentacles.” I say in the calmest voice I can muster. The girl quickly began jotting something down on her clipboard.

“I’m sorry about that… I’ll make a new one, without tentacles.” The girl took the milkshake from my hand and quickly ran to the counter. Weird.

I turn on my heels and head back to my table. And as soon as I look up, I see Chloe completely frozen, staring past me. As if there were something behind me. How ridiculous—I’d know if there were someone behind me.

“Hey, Beautiful.”

Чёрт!!

I didn’t actually jump and scream in fright. But it was enough to make my heart skip a beat, causing me to freeze for a millisecond. And my smile faded, until it disappeared completely.

I turned to see who had called me, and sure enough. Johnny Worthington himself was standing behind me. The table with the other RΩR members was just a few feet away; the three-horned monster and that crab—which I only now noticed was also there—were staring at us with excitement. Waiting for something, while the green monster and the insect simply ignored us.

“You’re a freshman, aren’t you? I’ve never seen you around campus before. And believe me, I’m sure I’ve never seen a girl like you around here.” Johnny had that smooth voice that would surely make plenty of girls swoon. Now I understood why that girl was so nervous. “Johnny Worthington, president Roar Omega Roar."

The man held out his hand to me.

Shouldn’t he have waited for me to take his hand first? I’m the woman here. Americans. So I shook his hand lightly. He didn’t seem real, and his grip was as firm as an iron glove. And judging by his tone, he still hadn’t recognized me.

“Aria V. Garriver. And no, I’m not a freshman.” I say, putting on my best bored face. Mom would be embarrassed, but Dad would be proud. I should smile, but I won’t. This monster is the same arrogant guy I bumped into a few days ago—I won’t forget that.

“No? Transfer student, maybe?” Johnny smiled, flashing his lower canines. Letting go of my hand and crouching down until he’s at my height. “And why the serious face?”

“You ask too many questions.” I raise an eyebrow. Keeping my distance from the purple demon, but it didn’t help much, since he wrapped one arm around my waist.

“I’m a curious man, darling. And who could resist? I want to know more about you, Aria." Johnny kept me close to him.I didn’t like it. Okay, it might even be comfortable, and maybe I liked it a little. But it might just be me being needy. And the way he purred my name didn’t help. Does he have a feline background? "I’m going to assume you’re a transfer student. Russia, perhaps? Your accent gives it away.”

“Correct.” I mutter as I remove his hand from my waist. “Straight from North Whistle College.”

I smile with a touch of arrogance.

Ah…my dear NWC. Although Monster University is considered one of the best in the world, it would be more accurate to say the best university in the West. In Europe and the East, the story is different.

And I can tell from the slight shock on Johnny’s face that the same thought is crossing his de mind.NWC, the university that has even surpassed MU in prestige over the years, always competing. Since its founding in 1320, just a few years after MU, which was founded in 1313. North Whistle College was built in a literal valley, between the “Montagne de la Veuve” mountains in France and the incredible “KlaueBerg” mountain. In other words, it was certainly very cold there most of the year.

It’s no secret that both universities compete for the title of best university; MU may be more famous and prestigious, but I know that NWC has the biggest numbers. Great scholars, scientists, doctors, lawyers, and even politicians.

“NWC? Impressive...” Johnny muttered, incredulously. That is, until his arrogant smile returned to his face. And his gaze focused on me—for real this time. As if I’d been promoted to a Monster worth acknowledging. “As president of RΩR, I must admit I’m impressed. It’s rare for NWC students to come to MU.”

“Yeah, I know. After all, who would be crazy enough to leave NWC and go to MU? A waste of time.” I smiled for the first time. Yes, both universities have similar levels of prestige. But why not spice things up with a Carolina Reaper?

The people around us let out soft whispers of disbelief, while others laughed and braced themselves.

"You like to provoke, don’t you?" Johnny laughed. His voice had a slight edge of anger. It seems the Plush Demon doesn’t like being belittled. What a pity, how sad. “But…you’re here. At MU, and from the looks of it, you’re going to be around here for quite a while, Ms. Garriver.”

“True. But that was due to an unlikely accident. If it were up to me? I would never choose to even set foot in this place.” I smiled. Now it’s my turn to bare my fangs.

Johnny stands facing me, both hands on his hips. He remains slightly bent forward, bringing his face closer to mine.I keep my arms crossed, my chest out, and my back straight. My wings are slightly spread—both to cool off and to avoid pain, because keeping them closed might make them go unnoticed. My tail touches the ground, making slight curves and circles. Always maintaining eye contact. I won’t lower my head to this demon.

“Good posture” Johnny admitted, smiling like an idiot. “I didn’t know people of your ilk knew how to carry themselves properly.”

“Same here” I said, tilting my head. Maintaining eye contact. “Last time I checked… the Worthingtons were known for their arrogance. I can confirm that the rumors seem to be true.”

“You talk too much for a Garriver…” Johnny muttered. His tail also gave a slight twitch. “Funny. Your name reminds me of a well-known family… a family that was persecuted almost to death.”

How… Why on earth am I surprised? Mom told me the story. About how the Garrivers were persecuted, robbed, killed. Burned. I literally never even got to meet my maternal grandparents because of that. That doesn’t matter. It’s not what matters now.

“M-miss?” The waitress returns, carrying a new milkshake. This time, in a plastic cup. Ready to go.

“Looks like this argument will have to wait" I mutter. Meanwhile, Johnny breaks eye contact, backing down for now.

"Certainly not, Ms. Garriver." The president sneers. Standing up in all his glory, my head reaching the height of his shoulder, and even so, his horns still cast a shadow over my face.

"See you later. Буйвол." I mutter as I turn my back. Even though I can still hear the murmurs.

“What did she say?” I hear Johnny mutter to the insect.

“I don’t know, it must be her Russian nickname.” The beetle laughed, finding the situation amusing.

“Of course…” Johnny growled.

He probably thinks it’s an insult. But what fault is it of mine if his horns remind me of water buffalo horns? The same kind I used to hunt with my dad when we had that vacation home in the Philippines.

“Come on, Bluey” I say as I help Chloe to her feet, already handing her the new milkshake. “Sorry about that. But I’m not going to bow down to that guy."

“You’ve got issues… My Gosh…” Chloe said in shock. She followed me to the entrance of the diner, stepping outside as I gently opened the door for her.

"Hey! Garriver!"

Does this guy have a thing for me? I stop at the diner door, turning just enough to look over. Johnny was already sitting at his table again, his little friends gathered around him.

"Watch who you’re talking to. The consequences could be massive!" Johnny laughed. He gave the insect monster a pat on the shoulder.

"You bet…" I raise my arm, letting my claws gleam. And for a moment, I almost feel the air in the diner shift, in silence. "I can handle it. And the marks are still visible on your horns."

I give a thumbs-up. And I turn back to Chloe, who was frantically gesturing with her hands, begging me to shut up.

“Was. it. you!?” I hear Johnny exclaim as he jumps up from his chair, but the insect monster grabs him by the sweater. Meanwhile, the crab monster just laughed, exclaiming between laughs: “I told you! I told you! I was sure it was her!”

I actually wanted to see more of the chaos. Meanwhile, the people in the diner were finally realizing the obvious.I simply close the door and hold Chloe’s waist with one hand.

“That was incredibly stupid!” Chloe says in a panic, her hands shaking so much that a few drops of her milkshake fall to the floor. “Do you have any idea what you just did!?”

“Don’t worry about it, I know what I’m doing.” I smile at Chloe. She’ll be fine.

Soon enough, everyone will know. Gossip spreads fast at this university, like wildfire, and by tomorrow, everyone will know my name. And that’s the first step.

[macarroncaramel]

As I mentioned in my last post, I need to provide more details about my beloved original character. So, here it is.

Aria V. Garriver. "Aria Viktoroava Garriver."

Her father is the fearsome “Viktor B. Nordeov,” a man born into a life of crime. Viktor was born and raised in the criminal underworld of one of Russia’s largest mafias—a trade passed down from father to son. And although he has a fortune to his name, his ambitious and violent spirit has never left him. To keep up appearances, Viktor is also a Scarer.a And one of the best of his era, even if he no longer works in the field. For he was too focused on “family business.”

But don’t think he’s entirely evil; he loves his wife and daughter. And who cares about the rest of the world, anyway? Certainly not him.

Viktor is always traveling, and yes, he actually visited Monstropolis a long time ago. But that’s a story for another time.

His wife is the not-so-beloved Charlotte Garriver. Or rather, Charlotte Von Barent Garriver II. The American model was also born into the purest luxury a monster could have.

Her family comes from a long line of models and politicians, former owners of Scream Inc. However, the energy factory was sold to the Williams family many years ago, as the Garriver family was being persecuted at the time due to criminal charges related to labor rights. This led the Garrivers to flee to Europe, where Charlotte met Viktor.

Charlotte doesn’t stain her delicate hands with blood; she doesn’t need to, since her husband is one of the finest men in the world. They are a deeply in love couple, with their little secrets here and there.

Now let’s talk about the couple’s daughter, Ária. Her upbringing was quite… different? You could say that. Ária was raised in both the rigid world of high society and the cutthroat world of crime.

And since she was an only child, she had to learn to play both sides of the coin. Her childhood was marked by the usual etiquette lessons, classical music, and trips to fancy restaurants and gala parties. All of this simply because she bore the surname Garriver, since the family had a certain amount of influence in those circles. On the other hand, her father taught her to shoot at age 15. Rifles, shotguns, revolvers, and everything else she was entitled to. Viktor took her to dangerous meetings, where little Ária drew, in her own words: “I drew Daddy shooting the traitor!” Yeah, she wasn’t so innocent.

Ária considers her father’s mafia family to be her own. They’ve been a part of her life for most of her life, and they even built her a miniature version of her father’s office—just for her! How could she not adore such caring uncles and aunts? Despite this, her culture is almost more American than Russian, precisely because she spent more time doing what Matriarch Garriver wanted.

Now, moving on to more recent events.

Ária studied for two years at the Best University in Europe. (I’m still thinking of an official name.) It’s almost the equivalent of Monsters University, though a bit bigger and more comprehensive.

And there, she rose to the top of that social hierarchy. And how could she not? Charlotte taught her all the tricks, like how to smile and how to manipulate people just right—exactly how a Garriver should be. Plus, Daddy’s connections made it easy to eliminate potential rivals.

But even that wasn’t enough to get into the best fraternity there… the TAR (Terror Alpha Rex). But with hard work, perfect grades, and a little persuasion. Ária became president of TAR. (Reminds you of someone, doesn’t it?)

However, after an unexpected attack by a traitor, for Ária’s safety, she was transferred to our beloved MU. A new place, free from interference by any Garrivers or Nordeovs.

The story I'm writing will be about Aria adjusting to life at MU and meeting new people. Without the connections and memories of her past haunting every hallway—and, of course, Johnny, who will be Aria's main love interest.

I wanted something different for Johnny; I’ve really loved his character since I was a kid. And like many others, I created a Oc to be his partner. They’re the classic enemies-to-lovers couple, but they don’t have that “popular kid/new kid” dynamic, or the “bad boy dating a good girl” trope. It’s a great kind of couple.

However, Aria and Johnny will be more of the villain/villain type. Aria doesn’t care much about those “below” her—in other words, she won’t be defending any Oozma Kappas here. At the same time, Aria believes in justice and karma; if they don’t do anything to deserve her bad side, she’ll leave them alone. At least for now.

Throughout the story, I want to develop more secondary characters and add heavier scenes and themes. For those who care, I won’t kill off any major characters. I promise 🙂. Although, yes, there will be one or two deaths.(There’s a mafia girl here—it was the least I could do.)

Speaking of which, would adult content be okay? Explicit or implicit? I’m not really sure what the community’s preferences are. So I’ll leave that open.

For the brave souls who are still reading this mess I’ve written, please give me tips or ideas on how to improve the story. Any help is welcome.I think that’s all for now. And enjoy these drawings I made to go with this post. ✨

And one more thing—just a quick note: the design of Baby Ária is going to change. This particular design is older than the other two.

[randallshiddencity3]

What if Randall got married in MI3 like they did with Johnny x Claire?

First of all, Randall has the biggest fanbase of all the characters... I can't speak for all Randall stans but I think most of us will feel betrayed by PIXAR in some way like we're losing him to someone else.

Not that we own him, that's not what I'm saying. But Randall's been kept alive all these years by the fanbase despite the lack of content Pixar or Disney has given us and if they romantically pair him up with someone, it could potentially ruin his legacy.

Of course I think it's highly unlikely they would do this but Idk.... anything's possible...

Look at what they did to Johnny...

I'm just kidding, that's an AI picture I found on Pinterest...

Look at what they REALLY did to Johnny:

Well to be fair that was Disney's idea, not Pixar's, but the fanbase was less than thrilled that they had Johnny married to Claire of all people. Claire is a popular character, but so many fans had her shipped with Brock so seeing her end up with Johnny rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. They just don't look like they go together and to make matters worse the writers barely developed their relationship so it wasn't believable... suffice to say, the marriage seems ''forced''. Sure it makes sense from a storytelling perspective that Johnny *would* marry... most CEO's have this stereotypical image of being happily married family men so Johnny most likely married for convenience to make his public image look better....

of course, that never stopped CEO's from having affairs behind closed doors and being part of major scandals when said affair comes to public light *cough*Coldplay scandal*cough*:

This hurts reputations so much that CEO's end up resigning.

So i can only imagine how much Johnny's arrest at the end of the Season 2 negatively impacted the Worthington family.

But some fans even wondered why Johnny had to marry Claire. Was it too predictable for him to end up with one of the PNKs or a new character entirely? Like a trophy wife? Idk.

But given the negative reaction of Johnny's marriage, I don't think PIXAR should marry off anymore of their villains unless they have good reason to. Johnny is a pretty popular character, too, and a lot of fans self-ship, or have OC's or other characters they'd rather pair him with (namely Randall, Sulley, Chet, the other RORs, Tylor, and sometimes Mike). So yeah people just really really hate the Johnny x Claire ship... maybe 2% of fans actually like it because it's ''canonslop''... but tbh every other Johnny ship is more interesting than Johnny x Claire.

But if Randall ended up in a canon relationship, who also has a lot of self shippers, OC's and other characters shipped with him, I guarantee the fanbase is going to blow up the studio. lol

In all seriousness, I don't want to see ANYONE get married in this movie. I feel like marriage will ruin the relationships of the characters... and it's not necessary for them to thrive.

The *only* people I want to see get married, maybe... are Mike, Sulley and Celia. To each other. At the same time.

Mike proposes to Celia and Sulley proposes to Mike. That would be the perfect ending for the franchise (I'm just kidding..... or am I???)

[macarroncaramel]

Short drabbles by Johnny Worthington Baby!!

*Johnny Newborn! Who was born a few days premature. But quickly became a chubby, healthy baby in a few months.

*Johnny baby! Was emotionally attached to a stuffed avocado. He only threw away the poor stuffed animal when he was 7 years old and "old" enough to sleep without the avocado. (His mother has kept the stuffed animal to this day.)

*Johnny baby! Raided cookie jars and candy drawers. And was only found after almost half the jar had disappeared.

*Johnny baby! Purred whenever he was petted, and loved little pats on his back.

*Johnny baby! Who hated any kind of processed baby food, only fresh fruit please.

*Johnny baby! slept through his entire 1-year-old birthday party. Only to cry all night long.

*Johnny baby! Who had a nursery that cost more than many luxury cars. His imported crib alone could have paid for a motorcycle.

*Johnny baby! Who would growl at all the scarys who tried to hold him during Fear Co.'s fancy parties. Who did they think they were? How dare they!

*Johnny baby! Who would sneak into his parents' bedroom at night and sleep on Jack's head. And sometimes he would sleep under his father's chin, like a kitten.

*Johnny baby! Who was afraid of the huge pictures of his ancestors that hung in the hallway.

*Johnny baby! Hid between Jack's legs during parties.

*Johnny baby! Who, as soon as he realized his little claws could tear the curtains, cushions, and sofas in the living room, created an incredible work of art with goose feathers and torn silk scattered across the floor.

*Johnny baby! Who somehow opened the kitchen cabinet and found his mother's bag of imported wheat flour and European olive oil that cost a fortune. And now there are flour and olive oil marks all over the floor.

*Johnny baby! Who hid and slept inside his father's office drawers. The smell of ink and new paper calmed him down.

*Johnny baby! Who was a spoiled baby. And who could blame him? He was the Worthington family's little treasure.

[mu-molerat]

Cult of the lamb but make it monsters university/MAW? I think yes!!

I had to draw it because the voices told me too :D

I got Johnny looking like a bean

[macarroncaramel]

Drawings I made out of boredom. And possibly with spoilers about the story and lore of my OC.

And I love the design of the “blue girl extra” so I gave her a name and a role. (Chloe Bailey)

Please don't judge my art, it was my first attempt at coloring a dark environment. (And now I realize Johnny should be more muscular.)

And as I said before, I still have to do an update about her.

[jnw1813]

Monsters University/Inc. world headcanons anyone?

Because most (if not all) monsters walk everywhere barefoot, at the front or in the entryway of every building is a little area you can wash them– a small tap and drain area.

Every toilet in the monster world has a bidet. I won't elaborate on that much other than: fur and different body types.

Their planet would be bigger than ours and is mostly the same geography wise, except there's the underwater nations and sky nations (floating islands are cool), the giant lands (where giant monsters come from), and probably a land for the tiny monsters (I imagine they'd need a specialised environment to survive before technology and modern stuff).

During the winter months, the workforce has a "fourth week off" policy. Basically the entire workforce of any place will separate their workers into groups A, B, C, and D, and each one gets a week off during the winter months due to most monsters still having animal instincts. Most "predator" monsters are sluggish during this time while "prey" monsters are usually fine.

Healthcare is free worldwide (lucky bastards) because it becomes a bit unfair when somebody has to pay so-and-so much for surgery but a smaller/different type of monster has to pay less for the same surgery simply because they were easier/quicker/cheaper to work on.

When it comes to having kids, there's really no saying what features they have simply because monsters are so varied compared to us. Monster DNA is in a constant battle for what genes should be dominant in them– hence why you sometimes get kids that look exactly like their parents (Squishy), look like a mixture (Tylor), and look barely anything like them (J.J).

On that note, if a human and a monster had kids, since humans are so basic in comparison, the monster's genes will dominate and have more room to work with. Example: if Johnny had kids with a human, they'd look more like him than his canon kids do simply because there was barely anything they had to fight against.

The cryptids of the human world would, obviously, be from the monster realm... or the original monsters descendants. Like let's think about it, the Goatman for example. Half human! A banished monster was definitely lovin' up on a human for that to happen.

The average monster lifespan is between 150–200 for most monsters– think Johnny, Chip (and other spiffs), Sully, Javier, Hardscrabble, Waternoose, etc. Meanwhile monsters like Mike, Chet, Squishy, etc, would be more in the 90–120 range. Still a lot longer than humans, but less than the bigger monsters in society.

While the scaring industry and doorways to the human world properly started in the 1300s, gateways between our worlds started way before that– hence why there's so many similarities between cultures and place names, plus the historical descriptions of monsters. While modern gateways are more scientific, the ones in the past are undeniably magical in nature.

[macarroncaramel]

Just some drawings I made, both of my OC and the characters

And I plan to post an update about my OC, just to provide more context for the fanfic before the second chapter. (A slight spoiler: these are Aria's parents. I'll be writing a lot about them in the future.)

[macarroncaramel]

Dysnathy of predators

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. Well, here we go. Please excuse my writing; I need to practice more. ° Johnny Worthington/ Fem Oc. °Masterlist °Chapter II

I.

The university bus stopped abruptly in front of the stone gates.

“Monsters University. Who's getting off here?” the driver asked without even looking back.A few young, excited monsters got off, carrying suitcases and backpacks loaded with history. As they got off, I tried not to faint from the headache.

Here we go again. This was something I didn't expect to be doing in my third year of college. Guess what? Being transferred. Being almost a freshman again, at a different university, with people I don't know and in a country on the other side of the hemisphere, is annoying and frustrating. I should probably be excited, even happy. How many monsters have the opportunity to study at the highly acclaimed MU? Few. To make matters worse, those who come from other continents have even fewer chances. But we're already going too fast here.

My head hurts from the length of the trip.

Wings closed too long for my liking, squeezed like sardines after almost thirteen hours of flying, plus another two hours by bus. I'd rather rip my horns out of my head than do that again so soon. But enough complaining, I have more to do. And I got up from the last seat on the bus.

Grab my bags, which strangely aren't very much. A heavy backpack and a carry-on bag with a broken wheel. The airport company's fault. And finally, I walk through the old gate of the monster university.

It was a beautiful landscape, I must admit.

Green and red trees and orange. A stone road stretching into the distance, old buildings, and warm weather. Around 25°C in general, at the height of the monstropolitan summer.The stone road is cold under my feet, and even though it's too early for most students to arrive at MU, there are still many monsters walking around here. Of various classes and species. Slugs, succubi, bears, demons, flyers, two- and three-headed monsters... And mixed ones too. With scaly, hairy, smooth, slimy skin.

I can't judge, my appearance is also hidden under this hooded jacket. Making my hair look messy, my two pairs of horns don't stand out, and my tail is low, with the tip dragging on the floor.

Mom would probably tell me to look up, walk with a smile on my face, and show off my fangs.

Dad wouldn't like it. Smiles only for family, he used to say.

walk along the stone road, passing the school of Screaming Cylinder Design. And among so many buildings over 300 years old, with lamps and blue MU flags in every window and Greek columns. It's pretty tacky, at least to me. It must be that patriotic thing. Does being proud of a university count as patriotism? I think so.

“Miss Garriver? I presume.” An older monster stopped me.Short, with scaly, orange skin, mottled with lighter and darker spots. Thick eyebrows, contrasting with the thin glasses he wore, in addition to the several small horns scattered across his head.

“Exactly. Sir...?” I extend my hand to him. And he nods with a firm handshake.

“Professor Knight. Principal Hardscrabble asked me to find you...” Knight nods for me to follow him. Which I reluctantly do, keeping my posture straight like a soldier. It's the evil of etiquette classes, I don't think I have any control over it anymore.

“Miss Garriver, first of all, welcome to Monsters University. We're not used to having transfer students from such advanced years, third-year students usually know basically all the scare material.” Professor Knight walked along the stone road. Crossing the Troll Bridge slowly. More students of various shapes and sizes walked around him.

“Yes, I know. That's why I think I'll easily adapt to MU classes. I basically have all the material already engraved in my mind.” I mutter as I look at the path ahead.

Underneath the bridge, the water flowed normally. Heading to the underwater school. I wished I could go there. It must be fun to be able to swim and stay underwater for hours, maybe as much fun as flying. Unfortunately, wings aren't that good for that.

“Miss Gariver? Did you hear me?” Professor Knight called my attention again. Standing beside me, arms crossed, like a father trying to talk to his teenage daughter.

I quickly snapped out of my thoughts. Keeping my voice steady. “Sorry, I was lost in thought...” I muttered as I walked. I have to improve my concentration; I can't let my guard down like this!

Mr. Knight shrugged, keeping his hands behind his back.

“I understand. It's easy to get lost in your thoughts in a new place. Now, let's go. I'll show you your dorm room. And if you have any questions, please let me know.” The professor guided me.

We walked a few more meters, keeping up a light conversation. Passing the business school on the left, and further to the right, the Portas technology school. Both buildings had the same ancient energy, especially the DooTechnology building. It had a structure with sculptures of ancient monsters, which took me out of the Victorian era immersion of the rest of the buildings. How old is this university? I'd guess about 300 years. However... If a monster lives on average about 200 years... then maybe 1300 years? I'll research more about that later.

Arriving at the dormitory building, a huge rectangular structure. About four stories high, decorated with banners reading “Welcome Freshmen!” Professor Knight simply ignored it when a student fell off the ladder while trying to hang another banner. I would have felt sorry for him if it weren't so comical.

“Your parents made it clear that they wanted you to have privacy. So Principal Hardscrabble had one of the last rooms on the third floor reserved for you. Unfortunately, the fourth floor was already full. You're lucky, because normally almost all the rooms are full by mid-August” Professor Knight grumbled in a monotone voice. As we climbed the hellish spiral staircase, something not very good for my flat feet. The orange monster took a key out of his shirt pocket. And opened the door to room 320, at the end of the hallway.

Not bad.

A wide wooden bed, a desk with a two-lamp lampshade. A wardrobe, with a chair and bookshelves. Normally, in ordinary rooms, this would all be on one side, and the other would be duplicated. But the room had been hastily redecorated; there was a second desk and chair on top of the second bed, and the open space now contained an old armchair and boxes engraved with my name: Aria V. Gariver.

"I assume these things arrived this morning.”

I muttered as I walked over to the cardboard boxes. Of course they would send me more stuff than I needed. Mom still thinks I need that stupid teddy monster to sleep with. Thank goodness, I won't have to share a room with anyone.

“Exactly.” Professor Knight nodded. He left the keys on the desk. “Feel free to explore the campus or organize your things. Classes start in 18 days. I believe you already have your class schedule.” Knight continued his professor monologue, while my gaze wandered to the pile of boxes and the rest of the room... How I miss my room at my old university, that was acceptable. My gaze shifted to the window, which offered a perfect view of the crown jewel of this university.

The school of fright. A spiky dome, with large ornate windows and Greek architecture.A decorated frieze and Greek columns that became thinner the higher they got, creating the optical illusion of being larger.

Obviously, the largest and most prestigious building on the entire campus. I wonder what it must be like inside. Unfortunately, that's where the initial scare classes and a few subsequent ones were held. Which doesn't make sense, because why would freshmen get the best view? Anyway, I didn't have time to think about that for now, I have boxes and more boxes to organize before noon.

I may even hate this university, or my current situation. Maybe this place has its own good points.

The hours passed quickly. Professor Knight left me alone for the rest of the morning, and I spent it unpacking boxes and organizing textbooks, CDs, fashion magazines, and clothes. Too many clothes. From striped sweaters to a collection of Queen T-shirts.

Now I realized why there were so many boxes; only half of the pile was clothes. Not everything fit in the closet, so I'll have to leave the rest folded on the desk for now. “Finally” I growled as I cracked my back.

Looking at the clock, it was almost 12:30 a.m. Everything was organized, and spending the rest of the first day locked in my room wasn't a good plan, much less favorable at the moment. As I open the window, the summer breeze hits my face and makes my wings tremble with anticipation. Jumping on the paraglider, they open completely after spending almost two days completely folded.

Fly.

Such a simple word, but so light in meaning. Winged monsters are common in society. The standard, however, is wings that are small in comparison to the body.

Pathetic, I know.

Always with thick joints, most monsters can barely take flight after a certain age or if they gain a mere two extra pounds. Mine, on the other hand, can be compared to Dean Hardscrabble's own. Large and thin-skinned, which makes it easier not to have to rely on the wind or my weight to fly.

With the previous momentum, I managed to climb higher. I started a short tour around the dormitory and surrounding buildings, and soon headed for the Frat Row. On the branch of a large tree, I quickly descended with a jump, using my wings as a parachute.

Next to it was a house with Greek columns, which was something I already expected, since it belongs to one of the sororities. And the sorority in question was “PNK.” The name was literally written on a giant sign on the entrance frieze. And the name couldn't be more fitting, because everything was pink. The pink paint that covered the entire house, and even the marble parts, were dyed a light pastel pink. And what kind of house even has pink glass windows?

Maybe I could have thought about it more if someone hadn't hit me with a volleyball.

“Oh my God! Sorry!” A green monster came up to me. She had straight pink hair that curved at the ends. And judging by her three wide eyes, her pink “PNK” sports shirt, and her concerned tone... it was pretty obvious that she was the one who hit the ball.

“No problem. It didn't hit my head very hard.” I try to smile slightly, but it's difficult because that damn ball hit me in the back of the neck. Keep up appearances, Aria! I used my tail, almost like a third arm, to pick up the ball from the ground and throw it back to the woman.

“I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I'm really bad at volleyball,” the girl muttered, smiling awkwardly. “I'm Britney, by the way. Britney Davis.”

“Aria V. Garriver.” I introduce myself with my best smile.

“You don't look like a freshman, and I like your accent. Where are you from? Are you European?” Britney said, smiling broadly as she shook my hand. "And what Monster Class are you? Succubus Class too? You're so pretty!"

This girl won't stay still. Energetic, for sure. But before I can answer, I hear a call coming from the PNK house garden.

“Britney! Did you find the ball?” Another girl appeared. Also coming from the garden, behind the house. And right behind her, the rest of the PNK girls followed. All wearing beautiful volleyball uniforms. I'm not the biggest fan of pink, but this style is really cute, I must admit.

“Oh, hello. I'm Carrie Williams, president of PNK. I'm sorry about the incident, we were trying to teach Britney how to play.” Carrie Williams smiled as she approached us. They all look very similar, are they all related? The Succubus monster class tends to look alike. But this is on another level.

“No problem. And forgive us for stealing Britney's attention, she seemed excited to talk.” I smile. And also give Carrie a friendly handshake. She returns it with a smile. “I'm Aria Garriver. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine. I've never seen you around here, and I know almost all the girls on this campus. Are you a freshman?” Carrie repeated the question. “No, not exactly. Transfer student, third year in the Scares program.” As soon as I answer, I can see the momentary surprise on the PNK's faces. “Today is my first day here. I was just exploring when I got hit by the ball, no big deal.”

“Third year? But that's too advanced to transfer, especially in the Scares course.” Carrie said almost in disbelief.A third PNK comes up to me.

“Is that what you're focusing on? I thought she studied fashion!” exclaimed the girl. Like Britney and Carrie, this one is also almost a carbon copy of the others. But with lilac skin and red hair. “Look at that hair. And those wings! Girl, you've been blessed with the perfect model looks.”

“Taylor!” Carrie growls softly at her friend. More embarrassed than angry.

“What? Don't tell me you haven't thought about it! Look at that hair, is it permed?" The girl, who I now know is called Taylor, starts rambling while touching my hair.

“No... It's natural. Don't touch it, okay? These curls are hard to manage.”

I say, gently removing her hand from my hair. I spend hours just to make it perfect, would it hurt to ask before touching it?

“Taylor! Oh, I'm sorry, Aria. Taylor really likes modeling.” Carrie says, embarrassed for her friend. Meanwhile, Taylor becomes more interested in observing me, evaluating me from head to toe. I should have picked a better jacket; the red one suits me better. “But hey. She's not really wrong. You look more like someone who would be a model.”

The other girls nodded in agreement. Britney remained quiet in the corner; of all of them, I think she's the newbie of the group.

“Yeah, I know. Actually, I kind of study modeling in my spare time. Just a hobby.” As soon as those words came out of my mouth, I felt Taylor hug me from the side.

“Yes, yes! Finally, someone at this university who will understand my love for fashion!” Taylor said, smiling. And even though I didn't like the sudden hug, I couldn't help but smile at her obvious joy.

“Come on, Taylor, let the girl breathe. But, Aria, where did you say you were from?" Carrie started walking back to the garden. As everyone followed her, I figured I should go along too.

“I didn't get to say. Russia, straight from Moscow” I say with a certain pride in my voice. My hometown, how I miss it. And I've only been away from it for a mere two days.

“Russia? Wow, that must have been a big difference in temperature then” Britney said timidly. While the other two PNKs, whose names I still don't know, watch me without saying much. And soon we arrived at the garden behind the monstrously pink house.

It was a small rectangular space, with an outdoor hot tub at the entrance, surrounded by green fences made of thorny bushes. But most of the lawn was part of a small volleyball court. And at the opposite end from the hot tub, there was a small open kiosk selling drinks and sweet cocktails. There were a few lounge chairs and benches here and there.

“Would you like anything? Mojito, beer, margarita, or even an eye martini?” Carrie guides me across the lawn. And right behind us, one of the PNKs, whose name I still don't know, goes to the kiosk. “That's Naomi. She doesn't talk much, she might end up breathing fire without meaning to.”

“Fire? Real fire or is it just another way of saying cruel things?” I say with a smile. As I sit down on one of the benches at the kiosk, Carrie chuckles softly, sitting down next to me. “And I'll have a martini, with the strongest vodka you have” I say with a wink. Naomi quickly turns away, but I still manage to catch a glimpse of a blush under her eyes. That never fails to amuse me.

“She's really hot-headed. She almost burned a teacher last year, the poor guy didn't even see it coming” Carrie laughs. Naomi rolls her eyes amusedly, handing me the pink glass.

Carrie is also served a drink, pink (obviously) and, I guess, excessively sweet. There was literally a lollipop inside the glass.I take a sip of the martini. And my God, what a satanic thing. It tastes like cheap alcohol, fake even. And the worst part is that I know it's probably expensive, just by looking inside the kiosk I can see bottles and bottles of good, expensive drinks. But this vodka...Mom was right, I should have brought a good supply of my favorite drink straight from home.I discreetly throw it into the plant pot while Carrie tells me the story of how Naomi almost burned a teacher. And I ordered another drink, a Mojito with worms this time.

Almost half the afternoon passed in the blink of an eye. Overall, we talked about a little bit of everything. Mainly about scares, with a few more drinks here and there. Soon, I was invited to a friendly volleyball game.

In which Carrie, Britney, another girl, who I now know to be Heather, and I emerged victorious. Finally, we sat down at the kiosk for our last drinks before two in the afternoon.

“So just because I'm Russian, you think my favorite drink is vodka?” I jokingly ask Carrie. So far, she's the one I've enjoyed talking to the most.

“I don't really like to stick to stereotypes, but I think so!” Carrie replies jokingly.The alcohol is already having an effect on her body, as her posture has relaxed considerably.

“Well, it really is, but it's just a coincidence. It was simply the first real drink I had as soon as I turned 21. Before that? Just rosé wine.” I smile as I take another sip of the sugary drink.

I think that, in fact, the seven of us are really starting to be affected by these drinks. Heather was already almost dozing off in her chair, tired after the game; while Britney and Naomi challenged each other to a card game; and finally, Crystal and Taylor had fun trying to create the strongest mix inside the Kiosk.

That's when I heard an argument. It started quietly, then grew louder. It seemed to be coming from the central courtyard of Frat Row.

“What's that?” Crystal put the drink mix aside. Carrie, meanwhile, looked up in recognition.

“It must be JOX stirring up trouble. You know they're probably picking on the guys from ΩH. Maybe even RΩR...” said the president without hesitation. Taking one last sip of her drink.

“But Johnny rarely gets into arguments” Naomi argued, with slight flames coming out of her mouth.

“Exactly. Don't you remember the last time?” Taylor muttered.

“But what if it's just Javier and Chip? Those two don't take any nonsense” Heather yawned, stretching.

“Excuse me” I interrupted. “Confused transfer student alert here. Who are you talking about?”

“Oh, right, I forgot!” Carrie said with a big smile, pulling me closer as the other PNK girls gathered in a circle around us.

“MU has several fraternities and sororities! You already know us. But there are some you have to be careful of. JOX is one of them...” Carrie whispered. Taylor picked up on the idea and whispered back: “They're athletes, the sports guys. But there are some extra stupid members. Especially Big Red, I've lost count of how many I've rejected him.”

“Typical. Never give up.” I whisper back. It seems that JOX is a bunch of silly bullies. At least at first glance.

“I don't think they're all that. George is even fun. But my God, their grades are terrible!” Britney whispered even more quietly. Naomi sighed, making a small cloud of smoke. “I've heard they used to be better, like even Professor Knight was in JOX.”

“Professor Knight was in JOX?” I ask in surprise. That little orange monster, an athlete?

“Yes, he was. Back then they were still good. Nowadays, even Oozma Kappa is better” Carrie whispered contemptuously.

“Don't say that! JOX is at least minimally relevant!” Taylor muttered, and then turned to me “Oozma Kappa. It's literally the fraternity for losers! Expelled, failed... Don't even try to have contact with them, if RΩR sees you, you could become a laughing stock.”

This 'RΩR' thing is giving me a really bad feeling. But judging by Carrie's tone, it's not time to talk about them yet.

“Now... HSS. Goths, and you can bet they hate us. But they're cool when they're not thinking about sacrificing.” Carrie whispered. And they all giggled. This HSS reminded me of a sorority at my old university. I have to stop thinking about that. "Especially Rosie. She seems tough as nails, but she's really fun when she wants to be.”

“And then there's EEK. We hardly ever talk, they usually keep their distance, always training and practicing gymnastics” Heather muttered, rolling her eyes. Seems like she's not the biggest fan of EEK.

“Yeah, they're busy girls. But they have terrible fashion sense. Who wears gymnastics headbands in winter?” Britney whispered, almost stuttering. But standing her ground, Taylor gave her arm a light, encouraging punch. Cute.

“And there are others. Like EKO, AEA... The guys from EOP...” Carrie counted on her fingers. There really are a lot of fraternities. When I was out there, I barely had time to look at the other houses on the street. So of course these names aren't familiar to me. “And last but not least... We have RΩR.”

Taylor, Heather, and Naomi sighed together. Almost like teenagers in love.

“From their reaction... I guess I can guess where the best guys are?” I smiled as I poured myself a shot of vodka. At this point, the taste doesn't even bother me anymore, I just want alcohol strong enough to kill my curiosity at the moment.Carrie gave an amused smile, the corner of her mouth turning up.

“Not just the best guys. The best of the best! They're the best students, their grades must be at least an ‘A+’ to even have a chance of getting in.” Carrie spoke as if she were telling stories about real heroes. “And did you see the size of their house? It's Hufe!”

I'd say acceptable. But it was definitely the biggest house on the street. Even though I hadn't noticed the details, it was kind of hard to ignore the huge dark building at the end of the street.

“And what about their president, Johnny Worthington? The best guy on campus and heir to Fear Co. You know, that giant scream factory in downtown Monstropolis?” Taylor said, smiling more than would be considered normal.

“I see... So he's the one in charge around here?” I say, smiling contentedly. Good to know someone's in control here.

“I wouldn't say in control... But you're not wrong. All the girls have at least a little crush on him, and who can blame us? He's really hot. And rich.” Carrie said, raising her hands in surrender. “And besides, he's well respected. You have to see when he walks into a room, it's like time stops.”

“Oh, really?” I murmur, using my hand to support my head.

“Yes, yes. You know, he may seem like a handsome, rich, stereotypical guy. But he's easy to talk to, and he even comes here to have a few drinks with us from time to time” Carrie says, smiling.

Naomi blushes slightly, making Taylor giggle. “Don't worry about Naomi, she's just remembering Javier!” Taylor laughs.

“Stop it! I wasn't thinking about him!” Naomi denies as she gets up from the circle. Causing more laughter from the group.

“Javier Rios, Johnny's best friend. And in my opinion, almost a bodyguard. Naomi has had a crush on him since freshman year.” Carrie patted my shoulder between laughs. I was content to just let out a muffled laugh or two.

My gaze followed to my pocket watch, one of those old Victorian ones. I always carry this accessory in my jacket pocket, a gift from my grandfather.

“Girls, I'm leaving now. I want to take one more walk before nightfall” I say, getting up. While the PNKs were making a fuss. Of course, I grabbed one last drink.

“Already? Okay, come with me.” Carrie gets up, guiding me out of the garden. While I say goodbye to the rest of the girls. Carrie and I laugh as we walk back through the garden. I really needed this, a moment of relaxation, just drinks and conversation. Just these few hours I spent talking with these girls have dispelled my bad feeling about this whole situation. Maybe it's just the alcohol taking effect, making me feel lighter and consequently not letting me think too much.

“That was fun! We should do this more often.” Carrie smiled, stopping in front of the house. “Come visit us when you have time. It's always good to have someone to talk to, and besides, Britney talks to you. We're still trying to get her to socialize more.”

“She's not the socializing type?”

“No, not exactly. She's kind of shy, you know, she almost never talks to other monsters without us. She may seem a little rude, but she's a scary sweetheart inside.” Carrie explains to me.

I had already noticed that, actually. Although she wasn't shy with me, she was the one who spoke the least during the hours I was here;

her beautiful three eyes were never at the right height for face-to-face conversation, and her shoulders were tense most of the time. But I'll keep that information in mind, it might be useful in the future.

For now, I'll just put my hood under my hair, of course, and button up the hood to cover my horns.Good to know she at least talked to me. I really have to visit you guys more often.

“See you later, Carrie!” I smile at the pink-haired girl. I start walking away from the pink house. My eyes were already starting to hurt.

Before I could simply walk away, I bumped into a cashmere sweater, and a nice one at that. I dropped a few drops of my precious drink on the red sweater.

“Hey! Don't you watch where you're going?” I hear a deep voice curse. I take two steps back, wanting to get a good look at the idiot who bumped into me.

It was a demon-class monster. And he looked like one too.

Dark purple fur, almost grayish blue, the dark color of his fur highlighted his horns: long, thick, and curved. A dark brown color. I could even notice more details, like his almond-shaped purple eyes, thick eyebrows, and a protruding jaw, which made two lower fangs stick out from his lips. If I weren't so preoccupied with my drink.

“Don't you look where you're going? You're the one who bumped into me.” I growl. Switching my glass to my other hand, I have to keep it safe.

Before I spill a few more drops on this idiot. “And get out of my way, I literally have better things to do.” I try to pass by the side of the purple monster.

Unfortunately, a small crab monster tries to stop me, while the bigger rude one is still in shock from my previous response.“Wait a minute! Miss! Do you know who you're talking to-?”

I use my tail as a whip, a quick and more instinctive movement. The tip of my tail throws the crab's cap away. Making him go after it as if it were something necessary.

“Hey! You can't leave after doing that!” That purple demon growls deeply, grabbing me by the wing. “Do you have any idea who you're talking to? princess?”

Don't touch my wings.

Don't touch my wings.

Don't touch my wings.

Don't touch my wings.

Don’t touch my wings.

“How dare you!?” I growl. Baring my four fangs, not very threatening. Thin, elegant even.

I use my short, curved claws to grab the purple demon by the horn. Pulling out a splinter or two... Is that horn polish? It doesn't matter now. And I pulled him up to my height, causing him to stumble on one foot.

This fucking demon, even though he was bigger than me, was in shock. I finally believe that those self-defense classes were worth it.

“Don't touch my wings. Придурок!” I let go of the idiot. He takes a step or two back. Now I realize that this crab monster is looking at me with total disbelief, his comically large mouth open in amazement and his chin almost touching the floor.

Before growling one last time. I threw the rest of my drink, which was still in the glass, at the shocked demon's expensive red sweater.

And finally I get back on my way, adjusting my posture again.I think I drank too much with the PNKs. But that idiot deserved it, my wings are a family heirloom! They are large and perfect, a symbol of nobility in this damn society. And they are delicate too, can you imagine if his claws scratched their thin leather? What a nightmare.

“You fucking crazy bitch! You'll pay for this!” I hear the purple demon yell behind me. Please... I miss my motorcycle. I could have run him over.

“Fuck you!” I growl. Giving him the middle finger over my shoulder as I spread my wings. And with a leap, I took flight for the second time today. I'm canceling the rest of the tour, I'm going to sleep for the rest of the day! My head is already throbbing. Is this normal?

God. I miss my peaceful life.

[macarroncaramel]

I'm trying to write a fanfiction about my OC. Actually, the first chapter is already done! But before posting the writing, I decided to post some drawings of my protagonist

Aria V. Garriver. My first OC from Monsters University (and my first antagonist as well). I'm trying out new painting and drawing styles, but her design is already set, as are some of her characteristics.

I hope to be able to post the first chapter in the next few days, as I'm still new to this app. I'll post both here and on AO3.(I just have to create an account first.) See you soon!