#as evidenced by the fact that every time i think of it for longer than 2 seconds i mentally and physically get hives

[libraryspectre]

Sometimes one gets the urge to do something exceedingly transgender

#i think i just need some good ol gender euphoria #just feelin kinda dysphoric #its been bad lately! #realized recently that i still have a lot of unresolved gender stuff #like as far as identiy goes i feel pretty good #like i have a solid grasp of what my gender is #but when it comes to what i want from presentation #what would make me feel happy and fufilled #i have a lot to figure out #as evidenced by the fact that every time i think of it for longer than 2 seconds i mentally and physically get hives #i have so successfully swept dysphoria in my physical form under the rug #and now i have peeked under the rug and the dysphoria is escaping #these tags are a mile long cause im just venting

[jessejaredstories]

Walk on the Wild Side

Sergio was a walking gay man’s fantasy. He was tall and muscular as fuck. Beefy could barely even begin to describe him as everything from his biceps, chest, thighs, back, and even ass were massive! He made his living off of flexing his hot body as well as fucking other beefy dudes on camera. Sergio was truly living the life many could only dream of having.

But although Sergio was living the good life, he couldn't deny that something was missing. More specifically, something about his sex life. Sergio loved his very active sex life and was more often than not satisfied after every hookup he had. Yet at the same time, Sergio found himself wanting more. He wanted something new, and he knew exactly who to contact. Kris the Kink Witch.

Sergio reached out to Kris through Twitter DMs. Kris, like Sergio, also made his living off of recording and selling the videos of his gay escapades. He was known to be one incredibly kinky motherfucker online, and he took great pride in it too- as evidenced by his self proclaimed title the Kink Witch. But unlike Sergio, Kris took a much more professional approach to his line of work. For Kris, it wasn't about pleasure, it was about money. He meant business, and he never shied away from demonstrating that fact.

Fortunately, Sergio was also pretty well-known in the online gay community. Kris recognized Sergio and responded back to him within a couple of minutes. Their conversation went as follows...

S: Hey, you're the Kink Witch right? I've got a request in mind.

K: Yo. Yeah that's me. You want to film a collab together?

S: Not at all. I was actually thinking you and I can link up and have some fun. No cameras. 

K: Sorry, I don't do charity work. 

S: Trust me, I don't either. I just need to have some real fun and I know someone like you can help me out with that goal. I'll pay you a good amount too if you're interested.

K: Go on, I'm listening...

Sergio and Kris went on to negotiate the deal. In exchange for a kinky night of fun, Sergio would pay Kris $2500 in cold, hard cash. However, in order to earn that money, Kris needed to get Sergio to cum and to feel real pleasure while doing it too. But before they could seal the deal, Sergio gave Kris a heads-up by saying that he had already done almost everything anyone can think of. If it wasn't something new and exciting like he wanted, then Sergio had no problem calling the deal off. Yet despite his stark warning, Kris accepted the deal without any hesitation. It slightly unnerved Sergio how confident Kris was. He was pretty sure they both had more or less the same amount of experience when it came to sex. Could Kris really know something Sergio didn't?

Regardless of the initial unease Sergio felt, it was too late to back down now. Kris was already on his way to his apartment. Sergio passed the time by doing the usual prep work of cleaning himself out, just as Kris told him to. Yet despite his best efforts to distract himself, Sergio couldn't help but wonder what Kris had in store for him.

Does this twink really think he's gonna satisfy me just by fucking me? Ha! I've already taken on plenty of men, there's nothing new he can do there! 

Sergio chuckled at his own thoughts. His curiosity was making his mind run wild. Luckily it didn't take much longer for Kris to arrive. He showed up at the entrance of the building and Sergio buzzed him in. Sergio then welcomed the young man into his home, and although he was excited to hook up, he couldn't help but wonder if he was in over his head by hiring some 20 something year old dude with messy hair and a dirty hoodie. 

"Alright, you ready?" Kris said as he began to strip down to nothing but his underwear. 

"Yeah, do you wanna go-" 

"Wrong answer," Kris interrupted Sergio. "I'll excuse the first mistake but you'll only address me as Sir, Daddy, or Papi from here on out. Got it?" 

Sergio was thrown off by how to-the-point Kris was but decided to just ignore it. 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Good boy, now whip out your cock. Get hard too,"

Sergio did as he was told. Kris did the same. Sergio was impressed with Kris' member. It was long and hairy with some decent girth too. Although his was definitely longer, Sergio's cock was the thicker one. They were both hung, Sergio like a bull and Kris like a horse. Once they were both erect, Kris reached down to his pants. He pulled out two rings out of the back pocket, one gold and one silver. He put the gold ring on, then handed the silver cock ring to Sergio.

"Put this on, then on the count of 3, twist it to the right."

Sergio held the cock ring in his hand. The silver hue of the ring almost seemed to glimmer under the light. He hesitated putting it on. It definitely wasn't the first time he wore a cock ring, but Sergio got an inexplicable feeling telling him that he shouldn't put it on. Kris noticed his hesitation right away.

"C'mon, don't be shy, put it on!" Kris said firmly. Sergio looked up and met his gaze but didn't say anything. A moment of silence passed, then Kris sighed.

"Look man, you paid me to do a job and I plan to deliver. You trust me, right?" 

Kris seemed slightly more empathetic now. It was just enough to make Sergio trust him. Sergio nodded, then proceeded to put on the ring. He placed it on the tip of his dick and slid it down to the base of his rock hard member. 

"Alright, ready? 1... 2... 3!!!"

Sergio and Kris then twisted their cock rings to the right at the same time. The moment they did, a wave of orgasmic sensations hit their bodies, causing them to throw their heads back with pleasure. 

"UURRGGGHHHHH!!!" They both moaned obscenely loudly. 

Sergio's vision blurred as he felt the wave of pleasure overtake him. His body trembled as the ring grew tighter around his cock, making it engorged. Then suddenly, Sergio became extremely lightheaded. He could feel his very soul leaving his body. As his soul stepped out of its vessel, Sergio lost all physical feeling as he became nothing but a mass of light. He looked ahead and saw the same had happened to Kris. Both of their souls had just stepped out of their bodies!

Sergio was mind blown by what he was seeing. But before he could even react, his soul began moving on its own. His soul was floating towards Kris' body. At the same time, Kris was floating towards his body. During the brief moment they passed each other, Sergio could've sworn he saw Kris smirking. His soul continued its march towards Kris' body, and as soon as it made contact, it began sinking into the soulless body. Sergio's soul aligned with its new vessel within seconds. Every single cell of Kris' was invaded by Sergio's soul, and he could feel ecstasy wash over him as his soon-to-be new body surrended itself to his control. Once it was done, Sergio immediately felt the difference as he longer possessed his jacked, beefy body but instead a hairy twink like Kris. 

"Arghh fuckk.. what the fuck..." Sergio said with his new voice. All of the extraordinary sensations he just experienced made him fall to the ground. While he was busy trying to recover, he could see his body moving out of the corner of his eyes. 

"Bro look at these fucking pecs! These are some massive slabs of meat on your chest!!" 

Sergio watched as Kris bounced and groped his pecs with shameless joy. Slowly but surely, while Kris was enjoying himself, Sergio came back to his senses. He sat up, then kneeled down onto his knees. Well, Sergio was mostly back to his senses anyway. The sight of seeing a burly man play his own chest was filling him with lust. The only thing on Sergio's mind was how to best worship and please his master. 

Kris noticed Sergio was basically drooling and smirked.

"What's the matter, you want something?" Kris stripped down naked, then bounced his pecs again. Sergio nodded his head vigorously. "Then ask for it, tell Daddy what you want."

"I want milk Daddy..." Sergio said with bated breath and dilated pupils. "Please, Sir, let me worship your beautiful pecs!" 

"Good boy," Kris put his thumb on Sergio's chin and flicked it down, leaving his mouth hanging open with his tongue out. "Now show your Daddy what you can do with that mouth."

As soon as he heard he got permission, Sergio couldn't contain himself anymore and pounced onto Kris. He immediately planted his mouth on one of Kris' nipples and began suckling away while Kris enjoyed getting serviced. He was smirking all the while. His plan had gone off perfectly; the cock rings switched their bodies! That was the kink Kris had planned for Sergio, and he knew it would be the fun night he could've never predicted. After all, nobody knew how literal his title of Kink Witch was. But while Sergio was aware that they switched bodies, there was one little detail Kris kept to himself. Both rings would allow a body swap, but only the gold one would let the user retain their original personality. Because Sergio used the silver cock ring, his soul was forced to absorb Kris' hidden total sub personality when it took over his body. It might still be Sergio in mind and spirit, but it was now Kris in personality. With Kris possessing Sergio's muscular body with his mind still intact, the conditions were now set for him to complete the request Sergio made. 

"FUCK yeah, just like that!" Kris moaned. He could feel as Sergio alternated between licking, sucking, and flicking his nipple with his tongue. His warm mouth felt amazing against his sensitive nipples. Kris pressed Sergio's face down into his chest. Sergio let out a muffled groan of pleasure as he motorboated Kris. They were both having the time of their lives, filling the room with their sensual moans. 

Kris let Sergio worship his chest for a while longer before moving onto the next phases. Within the span of the next half hour, they made out passionately and intensely. Kris stuck his tongue inside Sergio's mouth as they grinded their bodies together, sharing their body heat together. Kris then began moving his mouth down Sergio's body, covering his neck and torso with hickies as he bit and sucked on his body. All while Kris had his middle finger firmly set inside Sergio's ass, massaging his hole and making him squirm while he claimed him as his sub. 

Then, before the final act, Kris tore Sergio off his body. He had a hand wrapped around his throat, lightly choking the panting young man. Sergio's eyes were lit with an intense lust, begging and desperate for more. Kris smiled internally. He had him right where he wanted him.

"Fuck, Boy!! You really know how to please your Master, I wanna give you a reward... Are you ready? Are you ready for Daddy's present for his favorite sub?" 

Sergio whispered "yes Sir, please Sir." Kris then pulled out a couple more things he brought and gave them to Sergio, who put them on enthusiastically. 

Sergio laid there with his ass perked up. Kris came up from behind and laid his big, strong hands on Sergio's perky cheeks. He massaged him first, letting Sergio's bubble butt jiggle in his hands for a bit. He then spread his cheeks apart and leaned down to stick his tongue deep inside his ass.

"Nghh..." Sergio groaned. He could feel Kris' tongue swirl and flick around inside of him and it. Felt. AMAZING. 

Kris ate Sergio out for a while, making sure his ass was nice, wet, and ready for his girthy cock. Once he had enough of using his tongue, Kris got back up and positioned himself just above Sergio. He let his dick rest in between his cheeks and moved it up and down, making Sergio squirm in anticipation. Then, with a wide grin on his face, Kris stuck his dick inside of Sergio. He let out a silent "fuck..." as he watched his cock head penetrate his bound up sub. He thrusted slowly, letting inch by inch of his fat member disappear into Sergio's hole. Kris was proud of his tight and warm hole, and now he finally got a chance to fuck himself in a very literal way. He waited a bit to let Sergio's wall expand to accommodate his dick, then began pounding away at him. 

Loud obscene moans, guttural groans, and boorish grunts filled the room as the two men fucked. Kris found the perfect rhythm to move his hips, fucking Sergio like he was a jackhammer. Sergio closed his eyes as he took the dicking down like a champ. Somewhere in the back of his head was the vague memory that he and Kris had switched bodies. The thought of getting fucked by his own body made his pleasure increase tenfold. It was his own cock stretching out his hole and rearranging his insides. It was a strange thought, but Sergio didn't care. All he could think about was how he was Daddy's personal fleshlight and how much he was loving servicing a big, strong man like Daddy. 

They fucked for a while longer until Kris couldn't hold his load in any longer. He pulled out, flipped Sergio over, tore off the jockstrap, then stuck his cock back on.

"C'MON! CUM FOR ME! COVER ME WITH YOUR- FUCKKKKK!!!!"

Kris finished mid sentence. He rammed his throbbing dick deep inside Sergio and let out all of his loads inside of him. Hearing Kris' satisfied groaning as he cummed along with the sensation of getting filled with his seed made Sergio shootout ropes of warm jizz all over. Within seconds, they had both become incredibly sweaty, potently musky, and drenched in Sergio's spunk. Sergio got his walk on the wild side and Kris completed his job.

Once they cooled down and cleaned up, Sergio collapsed onto his bed. Aside from the mind blowing sex, he was also exhausted by swapping bodies. He was a first time swapper after all, it was only natural. 

But just before he could drift away into a deep sleep, he noticed Kris was still moving around with his body.

"Hey... what are you doing?"

"Daddy's gonna go have a night out with his bros. Don't worry about it, just go to sleep."

Kris hopped into bed with Sergio. He kissed him on the forehead, snuggled with him, and watched as he fell asleep in his embrace. Sergio was way too tired to question it, and Kris was glad. Kris then hopped out of bed and let Sergio rest inside his body while he went out to complete his next assignment: find a hairy, muscle bear with a big ass. Now it was his turn to bottom, and although Sergio woke up the next morning not knowing where Master was with his body, he had no problem patiently and eagerly waiting until Daddy returned home.

#male body swap

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Birthday Boy

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader

Characters: Elvis Presley, Reader, Vernon Presley, Gladys Presley

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1248

Summary: The birthday boy gets an unwanted present.

Tags/Warnings: Sickness, Angst, Fluff, Arguing, Birthdays, Established Relationship, Cuddling,

Notes: I said I wasn’t going to write anything for his birthday and here we are. Happy 89th Birthday El x

ELVIS MASTERLIST //  TAG LIST

‘Elvis?’ you said quietly as you stuck your head around the door to see what was going on. He was lying in bed, and though the room was almost too dimly lit to make him out properly, you could see the comforter rise and fall with every breath he took. And as you watched the material move, steady and sure, you realised he hadn’t awoken at the intrusion, and knowing it had only been late when the pair of you got back last night you paused, wondering if waking him was the right thing to do, but you’d waited long enough. Besides, his mother was only going to give him so much longer before she came barging in herself, ready to celebrate with the birthday boy.

You moved slowly into the room, careful not to be too loud so as not to wake him crudely rather than the gentle nudge you had planned.

‘Elvis,’ you said again quietly, gently shaking his shoulder as you did so in the hopes he’d disturb. Even in sleep he still looked tired, as evidenced by the heavy bags under his eyes that hadn’t faded with rest and the fact that even upon touch he didn’t disturb.

‘El,’ you said with more force, causing his brow to furrow as he flopped onto his back in between the waking world and whatever dreamland he was in.

‘El honey you gotta wake up,’ you said, words that appeared to break through his sleep-addled haze as his bright blue eyes finally met yours before he closed them again and said croakily, ‘what time is it?’

‘A little after two,’ you said, perching on the bed as he shifted over to allow you to. He didn’t say anything, but his tired sigh was enough to make you long to explain yourself, ‘I tried to leave you as long as I could... any other day I would.’

When he didn’t offer you a reply you sighed. You’d expected this, in fact, after last night you’d expected a whole lot worse.  You’d been with Elvis long enough to know he wasn’t so keen about his birthday. The reason why you didn’t know but he’d normally come around with some gentle coaxing. Not this year. This year, he seemed determined to not even acknowledge his birthday. When you’d inquired about gifts he might want he'd told you not to bother because he ‘already had everything he could want.’ When you asked him how he wanted to celebrate he’d shrug and say he didn’t care, though whatever you did suggest was immediately shot down giving you the feeling that he must care a little. It had become exhausting. Not because he didn’t want to celebrate. That you could understand given that a lot of people didn’t really care about their birthdays. It just amazed you how a man who was so loved and adored globally could think no one would want to celebrate him.  

If he didn’t want presents, fine. If he didn’t want a big party or a night on the town, you could live with that. But you had refused to let the day go by without even acknowledging that this day meant something. That it should be celebrated.

That was how the pair of you had gotten into a row last night, a simple conversation about dinner plans somehow turning into a full-blown argument that lasted the whole car ride before you’d headed to bed in stony silence, lying beside one another and yet feeling as though you were a million miles away as you waited for sleep to come and take hold, which it failed to do until the wee hours, Elvis snoring heavily beside you seemingly fine. Though given he was still refusing to answer you now you figured he may not be as fine as he had appeared.

‘You know your parents are waiting on you,’ you said. If you weren’t going to shift him, the idea of his mother waiting patiently for him to haul himself out of bed might.

‘Baby please,’ he grumbled.

‘El please don’t be like this,’ you said.

‘M'tired,’ he said croakily.

‘I know but you can't stay here all day and I know last night you said…look if you don’t want to do something big fine but can we at least spend the day together?’ you asked, moving to take his hand in yours only when you did you found it like an iron against your skin, ‘jeez you're boiling.’

‘M’freezing,’ he said.

‘What?’ you said, immediately moving your hand to his cheek only to find it just hot as his hand had been. You moved to turn on a light, causing him to scrunch up his already closed eyes with a wince as you assessed him. He looked deathly pale, those bags under his eyes near black in the lamplight, and there was a definite sheen of sweat on his brow.

‘El you’re burning up,’ you said, ‘do you feel okay?’

‘Feel like hell,’ he said, finally conceding to look at you through squinted eyes.

‘Since when?’ you asked.

‘Few days,’ he said weakly.

‘Why didn’t you say?’ you sighed.

‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged, ‘I thought you might think I was fakin’.’

‘Is this why you’ve been so upset about your birthday? Because you should’ve said something,’ you said as guilt rushed through you.

‘I didn’t want to let you down,’ he said.

‘Let me down? How could you let me down?’ you asked, perplexed that he could even think that.

'Honey, my birthday means more to you that it does to anyone. I think ya got even my mama beat on how much you care and she was there on the day,’ he grinned weakly, ‘an’ normally I can get on board with whatever you have cooked up in that pretty lil head o’yours but this year I just wasn’t feelin’ it.’

‘Because you don’t feel well or something else?’ you asked.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘I guess this year has just been so crazy it feels like everyone’s wanted a piece of me and don’t get me wrong I’ve loved every second it’s just…’

‘You wanted a bit of normal?’ you asked, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Elvis nodded.

You sighed and gestured for him to shuffle up, allowing you to tuck yourself into the small gap between him and the edge of the bed and your hand fell on his clammy chest.

'Well, how about this?' you said, fiddling with the hairs that had glued themselves to his skin from the sheen of sweat he’d produced from entrapping his fever in the blankets, ‘I go call the doctor and once he’s declared that you’re too unwell to go anywhere or see anyone you spend the day in bed and I’ll spend the day fending off anyone who wants to disturb you.’

‘Sounds good,’ he mumbled, pressing his scalding hot lips to your temple, ‘or…’

‘Or?’ you asked, turning your face to look at him as a smile danced across his lips.

‘Or you could lock the damn door and spend the day in bed with me?’ he countered.

‘What if I get sick?’ you smirked.

‘That’s the risk you gotta take if you wanna be with the birthday boy,’ he sighed, ‘besides think of you sacrificing your health as a gift to me. An act of true love.’

‘And here I was thinkin’ you’d be fine with a new watch,’ you giggled.

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @lettersfromvenus

#my writing #elvis #elvis presley #elvis presley fic #birthday boy #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fic #elvis fluff

[chronicallybloodless]

Heavy to Hold - Chapter 10

Night After Night

Pairing: Astarion x enby!tav Status: in progress Rating: Explicit (18+ only) Genre: angst/comfort | slow burn Alternating second-person POV Contains spoilers for the whole game basically TW: it's an astarion fic: descriptions of trauma, abuse, sexual violence, etc. | smut | full tag list on AO3 Read from the beginning: AO3 | Tumblr Listen to the Playlist

After the first time, when Tav brought you back from the brink twice in one night, you had tried to go back to hunting game. But your heart was no longer in it. A rabbit or a squirrel or even a boar just wasn’t the same as fresh Drow blood. That much wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise was that blood being offered to you freely.

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr ↓

Astarion's POV

You knelt between the pale drow’s legs. Your gaze passed over each pair of fang marks that lined the inside of each of their thighs—marks that you placed there, one night at a time. The first set had been placed midway down, but each subsequent feeding had you moving closer and closer.

Their gaze followed you eagerly, the anticipation mounting in their body evidenced by the rapid rise and fall of their chest.

After the first time, when Tav brought you back from the brink twice in one night, you had tried to go back to hunting game. But your heart was no longer in it. A rabbit or a squirrel or even a boar just wasn’t the same as fresh Drow blood. That much wasn’t a surprise.

What was a surprise was that blood being offered to you freely.

Not long after your unfortunate hunting accident, you had started to head out for your usual “walk” after dinner when Tav volunteered to go with you. “I have to protect you from the bears,” they said. You had barely gone beyond earshot of camp when they had offered themselves to you.

And they did the same thing the following night, and the night after that.

“Is something wrong?” Tav asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“No, just…thinking a bit I suppose.” As much as you were enjoying your fresh meals, you still hadn’t pinned down what Tav’s goal was. It made you nervous.

Tav sat up so that you were eye to eye. You must have been making a face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” They said, head cocked to the side.

“Do you ever have a solution to anything that isn’t talking about it?” Your tone was joking, but Tav was awfully insistent about talking about anything they perceived to be an issue. You had already told them so much more than you had ever planned on—about being a spawn and not a proper vampire, about how little of yourself you remembered from before, hells, the fact that you were a vampire in the first place.

“Don’t tell me you’re already bored of having the same thing for dinner every night?” They said, their voice dripping with faux drama and a mischievous smile across their face. They were enjoying your dependency on them far too much.

You rolled your eyes before pushing them back down.

“Well, perhaps if my dinner didn’t talk so much.” You returned to your position between their legs. “And if they weren’t so obvious when they left camp to where people are asking me when I’m going to make an honest bard out of you.”

“They are not.” They pouted.

“They may as bloody well be.” You protested in response. Their grin had fallen into a slight frown. Perhaps your tone had come across too strongly. “What I mean is….I’ve seen the eyebrow raises and knowing glances between some of the others. Are you okay with them thinking that we….”

“That we’re fucking?” They finished nonchalantly. “They can think whatever they want; it isn’t their business.” Their frown deepened. “Unless it’s a problem for you?”

“No, I’m just…..I know you care a lot about how they think about you.” You were starting to regret saying anything. Somehow anytime you had a conversation you opened up more than you had planned. All they had to do was look at you with those soft red eyes and before you knew what was happening you were tripping over your own words as your thoughts tumbled out. “I don’t want to ruin that for you.”

“Astarion, you aren’t ruining anything.” They smiled at you gently. “I told you, I’m doing this because I want to.”

But why? Why do you want this?

“Well, I’m certainly ruining your skin.” You deflected. “You’re starting to look like a pin cushion.”

They sat up again to examine their thighs. Their hand brushed against yours, making you realize that you had been holding their legs open this entire time without being conscious of it. Tav didn’t seem to notice either.

“I suppose you are starting to run out of room.” They mused, running their fingers along the marks. They seemed to spend more time on the faint marks from the first night. “Do you want to try somewhere else? I did pick up a scarf from a trader.”

The thought of sinking your teeth into their neck was certainly appealing, but that wouldn’t solve your other problem of not wanting it to be quite so obvious that you were enjoying Tav’s company in more ways than one.

You weren’t sure why you were bothering with the pretense that this wasn’t somehow sexual at this point. At first, you had both tried to hide it. But as time went on, the stifled moans had gotten louder. Neither of you had made a move beyond that, other than hastily excusing yourself after you had finished your meal so that you could find some relief in your own company. You had caught glimpses of Tav doing the same in their bedroll.

“And if I can make one other request?” Tav asked. You weren’t really in a position to deny them anything.

“Of course.”

“Do I have to be laying down? All this time on my back in the dirt is starting to hurt.” You have to admit you did enjoy the view from your usual position, but it wasn’t exactly a feather bed out here.

“Why didn’t you say so before? Here.” You gestured for them to sit up and then positioned yourself behind them. You unbuckled the top of their armor and placed it on the ground, exposing their bare shoulders to the dappled moonlight of the forest. They shivered as you ran your hand along their neck, feeling for the right spot.

“Is this okay?” You whispered into their ear. They let out a needy moan in response. They might hold most of the cards, but in these moments, you were in control.

You plunged your fangs into the crook of their neck. Tav gasped in response as their blood filled your mouth. As you drank, you wrapped a hand around their waist and pulled their body closer to yours.

“Astarion.” They moaned breathily, their head lolled back. You held them tighter in response.

They reached back and threaded their fingers through your hair. You loved the sensation of their hand on you, but you had come to learn that they weren’t afraid to pull your hair out if you didn’t stop drinking when they wanted you to. You took a final gulp as they began to twirl a strand of hair around their finger.

“Was that easier on your back?” You asked, still holding their body to yours.

“Mmmmm. Better.” They had leaned all their weight against you, content to have you hold you both up. “I could still go for a night in a proper bed though.”

“Couldn’t we all.” You said flatly. “Perhaps if someone didn’t volunteer us to go help everyone in the countryside we crossed paths with, we could be somewhere with proper beds by now.” That was a risky comment for someone in hair pulling range, but Tav seemed content to let it slide.

You sat in silence for a while, your bodies still pressed together. They had lowered their arm, choosing instead to interlace their fingers with yours, keeping you from moving the arm that was holding them.

Your body was still but your mind was racing. It wasn’t like Tav to sit quietly anywhere, much less here, like this. You found yourself getting flustered by the sheer intimacy of the moment—not sexual intimacy, as the two of you had so often danced along the edge of—but emotional intimacy. Just being. Unfortunately that was the kind you didn’t have the best handle on, especially when you weren’t really sure what Tav wanted from you. At any moment, they could decide to reveal your secret to the others, or to stop letting you drink from them every night. But they didn’t. And they never asked for anything else from you.

For once, you wished they wanted to talk about something.

“Tav…” Your voice came out as a whisper as you hesitated to break the stillness around you.

“Mmm?”

“Is….is everything alright?”

“In general? Absolutely not.” They gave your hand a firm squeeze. “But it’s okay enough for right now.”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x oc #astarion x mc #astarion fanfic #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion baldurs gate #astarion angst #astarion romance #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #fic: heavy to hold

[wangsejabin]

Chapter 60

Seeing the prince call herself a little jealous, Pan'er heard it and pretended not to hear.A little bit of vinegar at the right time, the key he also eats this, is not quite good.

"Brother Cong, what do you think the Jiang family wants? Want to give you their daughter?" The prince looked askance at the top of her hair, you are not knowingly asking?

"I'm not asking knowingly, I just think Jiang Cheng is quite a smart person, how come smart people still do such old-fashioned things?" The Prince's attitude towards the Jiang family was gradually easing up. If the Prince had been blinded by the Jiang family's wealth and had his heart broken, of course, this was Pan'er's description, in fact, the Prince had only revealed some hints between his words in front of her, he was extremely calm in front of people, quite a kind of soldier to stop the water.

The Prince's attitude is now extremely moderate, anyway, as far as Pan'er heard recently his words of praise for the Jiang family are more and more, the previous kind of sneer from time to time almost no longer appear.

The fact that the Jiang family has been able to do this shows that the Palmers are extremely clever and know how to balance the essence of showing their wealth and not revealing it. In other words, even if he showed his wealth, he would still let you treat him as normal, and would even do something else to make you feel that his usefulness was greater than his wealth.

Pan'er believes that even when Emperor Cheng'an came to the Jiang family on his southern tour, he must have gone through such a journey of the heart. You, a salt merchant, are richer than me, the lord of the world, and are trying to bring trouble on yourself?

But since you have reached the position of Emperor Cheng'an and even the Crown Prince, your eyes will not be limited to a small amount of silver. The world is all yours, just like you have a big cake, would you still care about the small sesame seeds on the cake? Even if this small sesame seed is a little bit eye-catching, but if this small sesame seed is of great use, then it is a different story.

Pan'er thought of the previous life, the Jianping emperor never really reached out to the Jiang family, and even outside the rumor that the Jiang family's backer is the Jianping emperor, which he neither denied nor admitted, but gave the Jiang family a lot of rewards, the Jiang family's general merchant position has been sitting, until the two Huaihai salt reform, the general trend changed, the Jiang family only then gradually fell into decline.

In her previous life, Pan'er had some idea of what was going on outside because she had to compete for the throne at a later stage. The Great Zhou seemed to be prosperous, but in reality, it was like a leaky sieve under the peace and prosperity. The war in the north required military pay, there were small countries in the southwest that wanted to invade from time to time, there were sea pirates at sea, the Yellow River flooded every year, and either the east was drought-stricken or the west was flooded. Emperor Cheng'an was extravagant, as evidenced by his tour of the south. If he hadn't been so used to extravagance, would his followers have dared to do so?

What he left the Jianping Emperor was not a wealthy kingdom, but a broken ship that needed to be patched up everywhere.That is why the salt merchants were still useful, that is why the Jiang family was still useful, that is why the two Huai regions could not be disrupted, that is why Emperor Jianping delayed taking action until his old age? Pan'er felt that he had learned the truth.

On this side, the prince smiled a little at Pan'er's statement. "A cliché? Corny yet useful." This plaintive remark made Pan'er wary at once. On the one hand, it was the Crown Prince's thoughts on Jiang's family, and on the other, it came from his own provenance. "Could it be that His Highness has his heart set on that Jiang Qiong?" Her attitude was quite a little bit sad, as if she was saying that if you dare to say yes, she would dare to jump off the bed.

But in her heart she was sighing at the same time, first she had messed up her mind for Su's family, and then because she was pregnant, she had forgotten about Pei Yongchang. "What do you think of me?" The prince laughed and spanked her bottom, rubbing it again for fear of hurting it.

She hurriedly climbed up the pole: "Does that mean that His Highness will not accept Jiang Qiong?" The prince looked at her askance: "You say you're not a jealous little girl, and today you've been setting me up in all sorts of ways, do you want me to take advantage of your mind?"

"I don't have any intention, do I?" She said with a bit of caution. "All right, just rest assured and get well, I won't accept the Jiang family's daughter, with Jiang Cheng's caution, he wouldn't send his daughter up in a hurry, this must be someone from below making a fool of himself."

At the end of his sentence, the Prince's eyes darkened. Pan'er thought and thought, but still felt that she should confess now, if not now, and wondered if Pei Yongchang had seen the Crown Prince in the past ...... She once again spat at herself in her heart for letting her guard down, it must be the Crown Prince's attitude that made her not be as thorough in everything as she used to be.

This is the first signs of this in the previous life, think how vigilant and careful she was at first, and then she was spoiled by Emperor Jianping to become more and more foolish, and had to let him watch and keep an eye on everything. This was the first time the emperor had told her this, but she did it intentionally. For an all-powerful emperor, since being smart like the crown prince was not to his liking, she should be stupid.

The only way to be smart is to be silly. He will keep an eye on you if he's not sure, and he'll get used to it and put you in his heart. It's just that she was a bit out of her depth, but then she got used to it and became accustomed to it.

So Pan'er felt that it was all the Prince's fault, that it was all these hints from her previous life coming out again that she had become less vigilant and now had to think of mending her ways. "Actually, I guess, there's one more thing I forgot to mention."

She sat up again and said with extra apprehension and caution. The prince saw two words on her face right away - a weak heart. As soon as his mind turned, he almost had some idea of what it was, but on the surface he asked, "What is it?"

"It's just that the person who bought the concubine and sent her to the Chen family seems to be a salt merchant. I didn't dare to ask about the details at that time, but after I arrived at the Chen family, I heard a few words from the underlings of the Chen family, that person's surname was Pei, and they all called him Master Pei, saying that he was the second wife's son-in-law. I ...... this concubine ...... would have long wanted to say, but again, I think this is a relative of the Crown Prince Consort's family, and the concubine does not have much to do with, said not to make a fool of myself, but now ...... "

"But now I find that I seem to be favored, not the same as before, the Jiang family are eager to send people up but can not achieve their goals, so I remembered this matter, afraid that the Pei family might make a move, so …..

"You're so smart, Brother Cong, so much smarter than me."She pounced on him at once, startling the prince and glaring at her prompting her not to pay attention to her stomach either. She gave an embarrassed smile and shook his arm again to pamper him. She had to remove her bun at night, but Pan'er was slender, and once she removed it and wore her hair loose, she looked even smaller. She had a baby in her belly.

The Prince already knew about this, but he didn't mention it because he was waiting for her to bring it up herself. During this period, there was naturally some suspicion that she was deliberately not mentioning it, or that she had really forgotten, or that she would find a suitable opportunity to mention Pei's family in front of him.

As it turned out, the little girl did not disappoint him. Probably because all the women around the prince were more or less connected to the imperial court, the prince didn't like his women to be too smart, but not too stupid either. In the final analysis, there was a degree: you couldn't be too stupid, so stupid that the Prince was bored, but you couldn't be too smart either. Those who are too clever are usually too opinionated, their hands get longer and they like to be clever.

That's why the prince looks gentle, but he's not that easy to serve, as is the nature of the men of the clan. The Prince is also aware that she is not so naive as she appears. From the fact that she would take the opportunity to tell him some folk matters, and from the fact that she is jealous and does not want him to accept the Jiang family's daughter, one can tell that she is actually quite clever.

But this degree makes the crown prince comfortable, both revealing your own little mind and letting him know what you are thinking, but also making him feel that everything is still under control. At times like this, the crown prince, who is on top of the big picture, feels that even a little bit of small thinking is not unacceptable.

To put it bluntly, it's a matter of what you want, and when you want it, you think it's all right and there's an explanation for it. If it were the Crown Princess, perhaps the Crown Prince would have thought more about it if she had just made a move. "The Pei family has been jumping up and down a lot lately, but the Jiang family has been very guarded." With a few words, the prince sort of skipped over this. It was safe to pass. Pan'er was relieved again, and as soon as she was relieved, she leaned back into the prince's arms as if she had no bones.

The prince rubbed her waist, she was such a petty little girl who didn't even want to do a full dressing routine. She was timid and petulant, sometimes it seemed like she was doing it on purpose, but in a flash she was tearing herself apart, making people laugh and cry."So does Your Highness intend to see Pei's family?"

Tsk, now she was no longer called Brother Cong. The prince secretly tsked."What are you asking this for?" She said matter-of-factly, "I'm preparing in advance, ah, to think about how I should face Master Pei, whether to be cautious and careful, or to flaunt my power a bit on account of being the Crown Prince's favourite concubine, and not having to give him any face." A tremor went through the Prince's chest. Still a happy girl. I wonder what goes on in her head all day long. But the prince was willing to give her ideas.

"You are one of Lone's people, so naturally you don't have to be careful with a salt merchant, why haven't you been so polite to the Jiang family?"Pan'er was speechless. "When he was about to enter the palace, he slipped me a few thousand taels of silver behind my back, saying that I should use it to pay for it." The Prince laughed at her and at her words.

There was a sound of movement outside, but no one came in. "You're a real no-good." The Prince laughed and tapped his finger on her brow. "It's not like I'm taking the easy way out." She was embarrassed. She had a conscience, she wouldn't just take the money and not do anything, but also step on someone else's toes. "You can afford to take the silver," the prince said with an unconscious look between his eyebrows, the sharpness of the crown prince poured out a little, "but you don't have to be too polite to him, you treat him the same way you treat Jiang's family. What you should not do, you know."

Pan'er let out an oh. "You have to put up a front yourself, you're not the same as before, you don't need to fear him." A little uneasy, the Prince explained again. "It's just a little salt merchant." "But since he sent you to me, I will see him tomorrow as a kind of reward."

--

The prince had always used the ways of his subordinates to perfection. Don't look for just a meeting, the Jiang family will probably be anxious again. He had gone from being disgusted with the Jiang family to feeling that they could be used and not touched for the time being, and not without his own thoughts.

The actual game is, to put it bluntly, a game of chance. All of the Jiang family's arrangements, and even every time the prince goes out to a banquet to go to the elegant gathering to befriend those literary scholars, as well as every word spoken by both sides, are all in play.

The Jiang family is spacing out and passing moves upwards, being modest but not too modest, seemingly entertaining the crown prince with great hospitality and gathering a group of literati for an elegant gathering, but it is just a gesture of goodwill and a way to show their abilities. And the crown prince is on high, see the moves, the attitude can not be soft, but also can not be too hard, even if the mind has changed afterwards, will not let the Jiang family so at ease.

The fact that the two of you are not in the same boat as the other two is a sign that you are in the same boat. It is also a wake-up call. Pan'er did not know these things, nor did she know how the Crown Prince met Pei Yongchang, what happened in between, and what the Jiang family's reaction was. All she knew was that Pei Yongchang was surprisingly modest when he was led over to see her. "Have a seat." Pan'er gestured to the chair below and said.

#mtl #yingchong

[kwanisms]

Hiraeth

profiles: 01 || 02

⇺ previous | masterlist | next ⇻

add your name to the taglist

summary: Moon Byeoli lives in Busan with her best friend Jamie Park and works at the aquarium. Their next door neighbor is Park Sungjin. Growing up, Byeoli has never really believed in the supernatural always finding a logical explanation for things that go bump in the night. Her life is about to be thrown out of control when new neighbors move in across the hall. What will happen when Byeoli befriends them and learns they aren’t exactly… human.

ch 17 - in your dreams 🙄

pairing: sungjin x oc x hyunjin

warnings: foul language

updates every Friday & Saturday @ 7PM CST

a/n: times and dates DO NOT matter!! the date eeeeee!!!!!!

taglist: @yoonguurt @x-woozi @lachinitaaaaa

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

To say that Byeoli was nervous for her date with Hyunjin was an understatement. Evidenced by the fact that she had spent the last 20 minutes nervously pacing in the front room, checking herself over in the mirror to make sure she looked alright. Jamie sat on the couch watching her best friend, the TV show long forgotten as her eyes followed Byeoli from left to right. It was too much.

“Will you stop fussing already?” Jamie asked. “You look amazing,” she added. Byeoli glanced up at the mirror, catching Jamie’s eye in the reflection. “You think so? You don’t think it’s too much?” she asked. Jamie rolled her eyes, getting up from her spot on the sofa. She moved to reach into Byeoli’s bag and pulled out her cellphone. Jamie walked over and handed the device to Byeoli. “Look for yourself,” she said, crossing her arms and giving Byeoli a smirk.

“Check Hyunjin’s post,” she said, gesturing to the phone in Byeoli’s hands. Unlocking the device, Byeoli opened the instagram app and immediately, Hyunjin’s latest post showed up in her feed. He had posted a selca in which he was dressed up. He wore a black and white jacket with a white button up. The neck of the shirt had a decorative ascot type of tie, secured with an ornamental pin. She noticed the jewelry he’d donned from the rings to the clearly expensive Chanel earrings. Byeoli looked up at Jamie, the smirk on her face no longer hiding but evident.

“Looks like you aren’t the only one who got all dolled up,” she said with a snicker. Byeoli fought the urge to smile but couldn’t stop the rush of blood to her cheeks and ears. She moved past Jamie to the couch to grab her purse at the same time there was a knock on the door. Byeoli froze, eyes looking up to meet Jamie’s. “I got it,” her best friend said, moving to answer the door. Byeoli glanced down one final time to make sure she looked presentable. Jamie unlocked and pulled open the door to reveal Hyunjin standing on the other side. ‘Hey,” he said softly. “Hey,” Jamie repeated, holding the door open.

He looked even better in person than in his post. Byeoli smiled when his eyes met hers, noticing the way his eyes softened upon seeing her. She was so entranced by his presence she almost didn’t notice the look on Jamie’s face. Knowing her best friend and her tendency to be overprotective, Byeoli moved quickly to the door, not giving Jamie a chance to even invite Hyunjin in. “Alright,” she said, slipping her phone into her purse. “We’ll be off,” Byeoli said, not giving Jamie a chance to speak.

She stepped out into the hall, ushering Hyunjin ahead of her but Jamie grabbed her by the elbow. “Um, excuse me?” she said, stopping the two. Byeoli and Hyunjin turned to her. ‘Please don’t say anything embarrassing,’ Byeoli thought as she looked at Jamie, standing in the doorway, hands on her hips as she narrowed her eyes at Hyunjin.

“I want her home by eleven at the latest. No funny business, understand?” Jamie asked, eyes meeting with Hyunjin who nodded, looking positively bewildered. Byeoli rolled her eyes. “Okay, mom,” she said sarcastically, pulling from Jamie’s grip and moving next to Hyunjin, slipping her arm into his so casually. Despite his immediate acceptance to the gesture, it still sent her stomach into spasms and her heart leapt into her throat. “Have fun and behave,” Jamie added as she watched them walk the short distance to the elevator.

“And I mean it, Hwang Hyunjin! No funny business. I know where you live?” Jamie called. Byeoli could feel her face burn at Jamie’s insinuation. She pressed the button for the elevator quickly, giving it a couple extra presses for good measure and was relieved when the doors opened immediately. Byeoli rushed Hyunjin into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby, mentally reminding herself to reprimand Jamie later.

As the elevator descended, Hyunjin broke the silence. “Is she always so…” he started but wasn’t sure what word to use. Byeoli didn’t need him to finish his sentence. She nodded. “Yeah,” she replied. “She’s always been like that,” she added. Hyunjin nodded quietly. Silence fell over them as the elevator continued to descend. It couldn’t have moved any slower. “You look nice,” Hyunjin said shyly. Byeoli looked up at him and smiled. “Thanks,” she responded softly before gesturing to him. “You, too,” she answered. Hyunjin returned the smile, cheeks turning a soft pink as he looked down at his feet.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” He asked. Byeoli shook her head. “Not at all. We sort of match,” she answered, looking down at her outfit. Hyunjin looked up at her, his smile widening. She was right. They did match. Her white and beige jacket and skirt combo was the same material as his jacket. His eyes traveled down, noticing the smooth skin of her legs before he forced his eyes to look elsewhere.

‘It’s the first date,’ he told himself mentally. ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, you idiot!’

The elevator doors opened with a ding as the lift reached the ground floor after what felt like eternity. Hyunjin followed Byeoli out of the building and they walked down the sidewalk, casually chatting.

“So, how long have you lived here?” Hyunjin asked, hands tucked into his pockets.

Byeoli held onto her purse strap as they walked. She glanced up at the building before speaking.

“Oh, about four years now. Jamie and I moved here from Ilsan,” she answered.

“Where did you move from?” Byeoli asked as they continued down the sidewalk, heading for a restaurant Byeoli had suggested to Hyunjin. “Daejeon,” Hyunjin answered. “That’s almost smack right in the middle of the country,” Byeoli said with a laugh. Hyunjin nodded. “Yeah, it was miserable.” Byeoli glanced up at him. “Because it’s so far from the ocean?” She asked. Hyunjin nodded in response.

“Yeah. It’s so boring and there’s nothing to do. Not for me anyway,” he added.

The conversation fizzled as they continued until Byeoli looked up at the building they had just arrived at. “Is this it?” Hyunjin asked, also looking up at the sign that read ‘the Eatery’ in white backlit letters. Byeoli smiled up at him and grabbed his arm, gently pulling him to the door and inside.

It was a cozy little space. The medium tone wood flooring was laid in a herringbone pattern giving the restaurant flow and drawing your eyes in. Byeoli had been here plenty of times before, but Hyunjin didn’t even know this was here. He must have walked past it a dozen times since moving to the area. The hosting stand next to the black front doors had a young woman standing behind it. She glanced up when they entered and smiled at Byeoli. Hyunjin guessed they knew each other.

While they spoke, Hyunjin took the time to glance around. Along the left wall was a long bench that curved around against a partition wall. Ten tables were placed along the bench, chairs opposite the benching. Also fitted in the space were eight square tables with two sets of chairs. Opposite the dining area was the bar. It looked to be a full service bar with black and gold bar height stools placed evenly along the bar. A small raised box was at the end of the bar where a man wearing headphones stood.

‘A DJ?’ Hyunjin thought to himself, thoroughly impressed. He felt Byeoli’s hand on his arm and turned to look down at her. “You okay?” She asked softly. Hyunjin gave her a warm smile and nodded. “Just admiring the decor,” he admitted before glancing up. It was then he noticed the plants hanging from planters on the black ceiling. Pendant lights hung between the planters, evenly spaced and lighting up the walkway between tables, creating a sort of pathway.

Hyunjin followed Byeoli as the hostess led them to their table. He was in such a daze that he almost forgot to be a gentleman and pulled her seat. She thanked him with a shy smile as she removed her jacket, hung it off the back of her chair, and sat down. Hyunjin slid into the booth seat across from her and looked around once more before picking up his menu and looking over it.

It wasn’t an extensive menu but it covered all the bases. There were options for pork, beef, chicken, and even a note mentioning a separate vegetarian and vegan menu. He read over the options, briefly glancing up to look at Byeoli as she studied her own menu, bottom lip pulled gently between her teeth as she read. He glanced back down at the words on his menu, not really seeing them. He could hear his own heart beating heavily in his chest and tried to keep his breathing slow and steady.

‘Get it together,’ he told himself. He wasn’t sure how he managed to land a date with Byeoli but he didn’t want to screw this up. He’d never been so interested in anyone before, especially a human. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Byeoli set her menu down as a server came over. He was tall, muscular and had medium brown hair. His name tag read Mingyu. Byeoli looked up as he came into her periphery and she smiled up at him.

“Hey, Gyu! How have you been?” She asked, face lighting up. Mingyu smiled back, just as ecstatic to see her. “Byeoli! Hey!” He responded. “I didn’t recognize you at first,” he admitted. Hyunjin watched the exchange between the two, eyes darting back and forth. “You changed your hair,” Mingyu continued. “It looks nice,” he added. Byeoli smiled and thanked him, cheeks turning pink. Hyunjin lifted his menu to try and focus on his options and not the gross feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as this MIngyu guy flirted with his date. “Yeah, it’s lighter now,” he heard Byeoli reply.

“So, what can I get you two to drink?” Mingyu asked, pulling out a small pad of paper and a pen from his apron. “I’ll just have water,” Byeoli replied. She turned to look at Hyunjin who was hidden behind his menu. “Hyunjin?” She asked. Reluctantly, Hyunjin lowered the menu. “Uhh, a coke is fine,” he said softly, not looking up at Mingyu. He heard the pen scribbling on the paper before Mingyu spoke.

“Any appetizers?” He asked, looking between Byeoli and Hyunjin. Byeoli looked up at him. “We need a few minutes,” she said and Mingyu smiled at her. “I’ll get your drinks and be right back to take your order,” he said before stepping off to fulfill their order. Byeoli looked back at Hyunjin who was having a hard time deciding between the chicken and a burger. “Do you want an appetizer?” Byeoli asked, looking down at the menu in front of her. Hyunjin looked up at her and then at the options.

“Do you?” He asked, making up his mind to get one but only if she wanted one. Byeoli shook her head. “When Jamie and I come here, that’s usually all we get are appetizers and drinks,” she said with a chuckle. Hyunjin cracked a smile, watching her as she sat back in her chair. She looked up and their eyes met. Immediately Hyunjin pretended to be interested in the menu, a faint heat crawling up his neck. Byeoli noticed but said nothing, thinking she might have been mistaken.

“Have you decided what you want?” She asked. Hyunjin shook his head. “I can’t choose,” he admitted. “Everything sounds good. Especially when you’re hungry.” Byeoli giggled, a small sound but it invoked such a reaction in Hyunjin that he’d never experienced. His stomach fluttered and his heart hammered in his chest. It was such a bizarre reaction from his body, one he’d really never experienced before. “What are you getting?” He asked, a vain attempt to distract himself from these newfound feelings.

“Oh, just the chicken carbonara,” she answered so naturally. Hyunjin wondered if she was even remotely as nervous as he. Judging by her tone and body language, he assumed she was not or if she was, she was very good at hiding it. “Carbonara?” He asked, eyes scanning the menu until he found it. “It’s one of Sungjin’s special items. Any time someone orders it, he makes it. Most of the time he’s behind the bar,” she said turning to look at the bar.

Hyunjin looked up. “Sungjin?” He asked and Byeoli turned back to gaze at him. “Yeah?” She asked, eyes studying him. “As in our neighbor?” Hyunjin asked. Byeoli nodded. “That’s the one,” she said with a smile. “This is his restaurant.” Hyunjin had a newly established respect for his neighbor. Starting a business couldn’t be easy, let alone an entire restaurant. He looked back at the menu and decided to choose neither the chicken nor the burger he’d been eyeing, going instead for something different.

Mingyu returned with their drinks and set them on black coasters. “Have we decided?” He asked looking between the two. Byeoli smiled and looked up at him. “I’d like the carbonara,” she said. Mingyu started writing. “Did you want it the usual way?” He asked, giving her a knowing look. Byeoli blushed and nodded. “Yes please,” she answered. Mingyu smiled and wrote down something only he and Byeoli must know before turning to Hyunjin. “And for you?” He asked. Resisting the urge to say something rude and to the effect of “stop flirting with my date” Hyunjin pointed at the braised beef short ribs.

“What are they braised in?” He asked, curiosity setting in. “They’re braised in beef stock,” Mingyu answered. “They’re marinated in a miso paste overnight and when ordered, they’re seared on each side and then beef stock, water, and the rest of the marinade are added to a pot and the ribs are braised in that.” Hyunjin nodded picking up his menu and handing it to Mingyu. “I’ll have that please,” he said. Mingyu took his menu and grabbed the one from in front of Byeoli. “No appetizers, right?” He asked, looking between the two. Byeoli shook her head. “Not tonight,” she answered.

Mingyu left to put their order in and suddenly, Hyunjin was aware that he no longer had something to distract him from Byeoli’s attention on him. He felt hot, probably the lights. He chose to remove his jacket and took a sip of his drink. “So,” he said, clearing his throat. “Tell me more about your life before Busan,” he said, glancing up quickly to gauge her reaction. “You said you moved from Ilsan?” He asked. Byeoli nodded. “I did. I met Jamie there actually,” she answered.

He listened, watching as Byeoli told the story of how she met her best friend. He smiled as he imagined a much younger Byeoli in her first year of college. Jamie was a couple years older but that didn’t stop them from bonding the moment they met in a bar near their campus. Byeoli mentioned how cool she thought Jamie was. They were in the bathroom. Byeoli’s dorm roommate had abandoned her to hook up with some guy she just met and Byeoli had gone to the bathroom to escape a guy who was hounding her for her number. Jamie had come out of one of the stalls, trying to fix the zipper on her skirt which had gotten caught on her fishnets.

Byeoli remarked on how it was like in one of those coming of age college movies. Byeoli confided in Jamie who refused to let her be alone and stayed with her the whole night, protecting her from all of the guys who tried to come onto her. Jamie was her “knight in shining pleather and fishnets.” Hyunjin snorted into his drink when she recounted the story. They were laughing as Mingyu swung by to drop off fresh drinks. Byeoli stopped him as he grabbed the empty cups.

“I forgot to ask,” she started, looking up at him. “How’s Wonwoo?” She asked. Mingyu’s face lit up and Hyunjin could only assume Wonwoo was a good friend of Mingyu’s.

“He’s great! We just moved in together. Into his apartment ‘cause mine was destroyed by the fire,” he said, causing Hyunjin’s eyes to widen. “F-fire?” He sputtered. Byeoli and Mingyu looked at him. “Oh, thats right,” Byeoli said, almost smacking her forehead. “You moved to town after that. There was a fire at Gyu’s apartment building. Started in the unit below you, right?” She asked, looking up at Mingyu who nodded. “Yeah, crept up into my unit. Luckily neither me nor Bobpul were home,” he answered.

Hyunjin cocked an eyebrow. “Bobpul?” He asked. Mingyu pulled out his phone and showed Hyunjin a picture of a small white fluffy dog. “He’s my baby,” he admitted, looking fondly at the picture. Hyunjin smiled as Mingyu put his phone away. “He was with Byeoli actually. She had agreed to watch him for me while I was away.” Hyunjin looked back and forth between Byeoli and Mingyu as they told the story together. From what Hyunjin could piece together, Mingyu was away with this Wonwoo person when the fire started. Bobpul was with Byeoli. The fire ended up destroying half the building.

“So, once the insurance paid everything out, I decided to move in with Wonwoo,” Mingyu explained. Hyunjin, who now sat enraptured by the tale, spoke up. “Uh, who’s Wonwoo?” He asked. Mingyu pulled out his phone for a second time and showed Hyunjin the Lockscreen. It was Mingyu and another man. One with black hair, glasses and a straight nose. His eyes were sort of piercing and cat-like. “Is he your best friend?” Hyunjin asked, picking up his glass and taking a sip of his drink.

“I guess you could say that,” said Mingyu with a smile as he put his phone back in his pocket. “But he’s much more than that,” he added softly. He excused himself to check on their food. Hyunjin turned to look at Byeoli who had her chin in her hand and a big grin on her face.

“What?” Hyunjin asked. She shrugged. “I love how excited and happy he gets when he talks about Wonwoo,” she answered, taking a sip of her water. “Why’s that?” Hyunjin asked, eyes watching her movements carefully. “They’re just so… domestic? I don’t know if that’s the correct word. Mingyu just gets so happy and giddy. I’m glad he finally found the courage to make the first move,” Byeoli replied. Now Hyunjin was confused.

“First move?” He asked. Byeoli nodded, eyes looking up to meet his confused ones. “Wonwoo is Mingyu’s boyfriend,” she said softly. Hyunjin’s eyes widened in realization. ‘Stupid,’ he told himself. ‘I’m so stupid. Here I thought Mingyu was flirting with Byeoli and this whole time, he’s gay!’ Hyunjin chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Byeoli tilted her head slightly. “What?” She asked.

Hyunjin looked up at her, still chuckling softly. “I’ve been stupid,” he admitted.

“How?”

“This whole time, I thought Mingyu was flirting with you, right in front of me and I was so… mad,” he answered. “But jokes on me, ‘cause he’s got a boyfriend,” he added.

Byeoli let a small laugh fall from her lips. “You were jealous?” She asked. Hyunjin nodded, trying to contain his own laughter. They didn’t have time to relish in his stupidity as Mingyu arrived at their table with their food. “Careful,” he said as he set their plates down. “The plates are pretty hot.” Hyunjin couldn’t believe how amazing everything looked. “Thanks Gyu,” Byeoli said with a kind smile. “Yeah, thank you,” Hyunjin said, a new appreciation for Mingyu’s kindness and compassion now that he knew the man wasn’t flirting with his date.

The food was even better than Hyunjin could have imagined. “This is amazing,” he said, looking up at Byeoli. “Aren’t you glad I suggested this?” She asked, a smile on her face as she twirled some of her pasta on her fork. Hyunjin nodded. “We’ll have to come back,” he added. “I want to try everything.”

Across the restaurant, watching the whole exchange, was Sungjin. He hadn’t expected to see Byeoli tonight, let alone in the company of their neighbor. His curiosity got the better of him and he stepped back to pull out his phone and text the one person who would know what was going on.

His thumbs moved quickly as he typed out, demanding an explanation from Jamie.

═══════════════════════════════════════

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids social media au #stray kids smau #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin social media au #hyunjin angst #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x oc #series: hiraeth

[ari-kari]

i have a black hole in the center of my chest.

we don’t know where it came from. or what to do about it. nice women with counseling certificates suggest a variety of possible explanations, but none of them ever fit me as well as i’d like them to. it’s kind of like having a malignant surplus organ that no one’s ever seen before. or an orphan disease of the mind.

the black hole is relentless, and ultimately world-ending. it screams that i am lonely, so very lonely, yet is perennially unsatisfied by any attention it receives. so i talk and i banter and i perform my little heart out, in the frantic hope that it will inspire someone, somewhere, to want me. but wanting and sickness are both a lot more complicated than that. and the need goes unmet until it swallows me whole.

the fact of the matter is i have this weird little brain glitch where if nobody loves me for long enough, i start to die. i think we might all understand that to some extent; that’s what my therapist tells me, at least. but i have heard rumors that some of you can survive for much longer than i can, as evidenced by people who do things like hiking the PCT trail and willingly renting studio apartments. i find this very impressive. my own personal record is a little closer to three days.

i didn’t realize, when I was younger, how challenging love becomes as an adult. we are all so busy, and so far away from each other. my best friend from high school used to rest her head on my lap every day at lunch, but now she lives in san diego, and she’s not really my best friend anymore. i imagine how it would feel like to kiss you - yes, you - but your apartment is 2000 miles away from mine. and you probably wouldn’t want to, even if it wasn’t.

is no one else dying of this? i know i’m not the only person who feels it; i’ve spent too much time in crowded subreddits and old church basements to have any lingering doubts about that. but I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone whose body screams for it as loudly as mine does. i would’ve heard it, if it did. i would’ve known.

so how do you all do it? exist on your own, i mean. i have not been a practicing human being for around half a decade now; i find myself a bit lost on the mechanics. how do you thrive in a world that people like myself can scarcely tolerate? how do you persist without burning?

i don’t understand it. i’m not sure i ever have. but i hope i come up with something clever soon. because insurance doesn’t cover ketamine, and the world hasn’t gotten any brighter since i visited it last, and this animal will destroy me if I don’t learn what it eats. so i have to figure this out. somehow, i have to figure this out by myself.

#mental health #tw: mental health #longform #poetry #??? #idk this is nothing but I’m tired and scared #and none of the old strategies are helping rn #unrelated #personal #loneliness #mental illness

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 3

*Warning Adult Content*

- Carlos -

I know Kyle is a ghost for two important reasons. 

One, he's transparent and two, unless the cops are playing a prank on me (an incredibly unlikely scenario) he's dead. 

It's not the fact he's a ghost that has me freaking out, though.

I've seen plenty of ghosts.

What has my heart racing and cold sweat breaking out over my skin, what has me backing away and bumping into the sink, wild-eyed as my muscles go weak with dread, is the fact he's the first ghost I've seen in over a year and I'd hoped never to see one again. 

Ever since a particularly nasty demon called a death-bringer had taken my body for a spin, I've been completely and blissfully, paranormal phenomenon and possession free and I'd been hoping to stay that way. 

For a ghost, Kyle doesn't look that bad. 

He's dressed in the greasy denim coveralls, white shirt and scuffed work boots I last saw him in. 

His pale skin has a luminescent under-glow and his hair looks cleaner and better kept than usual. 

His weak chin has gained some definition, the softness in his gut is gone and the muscles in his arms are well-defined. 

This, I understand, is Kyle's idealized version of himself, how he imagined or wished, he looked in his own head.

It's not all heavenly makeover though. 

His eyes are completely black, like windows to the void and his lips stretch far too wide as he opens his mouth to speak, like the hinged jaw of a snake.

He reaches for me and I gasp and shrink away from his outstretched hand. 

Then, with a faulty light bulb flicker, he's gone.

Well, he disappears, anyway. 

I know better than to think he's really gone. 

He just exhausted all the energy in the room, as evidenced by the fact it was hot and steamy after my shower and now more closely resembles winter in the Arctic.

Hugging myself and shivering as my breath fogs in the freezing air, I stare at the space he'd occupied and force myself to take one slow deep breath after another. 

Finally, when I trust my legs to carry me, I dash into my bedroom, fling open the closet and rummage for the old shoe box on the top shelf.

Pulling it down, I rip the tape off the lid and dump the contents on my bed. 

Then I deck myself out in every protective talisman and anti-possession charm I own, until I'm covered in more gems, beads and eclectically religious paraphernalia than a paranormally paranoid hippie grandmother of vaguely Catholic persuasion.

When I've caught my breath, I take a moment to think.

That Kyle appeared to me isn't that unusual in itself. 

If the detective had his timeline right, Kyle's been dead less than twenty four hours and the newly dead often linger for around three days. 

They might visit loved ones, family or friends or they might carry on with their mundane daily routines, until they come to terms with the fact they are no longer among the living and move on.

In all likelihood, Kyle is just confused. 

Whatever happened to the poor kid, he obviously wasn't expecting it. 

At least he hadn't seemed upset or preoccupied to me.

He's probably just wandering around, trying to go home and ended up here.

Why he came to me, though, when no other ghost has in so long, has me worried.

Aunt Toni used to say there was something special about me, something that made me glow like a candle in the dark from the other side, drawing spirits like homeless wanderers drawn to the promised heat of the only fire in a vast, cold wilderness. 

Then they'd look through my eyes the way they look through mirrors into our world and before you know it, we'd be occupying the same space at the same time, just in different planes of existence, except only one of us would be at the controls.

That is to say, I'd get possessed.

After the death-bringer, though, I haven't sensed so much as a low-level shadow entity, a fact with which I am perfectly content.

Which leads me to believe that Kyle came to me for a reason. 

We're not family and we're not exactly friends. 

As far as I know, he didn't even like working in the garage.

Then it hits me, the twenty bucks I gave him.

Most spirits who linger do so because they have unfinished business, something they can't let go of and which keeps them from moving on until it's resolved.

Kyle must feel guilty for taking my money and never coming back with my lunch.

Leaping to my feet, I spread my arms wide and address the seemingly empty room.

"Kyle? Hey man, if you're here and you're listening, there's something I want to say. That money was a gift, okay? You don't owe me anything. Don't worry about it. You're debt-free, got it? Give me a sign or something, if you can."

No sign comes but I feel better for having said it anyway and I hope Kyle heard me. 

Either way, most spirits move on after the living acknowledge their passing. 

If the funeral doesn't do it, I've got plenty of tricks up my sleeve.

In the meantime, I cover my mirrors.

~ ★ ~

Over the course of the next two days, two things become clear. 

First, Kyle isn't sticking around because of that twenty bucks, either that or he feels way more guilty about it than he should. 

And second, he's not going anywhere.

The first sign is when the microwave shorts while I'm trying to heat up a frozen burrito of dubious nutritional value for breakfast.

Next, I complain to myself that I don't have the right attachment for my socket wrench while I'm leaning over the engine of an old Chevy sedan and the piece in question is conveniently placed in my hand.

It takes me a minute to remember I'm alone.

Finally, I get in my old Toyota Tacoma at the end of the day (I need to buy groceries and despite the grim events of the week, that burger craving hasn't really gone away) check my rear-view mirror at a stoplight and find Kyle watching me from the back seat.

My truck doesn't even have a back seat, properly speaking.

“Shit.”

Nearly rear-ending the person in front of me, I swerve through the intersection, pop a curb with one tire and careen into the nearest parking lot, which thankfully belongs to a Walmart and is thus both expansive and accustomed to strange visitors.

When I'm safely at a standstill, I release my white-knuckled hold on the steering wheel and swear until I'm out of breath.

With that out of my system, I lean my head against the back of my seat and shut my eyes.

The fact Kyle has persistently appeared to me in multiple locations, including a moving car, tells me his spirit isn't bound to one place.

Neither is it wandering aimlessly.

For whatever reason, he's attached himself to me.

"Okay, Kyle," I say, fingering the string of yak bone mala beads wrapped around my left wrist. "What is it you want? You want me to bring a message to your aunt? You got something you need to get off your chest? What is it? Tell me."

The passenger side door of my little pickup pops open forcefully. 

An unseasonably cool breeze rushes in, swirls around the interior of the cab and rushes out again, leaving the door swinging on its hinges.

Drawing a deep breath, I press my palms into my eyes and sigh. 

The meaning is clear enough.

Kyle wants me to follow him.

[caretaker-au]

CHAPTER 10

Bright light spilled into Chara’s vision as the world manifested around them. Their body—heavy and fragile—struggled and dropped them to their knees.

As they fell forward Chara caught themselves with their hands. They stared out at their small, feeble fingers that were splayed on the lavender colored floor, each digit tipped with a dull, flat fingernail. Where were they? And what was that awful pounding sensation? They pulled a hand to their chest. That’s right. Their heart. No longer made from monster magic, Chara’s human flesh felt comparatively sluggish and dense. The body they were never supposed to return to. Chara crossed their arms and gripped themself tight. Fierce emotion flooded through their body: a touch of grief for their own death, relief for their survival, and most of all, rage.

“Asriel…” they breathed, their voice a shaking whisper, “How could you?”

After everything they had done, after all that they sacrificed for him, Asriel had betrayed them. Again. As he always had. It didn’t matter how hard Chara worked or how many timelines they chased, their wretched partner threw away everything they had to protect accursed humans. This time was the worst, however. Asriel’s betrayal ended in orchestrating a shared execution.

“You really hate me that much?” Chara’s voice was little more than a shaking growl. They wanted to scream, to declare that they wouldn’t allow it, that they would find someone else who would respect them and carry out their plan. But they didn’t believe it.

“Chara?”

A small voice broke through the fury. Chara looked up and saw them. A child hesitating in a stone doorway just ahead of them: Frisk.

The child’s expression relaxed into a smile, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Anger flashed across Chara’s face. They pulled themselves to their feet, wavering slightly. They staggered towards Frisk with heavy steps, increasing their speed into a run. Frisk’s eyes widened for a moment before they scowled. The child braced themself and held out their arms, “Chara, stop!”

The caretaker grabbed Frisk by the collar and wrenched them up against the doorframe. The kid’s teeth chattered as their skull thudded against the stone behind them.

“Why?!” Chara barked, hatred seeping from their every pore, “You took everything from us! Our lives, our future, the salvation of all monsters!” Frisk turned their head away, clenching their eyes tight as Chara berated them. “Nothing was stopping you from leaving. So why?” Chara demanded, “Why did you return? To mock me? To torment me?”

“No…” Frisk answered quietly, “To save you.”

Their answer didn’t make any sense. Chara stared back, unable to even articulate a response. Instead, they slammed Frisk against the wall again. “Liar!” Chara cried out, “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth!” Frisk squirmed and pulled on Chara’s hands to no avail, “Escape isn’t worth anyone’s life. Not even yours, Chara!”

Chara’s fists clenched tighter around the slack of Frisk’s sweater. With a heave, they tossed the child to the side. Frisk splayed across the floor with a grunt.

“You are wrong,” Chara huffed, “And you… are a fool. Did you not learn the first time? I don’t care about your mercy.”

Frisk pulled themself to their feet. They straightened and returned Chara’s frenzied glare with a quiet gaze.

Chara continued, “I will not stop. This time I’ll take the souls, ignore you, and escape to the Surface. There, Asriel and I… we’ll…” Chara trailed off as Asriel’s face crossed their mind again. They sank to the floor, the air feeling heavier and heavier. “That traitor… he will never… he will never cooperate.”

The realization was like a knife twisting in their gut. Even with his betrayal, Asriel was always the most devoted. No one would be able to replace him. Despair crept into their heart as Chara realized they needed him more than Asriel needed them back. Chara had considered Frisk their greatest opponent, but it was Asriel who truly stood in their way.

Chara’s vision swam, so they turned their head away from Frisk, their hair falling in front of their face. Knowing the human was seeing them like this made their skin crawl, and they wished the ground would swallow them up. As Chara spoke, they held their breath to keep their voice from shaking. “Leave.”

Frisk hesitated, surely coming up with a response. Mockery? Pity? Chara wouldn’t bear it.

“Out of my sight! Now!” Chara shouted; their roar made the air tremble. Frisk didn’t wait to be told again. The sound of scuffling footsteps faded from earshot, and soon Chara was alone in the silence once more.

Finally, Chara let the tears fall from their eyes. They were disgusted with the way their breath hitched and sobbed no matter how much they tried to stifle it. Asriel did this to them. Asriel would have to pay.

Chara indulged in several minutes of sickening self pity before they finally wiped their face. Looking around, it took Chara a moment before they registered just where they were. They were deep within the Ruins, just outside the chamber Frisk had fallen into. But that didn’t make sense. From Chara’s experience, time could only be turned back to the most recently fixed point. Frisk should have been returned to just before their battle, perhaps in the jail. Instead, here they were, back to the moment they first met. Was Frisk not confined to the same limits of time travel?

Chara shook their head. They couldn't think about this now. Only one thing mattered: Asriel’s punishment. Drawing the will to stand, Chara pushed themselves upright to follow the child.

In one way or another, Frisk had made it past all the traps, through the house, and—presumably—out the exit. It was for the best; Chara couldn’t stand to cross paths with the child again. Inside the house, they paused to collect a large padlock they had stored in a table drawer. It was heavy and nearly the size of a text book with ornate designs engraved across it. The lock was imbued with abjuration magic, made specifically to lock the Ruins after Asriel was nearly killed by the human years ago. The lock would render any door unbreachable by human or monster, and Chara held the only key.

Chara carried the device with them into the basement, down the hall, and to the large exterior doors that lead to the snow draped forests beyond. The doors were slightly ajar, revealing a set of footprints that dotted the snow off into the distance.

Chara sighed, taking one last look at the snowy view, before pulling the doors shut. For decades, the lock had only been placed on the outside, removed only when Chara came through to patrol the ruins or escort monsters between Home and Snowdin. Today, for the first time, the doors would be locked from the inside with Chara within. They looped the padlock through the handles of the door, and when they snapped it into place, the doors shuddered and clamped together with a jolt. Chara traced a fingernail down the seam of the two doors. No one would be passing through without their permission.

Confronting Asriel directly was not an option. After all, any progress made with Asriel could be undone by Frisk. Not to mention they weren’t even sure what they could tell him. Asriel’s traitorous inclinations were buried deep into his core, waiting until Chara was at their most desperate to stab them in the back.

But there was one tactic that Frisk would be unable to interfere with. Silence. If Chara withdrew to the Ruins without a word, Asriel would surely blame himself for Chara’s sudden absence. Chara knew Asriel well: he’d beg for Chara’s return and apologize for things he didn’t do, all the while ignorant of his traitorous compulsions. Cruel, perhaps, but nothing was as cruel as what he had done in those erased timelines.

Chara checked their phone. They already had one message from Asriel inquiring as to when they’d return home. The caretaker marked it as read before slipping it back into their pocket.

---

As predicted, Asriel came to the door and stayed all night long. Knocking, calling, pleading-- Chara relished each pathetic attempt at reconciliation. He deserved to be confused, heartbroken, and alone, just as Chara was. Over the course of the day Chara received messages from Asgore, Toriel, and many other monsters. They all asked the same thing: Are you okay? Do you want to talk? We found this human named Frisk, do you know them? Even Muffet demanded an explanation. Chara would have to deal with her later.

Leaving everyone wondering and begging for answers was the only power Chara had left. Word was getting to the monsters in Home as well, evidenced by the additional messages piling up on their phone. Chara ignored them too. Eventually they would realize they were trapped on this side of the door as well, unwilling hostages in Chara’s scheme.

No matter. The monsters deserved to be trapped. Every one of them was just like Asriel: eager to please and sentimental to a fault. Chara had devoted their entire life to serving them and in return they never offered to help collect the souls that would free them. In fact, Chara had to resort to time travel to push them in the right direction for just an ounce of support. They all deserve to rot in this dark, claustrophobic hell.

---

“So you just let a human walk on by?” Muffet inquired in a sing-song voice, “That doesn’t seem much like the great caretaker at all!”

The two of them were sitting in her parlor, each on a lavish chair. A full tea set complete with baked goods sat on a low table between them, though Chara knew better than to partake in it. Spider legs stuck out of the scones like coarse hairs, and they couldn’t even imagine what the tea had been steeped with.

“Yes. Well.” Chara said, looking down at their lap, “There is not much I can do about it now.”

“Oh yes, I imagine the sweet thing is the new royal favorite, aren’t they?” Muffet’s fanged smile turned up in a mocking grin, “The queen has always had a soft spot for filthy little strays. You know that better than anyone, right, dearie?”

Chara bit back a retort. With time no longer under their control, they had to be careful while inside of her lair. It had been a week since they sealed the Ruins, and Muffet was the only person they had spoken to since. The crime lord wasn’t their first choice of confidant, of course, but she had been insisting on meeting and they knew better than to reject her invitation.

“I suppose so,” they responded softly.

Muffet giggled to herself, then suddenly reached for the plate of cookies between them. It was only after she grabbed a couple treats that Chara realized they had flinched when she moved. They tried to relax but the attempt only made them more tense.

“So, is that why you locked the exit? Had a bit of a falling out with the in-laws?”

“Something like that.” Chara frowned, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh of course, a lady like me wouldn’t dream of indulging in distasteful gossip! Instead, I have a business proposition~”

Chara straightened. In their current circumstance, they didn’t have much in the way of influence or leverage.

“How can I be of service?” they asked.

“I want to relocate,” Muffet paused to bite into one of her cookies. It sounded... crunchy. “You see, the Ruins are awfully drafty, and the cold isn’t good for my constitution. I was thinking about moving in the next year or so, but now that you’ve so... graciously sealed us all in here, I predict the traffic in my shop will be slowing down considerably.”

“Understood.” Chara nodded, “I will make an exception for you and open the d—”

“I wasn’t finished, Chara.” Muffet said, her voice lowering. There was a tense pause before she smiled again, “I want a limousine~”

“A—A what?” Chara asked, incredulous.

“A heated limousine that will chauffer my employees and I all the way to Hotland,” she gestured to the spiders that skittered between the tea cups, “A necessary luxury to ensure we make it safely through the biting cold of Snowdin. Should be a simple task for a monarch, correct?”

“Of course. Leave it to me.” Chara smiled, “Is that all?”

“Not much for business, are you, Chara?” Muffet smirked, “This is where you negotiate the terms of the agreement~”

“No need. I am happy to do this as a gesture of goodwill.” Chara outstretched their hand—it wasn’t trembling anymore, thankfully—and Muffet gave it a dainty shake.

Once Chara was safely out of Muffet’s lair, they heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow they had managed to leave in one piece despite Muffet’s attempts to bait them. Now they just had to figure out how to serve her outrageous demands. Chara fished their phone out of their pocket, dismissed several dozen missed calls and text notifications, and opened their address book. They were going to need to call in some discreet favors.

---

One month had passed since they sealed the Ruins. It wasn’t easy, but Chara managed to arrange for Muffet’s departure without alerting the Dreemurrs. Eventually, the royals found out the Ruins door had been briefly opened which led to a fresh barrage of calls, messages, and knocking on the resealed door, all of which Chara ignored, of course.

Chara walked the streets of Home late at night, the crystals in the ceiling sparkling above. They could feel the eyes of the monsters on them, but after weeks of Chara ignoring and scowling in return, the monsters had given up on approaching them. Wordlessly, they did their weekly shopping at the local market. As a member of the royal family, Chara had never needed to pay for any necessities, and it seemed the benefits even extended here. It was only fair compensation, of course. After all, Chara was still serving the undeserving monsters by patrolling the Ruins every day for human threats.

---

“Ugh, really?” Chara muttered. They were nearly done with their patrol, having reached the large trap of spikes that was circled with a moat. Chara pushed down on the edge of the spike panel’s pressure plate with their foot, but the spikes failed to retract completely, the deadly points standing out by a few inches. It wasn’t a good sign: the springs inside were starting to give out. And if the springs snapped while Chara was standing above it…

Chara shuddered. They had witnessed that messy result and they didn’t care to experience it first hand. Typically, Chara would order replacement parts and perform maintenance themself, but the machinist that created the pieces was in New Home. Unsealing the door again was out of the question.

“Of course this would happen now,” Chara grumbled. They moved their foot off the plate and the spikes shot back into place. How many more compressions would it tolerate before it broke? Before Frisk came to the Underground, Chara could risk it and undo any unpleasant accidents, but if the past five months were any indication, Frisk was not nearly as eager to manipulate time. In fact, time had been rolled back only two times since Chara let the child go.

It was inconceivable. How could Frisk resist the urge to erase the inevitable little mistakes that ruined every day? Embarrassing moments, broken tea cups, scraped knees… all could be fixed in an instant with the right application of their power. To have such power and yet choose to carry the weight of their failures—it defied reason.

More importantly, if Chara suffered a tragic accident while isolated here, no one would come to their rescue… whether through time manipulation or otherwise.

“Unfortunate.” Chara said to themself with a resigned sigh, “I will have to dismantle them. All of them.” They turned around and headed back home. While they didn’t have access to their machinist anymore, they did have a few hand tools and plenty of time.

---

Eight months had passed since Chara had let Frisk go. As they walked the path of the now defanged Ruins, they revised and repeated their old plan over and over. If they could just get one more soul to replace Frisk, they would have the seven required to break the barrier and purify the Surface. The only thing missing, of course, was a willing monster to absorb them.

They reached the end of their patrol: the entrance to the Underground for lost, unlucky humans. The chamber was empty, as it had been every day since Frisk fell in. Chara walked into the center of the room and stared up into the vacant darkness looming above. One hundred years had passed on the Surface and only eight humans had fallen in that time. How long would it take for another to arrive? Ten years? Thirty? Without the help of their powers Chara could very well die before seeing the next human soul.

Chara turned to leave, but did a double take as they glimpsed a glimmer of gold on the ground. They kneeled and pushed the grass aside to reveal a small yellow bud, barely beginning to open.

“It cannot be…” Chara breathed, “A Golden Flower?”

Golden Flowers were common on the Surface, but had no presence in the Underground. Chara was so sure of this that they had incorporated them into their original plan over 20 years ago. By requesting to see the wild flowers on their deathbed, Chara could ensure Asriel would cross the barrier with their corpse in tow.

Or at least, that was what should have happened.

Chara clenched their teeth at the bitter memory. It was the first of many perfect plans ruined by Asriel’s cowardice. The caretaker grasped the plant and ripped it out of the ground by the root.

Immediately, Chara felt a pang of regret. They stared down at the pathetic thing. Their favorite flower, somehow growing in this dark, sunless prison. When had it taken root? Did some seeds blow in from the Surface? Or were they brought in by a... passenger?

Chara shook their head. Regardless of how it was introduced to the Underground, it was now a part of the Ruins—their Ruins. It didn’t deserve to suffer for Asriel’s mistakes. Reflexively, Chara attempted to turn back time, but nothing happened.

With a sigh, they returned the flower to where it was and buried its roots back into the soil. The stem was bent and it wouldn’t stay upright, but weeds were resilient. With a little help, it might still make it.

---

Chara hesitated before their latest masterpiece, knife in hand. Resting on a serving plate was a beautiful, hand crafted chocolate ganache cake. Strawberries perched on top of the silky dark topping, and the intoxicating aroma filled the house. Somehow, even without their powers, it had turned out almost too perfect to eat.

Emphasis on "almost". Carefully, Chara slid the knife through the decadent construction and placed a slice on their plate. They paused to admire the moist cross section before sliding a fork through the end and taking a bite.

Absolute bliss.

"Not bad for a humble birthday cake," Chara said to themself. They were thirty-seven today. Chara looked across the dining table into the empty living room. The only sound was the fire crackling in the hearth, emitting heat for a one person abode. They wished this house wasn’t nearly identical to the one in New Home; the similarities made it too easy to imagine Toriel in her chair, Asgore in the kitchen, and Asriel leaning on the table with his elbows, big goofy grin on his face. The Dreemurrs loved birthdays, always spending weeks preparing for a large and lavish party.

This was the first birthday they had spent alone since they were thirteen. They had forgotten how miserable it could be.

Chara checked their phone. They had over one hundred notifications that had come in just today. They scrolled through to find the only contact that mattered: Asriel.

“Happy birthday, Chara!!” the message read, “Mom and Dad and I are thinking about you lots! We even got you a gift, so I hope we can give it to you one day! Wherever you are, take good care of yourself, okay?” A line of party and heart related emojis followed.

Chara read the message over and over. Asriel’s texts would always fill them with disgust and hatred, but not today. Instead Chara just felt… lonely. It was a pathetic, shameful feeling, but a true feeling nonetheless. Despite all the ways Asriel had disrespected them, Chara couldn’t hide from the fact that they missed him.

The caretaker allowed themself to vocalize a thought they had been pushing out of their mind for months. “Maybe…” Chara spoke, their soft voice breaking the quiet, “Maybe it is time to go home.”

They sighed, resigning themself. The eternal silent treatment was never a realistic plan, and while Asriel was the intended subject of the punishment, it was unpleasant to Chara, too. Scrolling up through his messages, Asriel had sent hundreds upon hundreds over the past year begging them to “just talk”. All had gone unanswered. The confusion and desperation in those messages were clear; he was perfectly primed for a reconciliation.

But Chara wanted more than reconciliation. More important than companionship was freedom. Freedom not just for undeserving monsters, but most importantly, freedom for themself.

“There is still a way,” Chara muttered to themself, “I simply… pushed Asriel too quickly. Asriel always responded better to a softer approach.” Chara stood, pacing.

“We will delay soul fusion until the end of my natural life. Nothing barbaric or tragic. My dying wish will be to live on within him. He cannot turn down my final request.”

Chara nodded, they could see it now. After a few decades, Chara would peacefully pass from their old, frail body into Asriel’s strong, youthful one, a benefit of his species’ long life span.

“Then we gather the rest of the souls. But not right away. Asriel will need some time to adjust to sharing a vessel with me. But he will with time. Perhaps even the child can be convinced to willingly donate their soul to the cause.” Even though Frisk wouldn’t be a child anymore, it was hard to imagine Frisk as anything but a meddling brat. Honestly, they’d probably still be a brat in thirty years.

“If not, that is... fine. The child can be suffered to live.” The decision was a reluctant one, but giving mercy to such an undeserving creature gave Chara a pleasant feeling of self-righteousness. After all, it didn’t really matter if Frisk lived or died. The important thing was purifying the Surface and breaking the barrier. One human would not make a difference.

“Yes. This will work.” A smile crept onto Chara’s face and their heart thrummed with excitement. They would return to Asriel, who would embrace them with utmost relief and joy. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Asriel had shown no signs of giving up on them.

Chara would enjoy a long life in the company of their loved ones until the day they would embrace their prophesied purpose as the Underground’s savior.

It would require patience, but their splendid utopia was once again within reach. They began planning their grand return.

chapter 10 // end

[ ✧ START ] [ « BACK ] [ NEXT CHAPTER » ]

#undertale #chara #the caretaker of the ruins #undertale spoilers #main comic #chapter 10 #story summary #amazing that chapter 1-9 took place in one day #but this chapter is a year long

[mr-and-mr-diaz]

I’m obsessed with this moment. More than anything this tells me where Buddie’s current relationship is. I’ll explain:

Buck’s concern over Eddie’s health. This is something Buck would always be worried by, but even more so now that he’s been through the trauma of Eddie being shot right in front of him and I’m certain took an active role in his recovery as well. I’m sure to a certain extent he’s worried that Eddie is doing what Buck did right before he collapsed with blood cots: hiding symptoms so that he can go to work. Buck knows Eddie’s propensity to shove things down and just Move On, and the more Eddie is like “nah, nothing!” the more he’s on alert

Eddie’s been bullshitting for a long time. About Ana (I mean just look at his face every time he comes up, he BAREY wants to talk about it), and to Ana’s face, too. At the hospital, he really tries to get Ana to cover for him and not talk about the fact that he was JUST SHOT. And Ana almost goes with it until Christopher takes that choice away from both of them by stating the obvious: that his dad had been shot. I don’t like to make assumptions, but I know that if Buck were in that hospital room, he would be having none of that bullshit, as evidenced here. Like in the upcoming episode, if Eddie isn’t upfront with him, y’all know Buck is gonna try to get the details out of the doctor herself (though I hope Eddie tells him.)

So that’s the set-up. Now this scene:

Buck asks Eddie about it directly. And he doesn’t let go, like his Patronus, the golden retriever, he keeps sniffing and nudging until he gets what he wants.

BUT HERE IS WHAT I’M HERE TO ADDRESS. This right here. there is no one else, except maybe Bobby that could get Eddie to talk with just a LOOK. 

And that look says everything: “You did not just try to bullshit me” “Seriously, Eddie, we’ve been here before, I’m going to keep poking until you tell me.” “I care, and because I care, I’m  gonna nudge you.” “I know what it’s like to hide, to bullshit, don’t even try, my man.”

It’s just one more moment of nonverbal conversation between the two of them that says so much in no time at all and I’m here for it!

Contrast it with this:

If there’s one contrast between EddieAna and Buddie that consistently stands out to me, it’s in the nonverbal moments. Ana and Eddie, despite dating for months have horrible nonverbal communication. When they’re communicating when Eddie is in the hospital and he turns to her like “Nothing’s wrong, right??” she doesn’t pick up on his signals, you see her hesitance and confusion, she doesn’t know what he wants from her at that moment. Contrast that with this, Buck changes his expression and we all know exactly what he’s saying and Eddie picks up on it right away.

This isn’t Ana hate btw, I don’t love or hate her, I just think she and Eddie aren’t right for each other. I’m part of the teeny tiny contingency (okay, FINE, the table for one!) that ships Ana and Taylor with each other. I think they’d bring a lot of magic out of each other, and of course we all know how electric buddie is as a pairing.

Anyway yeah this got a hell of a lot longer than I thought it would, hope you enjoyed! I’d love to know your know your thoughts too, so please feel free to shout at me about this!

#buddie #eddie diaz #oliver stark #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #otp: you two have an adorable son #otp: you can have my back #otp: i thought you just dress alike #9-1-1 #911 season 5 #911 spoilers

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Holy hell holy hell holy hell. I just got home from seeing Russell Howard live. I am still so wired, mostly from how fucking cool it was to see that show, slightly from the fact that that was the most people I’ve been around for two years by a factor of about 100. Fuck. I can’t explain how cool that was. I’m going to try, but I think I can only manage bullet points at the moment. I’ll be more coherent after I have a good night of sleep, but for now, here are some stream-of-conscious bullet points as I lie in bed after coming home from that show:

- Slightly surreality of confirming that Russell Howard is not just a projection on the screen, he is a flesh and blood human, or at least a very convincing hologram

- Most of the crowd was British, as evidenced by the volume of cheers when asked who was in from Britain, and the accents of the hecklers

- One guy in the crowd made things super fucking awkward and I expected them to come back from that like they always do on TV, then I remembered that they make that happen on TV by cutting the awkward bits out, but this is live, we’re all just going to sit in the awkwardness

- Everything else aside, all context of what it meant to see Russell Howard in person after two years of diving deep into British comedy aside, all context of what it meant for me to go to a live event after all the COVIDtimes aside, all context of me thinking of how this is where he ended up 15 years after that radio show aside, just really fucking good material

- Talked some shit about the protesting truckers right at the beginning and got a big cheer - a hell of a way to get the crowd onside in Ottawa right now

- I don’t know how he does it, because if I had to repeat the same collection of words every night while traveling around getting jet lagged, I’d get sick of them and start wanting to phone it in and end some shows as soon as possible. But if that has happened to Russell with this show, then he is the best actor in the fucking world for pretending it hasn’t. Show went longer than advertised, and I had no problem with that at all because the comedians and the audience maintained a high level of enthusiasm the entire time, I felt like we could have stayed there all night.

- It’s been fifteen years since the radio show and Russell Howard is still dealing with random members of the public yelling at him to take his shirt off – he’s gotten a lot less awkward about responding to that though and can now just say “no” instead of tripping over his words in deciding how to answer

- He got really into his slogan “the truth cannot be afraid of the culture” and went into a long explanation of what that means, and the first time he said it I thought “okay I see what he’s trying to do with that but actually wording it that way is kind of bullshit and doesn’t make sense”, the second time he said it I thought “oh dear, he’s going to keep going with this”, the eighth time he said it I thought “…okay, he’s actually explained that fairly well and I think he has justified that wording enough so I’m behind it now, and I do agree with his point”

- The first time he pulled out his impression of his mother, I felt like an Oasis fan who had only ever heard recordings of their music so far, was finally getting to see them live, and had just heard the first few notes of Wonderwall in person for the first time

- I’ve enjoyed all of Russell’s stand-up specials, but the material in this one was a little sharper compared to previous ones, he seemed more sure of what he was trying to say

- Seriously, he kept up the enthusiasm the entire time, I’m pretty sure he was genuinely having a great time with repeating the same stuff he’d already shouted on many other nights, but this time in a city that has to seem unexciting compared to where he normally spends time, for a smaller audience than he’d get in Britain, after travelling all over the place and getting jetlagged. I actually find it vaguely inspiring to see someone love something so much that they keep enjoying the experience over and over, and it makes me feel more inspired to try to take back the things I love that were temporarily gone during COVID.

- Made me forget, for a bit, about all the analyzing I constantly do of comedy and everything else in life, and I managed to sit back and just enjoy the moment as it happened even though I wouldn’t be able to keep it and re-watch it and dissect it, and to be a bit sentimental again, that was genuinely beautiful

- It was perfect mix of the sort of thing he’s done in older stand-up shows, like stories about his family and just listing nice things in the world, and stuff he’s done more recently, about larger issues

- The stories about his brother never get old

- Somehow the most surreal thing was hearing him say the name of my city and talk about a neighbourhood where I’ve spent a bunch of time, like excuse me Russell Howard you are a fictional character, how have you been to this real place?

- I laughed for nearly two hours continuously, if you include the opening act, who was a guy from Denmark I’d never heard of and was also quite funny

- Oh, that reminds me. One of the funniest parts of the night occurred before the show even started. My girlfriend and I went out for dinner before going to the theatre (we sort of figured, to put it in a British way, in for a penny in for a pound when it comes to the COVID risk for the whole experience), and we were talking about how we were looking forward to seeing the show, and how she hadn’t seen Russell anywhere besides Taskmaster before so she didn’t know what to expect. We had the following conversation:

Me: I think you’ll like Russell’s stand-up, he is funny.

Her: I’m sure it’ll be great. We’ll watch the comedy, and afterwards our throats will hurt, but only because we laughed so hard.

Me: Wait... what do you mean? I don’t get what you’re implying with this joke.

Her: No, it’s okay. I mean they’ll hurt from laughing, not for any other reason.

Me: Yeah I got that, but I don’t get what would be the other reason why they might hurt. We’re not going to suck his dick.

Her: I meant COVID! I meant we’ll get sore throats from laughing so hard, but not from contracting COVID. Because we’ll wear masks.

...Basically, what happened in that conversation is I’ve been watching so many panel shows that I forgot that not everything is a dick joke.

Okay, that’s what I’ve got at the moment. Amazing experience. I am so, so glad I went. And happy birthday, Russell, because he turns 42 tomorrow, and I’m sorry that I know that because I realize I know way too much about all these British comedians who are fictional characters to me except that Russell Howard is apparently real and performed across the street from my college tonight, but also, this makes me even more impressed that he went over the advertised time and was high energy for the entire duration. If I go to work the night before my birthday, I just want to get out of there as soon as possible.

He could have phoned it in, and he didn’t. And I get that most people have way worse jobs than being a comedian, and a rich and famous comedian having to do the same show a bunch of nights in a row and work on his birthday is hardly a burden or a sacrifice compared to what most people in the world do, but still. It’s still impressive to maintain that much enthusiasm for any job. So thanks for giving us a hell of a show, Russell, even though this one would not have been high on the priority list. It was such a great experience, and I needed that.

[1994sunflower]

Hey! First of all, I love your story SO MUCH, you’re such an amazingly talented writer! Also, I was wondering if you could dig deeper into Micheal’s soft side (never get tired of it) in which maybe Y/N is sick, like she collapses for high fever or something, and he has to take care of her

thank you so much!! and ofc, I love exploring michael's soft side. he can be such a sweetheart when he wants to be (which is like never lol).

in which you’re sick

It would have been bearable if it was just exam week. You’d done that a million times. But the fact that you were also doing grad school applications along with your extracurriculars - suddenly you felt as if there was not enough hours in the day. In a week even.

Even with the sacrifices you’d made. You’d taken to forgetting food times. When you did remember, you’d have to eat during one of your other activities, usually studying and that just led to spills and half eaten food. It had only been about a week into these habits that you had gotten sick with a cold. It wasn’t a surprise, you were overworked, exhausted - no wonder your immune system was depleted. But it made your work and concentration that much more difficult, you’d cried more than once at the circumstances.

But maybe the hardest has been forgoing seeing your beloved boyfriend. It wasn’t that he was a nuisance, it was just that he was distracting and right then, you didn’t have to time to deal with distractions. Lest he succeed in distracting you like he so often does.

It’s been nearly two weeks since the last time you saw him. Something he agreed very begrudgingly to. But he knew how important your grades were so he agreed nonetheless. You texted him nearly hourly but still it felt nothing like having his comforting presence right next to you. It might have been the reason you caved and let him come visit you after he insisted. Not that he likely would have accepted your denial. He missed you just as much and he needed to see you, especially with how worried he was starting to become.

He used the excuse of bringing you lunch and you, weak and missing him, accepted it, knowing he would probably try to stay for much longer than just that.

But you could deal with that and him firmly when it came to that. He always listened to you.

You were at your desk, crumpled papers beside you, tissues, and about ten different tabs open on your computer, with the beginnings of one of your many application essays open on your tablet. You kept alternating between the two works and by the end of it, you almost felt a hysterical scream wanting to leave you. Nothing was good enough.

When you heard the keys clinking at the door, was the only time you had snapped out of your almost unhealthy focus on your work. By the time you realized just how awful you look, it was too late. Your hair was in a ponytail, different strands already falling out of the scrunch by how much you tugged at your hair in frustration. You wore no makeup and the bags under your eyes were more prominent than ever. The sick pallor to your face was probably so much more obvious, if the sniffles and occasional cough didn’t give your sickness away. Not to mention the pajamas that still adorned your body.

But Michael had already opened the door before you could even think of last minute changes to your appearances. All you could do was turn around in your chair to face him, clearing your throat in hopes of pushing back any coughs.

Just as it’d been nearly 2 weeks without seeing him, it’d been 2 weeks of you living this mentally drained lifestyle. And you looked it. Not that it mattered. Michael had never made you feel insecure or anything but the prettiest girl he’d ever laid his eyes on. He loved you, no matter how you looked.

And that was proven when he finally took you in after 2 weeks of not seeing you. His eyes shone with the same love they always held when he looked at you, now with also a sense of relief at finally being right with you. No hint of judgement.

There was a third emotion there too. Worry. But you didn’t have time to try to dissect it because you knew it would just lead him to get you to take a break and lose time you could be spending on working.

Normally you’d be the one who greeted him first, excitedly. But you were too tired to hold that same energy and you hadn’t used your voice for anything other than frustrated groans. All you could do was smile weakly when Michael lifted the bag of food in his hands. The action made you swoon just a bit, you knew it was likely his first time being so attentive to someone, going beside himself to make sure they’re fed and bring it to them. He never would have the same detail with anyone else.

“Got your favorite.” Michael gravely voice finally hit your ears and you had to close your eyes for a second. You’d missed him, much more than you had allowed yourself to think of.

Opening them back up took more effort than you wanted to think of. It seemed that now that you weren’t hyper focused on the work in front of you, the mental tiredness you had been ignoring was finally starting to seep in.

When you stood, you had meant to say a ‘thank you’ before walking over to serve your food but the moment you got to your feet, you felt a wave of dizziness overtake you. Your body swayed for a moment, only stopping when one of your feet that had almost lost its footing, stomped down and you took a hold of the back of the chair you just left. Eyes closed tightly to try to center yourself.

When you opened your eyes, Michael was staring at you with wide eyes, intense with the worry that had been there before much more prominent. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, coughing slightly despite yourself. “Yeah, sorry. I think I might just be hungry.” You tried for a giggle to lessen the mood but Michael didn’t smile or relax at all. His eyes just raked in your figure.

“Are you sick?” That would have been bad enough but if he knew you were sick and didn’t tell him so he could have made sure you were okay, all hell might break loose.

“Sorry I didn’t have time to make myself look better today, okay?” Your tone was a lot snappier than you intended for it to be and that he expected, as evidenced by him rearing back in surprise. You were just so tense. But instead of apologizing you just made your way over to him. No wobbling, no swaying. You were fine.

You didn’t want to deal with defending how you took care of yourself (or rather how you didn’t). You didn’t have time anyway. You’d barely have time to eat what he brought you but the least you could do was eat a bit of it.

“It smells great.” You sniffled. You tried to reach for your food but Michael moved the bag back. His eyes never left you, analyzing every little move you made. It was unnerving. You couldn’t imagine how others withstood his gaze whenever he was angry at them.

“Y/N-” You made an impatient sound. Every time he said your first name, he was serious. And somehow, right then, it made you defensive. “You said you only needed a few weeks to focus on your shit and that you’d be fine without me having to check on you.”

“I am fine.” You muttered yet you couldn’t quite meet his eyes when you said it.

“Yeah? Is that why you got dizzy just from fucking standing up?” His words were harsh and loud but you knew it was because he never really figured out how to show concern any other way. He was worried.

“I told you, I’m just hungry. I didn’t have breakfast today.” But maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say because you saw his eyes flare up with even more concern and anger. But right then, after spending days multitasking and still not even making a dent on the work you needed completed before your rapidly approaching deadline, you were able to match those emotions.

“Michael, I’m really not in the mood to argue with you today, okay? I’m busy and if I’d known you came here to judge everything I’m doing I would have told you not to come. I’m doing my best! Why is that….why…”

It was getting hotter in the room. You’d felt the warmth all day - week even - but as your anger and voice rose, so did the temperature. You barely had time to register the light headedness.

Your breath was shaky by the time you finished your rant and your eyes becoming suddenly distant as you looked around, confused, before you were falling backwards. You would’ve hit the ground if Michael hadn’t moved first and caught you in his arms.

You didn’t hear the frantic calls of your name, more scared than perhaps anyone had ever heard him, the apathetic man he was, sound. You didn’t feel the way Michael’s hands gripped your body, trying not to move you too much lest he do more damage. You didn’t feel the same dropping of his heart when he saw you go down and the freezing fear in his veins. The only thing you felt was his huge, shaky, sigh of relief when you opened your eyes a handful of seconds later.

With much effort, fluttering them to try to keep them open. You couldn’t really see what was in your line of vision, everything was so blurry. Eventually, it was too much effort and you kept them closed, but you felt yourself being picked up and carried. His heartbeat was fast, you felt as he carried you with your face pressed against his chest.

The first movement you made when he finally put you down on the soft bed was furrow your eyebrows, then your hand was rubbing your face. By the time you opened your eyes, confusion set in “What…?”

You didn’t finish when you looked beside you, seeing Michale on his knees next to the bed to be on your level. He looked paler than you’d ever seen him, eyes wide and watching you like a hawk.

It was then that it hit you that you didn’t really know how it ended up that he carried you into your room. You remember getting mad at him, the warmth that slowly overtook you, then the next thing you knew, you were in his arms.

Panic struck you next. How much time had you wasted? You had a final paper due by the end of the week. You had to submit an application in two days.

But when you attempted to sit up, much too fast if your dizzying head was anything to go by, Michael pushed you back down. No longer trying to negotiate with you. His eyes shown fiercely - letting it known that there was no room for compromise.

You couldn’t stop the four coughs that escaped you as you stared at him, pleadingly.

“Don’t.”

“But I have to-”

“You just fainted, Y/N.” Michael almost sounded mad but the waver in his voice gave away his true emotions. “You’re sick and your body’s exhausted, obviously. You’re not going to do shit. You’re going to rest and I’ll…handle it. Contact your professors or whatever so…don’t worry about deadlines or anything.”

His voice made it clear there was no point in fighting against him. Even though his relationships with professors was less than friendly and he never cared enough to ask for extensions for anything before in his life.

He took your hand in his big ones, dropping his head to rest his forehead on top of your fingers. As gentle as you’d ever seen him. “Why haven’t you been taking care of yourself?”

You didn’t answer for a long time and you were grateful that he wasn’t looking at you anymore so he couldn’t see the way your eyes filled with tears and your lip wobbled. You didn’t mean to scare him, or neglect yourself. But if you took the time to do anything else, you’d be behind. You were so tired.

“I d-don’t know.” You said as a few hot tears ran down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

You felt his hands brush some of your hair from your face softly. “You scared me.” He admitted and somehow, you knew that for Michael, admitting that weakness was hard. But he didn’t mind being vulnerable in front of you.

His eyes bore into you, almost too intensely for you to be able to handle. Until his hand came up to your forehead and you found the excuse to close your eyes so you wouldn’t have to watch the worry in his.

“You have a fever.” He got up and you didn’t even get the chance for your sluggish brain to wonder where he went before he was already back, carrying a small bowl of water with a rectangular mini-towel on top. You weren’t sure how he knew exactly what to do for you, how he seemed so soft and tender in these actions that were so unlike him.

He put the cool, wet towel on your forehead as he sat next to your lying form on the bed. He was so close to you, leaning over you. You were scared he would get sick because of you but when you finally opened your mouth to speak again and told him so, he ignored you. As if that was the last thing he was worried about.

From the moment you collapsed, his attention had been on you and nothing else. Nothing else mattered in his mind. And that translated in every attentive action that made you feel so taken care of. This side of your brash boyfriend, the caring, delicate side at a time when you needed it most nearly brought tears in your eyes. It made it very obvious that despite what he might seem to everyone else, he was the perfect boyfriend, would make the perfect husband. For you. He made you feel supported and at home even when your body and energy seemed to be turning their backs on you.

“I’m hungry, Mikey.” You tugged at his sleeve. You weren’t sure if you were, really. You’d gotten used to the pulsing headache from the lack of food throughout the week. But judging by the heaviness of your eyelids, threatening to close and the weakness in your body, in your energy, if you didn’t eat, you might shut down again.

Your voice was croaky but he didn’t comment on it. His answer was almost automatic, “I’ll get the soup I brought you.”

You’d almost forgotten why he had been there in the first place. He’d insisted because he had missed you. And you missed him. He came to take care of you, going out of his way to do what he would never do for anyone else, just never imagining you were at your limit.

It was almost embarrassing. Being in your weakened state in front of him and having him tend to you like a child. Especially when, sitting up in your bed with a disorientation and a feeling of tiredness that seemed to be the only things you could truly feel at the moment. Plus the muted feeling of stress that never seemed to go away; it was screaming that you should be doing your work, that you’d fall behind.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on it before Michael came back with a bowl of warm soup in his hands and sat next to you again. Saving you even from your own thoughts without realizing it. He placed the soup on your nightstand and it wasn’t until he began to get a spoonful that you realized he meant to actually spoon feed you.

To think of your boyfriend doing anything so nurturing seemed almost unnatural. Yet here he was, without an ounce of hesitation or embarrassment. It was such as mismatch from his personality, his reputation and it melt your heart to think that he cared about you so much to throw all of that away for you and his worry for you.

You could only manage a feeble, “You don’t have to…”

Michael stared at you silently for a while, not a decipherable emotion seen in his face, before bringing the spoonful of soup up to your lips. “I want to.”

And while you knew Michael wasn’t a big talker, those three words dripped with sincerity. Matching the loving actions and gestures he was currently doing for you. It was clear, if it wasn’t already before, that nothing was more important than being there for you when you needed him the most.

He didn’t let you talk again until you finished the food, feeding you each sip. Until he was satisfied that you had eaten enough to compensate for your lack of nutrients the weeks he spent without you. This was just as new to him as it was for you to see, this side of him. Doing things that he never would have dreamed of doing for someone else. But it felt like second nature when he saw the woman he loved more than anything else in such a vulnerable state. He yearned to take care of you, to provide for you. To keep you happy and healthy. Especially with how often you take care of him.

“Was it good?” He asked. Though he knew you would’ve liked it. If not simply for the fact that you hadn't eaten much else then certainly for the fact that he went out of his way to go to your favorite restaurant and pick your favorite item from their menu. The one you got every time he took you there.

You nodded, “Thank you.”

You weren’t expecting it when Michael enveloped you into a hug. So tightly you couldn’t even hug him back even after you got over the shock. His face was buried in your tangled, messy hair. He breathed you in as if taking in the fact that you were okay, he mumbled into your hair, “I know how much you care about school and how hard you try because of that but….none of that shit matters compared to you.”

It was so hard for him to be without you for so long. But he did it for you, to give you the time you had asked for to focus on your work. It had never occurred to him the bad mental state the solitude could leave you in, what it would do to your physically. If he had known, he never would have let you be alone. He would’ve fought you tooth and nail if it was what it took but he would have checked up on you, been there for you. And that’s exactly what he’ll be doing from now on. He’ll be there for you.

“Get some rest,” He reluctantly let you go. “You need to sleep.”

When Michael got up, though you were objectively much too warm because of your fever, you felt a lonely cold. You didn’t want him to stay away so you could study and work anymore. You needed him and all the comfort he brought to your soul. And he didn’t want to leave you anymore either.

“Mikey!” You called to him as he switched off the light to your room. You heard him hum in answer. “Don’t leave, please.”

He didn’t answer you. But you felt him get into bed beside you, kicking off his shoes as if it wasn’t the middle of the day - as if he had nothing else he would rather do than sleep right then next to you. And by the way he put his entire day on hold the minute he saw your condition, you guessed he didn’t. You had an inkling that while you had every intention of not letting him distract you when he had first arrived, that he had already been planning on staying the entire day anyway.

You were glad he did. You wouldn’t have been able to keep going the way you were if he hadn’t forced you to confront your self-neglect and tended to you with such dedication and love.

Both of you were silent and you could feel your tired body begin to drift to sleep when your boyfriend spoke up from beside you. “Promise me you’ll start looking after yourself, no matter how stressed or how much stuff you have to do. Promise.”

You weren’t snuggled into him like you would want. But you could feel him on his side, staring at you in the dark. His voice was serious with a hint of desperation. He needed to hear you say it. To know that his loved one would never be put in such a mistreated circumstance ever again, you didn’t deserve it. Nothing deserved to have you feeling anything but cherished, healthy and confident. Not even yourself. Because he believed in you so completely.

Though he never planned on leaving your side, emotionally or physically, to have any negativity enter your thoughts or habits ever again. He was willing to carry the weight of the world if it meant you would feel the strength and happiness that had been beat out of you.

“I promise.” Your words were small but it was good enough. Michael took you in his arms then, again not caring for any risk he was running of getting sick himself.

The next time you spoke, it was mumbling against his shirt. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I must’ve looked so gross because I didn’t really get ready all week and I-”

“Shut up.” His words held absolutely no bite, they were whispered. “I don’t give a damn what you looked like today. You never look bad to me. I only cared about making sure you were okay. And I’ll keep being here to make sure, I’m never leaving you alone again. I promise. No matter what you say.”

Your heart felt so full at his sweet words, just for you.

Then it was back to the comfortable silence. Until you began coughing again, this time against his chest and you tried to pull away quickly, both scared for his health and embarrassed. “Michael, seriously, you’ll get sick.”

But Michael’s strong arms were like steel bracketing you to his body. Unmoving despite your protests. He only cared about finally keeping you to him, where he knew he could protect you and keep you close, especially after so long without you and having your health deteriorate because he wasn't around.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll get my own class extensions then if I do.” He said it seriously, and knowing his academic achievement, or lack thereof, you didn’t doubt he meant it.

But still, you couldn’t help but giggle at his words, knowing he was smiling right alongside you without even having to see it. It felt foreign, laughing after so long of your negative thoughts and stressed lifestyle but nice especially because of all those things. A positive, carefree spirit that filled you because of your loving boyfriend and being so cocooned in his protection right at that moment.

#5sos #5sos fluff #5sos angst #michael clifford #michael clifford x reader #michael clifford fluff #michael clifford angst #bad boy michael #bad boy fluff #bad boy angst #5sos imagines #college au

[rosesgonerogue]

Finding You (Again)

Chapter Four

Masterlist

Damian

After the first three days, Damian didn’t go home again. Every time he walked in and she wasn’t there felt like he was being stabbed, so he just stopped going. He still had the security system synced with his phone, and he couldn’t stop himself from checking it immediately whenever it gave any sort of update. 

Instead, Damian sulked around Wayne Manor, doing anything he could contrive to stop thinking about Marinette. He trained a lot - in fact, training took up the bulk of his time, leaving him to systematically rip various training dummies limb from limb. After a week of this, he felt…  feral. His family gave him a healthy amount of space, as evidenced by the fifteen foot radius they were giving him as they watched him dispatch yet another dummy, this time with his katana. 

When the practice dummy had been sufficiently reduced to scraps, he breathed deeply. Irked by the feeling of being scrutinized, he growled, “I can tell you all have something to say. What is it?”

They all traded glances before Babs finally said, “We’re worried about you, Damian.” 

“Shocking,” Damian said, punctuating the work with a sharp kick to the dismembered dummy laying on the ground. 

“Little D, you’re not okay,” Dick said from where he was perched. “You haven’t been this moody and angry since you were a teenager.” 

Before Damian could give an appropriately caustic reply, Jason spoke up. “Come on, Dick, let’s stop pussyfooting around the issue. You screwed up, Demon Spawn, and while you’re throwing a temper tantrum we haven’t heard from Marinette.” 

Hurt and anger flared in Damian’s chest, and the bottled up emotions from every day Marinette didn’t return broke free in the form of a wild punch thrown at his older brother’s face. It was a crazed, desperate punch that Jason caught without difficulty. Using the grip on Damian’s hand, Jason hauled him forward. “Listen here, you little -” 

“Let him go, Master Jason,” Alfred said, inserting himself between the two. “The situation will not be improved with violence, as Master Damian has demonstrated with these dummies.” 

“Thank you, Alfred,” Damian said, sharply pulling his hand away from Jason. “Now you can all kindly stay out of my marriage.” 

“With all due respect, Master Damian, we have been staying out of your marriage, but we have some serious concerns that you will listen to.” 

“I don’t know where Marinette is, so you can all save your breath,” Damian spat.

“We don’t know where she is either,” Babs said seriously. “We didn’t want to overstep our bounds, but Marinette hasn’t picked up her phone since she left, we found it being sold in a back alley.” 

“Her tracking chip isn’t showing up at all, and that sucker was embedded in her arm,” Drake added. “It should be able to track her anywhere in the world, and a little ways beyond it.” 

“Tom and Sabine haven’t seen or heard from her, and neither have her friends,” Bruce said seriously.

“Th-they haven’t?” Damian asked, his anger slowly being replaced by fear.

“She hasn’t finished a single commission,” Babs added. “I had to hack her website to send refunds and explanations to each of her customers.” 

“Ladybug also hasn’t been seen anywhere in the world that we can find. Besides, Marinette has never been the kind to just leave without saying a word to anyone. We don’t want to pry into your marriage, but we love you and we love Marinette. Something is wrong.” 

With every word his family spoke, Damian felt reality crashing down on him. All the worry and loneliness he’d been smothering with anger felt suffocating. He couldn’t hear anything above the sound on his heartbeat drumming in his ears. A million different possibilities swam through his mind - Marinette, cold and alone. Marinette, trapped and desperate. 

Marinette dead.

That image brought everything to a screeching halt. As much as he wanted to give into his emotions, Damian needed to act. Breathing deeply, he attempted to organize his chaotic thoughts.

“Tim, Babs, I need you two to look at all of the security footage of the night she disappeared. When she needs to think, she usually takes Fifth Street home so she has a longer walk. Jason and Stephanie, you two go search possible routes to my house for any kind of evidence. Dick… Dick, will you come look in my house for any evidence?”

He hated the way his voice shook when he said the last part, but his oldest brother simply put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re here to help, Little D. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.” 

With that, everyone sprang into action, worry etched into their faces. Damian didn’t speak a single word on the way over to his house, despite his brother’s best efforts. A million more possibilities swam through his head, torturing him with all of the possibilities of what might have happened to her. 

His heart twisted in his chest when they got to his house. Again, Damian found that he couldn’t name the emotions racing through him. If he were going to attempt describing what he was feeling while looking at his house, he would liken it to being in a funeral home - it was somewhere designed to be warm and inviting, but it was just cold and oppressively silent. 

The house was still, undisturbed. It smelled slightly musty, but it looked exactly as it had been the last time he’d walked in. 

“She didn’t make it home that night,” Damian said almost immediately. 

“How do you know?”

“The morning of she forgot that fabric - she was going to come home for it during her lunch break, but an emergency repair came in for her and she didn’t have time. She had big plans for that fabric, and she never would have left it unfolded on the floor like that.” 

“She is neurotic about her fabric,” Dick said, nodding sagely. 

Seeing the fabric strewn across the floor bothered Damian more than it probably should have. While his brother started to search the house, Damian couldn’t help but snatch the fabric and carefully fold it. He’d barely placed it on the couch when the door crashed open, a huge form bustling in. 

“Bad news, Damian,” Jason said, thrusting something towards Damian’s face. 

It was so close to his eyes that it took a second to adjust so he could see what it was, but when he did take it in, the blood drained from his face. It was a dart, a dart that he and Jason recognized immediately. 

“Mother.” 

Note:  So it's been a minute, but I only have two weeks left of the semester and then I should have exponentially more time to write. Thank you all for your support and patience, I really appreciate it!

Taglist: 

@tbehartoo @kris-pines04 @thesunanditsangel @constancetruggle @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @rosalineandrosemary @novicevoice @momothefemur  @theymakeupfairies @maskedpainter @mystery-5-5 @dast218 @tip-tap-tired @zerotosiki @rebecarojas07 @bookgirl14 @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @lookatthestars1 @swiftie-miraculer13 @qualitypeacepainter @redbullgivescaswings @toodaloo-kangaroo @kking13 @buginetye

#daminette #maribat #maridami

[traincat]

I know the comic piracy debate is a never-ending cycle, but in India where I live, you can't get western comics (or manga for that matter). There aren't comic book stores. Sometimes on Amazon you can find collected editions worth more than INR 1000 at least, for the paperbacks. Most older collections, even from the early 2000s, will be upwards of INR 6000. And sure, it's because the exchange value is so low for Indian rupees, but that's still a LOT of money to Indian citizens. You can get digital editions of random odd issues for approx. INR 150, so that's there. But overall it's really a huge investment to buy a physical comic. So yes, I pirate. But I get so guilty when this debate rolls around, every time. I just don't see any other alternative.

I debated whether or not to answer this considering I haven't really addressed the comics piracy issue before so I'm not sure I'm the right account to talk about it, and also because my askbox is not a confessional and I am not a priest, but then some Spider-Man news broke that I feels ties into it this so whatever, we're going for it. The comics piracy debate comes up every couple of months and will probably continue to come up every couple of months until forever and all of these points have been stated before by others because nothing in this debate is new. First things first, you shouldn't feel guilty. I'm going to suggest actually that nobody should feel guilty, unless you are like, a millionaire and you're exclusively pirating indie books. The prices you're quoting are prohibitively expensive but I have some unfortunate news for everyone involved: the prices are really bad in the US, too. If you want good collected editions, especially in hardcover, they're going to run at similar if not quite equal prices. Comics have gone from a cheap hobby to an overwhelmingly expensive hobby.

This is a good article comparing to the cover costs of American comics since the 1960s adjusted for inflation which I think puts some things in perspective. Comics currently cost roughly $5 USD per issue, which doesn't sound that bad, even though most of my monthly streaming services are roughly that price for a whole month's access to a library of content. But it only doesn't sound that bad if you're not buying special issues (the Marvel Pride book retailed for $10), and if you're only reading one or two books a month. The problem is, American superhero comics are specifically designed so you're not reading just one or two books per month -- this is why we have events! And crossovers! Not for the story potential but because it forces the consumer to purchase more product. This is why there's constantly an event running with a checklist of tie-in issues in the back. So now you're spending probably at least $20 a month. If you're a fan with a lot of interest in different titles, and in different publishers, this can easily hit triple USD digits. It's a money pit. It's not affordable to most people. And this is where that new Spider-Man news comes in, because it was announced today that Amazing Spider-Man is going back to a thrice monthly schedule like it used to operate on during Brand New Day. Which sounds good at first -- more comics, yay -- until you realize that's probably going to be $15 USD a month for a one title. That's $180 a year for one title, not including annuals or special issues. That's not feasible for a lot of fans -- young fans, poor fans, fans with other financial obligations etc. And most people aren't reading just one title. I don't know how the X-Men fans are currently financing their Krakoa habit and I'm afraid to ask. There are services like Marvel Unlimited, which make things slightly more affordable, but I imagine the wait for newer issues to hit the service can be alienating for some fans who want to join in current discussions, the library has some incredibly massive holes in it which is unacceptable when it's coming from inside the mouse house, and I believe, although I could be wrong, that it is not available in all countries. Comics are no longer an easily accessible hobby, if you're paying for everything you read.

"But the creatives deserve to get paid" is the common argument and yeah, they do, I'm not arguing that point. They should absolutely get paid and they should get well. I'm a writer, I'm a published writer even, and I want to be a published novelist, and I definitely want to get paid, and I'm reserving the right to be a complete hypocrite about this, as I do with everything in my life, but this is where the difference between indie publications and Marvel publications comes in: Marvel is owned by Disney. There is absolutely no excuse for Disney not to pay their creatives. If they are not getting paid fairly, it's not because you pirated a book -- it's because Disney has a vested interest in not paying their creators, as evidenced by Alan Dean Foster's lawsuit claiming that they are withholding royalties from him. Fans pirating these books are not the reason the creatives are not getting paid fairly -- the creatives are not getting paid fairly for the same reason that Disney park employees experience homelessness, and it's because Disney would rather put that money into the pockets of their executives. There is no debate on that subject. It's easier and perhaps more convenient to blame fans for pirating comics rather than putting all of their money into what has been for years now a prohibitively expensive hobby to keep up with, but the fact of the matter is Disney could pay all of their creatives what they're worth without hurting their bottom line and instead chooses not to. That is not on you, as an individual reader. You have no reason to feel guilty about that, no matter what your circumstances are, and you do not have to justify your actions to either me or the House of the Mouse. I'm with you, and Disney ultimately doesn't care. They're making that money up elsewhere and then not distributing it fairly to the people who create the properties their media empire is built off of. But especially if you're buying older books, you should know that your money is not going to the creative team -- once it's out of publication, they're not going to get any of the money you spent on it. The argument then becomes that you should be supporting local comics stores which yes, is true, but also doesn't apply to everyone, like anon who doesn't have access to local comic book stores. And again, this can become prohibitively expensive -- collections are expensive. Older, hard to find collections can be very expensive. Once something is out of print, all bets are off on what it might be selling for. Buying single issues is only affordable if the single issue isn't desirable or sometimes if it's in exceedingly bad condition. For the sake of transparency, I have a fairly big single issue collection because it's my preferred format, but I had the time to bargain hunt, access to local comic book stores and large comic conventions, and I'm very good at sniping eBay auctions. The most I have ever dropped on a single issue was expensive for me -- and still under three digits USD -- and it's for an issue from the '60s that is not in great condition.

The problem with this debate is that it is generally a nuanced issue that always gets boiled down to "piracy bad" in a way that makes a lot of well meaning and well intentioned fans, especially the ones with extenuating circumstances, feel bad. It's not your fault. You shouldn't feel guilty. There are a huge amount of reasons why someone might pirate something that are not bad reasons and do not make you a bad person who is personally withholding money from the creators -- because you're not. I don't publicly tell people where to pirate comics, mostly because I really don't think it's that hard to find out for yourselves especially because several creators involved with Marvel themselves have, I suspect accidentally, posted pages of their work to social media WITH THE BANNER OF A WELL KNOWN COMICS PIRACY SITE STILL IN THE IMAGE please learn how to crop, so maybe my standpoint on the issue wasn't well known, but there it is. I think readers should, if they are able to financially and otherwise, support the creators they like, but that it should be acknowledged that this is a more complicated issue than it's commonly made out to be on Twitter and that the largest part of the blame needs to be put on the companies making these comics inaccessible to many and who refuse to pay their creators fairly, not on individual fans. Don't feel guilty, anon.

#traincat talks comics #*replies

[panharmonium]

merlin in 1.11 (part 1/?)

Okay.  I’ve said this in meta before, but now that I’ve got a visual aid, I want to make this absolutely clear - this episode canonically takes place immediately after 1.10.  

I’m not saying this in the sense of “these episodes come one after the other in season 1” - I mean that in the actual timeline of the show, 1.11 takes place immediately after 1.10.  Both episodes take place during the harvest, which is roughly confined to the month of August.  And the fact that Camelot is only just getting started with their work in 1.11 (as evidenced by their near-empty grain stores) while Ealdor’s harvest has obviously already begun in 1.10 (otherwise there would have been nothing for Kanen to steal) means that we’re not seeing opposite ends of the month - the harvest starts at the same basic time for everyone, with perhaps a delay in case of poor weather (or magical blight, in Camelot’s case).  

1.10 and 1.11 take place directly back-to-back.  At the time of the scene above, Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, and Morgana have been back in Camelot for days.  Maybe a week, if Camelot was having really crappy weather while the four of them were in Ealdor, but that’s about as much wiggle room as there is.

I think it’s important to recognize this fact, if we’re going to fully understand everything that’s happening in this episode.  Merlin’s simmering frustration throughout 1.11 is about more than just the death of the unicorn/Arthur’s refusal to accept responsibility for the curse.  There is more of an explanation for why Merlin’s patience is so low, for why he’s being snappier and less willing to respond to teasing/harassment with his usual playful equanimity.  There is more of a reason for why he’s getting lost and distracted staring out of windows.  

Merlin has been back in Camelot for mere days.  He’s a mess.

He’s a guilt-ridden, grieving disaster.  He’s more miserable than he’s ever been in his life.  He’s using up every ounce of his energy just pretending to be semi-functional, and he’s doing it all in secret, because the situation surrounding him is, to put it bluntly, what we see above:

You cannot trust a single word a sorcerer says.  You’d do well to remember that.

The audacity.  After what just happened.  Look at Merlin’s face.  

But of course Merlin can’t respond.  He has to swallow it down.  He has to let Arthur ride roughshod over how much he is hurting; Arthur, who is alive, Arthur, who isn’t even grateful for that fact, Arthur, who received a gift he wasn’t owed and who doesn’t care that it cost half of Merlin’s world.

There are so many places in this episode where Merlin is angry or snappy or giving Arthur death glares in situations where he always would have laughed things off, in an earlier episode.  He talks back when Arthur refuses to see sense, and not in their fun, bantering way - his tone is sharp, frustrated.  He tries to go back to hiding in his window nook and is audibly, visibly irritated when Arthur calls him over to look at the nibbled boot.  When Arthur keeps insulting Merlin about not catching the rat that did the nibbling, Merlin uses magic to kill it and feeds it to Arthur for supper.  He isn’t interested in playing, not in this episode.  He has no energy for putting up with Arthur’s nonsense.  His mind is already operating at 100% capacity just trying to hold himself together and hide his grief from everyone else, and he has no room for anything else.

Merlin is in tremendous amounts of pain here.  I know people don’t think that there are repercussions to Will’s death, but I’ve never really felt that to be the case.  It’s an event that isn’t addressed as directly as we see with Freya or Balinor or Lancelot, definitely - there’s not even an indication that Merlin ever tells Gaius what happened, and while that obviously doesn’t mean he couldn’t have done it offscreen somewhere, I honestly think it’s completely plausible that Merlin never talked about this to anyone.  I think there are legitimate reasons why we never hear Merlin mention it again.  I think the guilt he feels about this is so complicated and overwhelming that it’s hard for him to even think about it in his own head, never mind discuss it with someone else.  I think he locks it away as deep as he can, because it hurts him so much.  And I think it’s impossible for Merlin to explain Will to anyone, anyway - what Will did for him has to stay concealed, and the real significance of their friendship can’t be disclosed, not while Merlin’s magic is still a secret.  No one is ever going to be able to understand.

But that doesn’t mean the repercussions aren’t still there.  We can see the change that comes over Merlin in the last quarter of S1.  The attitude shift is palpable.  The timeline for 1.11, in particular, is clear.  Merlin’s reaction to Arthur’s trademark b.s. (see above gifs as one example) is visible.  Merlin doesn’t have to name his pain for us to understand that it’s there.  

And understanding that it’s there is INTEGRAL to understanding what’s happening in this episode, because this pain is precisely why Merlin is so desperate that Arthur be proven worthy of all the faith Merlin has previously placed in him.  Merlin’s faith in the destiny he’s supposed to fulfill for Arthur’s sake is hanging by a thread here.  He’s trying to keep himself convinced of the value of his mission, because that’s the only way he can keep going, but doing so is harder than it ever has been before.  He is hurting so much.  His only friend in the world is dead.  What happened in the previous episode, and how Arthur behaved at the end of it - as well as the way Arthur continues to behave now, in relation to both Anhora/the unicorn and Merlin himself - has made it hard for Merlin to answer the question “just what about Arthur makes all this misery worth it?”  There’s no way Merlin can reconcile his previous idealized image of Arthur with what Arthur has shown himself to actually be.  

And I said it more eloquently in this piece, but ultimately, Anhora’s test isn’t just necessary to restore the universe’s faith in Arthur’s worthiness after the unicorn’s slaughter.  It is desperately necessary to restore Merlin’s faith in Arthur, to give Merlin a sliver of hope that yes, there is in fact a reason for him to stick this out a little longer; yes, Arthur does in fact have something truly worthy in him, despite how he’s been treating Merlin lately; yes, this is all going to make a difference for the world in the end.  Because when Merlin sees Arthur continuing to blame sorcery for all his problems, and doing everything he can to avoid confronting personal responsibility, all Merlin can hear is his own foolish voice telling Will “I trust Arthur with my life” just days before Will dies protecting Merlin from the very object of Merlin’s misplaced faith - from a man who rewards Will’s sacrifice with a cold “You cannot trust a single word a sorcerer says” - and all Merlin can remember is how Will knew all along that trusting Arthur was a mistake.

#i really cannot stress it enough - the depth of merlin's distress in this episode cannot be calculated #he keeps it so locked down #but there are places where it leaks through #all i can think about when i see him in this episode is how much pain he is in #and how hard he is working to hide it from everyone around him #because it's not an 'appropriate' sentiment to express #not when 'you cannot trust a single word a sorcerer says' #not when 'you know how dangerous sorcery is' #will's death is literally the worst thing that has ever happened to merlin at this point in his life and he is never allowed to grieve #the once and future slowburn #meta #no kings no masters #1.11

[lunar-wandering]

100 kilometers left to travel

so me and the ~discord~ came up with a MK clone (not a hair clone, this one was created by science! how fun!) and I kinda. went a little wild so now I’m Making A Fanfic for him-

Word Count: 3.4k

Read on Ao3

He knew something was wrong the instant he woke up.

The ground was hard and cold, he could feel tiny rocks digging into him as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. He could faintly hear water dripping in the distance, the sound of a car driving overhead. The soft click of somebodies shoes hitting the floor as they approached him.

He moved his hand to the side, trying to find a better position to push himself up and off the floor. His hand landed in something wet, and he hurriedly pulled it back. His eyes were still closed. He couldn't see what he had touched.

He hoped it was just water.

Taking a deep, wheezing breath, he slowly pushed himself up, trying to stand, before stumbling, sitting down and leaning against the cool metal behind him. His limbs ached, they felt like they hadn't moved in ages.

Now that he was thinking of it, had he ever moved before?

....Who was he?

A flash of some kind of memories danced in his mind. A hint of pink, the taste of something good, a book being placed in his hands, a flash of green, a dash of red, the warmth of tea, a touch of gold, a tint of purple, and something blue.

Blue.....

His head hurt. He couldn't make sense of any of the colours within his mind, the emotions they brought with them coming and going like the tide, vanishing before he could even begin to decipher them. He didn't..... he couldn't understand.

"Ah, I see you've survived."

He'd forgotten about the footsteps.

Something about the voice sent shivers down his spine, making him curl up, every inch of him shouting 'protect yourself! you're not safe!'.

"Oh, well we can't have that."

A hand softly ran through his hair, before harshly pulling it, moving his head out of the curled up position he'd put himself in. It didn't hurt a lot, but it still made him whimper in fear.

"Look at me."

He didn't want to know what would happen if he disobeyed. Slowly he tried to open his eyes, the colours of real life swirling almost as much as the colours within his brain. He closed his eyes in response to the sudden stimuli, before remembering the voice's demand and forcing them open again. Despite this, he couldn't make out who was in front of him, his eyes incapable of focusing.

He could only see blue and white.

"Hm..... I suppose you'll have to do." The voice let go of his hair, but he didn't move. He had a feeling curling back up, despite how every instinct was screaming at him to do so, would be a bad idea. "You certainly didn't melt like the others."

Melt? What did they-

"Tell me, Experiment Number 7, are you ready for your mission?"

He didn't even know what his mission was.

But he knew, down in his bones, that saying 'no' would have consequences.

"Y-" He tried to speak, but his voice cracked, breaking off into nothing. He coughed, trying to speak again, only for the voice to huff in irritation.

"You needn't continue. I suppose I should give you a bit longer to adjust before I send you out....this must be perfect in order for destiny to come to fruition."

The footsteps clicked again, and he waited until they had faded away and he couldn't hear them anymore before he slumped, curling in on himself again, letting out a wheezing breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

Alone, he listened to the sounds surrounding him, colours flickering in his mind again before, inevitably, he fell back asleep.

-

"MK!"

MK jolted, leaning back and falling out of the chair he'd been sleeping in. On his way down, he knocked the table with his head, sending a bowl of broth (there had been noodles, but MK had already ate them) flying down to splatter on the floor beside him. He groaned, rubbing his head as it ached.

He felt like he'd dreamed about something important....

MK blinked, and suddenly Mei was leaning over him.

"You alright?" She asked, holding out her hand to help him up. MK took her up on her offer, standing up and dusting himself off, before looking at the shattered bowl and liquid on the floor, and sighed.

"Guess I'll have to clean that up...." He mumbled, before switching gears and turning to Mei with a smile on his face. "Anyways, I'm fine, but Mei, what are you doing here?"

"Did you seriously forget already?" Mei asked, "You promised you'd come with me to the arcade today!"

"Oh. I didn't forget I just, I didn't realize so much time had passed, I must've been asleep for longer than I thought...." MK said, stretching a little to get the last bits of tiredness out of his limbs. Mei watched him with a look of concern.

"Have you been sleeping enough lately?" She asked, looking him up and down, searching for any sign that he wasn't taking care of himself like he should.

"Yeah, I just...." MK paused for a moment, before shrugging. "I keep having these weird dreams. They feel important, but I can never really remember them."

"Is it a side effect of your monkey powers?"

"Monkey King doesn't have prophetic dreams Mei." MK said, walking out the door, Mei keeping in time with his stride. "Or well. It's never mentioned in the stories."

"You'll have to ask him when he gets back from his vacation then." Mei said.

"Yeah, I guess I will......"

-

He took a deep breath, leaning against the wall of the alley way.

Glancing out, he could see his original, walking beside the green girl.

(He hadn't bothered to learn her name. He felt like he should know it, but it would be fine. He could learn it later, it wasn't important for his mission yet.)

Right now, what he had to do was simple. Grab his original, bring him back to the lair, and then, once he'd gathered his information, replace him.

Simple. Easy.

He looked back out at the fairly crowded street.

Simple. Easy.

And then suddenly there was a crash, his original shrieked, and then red was there too, the green girl holding him back from attacking the original.

When has anything ever been easy?

He turned and started heading back to the lair.

The Lady wasn't going to be happy about this, but there was no way the plan was going to work today.

-

Two weeks later, MK leaned against the railing on the deck of the ship, while Wukong sat on the railing, swinging his legs off the side.

"....Monkey King?"

"Yeah, what's up, bud?"

"Have you ever had like, prophetic dreams?" MK asked, and Wukong's legs paused mid swing.

".......No." He answered, slowly, "Why? Did something happen?"

"Well, not exactly." MK said, thinking of how best to explain it. "I've been having these dreams, but it's like I just can't remember them once I wake up. I know they happened, and I feel like they're telling me something important, but what actually happened in them just keeps...slipping out of my grasp."

"And you're sure they're not just regular dreams?" Wukong asked, sighing when MK shook his head yes. "....Okay. I can't say that I've experienced anything like that, but I can look into it if it really concerns you."

"Thank you." MK sighed in relief, before giving Wukong a smirk. "On another note, you should probably run, I think Pigsy's finally noticed that you stole all the snack food."

"Oh n-" Wukong scrambled off the railing, causing the spoon Pigsy threw at him to just barely miss. Hurriedly, he turned and ran back into the ship, Pigsy chasing after him. MK gave a little laugh as he watched the both of them disappear through the door, leaving him alone on the deck.

It was almost...nice to be able to relax like this. Sure, the Lady Bone Demon was after them, but it wasn't like there was a demon attacking every other day. In fact, thus far into their journey, they hadn't been attacked at all.

So of course, it was immediately after he had that thought that something hit him in the back of the head, hard, causing him to pass out.

-

MK woke up to a dark room.

No, not a room.

A cell, as evidenced by the bars.

He shivered, as a cold breeze blew through the cell. His jacket was missing.

Recognizing that this was probably not good, MK quickly sat up, grabbing hold of the bars and pressing his face against them, trying to tilt his head to see the surrounding area better.

"Hey you, you're finally awake."

MK bit back a shriek, startling and hitting his head against the bars with a clang. He let go of the cell bars to hold his head, crouching down as he hissed in pain.

"Woah, don't go knocking yourself out again so soon, I need someone to talk to around here."

MK knew that voice.

Looking over to the side, he could see someone sitting in the corner, half enshrouded in darkness.

"Why are you here, Macaque?" MK asked, rubbing his head as he stood up again. "And also, did you seriously just quote a meme at me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Macaque said, amusement in his voice. "And I'm here because I wanna be."

"Bullshit." MK deadpanned.

"If Wukong was here you'd get smacked." 

"Well yeah, but he's not, so-" MK said, smirking, before looking back out through the bars again. "Where are we anyways?"

"One of the Lady Bone Demon's lairs." Macaque answered, standing up and walking to also glance out through the bars. As he entered into the slightly more lit area of the cell, MK could see that his clothes were torn, dried blood staining it, and a torn piece of his scarf wrapped around his arm. MK barely bit back his concern in favor of a different question.

"She has more than one lair?"

"Apparently." Macaque shrugged. "This is a different one from the one I first woke up in, so I can only assume it's a different location."

"...How long have you been captured? Actually, wait, better question, how long have I been captured?" MK asked, panic starting to grip him. What if he'd been gone for too long, and something had happened to-

"I don't think it's been any more than a few hours for you." Macaque said, alleviating at least some of MK's worries. At least he hadn't been passed out for 3 days or something.... "As for me....I don't know."

"Wh- how could you not know?" MK asked, "Have you seriously been in here long enough that you can't remember how much time has passed?"

"I think it's been a week."

"You think!?"

-

In the end, it had been rather easy to escape.

Scarily easy, to be honest. There hadn't been a single guard, and they hadn't encountered the Lady Bone Demon so much as once the whole time.

Macaque had, in return for MK not telling Wukong that he had helped out, personally gotten MK back to the ship via shadow-teleportation. MK had to admit, traveling through shadows was a weird experience, but it was kinda thrilling in a way, a bit like a roller coaster. The two of them popped out of the shadow of a tree beside a forest clearing, where the ship had landed on the ground.

"This is as far as I'm taking ya, kid." Macaque said, falling back into the shadows. "......You might want to mentally prepare yourself before you get back on the ship by the way."

"Prepare myself for what?" MK asked, but Macaque had already vanished, leaving MK alone.

MK sighed, then walked over to the ship, going to climb up the side of the ship and onto the deck, but then paused, one leg over the ship's railing as he took in the sight before him. He slowly blinked, wondering if he was just seeing things, but nope, Mei was holding another him at sword point, the others standing behind her in a defensive position.

"Who are you and why are you doing a horrible job at pretending to be my friend!" Mei asked, leering over the other MK in a threatening matter.

"Hey, I thought I was doing a good job at pretending to be MK!" The other MK yelled.

"Evidently not!" MK said, fully climbing over the rail and dropping down onto the deck, drawing the attention over to where he was. "Seriously, who the hell are you?"

"Who the hell are you?" The other MK shot back, before realizing what he said. "No, wait that was a stupid question, I know who you are- why did I say that?"

The others ignored him, in favor of staring at MK in suspicion.

"Are you the real MK?" Pigsy asked, causing MK to sputter in offense.

"Wh- of course I am-" MK said, before cutting himself with a yelp, as Wukong suddenly appeared beside him, lifting his arm, picking him up, basically checking him all over before placing him back on the ground, seemingly satisfied.

"Yep, this one is the real deal." He confirmed, before glaring at the other MK. "That one, on the other hand-"

They turned back to the other MK, who had, in the moment of distraction, begun to slowly inch away from Mei's sword, and now was halfway over the railing, about to jump off.

"Oh no you don't." Mei hissed, grabbing onto the back of the other MK's jacket (and oh, so that's where MK's jacket had went, not only did he have a double, but said double was a jacket thief-) and pulling him back onto the ship, letting him fall backwards and slam down on the metal deck. "You're not going anywhere until we get some answers out of you, KM."

"KM?" The other MK asked, everyone else looking at Mei with the same degree of confusion.

"I needed something to call you other than MK." She said, shrugging, before getting right back to business. "Now. Who sent you?"

"What, like I'm just gonna tell you that-" Mei's sword poked closer to his neck. "The Lady! The Lady Bone Demon! She's the one who sent me!"

"Well. That certainly explains why I woke up in one of her cells." MK said, and was immediately met with various looks of concern. He threw his hands up in self-defense. "Hey, don't look at me like that, she didn't even show up, like seriously, it was ridiculously easy for me and Macaque to escape-"

"I'm sorry, you and who?" Wukong interrupted, looking like he was about to breakdown then and there.

"Oh, that's the shadow guy, right?" KM asked, ignoring the glares the others sent him. "I talked with him a few times. Or, well, we didn't so much as talk, more like I walked past him, but like. Same thing, right? Ha ha, yeah, uh, anyways, can we put the sword away now?"

"Depends." Mei said, "What're you gonna do now that we know? You going to go ham, no offense Pigsy, and kill us all?"

"What? No." KM said, "Well. Is that what I'm supposed to do?"

"No, no, no-" MK hurriedly said, rushing forwards, pushing Mei and her sword to the side in order to be face to face with KM, which, wow, that was weird seeing his own face not on him and not on a hair clone- how does KM even exist if he's not a hair clone- wait he's getting distracted- "It is not what you're supposed to do. You are not going to do that. Right?"

"....Right." KM said, slowly nodding. There was a moment of awkward silence, then Mei was back up, shoving MK over as she pointed her sword at KM again.

"That didn't sound like a very confident answer." She said. KM glanced at her, taking in her threatening expression, looked over her shoulder, seeing the expressions of the others-

"If I give you the staff, will you not kill me?" He asked.

That made everyone pause.

"....What, exactly, do you mean by that?" Wukong asked, and KM, in response, hurriedly removed his jacket, shaking it out a little-

And the staff fell out, clanging and slightly denting the deck.

There was a moment of silence.

MK slowly reached over, grabbing hold of, and lifting the staff, feeling a familiar warmth rush through him.

"Why did you have this?" He asked, and KM rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Well I mean, you had it in the videos I watched, but I couldn't make a realistic replica, so when I saw it in the Lady Bone Demon's lair I just... took it?" He said, carefully watching the other's blank expressions. "I-I figured it'd make it easier to pretend to be you if I had it-"

"So what you're saying is you stole it." Pigsy said, "From the Lady Bone Demon."

"I don't know, maybe?" KM said, and Mei slowly lowered her sword, before finally putting it away.

KM watched on as the group all looked at each other, seemingly having a silent conversation via eye contact.

(They were, in fact, having a real conversation, as Wukong was astral projecting to everyone, and thus basically opened a telepathic connection.

"We could just let him stay with us." MK said.

"Kid, are you crazy? Do you know what he is?" Wukong asked.

"No actually." MK said.

KM, not being in the loop, had no way of knowing this.)

"....So uh, KM was it, what exactly are you?" Tang asked, and once again all eyes were on KM, who shifted nervously.

"Uh, a clone? Like- like test-tube clone. Created in the science goo and all that." KM said, making jazz hands as he said 'science goo'. No one looked very impressed.

"She knows how to do that?"  Wukong whispered under his breath, sounding almost horrified.

"Are there any others like you?" Sandy asked.

KM thought back to the wetness he'd touched when he was first created.

"....No." KM said, "The others failed. They.....they melted."

There was another moment while the others had a silent conversation.

( "Look, he's all alone, we can't just leave him be!"

"But-"

"Look, we know you don't trust him Monkey King, which to be honest the rest of us don't really trust him either, but we can't just leave this kid alone!")

Wukong gave an irritated sigh.

"Fine." He said, marching over to KM, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him up so that he was standing. He grabbed MK's jacket out of KM's hand, tossing it over his shoulder, where it proceeded to land directly on top of MK's head. "Look, kid, the others have decided to trust you, and I've been outvoted, so listen. We're going to let you stay on the ship. But if I catch any sign of you being up to no good, I will not hesitate to throw you overboard. Clear?"

"As crystal." KM said.

"Good." Wukong said, "But, just in case-"

And then KM's bandana was gone, replaced with a golden circlet. With nothing to hold up his hair, it flopped down, almost completely blocking the new circlet from view. KM reached his hand up to feel it, instantly recognizing what it was.

"....Why." He asked.

"Like I said, just a precaution." Wukong said.

("I have always wanted to do that to someone else-"

"Monkey King."

"Oh. Oops, forgot this connection was still open-")

"You don't have to worry though." Wukong continued, "It won't hurt you or anything, you just won't be able to get more than a kilometer away from me or MK."

"Okay??" KM said, and, well, that was that.

KM was officially a member of the ship.

-

"Out of curiosity, what was it that made you realize KM wasn't me?" MK asked, later that night. Mei immediately broke out into a wild grin, while KM groaned.

"Well first of all, he didn't call any of us by our names." Mei began, "He called me Green Girl, Sandy was Tea Man, so on and so forth. But the real thing that made us realize was that-"

"Don't say it-" KM started, but Mei wasn't going to listen.

"He referred to himself in the third person." She said, "Or, really, he was referring to you, but since he was pretending to be you-"

"Look, I just got used to thinking 'MK smiles like this' and 'MK moves like that', okay?!" KM said, covering his face with his hands. "It just became the default y'know?"

"Understandable, but really?" MK asked, "You didn't once train yourself into talking like you were me?"

"Look, I've only been alive for one month-"

#Monkie Kid #Fanfic #My Writing #KM