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aspoonofsugar · 11 months

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Chuya's Tainted Sorrow

Here comes a meta on my favourite bsd character:

Chuya is mostly explored in the two BSD novels Fifteen and Storm Bringer, so this post covers what happens in these books. In particular, I am going to use Chuya's song, gift and literary references to explore his story.

DARKNESS MY SORROW

Darkness My Sorrow is Chuya's character song and its title combines two different literary references:

Darkness comes from the Sheep Song, which is used to trigger Corruption:

O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again!

Sorrow comes from Upon The Tainted Sorrow, which gives its name to Chuya's ability

Let's discover what these two poems represent.

CHUYA'S DARK DISGRACE (THE SHEEP)

O expectations, stale and dismal airs, leave this body of mine! I want nothing anymore but simplicity, quiet, murmurs and order. O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again! I will endure my solitude, arms seeming already useless. O eyes that open doubtfully, open eyes that stay motionless for a while, ah, heart, that believes in others more than itself, O expectations, stale and dismal airs, leave, leave this body of mine! I enjoy nothing anymore but my wretched dreams. (The Sheep Song, Part II)

The Sheep is Chuya's first group, which welcomes him in as a child. Why is the organization called after this animal? There are several reasons, which tie with Chuya's relationship with his friends.

1 - Chuya is a herding dog

The Sheep's members are normal kids, but Chuya guards their territory and punishes trespassers violently. This is the behaviour of herding dogs, which are famous for their aggressiveness towards outsiders.

"Everyone's waiting for you to give this enemy a beatdown! That's the only way we Sheep can protect our turf! We've only made it this far because everyone knows they can't mess with us!" (Shirase in Fifteen)

2 - Chuya is a sheep among wolves

"Chuuya's got all that berserk firepower, but here he's like sheep getting stared down by a wolf." (Dazai in Fifteen)

Chuya's relationship with the Sheep is exploitative and toxic. The other kids use Chuya's love and wish to belong to control him. All in all, Chuya is used as a pawn for the organization's well being:

"We Sheep took you in when you had no family and nowhere to go, but you already gave us more than enough in return. That's why... it's time to rest... after dying and contributing to the Sheep one last time." (Shirase in Fifteen)

3 - Chuya is the King of the Sheep

Luois I, King of the Sheep is a children book about a sheep, who finds a crown. He puts it on and becomes King. The point of the story is that Luois I is like other sheep, but chance and a superficial attribute turn him into a royal.

Chuya sees himself in the same way:

"I'm not a King," the boy, Chuuya Nakahara, spat. "I just happen to have something no one else does: power. I'm simply fulfilling the responsibility I have." (Fifteen)

Chuya's "crown" is his gravity manipulation gift that sets him apart from others. He even calls it a "good card", so something luck gives him.

Luois I lets the crown get to his head and believes he is above others. Chuya instead really wants to be part of the flock:

Chuuya wasn't anyone special; he didn't have a skill, either. He was just a regular member of the group. He wasn't the king, he had no powers, he wasn't the center of attention - he was simply a single Sheep among the flock, chatting with his friends. (Chuya's wish in Storm Bringer)

However, his ability is so powerful that it is the Sheep kids, who forget Chuya is a teenage boy just like them:

"Chuuya's covered in wounds. I've never seen him like that. He looks just like a regular guy my age. Wait, no - he doesn't just look like one. He is my age. He's a boy just like me." (Shirase in Storm Bringer)

In short, Chuya doesn't want to be the Sheep King, but he is forced into the role by the crown of power:

"Shut up! If you think you can become king, then do it! You can have this power!" Chuuya howled, unable to take it any longer. "To hell with power! If I didn't have this skill, I'd still be with you guys...!" (Storm Bringer)

Still, gifts are metaphors of the characters' interiority. So, what does Chuya's abnormous skill symbolize? What is the real flaw that defines Chuya's relationships and gets in their way?

"Once there was this boy who could amplify the skill of anyone he touched. Super convenient. So what do you think would happen if he used it on himself instead of someone else? (...) He amplified the skill to amplify the other skill, which amplified the skill to amplify skills that amplify skills. This self-referencing continued nonstop as he endlessly amplified his own skill." (N in Storm Bringer)

Storm Bringer reveals that the origin of Chuya's gravity manipulation is the gift to make other skills more powerful. The user applies his gift on himself and makes it stronger and stronger until infinite energy is created and space warps. So, Chuya's singularity is born: a gift able to control gravity. In other words:

The original ability is to make others stronger

If the ability is used on one-self (so that the wielder can become more powerful and make others even more powerful), then a contradiction arises and a monstruous skill appears

This process is a representation of Chuya's tendency to grow stronger for others' sake. He hones his fighting skills to protect the Sheep (to make them stronger), but this turns them too dependent on him (an organizational vulnerability). What a good leader should do is instead to nurture his people, so that they can be independent and strong:

“A leader is both the head of the organization and the organization’s slave. For the survival and the profit of the organization, they gladly put themselves through any manner of filth. They develop their subordinates and place them where they best fit. And, if necessary, they use and dispose of them. For the sake of the organization, they take on any act of barbarism with glee. That is a leader. All for the organization, and for the protection of this beloved city.” (Mori in Fifteen)

This is Chuya's mistake and the reason why the Sheep disbands. Chuya falls short as a leader not because he isn't as smart as Dazai or Mori (if anything, I think he is going to be a better leader than both). Rather, he fails because he doesn't know how to depend on others:

"It's because you are our friend. Were things different with the Sheep?" They had been. That was what Chuuya's flustered expression was saying. Everyone in the Sheep depended on him. The contrary was unthinkable. (Storm Bringer)

He insists on doing everything by himself, but a leader should work with his subordinates. This is what Chuya lacks in Fifteen and what he sails up to learn.

Still, to succeed Chuya needs to face the origin of this flaw, which lies in how he perceives himself:

O eyes that open doubtfully, open eyes that stay motionless for a while, ah, heart, that believes in others more than itself

Chuya sees himself as inferior to others. This complex makes him willing to be used, if it means he belongs somewhere:

LONELY DARKNESS MY SORROW, once it is opened by the key I'd rather just fall than go back to being alone Staring at the destroyed cage of this self, (GRAVITY) Slowly, I sing, "Not bad at all."

This is the key stanza of Chuya's song, which reveals what Chuya's darkness really is. Loneliness. Chuya is scared of being alone, so he does his best to conform to others' wishes. For example, he dresses like those around him not to stick out.

Chuuya, age fifteen - He wears sportsy clothes, with several sheep symbols:

Chuuya, age sixteen - He wears a formal attire with much black in it. Perfect mafia-style:

However, he can't escape his interior pain, which metaphorically manifests in Corruption:

O acquaintances, grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again! I will endure my solitude, arms seeming already useless.

It is not by chance that the verses, which open Chuya's gate affirm the poet's solitude. That is because deep down Corruption is just this. Chuya's isolation.

THE TAINTED SORROW (ARAHABAKI)

Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Today, the snowflakes fall so harsh. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Today, even the strong wind gusts. The Tainted Sorrow is Just like a fox’s hooded fur. The Tainted Sorrow is Covered by snowflakes and it cowers. The Tainted Sorrow has Nothing to desire and nothing to wish. The Tainted Sorrow has A dream of death to its wary self. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Trembling like a pitiful soul. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Nowhere to belong, the sun sets... (Upon The Tainted Sorrow)

Corruption is a state where Chuya gives up his body to Arahabaki. What is this entity? In universe, it is a singularity, a self-contradicting skill able to create infinite power. It metaphorically represents two things:

Everyone's objectification of Chuya

A part of Chuya himself

1 - Chuya's life is defined by others reducing him to a skill

-N and the Government kidnap, abuse and clone Chuya because of his self-contradicting gift. It is not the two kids (the original and the clone) they are interested in. Rather, they reduce them to their special abilities:

"Just like how we respect your will, we respect the will of your skill Arahabaki, as well. But... how should I put this? Your will is tying Arahabaki down, and as long as your will is firm, we won't be able to remove Arahabaki from you." (N in Storm Bringer)

N says it oudloud. He respects Arahabaki's will more than Chuya's. Except that Arahabaki has no will:

"Sigh... Why do you wanna see it so bad?" Chuuya said. "It doesn't have a personality or a mind of its own, so what's meeting' it gonna do for you? You gonna pray to it because it's a god? It's a god of destruction, y'know. Nothing more than a mass of energy. It's no different from a typhoon or an earthquake. Ya might as well pray to a power plant." (Fifteen)

Arahabaki is not a person, but the embodyment of Chuya's gift. And yet, it is given a name and treated as more important than the kid.

-Rimbaud literally wants to turn Chuya into a skill:

"Allow me to reintroduce myself. Rimbaud. Arthur Rimbaud. My skill is called Illuminations. Chuuya, my goal is to kill you and absorb you into my skill" (Rimbaud in Fifteen)

He doesn't want to kill Dazai because he hates murdering children. And yet, Chuya is Dazai's same age. However, Rimbaud sees him as nothing, but Arahabaki's host.

-Verlaine wants Chuya to be his clone:

"I dunno about you, but I'm human." "You aren't human. You're 2,383 lines of code." (Chuya and Verlaine in Storm Bringer)

He denies Chuya's humanity and insists he is an artificial creation. Chuya can't be the original kidnapped child, but needs to share Verlaine's origins and hate for the world. Verlaine doesn't consider his brother a person, but an extension of himself.

2- Arahabaki is Chuuya's inner beast

In psychology, the beast is a personification of one's deepest and most repressed feelings. What are Chuya's?

His control on gravity suggests two strong emotions:

a) A lack of freedom - The ability to control gravity should make one freer. And yet, Chuya is always chained:

He spends his childhood imprisoned in a lab. He is used as an attack dog by the Sheep. He is threatened to join the mafia with his friends' lives and Rimbaud's secret files. In a sense, he always serves someone. That is why Arahabaki is a servant deity.

b) A huge existential weight - He can make things lighter, but he still shoulders too much:

"Tell me, tin man," Chuuya suddenly stated, his voice devoid of all emotion. "Why did they die?" "Because of you, Chuuya." Silence. "Yeah, it is my fault." (Chuuya and Adam in Storm Bringer)

For example, Chuya blames himself for what happens with the Sheep, the Flags and later on Adam:

"What's wrong, Chuuya? Everyone's going to die at this rate. You're going to kill them. Your shortcomings are going to kill them." (Verlaine in Storm Bringer)

Chuya fears whoever gets close to him dies. That is why Arahabaki is a god of destruction.

Points 1 and 2 explain Chuya's loneliness. On the one hand others only see his skill (objectification). On the other hand Chuya doesn't see himself (struggle with the beast).

Arahabaki is a god whose origins are uncertain, so nobody understands it. Not even Chuya:

'In languor dreams of death' … who was the one that said it?

In the song, Chuya wonders who is the author of his own poem. This shows how disconnected he is from himself. He wears a mask of violence and bravado to hide his vulnerability. Still, this fragility emerges every time he lets Arahabaki out. Here comes the interpretative key of Chuya's character...

Arahabaki is nothing, but the Tainted Sorrow of the poem:

The tainted sorrow is a fox covered in snow, while the wind howls:

Black snow began fluttering around Chuuya. Red scar-like runes crawled across his skin. He ignored the law of physics, hovering in the sky, as he glared down at the beast on the surface. Intense heat caused by the gamma radiation filled the air. The night was scorched, and the scenery warped. (Storm Bringer)

Arahabaki-Chuya is described as a tailed-beast and the anime shows he is similar to a fox. Moreover, he is covered in black snow, while his gravity powers manifest a strong wind.

The rest of the verses convey Chuya's feelings:

The Tainted Sorrow has Nothing to desire and nothing to wish. The Tainted Sorrow has A dream of death to its wary self. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Trembling like a pitiful soul. Upon the Tainted Sorrow, Nowhere to belong, the sun sets...

Interestingly, the fox and the setting sun come up in Storm Bringer:

The video showed a golden coin. One side was engraved with a fox, the other with the moon. It was beautiful yet somewhat melancholy. (Storm Bringer)

The young Chuya repeats Upon the Tainted Sorrow while playing with a coin that has a fox and a moon on its sides.

The literary metaphor becomes clear. The Sheep Song is the key to open the Tainted Sorrow's gate. Chuya activates Corruption through verses, that state his loneliness. He says them, when he is ready to face the darkest part of himself.

WHAT IS CHUYA?

The Tainted Sorrow has Nothing to desire and nothing to wish. The Tainted Sorrow has A dream of death to its wary self.

The Tainted Sorrow dreams of death, which means Chuya is suicidal.

This is why he is both drawn and repulsed by Dazai:

"Your birth itself was a mistake. We're the same. Is there really a point to suffering through all that pain for a life that isn't even real?" The voice was taunting him. "Shut up," Chuuya spat, but even he knew he was talking to himself. "Screw you, Dazai." "That's just proof that you at least somewhat believe what I'm saying. Because deep down inside, you're the same as me." (Storm Bringer)

Dazai is the Chuya, who regrets being born and wishes to die. Still, he is also the Chuya, who wants to live, despite it all:

Chuya quietly stared at Daai's expression as if he were searching for something human deep inside of him. "So you're saying... you want to live now?" "I wouldn't go that far," Dazai replied with a resigned smile. "Maybe I won't find anything, but I figure I'll give it a try." (Fifteen)

The Tainted Sorrow wishes nothing because it isn't a person. Chuya fears he has no will of his own because he isn't human:

Chuuya Nakahara didn't dream. For him, waking up was like a bubble emerging from within mud. (Storm Bringer)

This fear is why Chuya's friendship with Adam is so important.

Adam is a an artificial creation, like Chuya. He is even called after the Frankenstein monster. He is a robot programmed to destroy himself for the sake of his mission:

"This is the real reason why an android was sent, instead of a human detective. My core, which now contains state secrets, will be incinirated along with Verlaine." (Adam in Storm Bringer)

Adam is a person, like Chuya. He is even called after the first man. He is a friend, who chooses to sacrifice himself for a loved one:

"I get to protect you. I couldn't ask for more." (Adam in Storm Bringer)

Dazai and Adam are linked to life and humanity, which are the main themes of Chuya's arc in the novels.

They both get to keep on living together with Chuya:

Dazai curled into the fetal position and screamed, "Dying with Chuuya? Anything but thaaaat!!" (Storm Bringer)

"Would you like to hear an android joke, Master Chuuya?" (Adam revealed as alive at the end of Storm Bringer)

Fittingly, Storm Bringer ends with the three of them together and alive. Chuya loses several friends, but by the end he still has two bonds. Two people who survive their friendship with him.

Even more importantly, Dazai and Adam both care about Chuya's humanity:

"Chuuya's gonna kill N at this rate and lose his humanity, but I want to see him suffer as a human. That's why I have to stop him" (Dazai in Storm Bringer)

"Do you know whether Master Chuuya is human?" I was curiously hopeful that he would know the truth. (Adam in Storm Bringer)

Not only that, but they help Chuya finish his arc and find himself:

Then what is a soul? My friend's final words... What if those words were merely the words of a soulless command? So what? (Chuya in Storm Bringer)

Dazai gives Chuya a choice and Adam helps Chuya make it.

Dazai believes in Chuya's humanity more than anyone else:

"You sound like you're certain he's human." "I am." Dazai sighed, smiling. "There's no way I could hate a man-made character string this much." (Storm Bringer)

N, Shirase, Rimbaud and Verlaine all reduce Chuya to a skill. Dazai instead sees Chuya as his own person. Sure, he finds Chuya annoying, but he is the only one, who interacts with Chuya for who he is, rather than what he can do.

Adam realizes Chuya is human no matter his origins:

"Asleep or not, he is just an ordinary human," Chuuya replied indifferently. "his skill is strong, but that's it. He gets mad, he worries... That doesn't seem to be enough for him, though." "You are exactly right. It appears you have reached the conclusioin you needed to arrive at." (Chuya and Adam in Storm Bringer)

The Flags, Verlaine, Dazai and Chuya himself are focused on uncovering Chuya's birth. Is he the original kid or the clone? Discovering the truth is everyone's goal. Still, by the end Adam realizes Chuya's nature doesn't matter. He is Chuya either way. He is the person who teaches Adam about humanity. He is Adam's first friend.

Thanks to both Dazai and Adam, Chuya finally faces himself and activates Corruption. Not only that, but Chuya's final choice to let Arahabaki out is a perfect example of how he interprets freedom:

Even though it feels like I might be trapped, there is no room for sentiments I'll push myself to the limit and dye everything jet-black The world is a bird cage, faded in colour Even if I lament, I can't get out of this prison BUT NOW, DARKNESS MY SORROW I have not yet fallen apart So, as I laugh off this imposed inconvenience Let's overturn even the heavens and the earth (GRAVITY)

Chuya is trapped in many ways and he knows it. He is given a gift he doesn't want and he is forced to join an organization he dislikes. And yet, he makes all these "imposed inconveniences" his. Chuya accepts the "card he is given" and uses it the best he can.

He combines his gift with martial arts, so that it really becomes his own ability:

He finds his own motivation to work for the mafia:

"I chose to join the Mafia on my own, and I'm never gonna be your lackey, much less your dog!" (Chuuya to Dazai in Fifteen)

He doesn't open the gate when N forces him, but he chooses to on his own terms.

It is really not by chance that in Chuya's first big fight in the manga, this happens:

Chuya claims there is no choice, but he is still the one who decides to activate Corruption. Even when trapped, Chuya always pushes forward and plays the hand he is dealt with passion. Even if he is unsure of who he is, he lives on as himself.

WHO IS CHUYA?

Chuuya took off one of his leather riding gloves and gazed at his hand. This is my hand, he thought. (Storm Bringer)

Chuya is a person. He has always been, no matter if he is the original or the clone. He feels pain, happiness, surprise. He is able to bond and to empathize with others. All of this makes him human. Not only that, but all of this makes him Chuya.

It is interesting that by the end, many people who objectify Chuya, recognize his personhood.

Shirase sees him as the teenage he is and saves him

Mori traps Chuya in the mafia, but is touched by Chuya's passion and loyalty:

Both Rimbaud and Verlaine eventually see who Chuya is:

"Chuuya, you already possess strength and talents all your own, separate from Arahabaki. You are strong not as a god but as a human being." (Rimbaud in Fifteen)

"Does that mean... you do not yet resent the world?" "There's people I hate, but not all of'em," replied Chuuya. "I know better than to try and live a solitary existence. You used to feel the same, right?" Verlaine didn't respond. It was as if his silence itself was his answer. (Storm Bringer)

And tell him to live on:

"Chuuya... can I... ask you... a favor?" "What is it?" "Live" Randou said in almost a whisper. (Fifteen)

"Chuuya-live." (Verlaine in Storm Bringer)

Chuya manages to inspire all these people. At the same time, he is inspired back by them:

I was blessed with wonderful friends. That's all. I could have been in your situation, and you could have been in mine. (Chuya to Verlaine in Storm Bringer)

He integrates all his loved ones in who he is:

He (probably) imitates Hirotsu's habit to wear gloves and to take them away, when he is getting serious. This mannerism partially substitutes his practice to fight with the hands in the pockets

He is given his motorcycle by Albatross and keeps it as a memory of the Flags

He wears Verlaine's hat, which is really a gift from all three Chuya's key parental figures:

1- Rimbaud creates it for Verlaine

Once Verlaine puts on the hat, the fabric lining acts like coils, deflecting any external command sequences that could tamper with his mind. In other words, the wearer can control command sequences at will. With this hat, Verlaine is one step closer to becoming a human with free will. (Rimbaud in Storm Bringer)

2- Verlaine passes it down to Chuya

"You really like that hat, huh? That was his, right?" "Yeah, I'd rather not wear my brother's hand-me-downs, but it's got some pretty useful functions." (Shirase and Chuya in Storm Bringer)

3- Mori gives it to Chuya as a gift when he joins the mafia

"What's the hat for?" "It signifies your acceptance into the Mafia," Mori explained with a smile as he stood facing Chuuya. "Whoever recruits a new member into the organization usually looks after them as well. It's custom to gift the new recruit with something they can wear as a symbol of that bond." (Fifteen)

As a result, Chuya's hat is an object full of symbolism:

Within the darkness, a shadow of a hat lightly dances.

It is both shadow (a shadow of a hat) and light (within the darkness, it dances). On the one hand it is the key to Corruption, so to chaos. On the other hand it gives Chuya the power to control this chaos to an extent.

It is both what grants Chuya's free will and what threatens his autonomy:

It describes Chuya's bond with Mori, which is contradictory. Mori blackmails Chuya to join the mafia and controls him. He also offers Chuya a family (heart) and an insight on leadership (mind).

It represents Chuya's bond with Rimbaud and Verlaine, who are Chuya's literary parents, as their real life counterparts inspired Chuya Nakahara's poetry. In general, Chuya's past lowkey alludes to the true poet's one, at least metaphorically.

Nakahara Chuya is born in a rather wealthy family and forced by his father to pursue medicine studies. However, he discovers poetry when he is 8 years old and his younger brother dies. Later on, he rebels against his father's education and is inspired by Rimbaud and Verlaine's works. He imitates both their poems and their dandy life-style.

Similarly, BSD Chuya finds himself trapped until he is symbolically awaken to literature (break out of the lab) by Rimbaud and Verlaine. Here, his poetry (Upon The Tainted Sorrow) is set free and Chuya is reborn:

Those newborn cries filled the outside world in the form of flames. The raging flames brought destruction to the surface for as far as the eye could see. And thus, " " was born. (Fifteen)

Interestingly, Chuya is 7 or 8, when Rimbaud and Verlaine arrive in his life. Moreover, his survival and freedom come at the cost of his other self (his clone/the original Chuya). Just like Nakahara Chuya's first poem is the result of his grief for his brother's death.

In other words, Chuya is Rimbaud and Verlaine's literary child. He is what their bond leaves behind. This is why initially they both strongly project on Chuya, but eventually let him go. Isn't it normal for a parent to see themselves in their child? And isn't it normal for the child to imitate the parents to an extent? And yet, the child is his own person. Just like this, Chuya is strongly defined by both Rimbaud and Verlaine, but he is growing into himself:

"It's okay. The Port Mafia is my family now" (Chuya in Storm Bringer)

So, who is Chuya? It's easy, really. He is a Port Mafia Executive (and probably the next Port Mafia boss). Right now, he needs to define his role within the organization and outside Mori. As a matter of fact, Mori is Chuya's third father, so to become an adult, Chuya needs to outgrow him. Just like he did with Rimbaud and Verlaine. Only then, he will truly choose who Chuya Nakahara is.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #chuya nakahara #nakahara chuya #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chūya #bsd meta #bungou stray dogs meta #my meta #chuya is so rich #i actually cut several things #like his bond with both mori and dazai or his set-up to be a leader #oh well #hope it is still enjoyable :)

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santacoppelia · 9 months

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Do you have any favorite Good Omens fics you would recommend, or have you written any?

Hi there!!!

Oh, dear, I have A TON! I'm not sure if they would be "new", but here I go, nonetheless. I read a lot of AU fics (and I'm writing one), so I hope it's not a pet peeve of yours! I'll try to limit myself and not recommend things that I have seen recommended a lot (like "Factory Settings", "the therapy one with the impossibly long name" LOL, "Slow Show", "Oopsie Omens"... I'll make a couple of exceptions, tho). I also read a lot of WIP's, love angst, hurt/comfort and fluff, and prefer skipping over smut (Not a against it per se, love sexy times with feelings), so my selection is... Very particular. Here it goes!!

Demon and Angel Professors: I adore this series of short fics. There are 200 of them in the collection, they all are 666 words long, and both the guys and the new characters are absolutely endearing. The diversity of the cast was a welcome addition.

Listen, Will You Learn To Hear Me From Afar?: This one is short, a little sad but very, very sweet. Aziraphale starts receiving flowers and poems every three years, after Crowley disappears in Edinburgh. I loved the poetry selection.

Stalwart Sun, Wily Moon: Probably, my first AU and the one that started it all. I'm pretty sure this is one of the "everyone and their grannies have already read this", but I adore the relationships, the way the characters transformed by entering this universe (Crowley being a fantastic art thief with a magnificent taste for clothes was something I never knew I needed). I would absolutely watch an adaptation of this fic to the screens.

Too Wise To Woo Peaceably: This one is, probably, another one of the "everyone has read this fic and I don't care", but I really feel deeply about it and its author. It was a tour the force, with daily posting and the author reading and answering the comments EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. Feral But Fluffy brought me single-handedly into being an active participant in this fandom instead of just lurking in the corners. It's a fantastic continuation from the ending of Season 2, with a lot of angst, hurt, laugh and comfort. And Muriel rings absolutely true in here.

Give A Man A Mask: Another one by Feral! This one is a beautiful seduction game, taking Venice and a Masquerade as the background. Sexy, exciting, and hurtful at the same time.

Postcards From Paris: I find myself absolutely enraptured by the AUs created by Ghostrat (and their illustrations!! I use his AU Streamer!Crowley as my laptop wallpaper), but this one is very close to my heart. One lonely lawyer starts receiving postcards addressed to the previous tenant, signed by one AZF. The concept and execution are lovely. His Streamers AU is also very funny, and the Professors AU (Mon Horrible Cheri) is one of the "must reads with a lot of hits that recommends by itself".

Husband Material: This AU has made me laugh A LOT. Crowley is a wedding planner... And he has to plan the wedding of "the one who got away", Aziraphale. It is still a WIP, and it lights my day whenever it appears in my inbox.

Shepherds of the Damned: an after S2 work, the Crowley recovery arc in this fic had my heart leaping. It is also gripping and full with angst and action. A very noble S3, if you ask me.

Symphony of Second Chances: in this AU, Crowley is a drummer, recovering from a terrible shoulder injury and trying to get back to his place in the orchestra. Aziraphale is the visiting director for the next season... And they are absolutely smitten with each other. A lot of hurt and the sweetest comfort ever (it made me want an Aziraphale in my life more than ever). Still a WIP.

The Anon Before Christmas: This fic was pure happiness and tooth rotting fluff, ideal for December, with a warm cup of cocoa. They are humans and have the nicest group of friends one can ever imagine... But they loathe each other. Of course, one meddling Anathema makes sure to make Crowley Aziraphale's Secret Santa.

To Love The Stars Too Fondly: Another fantastic post S2 fic, filled with love and angst and adventure and all the right things to make it a gripping read, and a GREAT ending. Another take that could be a satisfying alternate canon.

Because We Are Carying The Fire: A horror AU! Aziraphale is a professor with a PhD in parapsychology, and one day he receives a mysterious book. Weird things happen, and he looks for the help of Crowley, a podcaster and self appointed demon expert. It is a WIP, and it really delivers. It is romantic and terrifying at the same time.

And my works!

I've written a short fic, Rebellion, speculating with the causes of The Starmaker's Fall. It came from a prompt imagining "what if rebel angels had been creating alternative lifeforms in the Universe", and it turned slightly dark (because I'm me). I'm also writing and publishing a longer fic, Under The Fold, an AU where AZ Fell and AJ Crowley are journalists who made an exposé that put them in danger and where they will have to use all of their researching abilities to bring justice (and avoid dangers). I've already written 2/3 of it, and half of it is already up, if you feel like reading it!

I enjoyed answering this entirely TOO MUCH. Take all this reading suggestions!

#good omens #good omens fanfics #fanfic recommendations #my one true talent is reading #hope you like at least a couple of these!#thanks for the ask!

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pinewae · 6 months

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I have major major arachnophobia. Like, often goes full panic mode and starts sobbing when there’s a spider in my vicinity (shoutout to the time I ran to the opposite side of my house and collapsed in a corner sobbing and hyperventilating cause of a spider in the bathroom lmao)

But also I don’t like it when people kill them, y’know? :( And my dad’s always been one of those people who just catches spiders and puts them outside. like, it’s not their fault I have such an intense and irrational fear of them.

And I always think about that poem that’s like “I hope not to be killed for the crime of being small”

Idk I saw you posting abt it and it’s like, just in general, fear shouldn’t be an excuse to hurt.

oops i didn't see this ask before, but yeah!! i have a friend that is really really scared of spiders, but when i'm with them they give me a chance to catch and release them outside (one time we found an unusually large one and she asked me if i could take it with me when i go home so she knows it's far away from her house, which i did 😭), i appreciate so much that people know i care about them and try to understand my point of view on bugs. also why do poems from the perspective of bugs have to be so devastating.. i am a little guy protector forever and ever

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doctor-ciel · 11 months

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hey. Hey. i’m a random internet stranger and i need to know every detail of your classmates overreacting to that poem about kink. what do you mean they SCREAMED ??????

(Post in question). I’m not making this rebloggable for my own privacy and peace of mind, and for the sake of the people I talk about in this post. I'm also going to leave this up for 24 hours max to give anon the chance to read this.

Ok so some background information about the guy who wrote this poem, is that he always wrote weird poems in a humorous tone. Not in a limerick style, but think the kind of tone a limerick tends to have, with the rhyming and everything. For example, another one of his poems was about loving meat but it kinda became obvious that the poem was about cannibalism. Our teacher liked his poems and said a few different times that she could always tell when one was written by him.

In this poem, each stanza was a few lines about admirable traits he got from different heritages(I don’t remember them exactly but I think one of them was Irish), with the last line being a fetish that he claimed to inherit from that part of his family. He clarified during the workshop that none of them were actual fetishes of his, they were either made up or belonged to his friends(idk whether this was true or something he said bc of people’s reaction, but either way it doesn’t matter).

To me the poem was parodying people who idolize their european heritage and pokes holes in the fantasy that older times were an age of valor and shit, but we never got to talk about anything like that in his workshop.

The way this class worked was that we all had read this a week prior(or 20 minutes prior if you’re me and procrastinate). So they weren’t wailing as their first reaction to it. It was more that the longer everyone had to talk about this poem the louder they got.

People skirted around the subject matter a while. But as they kept circling the drain their disgust with it became more apparent. Lots of groaning and laughing like “haha are we really talking about this?” Please bear in mind that as I think the only 19 year old, I was the youngest in the class. I think I was the only freshman. Everyone was adults.

One of the kinks in the poem was inflation, and my teacher didn’t know what it was. Half the class jumped to say “NONONO DON’T LOOK you DON’T want to know”, and a few minutes later when she said she had looked it up the same people all wailed and pulled their hands across their face and fake sobbed. This teacher was a graduate student and was the same age or even younger than some of the students in the class. Only about half the class acted this way, I imagine the silent half thought the poem was normal. There was one girl who offered to sell feet pics to his friend and he said he’d get in touch, that was cool.

Anyway this guy came in for one more class where he was silent the whole time, and never came to class again.

I told my mom about what happened and she said she was surprised to see people my age react so negatively when her generation had worked so hard to push sexual freedom. And was especially surprised this was coming from a creative writing class when the people who take those classes should be the type that likes to express themselves. That about sums up my thoughts too.

This is part of a larger problem that I noticed in a lot of my classmates in the creative writing program, and I don’t know if it’s a problem with my school specifically or a general problem with this generation and the writing major. I’ve noticed a lot of people seem to have picked this major because they write and/or read as a hobby to comfort themselves or relax. When they have to read or write heavy material, they get uncomfortable or even lash out. The quarter before that, people almost always complained about the short stories we were assigned to read, often calling them “pointless” or “boring and dark” (meanwhile I enjoyed every one of them, and usually got weird looks for saying that. A lot of times I ended up being the only one or one of the only ones who had anything to say during the discussion, and my teacher had to basically lead the whole thing herself.)

One of the units in that class was nonfiction and one guy wrote about his close friend who killed himself. It was a really good piece, he didn’t talk about the suicide itself but reflected on his friend, and how his friend group changed after graduation and it changed how he saw the adult life ahead of him. During his workshop he said that writing it was cathartic and therapeutic. Another student told him it was irresponsible to write something so triggering and said he should not have written it. Either implied or said directly(I think it was said directly) that creative writing should be uplifting, not bring you down.

It seems to me that these sort of people wanted going to college to mean turning their hobby into a degree, without having to see anything uncomfortable. But that’s exactly what college is, ESPECIALLY if you’re going into anything that deals with writing. These were all beginner-level classes that I was able to take as a freshman, so I think what I was seeing was all of these people’s first realization that college was not going to be what they thought it was.

#chris post #ask

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reasonablysurmised · 1 year

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Amazon, machine translation scams, and outrage

This is going to be SUCH a "Middle-class woman with too much time on her hands gets huffy and writes a letter to the editor" post, but here we go (aside: I am only 1.5 of these things and I DEFINITELY don't have too much time on my hands but I do have the weekend and literature/translation-related indignation to fuel me).

So, be me, learning about badass turn-of-the-twentieth-century feminist and anti-tsarist Ukrainian poet, playwright, and all-around literature icon Lesya Ukrainka. Try to find any kind of anthology of her many works, and click over to Amazon because, well, you have to start somewhere. Find, to your dawning horror, the following as the first eight search results:

Know instantly that there is a 0% chance that any one of these was translated by a human actually qualified to translate these poems, even if you decide to give a generous view of the Amazon self-publishing industry. Attempt to rein in your outrage at this assault on translation decency (to say nothing of "Robert Bruce, King of Scotland," a poem about Scottish anti-colonialist struggles against England, being represented by a polo-wearing pensioner talking on his cell phone after a round of golf).

Investigate further.

Try to ignore the steam-whistle ears resulting from the UTTER FUCKING EFFRONTERY of TWENTY-SEVEN UNITED STATES DOLLARS for SEVENTEEN PAGES of almost-certainly garbage machine translation. Remain calm, sort of, and note the clear lack of an attributed translator (or publisher).

Grab hold of the rope of spite and let it pull you into the abyss, embrace the drive to find out if you're Right, download the Kindle app, download the free sample pages of Mermaid, the "romantic and lyrical poem...about a girl's love for her beloved Cossack."

(Thanks, this is really setting the 1885 Slavic village life mood for me.)

(Technically, TECHNICALLY, it could be worse. Like it's riddled with pronoun and tense inconsistencies and subject-verb agreement is a little lacking in places, but I could, if I wanted, convince myself that a person who makes a few idiosyncratic mistakes in Ukrainian-to-English translation worked on this, self-published using garish but free stock photos for the cover, and just got really fucking bold with their pricing.)

(This seems like underneath it all is a nice poem! However, nameless translator, I must comment that "the gray-haired guy got into his boat" is taking me out of the pastoral everyday tragedy of young lovers who don't keep their promises!)

Finish the free sample, despair at the death of literature and the seemingly unstoppable tide of the current cryptocapitalist hellscape. Writhe in bitterness, not unlike the young girl who got jilted by the grey-haired guy in the boat, and make a Tumblr post to cope.

Listen. Listen, okay. I can't PROVE that someone decided to use machine translation to make a quick buck off of an upswing in well-intentioned interest in Ukraine following a horrific invasion, while a bloated and uncaring corporate entity looked on with indifference. And I concede that this type of scam is so obvious that it would be shocking if such a person made more than like, three sales, so it's not exactly the crime of the century even if that's what happened.

But I still fucking HATE that this is where we're at. I am NOT going quietly into the brave new world of factory-production art that belittles every single person involved.

I discovered Lesya Ukrainka like...three hours ago so I'm not trying to speak out of turn on this but...people like her, who try to use writing to push the world forward, to capture the truth of what it's like to be alive in a particular place and time, whose works can CONNECT people from vastly different places across vastly different times--they matter! So this, this crass cash grab, it matters too.

We can absolutely get into the class complexity of who gets to have their words written down, who gets to have the leisure or financial support to translate those words or pick through them to form metanarratives a century later, who gets to be involved in publishing, and who gets to make a living off of any of these things--that's a separate post for another time. But the intersection of capitalism and instantaneous digital automation of language and image-based art/"art" is, I genuinely believe, a sea-change that is bigger than those fights, and bad news for almost everyone except the vanishingly tiny proportion of people who own the tech driving this (I would even argue that what could happen to human art as a result would be bad for THEM).

This is not the people who have been kept out of the publishing world "seizing the means of production" (why, WHY do you think they're handing the "means" to you for free?). This is the social devaluation of a source of psychological sustenance, at BEST to contribute to someone's material sustenance in the short term, that will lead to its MATERIAL devaluation in the long run so that neither human nor machine-made art will be reliable for material sustenance anyway.

SO. God (theism neutral) bless the writers and actors striking, god bless the authors suing, and may we find ways to build the barricades against "AI" overreach, especially in art (including translation), in the name of savings and profit.

(Also check out Lesya Ukrainka; she's pretty cool.)

#machine translation #artificial intelligence #sort of #amazon #capitalism #Ukrainian literature #lesya ukrainka

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tropicalrpg · 2 years

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vi. a boy in a vw polo drives through the XXth biggest city in the world, or: i am only in my poetry to the extent that an infinitely-sided dice has the one you start to count from, or: the easiest way to be anonymous is to be unknown.

a big thing with anonymity is the distance it creates between me and my writing. when i'm anonymous ian moon in my poetry, it doesn't matter. my experiences are so personal that most can't relate it to me, and i am sharing it in a way that doesn't reveal me in any way. if i print out some poems and leave them in my uni hallways, one may know a student left them there, but being one amidst a couple thousand is anonymous enough for me. i didn't end up printing my poems, though i planned it and made two separate docs for that. i talked with some friends and it became clear that my anonymity had gone down the drain. so i gave up.

but here, even though i know no one will pinpoint me specifically, i don't want to give away even the smallest of details. and the craziest thing is, i could! what would the harm in giving out my name be? thousands, if not millions, of people in the world have my name, or some variation of it. my age? my pronouns, dammit? even my city, the millions of people in it? my country and its even more millions? i wanted to title this post with the specific rank of my city's urban area amidst the biggest cities in the world. but alas, i don't want to give away even the smallest bits of who i am, not things that would impact interpretation, even though i am writing personal essays-ish, i am writing personal nonfiction, and who i am is what i write [sic]. (what i write is who i am.) (i don’t know which one of these gives out the meaning i want.) why? why is it like that?

the same goes for my poetry. here's a reveal: i'm a guy. gay guy. wouldn't be on tumblr, especially in 2022, if i were a straight guy. we know that much. but in my poems, though i do add the gendered word here and there to identify my poetic voices, i try to be as neutral as possible. i wonder, would people think these are a girl's love poems? my love interests are always men and oftentimes identified as such, so would people resort to heterosexuality, since it is more the rule than the exception, if you imagine a stranger?

only a part of anonymity is about protection, privacy, safety, or anything of that sort. tangible, real protection. i'm smart enough not to put all my information out on the internet, and i'm even sometimes hesitant with people i trust and have known for a while because you never know how easily you can be tricked until you are tricked—but i don't hide that much, and i don't care. if someone wanted to track me down, really wanted to, they could. across different social media and throughout time i've let out small pieces of me, tiny things, that do add up to all that i am. irls follow me; i've mentioned where i go to school; i use my real name in some places; i, as i said a couple days ago, am made of restrictions that restrict who i am, and i have let on enough of myself for one to figure me out. i am not anonymous in most places. here, i am anonymous if you don't already know me in any way, shape or form.

i choose anonymity because i want to vanish. i choose it because i don't want to impact my words, because i want them to go beyond me. i believe they are better than i am; i believe i weigh them down. letting them go, they have a shot of reaching further. if i ever get a chance of publishing a book, i don't want my picture on the back cover. i don't want my ugly face to taint my words' potential for beauty. and i don't—i'll even change the paragraph for this little deep dive—want my self to impact their meaning.

formalism, capital-F Formalism, the russian formalists' Formalism, is a bit of a reach, but their heart is in a good place. it's better than the alternative, the name of which escapes me, but basically wanted to find in the author the meaning of their words. even if my life and my experiences are present in my writing, particularly my poetry, don't let that limit it! i refuse to accept that there is a right meaning to anything, and i stand by some of barthes' death of the author. i have to read that, by the way. but i do think that what i meant or who i am should have no bearing whatsoever on what you get from what i say. look at the words and take your meaning from that and only that. even i make up new meanings to my words, different from what went through my mind when i wrote it! when i reread my poems, i find new metaphors, fresh wordplay. poems i wrote to experiment with certain imagery or sounds suddenly relate to my experience with my body and my identity and my desire, even if that was only my underlying intention when i was putting those words there, on my screen. i want to be anonymous because all poets should be. i am only in my poetry to the extent that an infinitely-sided dice has the one you start to count from. or something like that.

i went to driver's ed for the first time today, and i wrote some of this during it, and, as much as i was bored and most of what my instructor said seemed obvious and redundant, i like this new place where i am a clean slate. i like being anonymous and unknown. i prefer being anonymous and unknown from the safety of my bed, where i am comfortable and nothing about me reveals anything, and all that is available is what i put out there, but you can't always get what you want. sometimes, my body is my message, and i have to accept that i do not know it and i cannot control it, but it is inevitable that i have to send it out into the world. surely my issues with my body will come up repeatedly in future posts. undoubtedly.

i exist in a city and i go through things and i am, i am someone, and those are three things that will not change. (maybe one day i'll move to a small town or the middle of nowhere. i will still exist in a place, but existing in a place is an oversimplification of my life in the present moment, so let's not dwell on details.) the specifics of all these things affect my writing. the specific city, the specific things and the specific someone. plus: the specific city affects the specific things affect the specific someone. nothing is unrelated in life—while the formalists were right that the work itself is all that matters, it is not unrelated or unaffected by the world around it and around the author.

who i am is someone who will never let go of my writing, and will keep it in a chokehold as long as i write. even if i write fiction, fiction the most distant from me, it will keep being about me. but it is about who reads me, too. who i am holds control over my writing, but i don't want it to. so i erase myself. call me main quest, but not by my name, which i don't want to ever share. no one will call me at all. the easiest way to be anonymous is to be unknown.

2022.12.26

#nonfiction #essay #essay writing #personal essay #writing #creative writing #writing exercise #anonymous #anonymity #formalism #death of the author

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shittylongcatposts · 3 years

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Aloha my friends and welcome to our small little summer holiday! As I announced yesterday I'm planning to host a small little summer event with and for you, because I'm pretty close to 1000 followers I wanted to do this to say thank you 🌟 (really, I mean it. You guys mean a lot to me) (oh and i wanted to celebrate my birthday, too... Hehe)

Starting on the 1st od August, there will be five prompts for five days and you can attend the event with any piece of content. May it be a doodle, a piece of art, a drabble, a poem, a written piece - just do what you feel good with - no pressure! But please keep it Mystic Messenger related.

I promise I will reblog your piece, make sure to @ me and/or tag your post with #longcat_summer /#longcat-summer and I'll try to find it 😎 (it may take a while for me to react, because I'm still working full time, but I'll try my very best)

Now! Drumroll please *drdrdrdrrd* here are the prompts:

1. "You are one in a melon" munching fruits on a little picnic or feed your mystic favourite, be creative! Maybe you're just singing watermelon sugar high with your partner in crime.

2. "Nama'stay at the beach" spend a day at the beach with your favourite RFA member - you can also stay at the pool if you don't like open water or algae (but seriously who likes walking around in algae?)

3. "Cocktails- Wine not?" Enjoy a nice evening/day with your sweetheart, you don't have to drink something of course- it's up to you. But what is that blue potion doing over there?

4. "Here comes the sun(flower)" this one is a special one for me - Sunflowers are really pretty and by far my favourite flower, so why not give one to your favourite? How will they react?

5. "A cream come true" Do you miss eating some Ice cream on a hot summer day? Me too. Take your chance and share one with your loved one!

If you have another idea for a summer/ beachy prompt don't hesitate to create something for your own idea - that's ok too. Oh and before i forget about it: please try to keep things fluffy, if you want to do something angsty, try to keep it light please, same goes for nsfw stuff.

I will create a masterlist around the 10th of August, so there's plenty of time for you to attend the event before it ends.

And I think... That's about it for now. I really hope you will enjoy this event as much as I hope to enjoy it, even though it's on super short notice (I'm sorry, planning things is not my forte)

Have a nice day wherever you are! 🌴🌺

#mysme #mystic messenger #jumin han #yoosung kim #saeyoung choi #jaehee kang #jihyun kim #hyun ryu #shitty longcat #longcat_summer

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slvtbible · 4 years

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G O L D

chapter one

summary: [y/n is a young stripper who is adored by many men. harry styles is a man who loves to carry danger with him]

word count: 4222

pairing: stripper!y/n and gangleader!harry

warnings: violence, vulgar language, sexual acts, alcohol and drug

to be honest, i was a little hesitant to post it here and i don’t know if this story will blow up on tumblr or get many notes but that’s the last thing on my mind right now. i just want to share what i’ve been working on that kept you guys waiting for almost a year lol sorry about that. But yes, she’s finally here!! I posted first on wattpad before i put it here, I felt like the only way to reach out more people to read it it’s through that. And also, i decided to use a name on wattpad but I’d use the term ‘y/n’ on tumblr. Enjoy it all my loves! Give me feedbacks!💜

Harry fixes the collar of his sheer black shirt before tucking it neatly inside the black trousers he's currently wearing. He normally goes something more extravagant for going out. His closet is filled with colourful ruffles and Hawaiian shirts along with 'more than one colour' suits. However tonight, he needs to lay low for a bit. Especially when he's about to step into one of the most famous strip clubs in New York in an hour to meet up with the manager.

He's very much aware of the reputation he has put on himself out there. Though there's no use of camouflage and hiding, he still doesn't want a cause a scene,

Yet.

His hand lifts a bottle of Tom Ford from the dresser before spraying it twice on his neck. Stepping away from the full length mirror, he grabs his cross necklace from the bed before putting the accessory around his neck as he walks out of the room.

"Talk to me Reece" his heavy accent echoes the hallway as he walks downstairs, watching his few men pocketing their weapons,

Reece, the brown skinned man with tattoos nods. "He's there. Just got a word from Bianco. He appears isn't expecting you, Boss. However I do believe he knows you're coming soon. The club is far too crowded than usual but Bianco is taking care of that right now." He informs, showing him the message on the phone,

Harry can only scoff, nodding at him as a thank you. "That son of a bitch should've. Owes me more than fucking money." He mutters, inserting the .45 ACP inside his gun holster. "The car's ready?"

Nodding, Reece leads Harry down towards the basement. "As requested. Lamborghini Murcielago in blue hera. Pack with 640 PS and 471 kW, rules around 213 mph if you consider on hit and run. Still, I pack a standard Aeropack wing if you wanna go slow tonight. The windows? Bulletproof. In case anyone tries to kill you." Harry knows he's only joking about the last part. No one dares try to kill him before he does it. It's a pattern that everyone knows by now.

Harry lets out a low whistle, softly shaking his head as the machine beauty appears. Tracing lightly with his ring cladded fingers along the hood of the car. "Not planning to hit and run tonight, Reece. Not even thinking about racing down the street with my weapon outside the window. You don't have anything more. . . Less attractive?" He questions, still staring at the gorgeous car ahead of him,

"You know I don't do less, boss." Reece winks playfully, laughing to himself as he watches Harry roll his eyes. "Besides. Who knows you'll get yourself a bird tonight, eh? Take her out on a stroll before bringing her home to your place. Women love fast cars." He comments, pressing the button on the keys as the door opens,

Humming as a response, Harry walks towards the driver's seat, "I don't date anymore, thought my right hand man knew tha' " He speaks, words laced with seriousness while grabbing the keys from Reece's fingers,

He can only sigh and nod his head. "Understood. Yet, Kendra is like what? Two years ago? Gotta get yourself something better, boss. You deserve it. So do it tonight." He suggests, watching him going inside the car before shutting the door,

Harry smiles a bit, inserting the keys inside the ignition before starting the car. "Noted."

The dark haired man steps away from the car. Giving Harry a salute. "I'll be right behind you. See you there."

Y/N Y/L/N stands in front of the mirror as she applies another layer of red lipstick on her plump lips. Securing the tube back as she puckers her mouth to see if it fits the colour for tonight. She twirls, watching carefully how the gold lingerie clads perfectly around her breasts and down to her curvy hips and thick thighs.

She stops once her plump ass is facing the mirror, admiring how beautiful and big her bum is in the lingerie. It's a compliment really. She loves working out to give her bum a bit bigger. It's not that she hopes she'll gain attention from people, she just loves her body. She worships every piece of it despite what other people think of it. Insecurity was her biggest enemy but not anymore. After reading lots of books and poems about self love she learns that there's nothing she should be ashamed of.

Grabbing a bottle of lotion from her table, she squeezes the bottle into her hand before rubbing her bum with the cold cream, rubbing it neatly to make sure she doesn't miss a spot.

Another thing, she loves moisturizing her plump flesh before the show. It's sexy

"Joe is asking for you." She hears a voice coming from behind, craning her neck to see her closest co-worker Violet, already in her usual purple wig and attire as she stands beside Angelina. "I love working as a stripper but he really needs to learn to be patient and. . . shut up, i guess?"

Y/N releases a small laugh, moving her long dark wavy hair to rest on her chest. "I know, I know. Jesus, I've told him fifteen minutes prior that I'll take longer than usual." She slips on her gold heels and turns to face Violet, who's biting her lip as she stares at Angelina's body up and down. "Okay, how do i look?"

Violet raises her eyebrow, as if it's something her friend shouldn't be asking. "You kidding? You look like a sex goddess. Gonna get all the men on their knees for you, girl"

Scoffing, she shoots her a wink and a flirtatious smile. "Old men with beer bellies? No thanks. I'd rather make out with Gordon." She replies, seemingly disgusted about the thought of grinding on an old man's lap tonight.

"Is that a bet I hear?" Violet questions, leaning towards her a bit as she waits for her friend’s response. "Please tell me that it is so I can earn extra cash tonight."

Gordon is a perverted bartender that always keeps his eye on Y/N throughout her routine. He's 40 and is always asking Angelina on a 'date' and by date, he means her ass on his lap. Clearly something Y/N isn't too fond of. Him specifically. Violet and Y/N have always made a joke about him, something they could make a playful banter in every chance they get.

Plus, she heard he's married. Isn't he supposed to find another job rather than here? If his wife found out what kind of a sleaze bag she married, she would be crushed,

Rolling her eyes, Y/N shoves her playfully by the arm. "Ha ha, very funny" she answers, resuming to untangle her hair from knots.

Violet laughs, pinching her on the hip as she lets outa small squeal. "Just messing with you, baby. Good luck out there. Put the rest of us to shame tonight. . . Like any other night"

Y/N flips her off, yet knowing it's the truth. She's not trying to sound like a condescending bitch here but none of the girls here are actually capable to do what Y/N does. That's what makes men attracted to her. She knows what she's doing. She knows how to make a man hard.

"By the way, you heard what Joe's talking about earlier?" Violet asks, toeing off her heels as she exhales a relief sigh. "Damn those heels are killing me" She mumbles,

"No... What's about?" She turns her head to face Violet for her to explain, causing her to shrug her shoulders,

"Don't know much about it. . . But i hear Harry Styles is coming here to meet up with him. Something about transaction or shit" She waves it off, whispering it to Y/N, looking around to make sure no one is eavesdropping,

She almost chokes on her saliva after hearing Violet says the name. "Harry Styles?! The. . . mafia boss of New York..?" Her eyes widen at the possibility of the most dangerous man in the city paying a visit to the place she works at,

Nodding, Violet answers, "Yup. That Harry Styles. He's the devil. Let's hope this place doesn't turn into a war zone."

Y/N has heard about this Harry guy. The most feared man of New York. She does know a little bit of the relations between Joe and Mr. Styles. Almost every night she could hear Joe freaking out about this man. She may not know him that close, hell she had never even met him in person but people talk. One thing she learned about hearing his reputation, you don't ever want to mess with this guy.

Violet snaps her fingers to snap Y/N out of her thoughts. "Less worrying, girl. Come on, you got a show to put on yes?"

"Y-yeah. Fuck. . . now i'm scared" She breathes out, looking at her reflection in the mirror one last time. Calming down her mind.

After giving Violet a kiss on a cheek and receiving a tap on her ass, she takes a deep breath as she opens the beaded curtain and walk out to the club. Jhene Aiko is playing through the speakers, thanks to her who chose the music for tonight. She can already feel all eyes on her as she struts down confidently, putting on a smirk and winking at couple of men here and there. As much as it disgusts her, she grazes her hand along a man's arm who's biting his lip and looking at her up and down.

'What the fuck did i do to deserve this?' she thinks to herself, staring at the man in front of her who's probably the same age as her father. The thought of it makes her gag,

She gives the man a wink before getting up on the stage, hearing a few hollers from behind. reaching out to wrap her hand around the silver pole and her leg hooking up to support her body. Slowly twirling with her head thrown back and closes her eyes with money being toss at her direction before letting go and crutching down on her knees, moving close towards the same man earlier. He slips in a couple of hundred dollar bills inside her panties, causing the others to do the same.

This may be not how she pictures her success but damn, by the end of the week, her bank account can go from three to six digits.

She's definitely gonna hold on to that,

It takes Harry close to thirty minutes to get here. He blames it all on the traffic, cursing to himself every time he stops at red lights. He parks his car close to the entry before he exits from the vehicle. He looks over his shoulder to find a familiar black car driving towards her, noting to himself it's Reece's. Seeing him wave his hand to make sure he's coming in later.

He clears his throat, clenching his jaw as he walks into the club. Reece wasn't lying, the club is too packed for tonight. As if God knew what is about to get down tonight and isn't going to let him get away with witnesses. He really needs to play safe for a while tonight.

As he strides through the room to find a table he has reserved for, a few half naked girls walk right pass him, stroking his exposed chest and grabbing his shoulders. Most of them are gorgeous and he's tempted to touch their soft skin yet he has to hold it. Not that he isn't interested because he's definitely taking someone back to his place tonight--fucking Reece had to be right-- but he needs to get his head in the game for at least an hour before planning to do so.

Gently, he pulls back a chair for him to sit. He specifically asks for the furthest table so no one can figure out what he's about to do tonight. A glass of whiskey has been set on his table before he got here, waiting for Joe's arrival. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Reece and Bianco walking over to his table. One of them gives him a nod to acknowledge his presence.

Harry lifts the glass up to his lips and take a sip of it. Honestly, he hates doing all of this dirty work. Sure, he's the boss. But he despises complicated things. He should've known not to trust Joe about anything, yet when he begged on his knees with a gun knocked against his head as he spat out a bunch of threats to the weakened man, he thought why not? If Joe didn't get to fulfill his demands, he gets to kill him either way. It's always a pleasure for him to do so.

"Mr. Styles! Ay, i'm so happy to see you. You look a lot cleaner than i saw you the last time, eh?" Joe's voice causes Harry's green eyes averts from the scene on the crowd. His eyebrows are knitted, jaw tightened as he taps his fingers against the table, causing the rings he's wearing to knock.

He owes him money worth $50,000. And this man had the nerve to walk in and act like nothing happened.

He is definitely going to kill him.

"Stop with all that shit and sit the fuck down. You owe me something Joe." Harry warns, pointing at him as Harry's men forces the dark haired male to sit down making him gulp. "You owe me 50 grand for that package you piece of shit."

Joe couldn't feel more terrified as he catches a glimpse of Harry's gun on the table, facing towards him. "I know Harry, I know. I didn't forget, okay? It's just the money is tight right now. The girls aren't getting the amount of money they used to be getting." Joe tries to reason but Harry isn't having any of it,

"Stop being a fucking pussy and blame your girls for the money you've lost. I'm running out of patience here, Joe. If you don't give me the money by the end of the week, you're a dead man. I still have one body bag left in my car and I wouldn't mind writing your name on it." Harry grits his teeth, looking at him with a dark look in his eyes. Hand gripping tightly around the glass

"No man, I need more than that. Please, I'll do whatever you ask me to. You will have your money man I promised." Joe begs, looking at Harry with hopeful eyes.

Harry finds it quite disgusting to see someone like him beg for mercy-- for the second time--or anything at all to be honest. He find that gesture is weak and vulnerable which makes him very easy to manipulate over. "I don't give out second chances."

Joe hears a gun clicks behind, he doesn't need to know what's going on. He knows one of the two men behind him is ready to blow his brains out. "Harry man. . . One more. . . Give me one more"

Harry isn't a patient man. He doesn't want people beg. He doesn't want him to beg. But he finds it interesting to see how it goes, playing along this little game of his.

"Fine. you give me your best girl and i'll give you two months." Harry offers, cocking his eyebrow as he leans back to relax himself. "No more than that."

Joe's eyes widen at Harry's demand. It's impossible to collect a 50 grand in two months, especially when he's short on it. He needs more than that. Still, he thinks two months is better than nothing. "Okay. . . Agreed. Just tell me which girl you want or-or i could bring one or two here, man. Take your pick."

Harry can only hum in response, scanning his eyes over the scene. Dozens of girls dancing on stage, few of them even has their bras taken off. It seems to him, none of these girls on the room is his type.

Until his green eyes fall on a certain slightly curvy woman with her leg wrapped around the pole.

Her long dark hair brushing lightly against the floor as she bend her back a bit. He observes the way her body move so dirty yet gracefully around the pole, the way she bites onto her pink glossed lips and how her brown eyes manage to flirt with the crowd and had them lure into her eyes including himself. He swears this girl just steps out of his daydreams. She looks perfect.

He admires how she circle her hips painfully slow, jealous how he isn't close enough to watch her plump flesh near his strong figure.

"Her. I want her" Harry points at the girl he can't take his eyes off. His voice sounds too possessive but he doesn't care if he does. He's too enhanced with the way she moves on that stage and he loves how she swats those dirty hands who seems desperate to cope a feel with a dirty look on her face.

'Seems like a fighter' he thinks to himself

"Y/N? You want her?" Joe asks after he realises who Harry's pointing at.

"Y/N? That's a gorgeous name. She's not taken is she? Not that i care anyway. She's a dime from what i can see here." He says, not tearing his eyes off of her while he sips on his drink. "You're gonna give me her to me aren't you?" Harry asks, his eyes are threatening enough for Joe so he nods his head as a response.

"Yes. Of course. If that's what you want."

"Fuck yes i do. Bring me to one of your rooms. I want a private from her" He demands before gulping down his drink, standing up to head over to the back. Not before glancing at the gorgeous woman one last time who stuffs a few dollar bills in her panties.

After what it feels like forever dancing on stage and have men whistling at her to go over and give them more, she finally sit herself down on a chair in her dressing room and take a deep breath. Moaning in relief as she pulls her heels off while setting her timer on because she only has thirty minutes to rest before going back out there again. She leans back against the chair, sighing in a pure bliss.

She can hear a few girls talking and laughing while preparing themselves for their performance tonight, wishing she could just join in because Violet informs her earlier there's some juicy gossip she needs to talk about but she cant take it. She's too tired.

She has only closes her eyes for 10 minutes until a familiar voice speaks out,

"Where's Y/N?"

She groans internally. Can never mistake that voice soon as she hears it. Her manager, who sounds like he's panting, voice firm as if is an emergency to call her out like that. Y/N still has her eyes shut as she raises her hand up, not having the energy to respond.

"Okay, good. Y/N. You don't need to go back out there again. There's a special guest I need you to entertain. He's already waiting in the red room."

She nods and hum, only to realize what he means as her eyes bugs out.

Wait, what?

She's quick to turn around, brows furrows and mouth hangs open, not believing what she has just heard. "Pardon?"

"There's a man. A guy who I work with, waiting in one of the rooms. He specifically asked for you. I need you to at least give him an hour." Joe notifies, running his hand over his face as if he's stressed about something,

"You want me to give a lap dance to your co-worker?" She raises her eyebrow, not believing what he just asked her

Joe sighs angrily, "it's technically not--Y/N... please. No more questions, just go over there."

"Who's the guy?" she ignores his orders as she stands, crossing her arms across her chest. "Jesus, fuck. I really need my hair to breath" she mutters, brushing down her long dark brown hair,

"Harry Styles."

Y/N freezes in an instant. Looking up to stare at Joe in the eye to see if he's joking, he can only nod his head to confirm her questioning look. " you're shitting me."

"I'm not," Joe replies, walking over to her, not wanting the other girls to hear. "Y/N, I owe him money. I haven't got them yet and--"

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and continue messing with her hair a bit more. "Not my problem."

He reaches out to grab her elbow, pulling her harshly causing her to stumble a bit. "Y/N, please... He wanted to kill me out there earlier. The guy brought a gun for God's sake. He gave me a month but until then... he wants you."

"You know i'm not a hooker" Y/N defeatedly sighs. She wants to help him, she does but it sounds like he's selling her off for a month to this notorious and dangerous guy who is named to be the deadliest man alive by the people of New York.

She loves money but no fucking way she's willing to die for it.

"I didn't say you were" He roughly says, hand gripping tightly on her arm. "Just... do it" He let her go, tired of the waiting because he doesn't want to make Harry pissed off now,

The girl sighs angrily, squeezing her eyes shut as she hesitates for a while. What the fuck did she get herself into?

"Fine. just give me a moment."

Giving her a smile, Joe thanks her by giving her a kiss on the cheek, telling her the door number Harry is in before walking out of the room. Soon after he walks out, she feels sick in her stomach. How could she ever go face to face with a man with blood in his hands? She's about to give this man a lap dance. Who knew he might've ask for more?

So now, as she finishes re-applying a layer of red lipstick, she heads out. Walking to the back of the room in a slow pace. Heart beating loud and fast as she's about to come face to face with this man. Still, she needs to play it cool. God really fucking hates her,

If he really does exists.

She takes a deep breath before opening the brown door carefully, pushing it open. Her knees almost buckle at the sight of Harry Styles, lounging on the leather couch. A cigarette squeeze between his fingers. legs spread open as if it's an invitation already made for her. His head turns towards the door, a smirk graces upon his face.

She's not going to lie. He is indeed dashingly handsome. With his arms resting on the back of the couch making his biceps look a bit bigger. He's got killer looks too. she studies. Sexy smile, and stubble which creates a sexier look on his face. She catches a glimpse of a silver cross necklace resting against his broad chest. His eyes are sharp. Looking at her up and down with his bottom lip bitten between his teeth.

"My, my" he lowly whistles, watching her every move as she enters the room. Locking the door behind her. "I wasn't wrong. You are a fucking dime."

Y/N giggles-- though feeling scared shitless-- and run her hands over her hair as she struts her way towards his figure. Purposely swaying her ass side to side a bit to tease him. "Mr.Harry Styles. . . I heard a lot about you. Word on the street is that you're a man that likes to carry a danger" she smirks seductively as she stands in between his open legs, dragging her finger slowly down her chest.

Her angelic voice is like music to his ears,

"Yeah?" he smirks, eyes falling to the curve of her breasts. "Hope that doesn't scare you, doll. All i want is a dance from you, that's all. I also heard that you are their favourite girl. After seeing you danced on that stage, I now know why."

Again, she giggles. A small blush creeping on her cheeks, hopefully he doesn't see it. "You're a flirt aren't you, Harry? You do this to every girl?"

He places his hands slowly on her plump ass, he doesn't know if he's allowed to touch but he doesn't give a shit. She seems isn't bothered by it. He wants this girl and he wants her now.

"Only to those who i find interesting, baby. Now, are you going to show me what you got?" He asks, looking up to meet her brown eyes as he squeezes her flesh.

With a devilish smirk, she slowly sets herself down on his lap which causes him to let out a soft groan. She runs her hands down to his tattooed chest and toys with his cross necklace for a bit before whispering in his ear, "sit tight and relax, Mr. Styles. I'll be your good girl for tonight"

next chapter

i really don’t want to write a super long chapter, because i’m afraid it’ll bore you guys so maybe--i hope-- this is enough. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this first chapter, let me know if you guys hate it or love it! I’ll appreciate it. love you guys!

#harry styles x reader #harry styles blurbs #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfictions #dom!harry #dom!harry styles #mafia!harry #mafia!harry styles #gang!harry #gangleader!harry #daddy!harry #daddy!harry styles

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ice-cream-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

¤~°Ghost Marriage: Lovely Bride To Be?!°~¤ Finale!

Previously...

Before the door closed, (Y/N) asks them something. "Can I please have something to eat? I haven't ate in a few hours."

Present Time.

It was now close to night after all the arguing of students had disbursed. Finally all agreed with Crowley and his raffle idea on who the grooms should be.

Once all of the participants names were in the Headmasters hat. He shakes his hat around a few times and stops. Carefully pulling out a name a few names. Crowley coughs and clears his throat. The crow announced the lucky four grooms for operation "Lovely Bride To Never Be".

"Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier, Riddle Rosehearts and Ace Trappola!" Headmaster Crowley yells over the quiet teens. Gasps and groans filled Sam's shop. Yet no know decided to go against their headmasters choice. Grim doesn't even bother to question why the crow had choose them.

The four grooms step in front of their peers as Crowley starts talk with Sam. Not seeing the jealous eyes directed at his winners. To which they gave calm or smug expression. (*Cough* Epel and Ace, *Cough*.)

So the headmaster buys the items they needed for the operation. Not knowing that nightfall was closing in. "Considering that the time we have left until the wedding, this is our last chance. If this plan fails.. (Y/N) will lose her life!"

The four chosen teens gulp at the thought. The kind hearted prefect will die they do not succeed. They will not let that happen! "Since the ghost groom is in a suite. You shall also wear formal attire, or act like a prince, if you don't you will be not seen as a challenger."

Crowley gives the four grooms the things they needed. All the while Ortho had hacked into the security cameras to show to his peers. Standing outside, the students that weren't excepted all crowed around to see the footage. Once the boys are done changing. Stuck in formal wear, handsome as ever.

Their peers, friends, gave compliments and snide remarks. Cater takes a couple of photos and posts it on his Magicam. Tagging it, #Ghost groom, #Saving (Y/N) from Ghost groom and #Tuxedos! "The wedding ceremony is approaching now, the servant ghosts must be on high alert. Please be ready when the time comes!"

The four grooms nod. "No problem. I'll prove I'm the most suitable person to become the groom!" Riddle said with determination in his eyes and voice. "Oui, me as well."

"I'll reach out to her with words of love if my sincerity gets to her, then she will understand my feelings." Rook remarks with spark in his green eyes too. Epel joins in too with his seniors. "I'll save and catch her heart!" Ace agrees along with them, "yeah! Let's succeed in this plan in a instant!"

_____________________________________________

It was now night time and the three grooms had arrived to the gates of NRC. "Epel is late, it's already time to go..." Riddle said with uncertainty in his tone. "Did he get cold feet or something?" Ace asked to the two seniors.

"Non, non. Monsieur Crabapple would never wimp out, especially if it's for Madamonsieur (Y/N) of all people." Rook smiles without a care. "He'll be here soon..." "GUYS!!" It seems the fourth groom has arrived. "What took you so long.. Long."

Ace snark words die in his mouth before they could even come out. Grim, (who had decided to come with the grooms,) eyes widen at how fast Epel was coming towards them. The loud gallops of a horse draw near and nearer. "Sorry about the wait!" Epel says as he looks down at Ace and his seniors.

"It took me longer than I thought to get ready." His steed neighs after his words. Ace looks at Epel with astonishment and confusion. "Why are you on a horse exactly!!?!" Epel returns Ace confusion, "eh, why, because... Isn't prince charming supposed to make his entrance riding a horse. Right?"

"Do prince's even still do that!?" Ace turns to his seniors, "dorm head, Rook, you agree right!?" Rook was strangely quiet as he addressed his dormmate. "Epel... Your initiative, critical thinking, determination and preparation are astounding and very très bein!!" Rook applauded at Epel's effort.

Riddle could agree with his fellow senior. "You're even riding the most ornery horse in the equestrian club." The redhead pointed out with pride. "They're listening to you very well, you'be got a Mack for handling horses." Epel bashfully smiles at their praise, thmaking the two.

Ace interrupts the three by asking how they were gonna get inside. The Heartslabyul dorm leader tells him to quit his whining as Rook tells them that the wedding was starting in three hours. "How did I end up in the wrong?!" Ace asked, mostly to himself. "Ok.. Let's go! OPEN UP!" Epel yells.

One of the guard ghosts had heard the racket and sees the four, plus the horse and Grim. "Good evening, we've come here to win the beautiful brides hand in marriage." Rook said to the ghost. "Suitors and challengers, huh.. His highness will not be pleased to know of this, and so close to the wedding as well... I shall not let you through! Take your leave!"

Epel smirks, "are you sure? You're going to regret turning us away." The lavender haired boy chides. "What? You seem very confident." The gaurd sighs at the persistent suitors. "... Fine, I'll be the judge."

"Pretend I'm his highness bride and show me how you plan to propose! I will let you through the gate if you prove your feelings are ture." The ghosts remarks, waiting for one of the suitors to propose. "Guess we gotta do what he says if we wanna get through the door." Ace said with clear unpleasantness.

"... *Ahem!* Please allow me to go first!" Epel said with a hint of timidness in him. "Go ahead, show me your heartfelt proposal!" The ghost replys back. Epel starts to speak. "I will... Make her the happiest bride ever."

"Because whenever the person I love is in trouble. I'll come to their rescue, like a knight in shinging armor! Whatever happens along the way, I'll get (Y/N) through it all- er! I mean YOU through it all. Just like you had done for me! I will be the one to protect you from all harm."

"So, I am asking for your hand! I implore you. Please marry me!" Epel said with such emotion. Not knowing of the cameras that had captured all of it. Nor would any of the others know when it came to their time to propose.

The guard ghosts eyes widen, "your expression is totally serious... And you're even on a white horse! Like a true prince!!" Ace sighs, "the horse.. So I really was wrong?" The ghosts asked if Ace was a servant to Epel, Ace said no.

"Oh, so you're a suitor? Very well. Let's see how you'd propose." Ace gave a cheeky grin as he starts. "If you marry me, there's no doubt in everyday will be filled with fun."

Ace words grow softer as he continues, his eyes turn a bit nostalgic. "There might be times we argue or fight but... I'll always be the one to apologize. I'll be by your side through thick and thin and always work to make you smile."

"That makes me the best for the princess. So... Don't lay your eyes on anyone else, please marry me!" The ghost nods after Ace had finished. "Your desire to make your partner happy is bright as day! You're the real deal." The ghost then apologized to Ace for mistaken him as a servant.

"That was a decent proposal." Riddle said with a coy smile with amusement. "Hey, could you knock it off with that reaction? I'm just saying my lines!" Riddle's face doesn't change in the slightest.

"You say that but I'm sure that you put real thought into it." Grim goes along with Riddles teasing. "Nyahaha, Ace is trying to act all cool, y'know." The furrbal laughs at Ace, "shut up!" Riddle's teasing look turns into a confident one, "it was just like you Ace, but unfortunately, the princess is going to choose me!"

The soldier ghost points at Riddle. "Alright, you're up next. Show me your moves!" Riddle complied as he began his proposal. "I vow to be honest and sincere!"

"I promise to never hurt the person I love. If it's for my princess, I'll put everything on the line. I humbly request... Won't you choose me as your groom?" The ghost was speechless, uttering a "oh's" and "oh my".

"You seem so reliable and gallant... Even my heart is all a flutter." The ghost said in awe at the red headed groom. "Yeah it was so cool, Senior Roseheart..!" Ace agrees with his tuxedo buddy, "dorm leader got game too, huh?"

Riddle goes very quiet after his turn. "... Th-*ahem* that is enough out of all you all." The Roseheart male turns his head away so none of the group could see his pink cheeks. "The three of you were marvelous. It's my turn next." Rook spoke up as ghost gave him a look.

"The bar's been raised pretty high. A half-hearted proposal isn't going to cut it all!" The ghost declared to Rook, who just smiled and nodded. "You are truly beautiful, please allow me serve you for evermore. May I present a poem of all my feelings for you who has been watched under my eyes for months..."

"I wish to bring warmth to your cheeks, my dear. Long have your eyes only shed lonely tears. Oh, can they even see the happiness you bring to me and others around you. Vibrant is the live blooming in our rendezvous. Ever so gently, let me take your face to rest upon my hands. Under my care, may your lovely (e/c) eyes gaze ever sparkle with hope and romance."

"Woah.." The two first years said in sync, with awe and disgust. Riddle reviewed Rooks oddly embarrassing poem in his head. "Hold on! Read his poem vertically!"

Riddle explained that Rooks poem spelled. I LOVE U.

Rook congratulates Riddle on figuring it out. The ghost was surprised at the last suitor. Telling them they were very interesting challengers for his prince. The a pair of unfamiliar eyes watched them up above. Elias called his guards to go outside to the gates.

"The bride must have her friends here as well!"

_____________________________________________

(Y/N) tries her best to keep calm as she stuffed her face with cake. Taking off one of her gloves, she used it to smear off some of the crumbs off her cheek as a napkin. She puts her glove back on and stabs her fork in a glop of frosting. "*Ahem*!" A cough rings out in her "changing room.

The (h/c)-nette looks up from her food to see the ghost nanny. "My dear lady, it's time to go the wedding hall." Nanny ghost said happily. (Y/N) nods, bringing her herself to stand. Patting down her outfit to make sure crumbs weren't stuck to it.

The nanny ghost fixes her tiara and takes her arm into his. He smiles at her gently, like a grandfather giving his daughter her first pat on the head. The two walk out of the room in arm and arm. Heading to the cafeteria or the "alter". He then lets go of her before she walked down the aisle, flying off to one of the seats.

The "bride" walks over to the alter, but her "groom" was nowhere in sight. (Y/N) shifts in her place awkwardly as the ghosts chatter. She shifts around her bouquet and looks at the flowers. Stephanotis, Peony, Rose, and Lilly's. Her mind tires to remember the meanings, but her thoughts were interrupted when the ghost prince floats in.

The guest grow silent as music starts to play in the background. Elias smiled widely as his little ghost pals fly around him. "I'm so sorry my dear princess, I hadn't noticed the time." Elias said sadly as little tears well up in his eyes. (Y/N), feeling bad for him even though in her odd circumstances, told him it was all good.

"Oh! I forgot to mention, your friends are on their way here. You didn't tell me you were bringing your guests as well?" Elias tells her with innocent confusion. (Y/N) felt sweat drip off her back as guilt and happiness wash over her.

"They're comin-!" Her sentences wasn't even finished yet before her friends arrived. Riddle, Ace, Rook and Epel all wore nice suits while Grim was being held by a ghost soldier! Her friends were bound in ropes as they tried to get out of them. "Release us!"

Riddle demand with anger, "watch your tongue!" A soldier shouted at the hot-temperted red head. "Guys!" The "bride" yells in fear. The group looks at (Y/N) and are all stunned by her appearance.

She wore beautiful wedding attire, but the look on her face did not gleam like her outfit. "Why are they-!" "They were causing a ruckus, saying they were here to challenge me for your hand. But I decided not to hurt them, they are your friends after all. Think of it as a wedding present!"

The room goes quiet after the prince spoke. (Y/N) stares at her friends faces and her eyes slightly light up. She gives a sad smile and bows at them. Mouthing a few silent words to them. They stare at her with fear, but keep quiet.

"Now let's start!" The ghost groom announced as the priest ghosts starts to talk. "Do you, Prince Elias. Take this young woman as your wife and be with her for all eternity." "I do!"

The preist smiled at the boys eagerness. "And you my dear lady, do you take him as your husband for all eternity?" (Y/N) takes a glance at her bouquet of flowers and smiled softly. "I don't.." Gasps of shocks fill the air.

"Wha- but why?!" Elias cried out, as (Y/N) friend's cheered. The (h/c)-nette takes in a breath before releasing a sigh. "Prince Elias... You are a good soul, a sweet one. You put on a brave face for your subjects and friends so they could be happy."

"But you aren't, your just putting your ideals on me so you could finally find your happily ever after. Elias, you need to understand. I'm not your true love. You don't even know me, I don't even think you know why I am even here in Twisted Wonderland." (Y/N) says sadly, taking the princes hand in her's.

"I'm sorry about what you've been through. Though you need to see that you have to stop searching for someone who is your "ideal" cause I'm not a princess!" (Y/N) chuckles bitterly. "There is more to somebody than how they seem to be."

"I... I never meant... I just.." Elias tried to form words, though he couldn't. "I was never able to get a "happily ever after" when I was alive.. I wanted to find my princess and have a future with her. Yet that was stolen away from me, now I'm stealing you away from yours." Elias cried, his blue eyes closing.

"I'm sorry... I deeply am." The ghost groom cries, wiping his tears away. "Even after five hundred years, nanny was right. I still act like a child." This time, the prince laughs with bitterness. "I think it's time to finally leave.."

(Y/N) nods as Grim got out of his captors restrains and throws a wedding ring to her. "Place it on his finger! He'll disappear for good!" Grim yells at her. (Y/N) catches it and gives Elias one last smile as she puts on the ring.

"Thank you..." The ghost groom whispers as he started to disappear along with the other ghosts. When he was finally gone, the only thing left was a wedding ring. (Y/N) crouched down and picks it up from the ground. Throwing it in a trash been soon after.

She goes over to her friends and undid their restraints. When she finished, the group of grooms give her a hug. (Y/N) hugs them back, placing a small kiss on each their cheeks in gratitude. "Thanks..!" She blushed and looks away from them and focused her attention on cleaning up, not seeing her suitors rivaling looks in their eyes.

The ghost groom had lost his chance for her heart. But who said her suitors will?

The End.

(Yay! This series has been one wild ride for me. But I did it! Thank you guys for the support! I told myself that I would finish this before the Twst halloween event. And I did, Thank you guys! Happy Spooky Month! 👻)

#ghost marriage #ghost marriage event #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #epel felmier x reader #Ace Trappola x reader #Rook Hunt x reader #riddle rosehearts #epel felmier #ace trappola #rook hunt

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retvenkos · 3 years

Note

not asking you who you'd ship me with in the grishaverse because at this point everyone on tumblr knows the answer to that probably (though any chance of getting more of your wonderfully divine headcanons about matthias & I is a chance I gleefully take), but since you are shipping everyone I have to tell you that I've been thinking about Mal & you together for a little while. I just see it so clearly??

I think you'd have a relationship quite like Alina and Mal's, except healthier and less dramatic lol. but Mal is the epitome of friends to lovers and to me you embody exactly that. you're not the unbridled fury that enemies to lovers can be nor the bittersweet inevitability of soulmates, but really this idea of familiarity and comfort that you only unlock after spending a lot of time with a person, probably in childhood. Mal would represent exactly that to you: home, family, and love, and you're not really sure how or when you realize that it's not the same love you used to feel at Keramzin, that your feelings have shifted in the most terrifying yet beautiful way, but they have.

so in this scenario if you are Grisha, you get tested and your powers found out and you get sent to the Little Palace and your goodbyes with Mal are probably the most tearful moment Ravka has ever seen. You're holding on to Mal for dear life because he's really your family and you don't want to leave him behind, they're taking you to an unknown place without him, and you're so scared - but Mal tries to hold it all together because he has to be strong for you, and promises he will write to you every day and you will never truly be separated because he'll find you when he's older and strong.

(as soon as the carriage leaves he locks himself in the dormitory and cries all evening on his bed because your absence is so loud in these silent halls)

Inevitably years pass as you continue your training and Mal's letters become more scarce - sometimes you're the one who forgets to reply for a whole month, sometimes it's him - until you're not in touch anymore but you don't forget him, you never do, and you dream of him so often and all the words you wish you could tell him but never got the courage to

Until one day, almost a decade later, he is received at the Grand Palace for a particularly triumphant feat of his (Mal, always the hero) and the King wants to meet the First army soldier everyone is talking about, and you happen to run into him as he's trying to find his way to the audience room (because how stupidly huge are these Os Alta palaces, really?) And you literally can't believe your eyes.

so you'd be getting the childhood friends to lovers reunited after losing contact for many years which is TOP TIER romance

and Mal has changed obviously but not so much, and so have you; and he's taken aback by your beauty in your purple Kefta, and suddenly all the petty and insulting stereotypes about the Second Army he used to joke about with his regiment friends leave his mind because Saints - who needs a Sun Summoner when you're glowing like all the stars in the sky?

you'd quickly fall back into your common habits because they never left you, they're second nature at this point - Mal has basically forged your personality from the youngest age and you have his, and you fit together so perfectly

he'd be assigned to a more permanent post in Os Alta thanks to his prowesses in battle, maybe as the King's personal guard, meaning you'd get to spend so much time together

People would raise eyebrows at the sight of a couple between the two rival armies, but you don't care one bit - your love for Mal runs in your blood much deeper than arbitrary oppositions based on foolish pride.

If you're not Grisha, I don't think you'd join the First Army; war is probably not for you. I think your paths would separate too when he joins the Army and you leave the orphanage with what little money you saved over the years (sneaking out of Keramzin and reciting or singing your poems on the streets for a little bit of coin, or selling the meat and fur Mal would hunt for you) to move to a bigger city and try to do something with your life. You could be an artisan, or another kind of shopkeep! I can see you being manually gifted and creative, so you'd probably have an artsy business in the capital, like pottery or tapestry or painting on porcelain or something of the sort

and once again Mal is called to Os Alta probably for the same reasons - he just can't help distinguishing himself in combat, can he? - and he steps into your shop by total chance, and he's like. Olive???? Since when do you do sculptures???? And you're like. Malyen Oretsev???? Since when are you taller than me????

(Though the sculpture part doesn't surprise him that much, because you were always so creative and gifted in the arts, and he's always admired you so much for it.)

(But the TALL part??? ok, you are short, but you left him when he was like, thirteen and he was Not That Tall. how can your forever friend have grown that tall so fast???)

And so you ALSO get the long-lost childhood friends rekindle and fall back in love trope because my heart goes mushy for it ❤

your dynamic would be on point, because Mal knows you better than anyone and so he can read you like an open book. Either when he needs to find the teasing comment that will get you all riled up, or when he senses your discomfort or sadness and has to find the words to cheer you up.

You'd just make so many sweet memories with Mal, and he'd be down for every single thing you want to do as long as he gets to spend time with you. Want to be rambunctious on the streets of Os Alta and pull pranks on passerbys like you are 8 again? Yep, can totally do that. Feel like breathing in the fresh air of the wilderness and getting out of town to see a beautiful sunset, like you would in Keramzin? Of course! Just want to chill together doing your own thing and relishing in each other's presence? Absolutely.

he loves when you read to him, whether that be a book you own or a story straight from your imagination that you just wrote, and he's absolutely mesmerized by your voice and how much emotion you put in it. (though he can't help himself from making little jokes every now and then or trying to guess what will happen next in the story because he's what my mom calls a Culo Inquieto™)

you'd generally be such a cute couple who never lost that mischievous but oh so comforting and familiar spark from when you were kids, and is willing to stay with the other through thick and thin. you've found your other half in each other and I'm so soft for that. 💜💜

sorry I rambled but I just think that idea is so cute and you deserve a ship! (also, don't even get me started on the Chaos BFF Duo you would make with Jesper...) my head is killing me so I won't write any more but just know I hold this ship in extremely high regard. <3

clara, i will have you know i waited until i got ice cream in order to read this, because i knew it would be an experience™ and now, i,,, 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i'm so goddamn soft, how dare you make me yearn????

you mean to tell me you came up with all of this... for me? you think of ships for me??? how—how dare? how dare you be such a good friend, to the point where i am baffled by your kindness??? how dare you be this thoughtful and poetic,,,,,,, and just, big brained, ma'am.

because all of this is so perfect!!!! ohmygod i'm soft. i'm in love. everytime you write a ship or fanfic, i sincerely wish i was a romantic like you so i could have a proclivity toward fathoming such soft romantic scenes,,,,, you, clara, know how to do a ship™.

(also, i have to say i love the childhood friends torn apart, only to come back together,,,, it has laughter lines by bastille energy,,,, listen to this song and tell me it doesn’t have the same vibes that that very specific and heartwarming trope,,,)

but, since you gave me such a beautiful gift, and since i would do anything for you, here are some more headcanons for you and matthias:

first of all, i think that you and matthias would spend a lot of time finding the beauty in small things. i think that it would be good for him, since he’s reevaluating who he is and his place in this grand world, and i think since you’re a romantic, small things would be important to you both.

— for example, you guys definitely star gaze together. it’s hard, since you are in ketterdam and the smoke is impossible to see through, but maybe you guys leave ketterdam for a while, and you spend a lot of time looking up at the stars. matthias loves to learn about everything you know, and repositioning himself underneath the sky is a good start to figuring out who he is.

— you also like to sit by the water and talk. there’s something about the water that pulls memories from you both. matthias talks about what it was like, far away, in his little village before the drüskelle. (i get the feeling his dad was a fisherman or something,,,, the vibes are there), and you get to talk about people you once knew, dreams you once had. point is, you do a lot of talking - swapping stories and hopes.

— oh! another idea i can’t get out if my head is that matthias asks you so many questions. i feel like it’s a sign of real love and trust, when matthias starts asking you questions, because you have to be like,,, level 50 in order for matthias to admit weaknesses, and one of his biggest is that there’s so much he just doesn’t know. i think you also get really good at just,,,, telling him stuff so that he doesn’t have to ask, and he really just appreciates it.

i also just love the idea of matthias giving you to strongest hugs, or tbh, just holding you, and it’s all because he’s the big, strong one™! you know he’s got a protector complex, so that kind of feeds into his hugs,,, just that intense need to protect you, but also, he’s deathly terrified of losing another person he cares about, so he clings. (but only when you’re alone. the drüskelle in him is too Proud, but if you hang onto him in public,,,, he’s not complaining, just getting used to it)

okay, but i got a little bit ahead of myself, because i didn’t even talk about when you guys first meet, and the whole dynamic that is that™

— so, clearly, you are bffs with nina, whether your a grisha or not, and since i want fluff oNLY we’re just going to pretend like helnik didn’t happen,,,,,, they’re just friends. anyway, she’s the first one to pick up on your feelings for matthias because a) heartrender, and b) you two are the best of friends, and she just knows.

— and so you know a lot of teasing ensues, and almost everyone gets in on it and constantly makes jokes about you and matthias,,,, sometimes while he’s right. there. you’re Mortified But Coping™ and you can’t imagine what is going on through matthias’ head, because there’s no way he can feel the same, right?

— wRONG, we’re all idiots when we’re in love, and no one is more of an idiot than matthias. he is definitely ~soft~ for you but refuses to let it show because (1) the dregs are crass and he doesn’t want to give them fodder, and (2) you seem very uncomfortable about this whole thing, and he doesn’t want to make it worse

after some time, the teasing dies down, because both of you are too boring to tease. it would be funny if one of you freaked out, but you’re just,,,, suffering in silence. boring. and besides, inej and kaz are way more funny to tease. have you seen the murder in both of their eyes whenever you mention anything??? scary, but golden.

for the most part, the jokes die off, and i think after the jokes stop, you and matthias become much more comfortable with one another, and it leads to so! many! good! moments!

— did i ever tell you matthias is in love with your stupid humor? your enchanting laughter? you’re so infectiously light and it makes him feel like he’s walking on clouds or something,,,,, he’s enchanted by you, but doesn’t have the words to explain it.

— you know he remembers all of the little things his dad used to say about his mom,,,, and he feels all of that awed respect and soft warmth for you, but what to do with it???? he can’t really remember what his parents would do - it’s been so long and cold without them, but he tries to remember, and it’s the little things he does. he’ll tell you something really sweet in fjerdan and you’re just like ??? but it doesn’t translate super well, so you’re just left with the way he said it, and it means the world (plus, if you really get the courage, you can ask nina to explain it,,,, fair warning though, she scoffs at it every time. because it’s fjerda, alright?)

— you definitely end up reading him some poetry. it’s all under the guise of him ‘learning about the beauty in other cultures’ but really, it’s just an excuse to read him romantic shu poetry (they really know how to do it, let me tell you). and you also end up telling him stories about your childhood and your life, and he finds your rambling so adorable. especially since he has seen your work on paper! he finds it so sweet that your mind is so full of life that it wants to go everywhere at once, and experience every possible detail.

— you definitely end up showing matthias his way around ketterdam, and he keeps all of your hastily drawn maps, and whenever he goes past a street corner, he remembers the way your eyes sparkled in the light of the streetlamps.

i definitely have the feeling that you confess your feelings first. matthias has been trying to get the courage to do it, but he just can’t, and one day you tell him late at night - when, for just a moment, the world is still and quiet, and you can’t hold in all that warmth in your chest. you’re a little shy about it, but so is he, and when he hears you confess, all he can do is smile, because you have all of the confidence and strength he wishes he had. and all that courage laced in his chest, he’s learned it from you.

that’s ll i got for now, but i believe in clara x matthais supremacy.

#asks #mutuals #clara — 🌙#long post #shipped #let me just reread this ship every day for the next millenia thanks

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the-writing-mobster · 4 years

Note

Can you gush all of them, please? Did we really miss something?😲 PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU! Is this what you want? Well you finally got it. I'm begging. Please for the love of God let us get to know more about it. Please God damnit!)

Ayyyy! Nice reference!

"PLEASE! I'm begging you Muffet! Is this what you want? Well you finally got it. I'm begging. Please for the love of God let me see her. Please God damnit."

Excerpt from 50

In the wise words of Ms. Muffet... “Get up.”

This post contains soft spoilers.

🌍 World building! 🌍

"Mhm… it's all artificial. A marriage of science and magic. Like those stars… not real. They're wishing stones. They're supposed to relay messages, times and dates… but everyone just kind of likes looking at them. Makes the nights down here not so bad, you know?"

Excerpt from 21

Trivia hour:

The fake moon and sun of the Underground was built by Dr. Gaster! Basically, there are these two large lamps that scale a glass dome at the tip top of the hollow mountain. This glass dome also has the "wishing stones" aka the fake stars that blink and relay messages via light morse code. There are entire jobs dedicated to deciphering the messages. It's mostly maintenance, nothing of any political importance.

The faux moon and sun only appear in Snowden and the Capitol. The other districts are pretty submerged in the deep caverns of the underground.

I basically created this system because when I was writing I wanted beautiful sunset imagery because nothing to me is more romantic than sunsets, and I realized— “Oh shit! They're underground!...hmmmm” and then I cracked my writer knuckles and started worldbuilding!

It also paints a clear contrast between the surface and the underground. Frisk herself is in complete awe of the inner mechanics and workings of the Underground, and she is willing to completely start over and a live a life down there. Meanwhile the monsters want... Real sunlight. They want real stars. They want the surface. They want freedom.

Freedom for Frisk is completely different to freedom for the monsters, which will be shown in a future scene.

🥀 Frans 🥀

She couldn't remember who moved first, but one second they had been trapped in a staring contest, the next, she was pressed against him, his teeth biting desperately at her lips. She melted in his embrace, her soul humming with content, as if this was where she was always meant to be.

They staggered back against the counter, and she moaned softly into his mouth as he pressed against her. They couldn't be close enough. They drove each other crazy. She didn't understand the craving they had for each other, but she definitely knew it was there. God, she needed him. For that moment she forgot that she was supposed to be mad.

Excerpt from 31

God. These two can't control themselves when they're around each other and it only gets... worse? Better ( ? ) in part 4. Like seriously guys, they can't get their hands off each other. It's well deserved in my humble opinion. Sometimes I'm a little worried that y'all will get annoyed with how much they kiss but then I'm like “why would they get annoyed??? That's like... The whole reason they're reading this...🥴”

Yeah I read WDYW for the plot.

The plot:

OOOH, Actually there's a scene in 62 between the two of them that's so sweet. I actually got the inspiration for it when I was rewatching Hunger Games Catching Fire. 😌 (God it's so good)

Also— Oh my God guys... Guys... Chapter 64. They are so powerful. That's all I'mma say. Be looking forward to it. Power couple to the max.

💀 Gasters 💀

ACK I wrote a flashback scene in Papyrus's pov and my girlfriend and I were both like 🥺🥺😭😭 because of how heartbreaking it. Soooo just be prepared for sad skeleton boy hours.

Another thing I want to just kind of joke about is this; how do the skeletons even talk? I like to think I'm at least semi realistic with my portrayal of the skeletons. One day I was literally on a hike and I was mouthing a scene to myself (as one does) and I say the word "bitch" (don't ask) and I suddenly stop and I'm like. “Bitch... Bitch ... Bah...BAH” (say Bitch slowly out loud lol) and I was like "SHIT YOU NEED LIPS TO MAKE THE BAH SOUND!” and I had an existential crisis for like the entire rest of my hike.

Anyway, the Skeleton brothers use magic for everything. That's how the undertale fandom waves away all illogical worldbuilding holes. “Oh? How do the skeletons make the Bah sound without lips? That's easy, ✨ magic ✨ ”

💅🏻 Villains 💅🏻

Ugghhhh MUFFET is diabolical, but in Part 4 she does take a step back because Part 4 is Asgore's time to shine.

"You and your skeletons would do well to remember that this is my kingdom . And if you challenge me in my kingdom, or make promises you can't keep, you will suffer. I'll make sure of it. Keep this in mind Moxie , I like to play with my food."

Excerpt from 40

And BOY does he fulfill his promises. We do get to see more of his interactions with Alphys, which I'm excited to write.

I actually really love writing him. He has this affinity for poetry so any chance I feel that it's appropriate to have a little poem, I write one or I find a famous old poem written by Lewis Carroll or Edgar Allen Poe or something like that. In fact I have it as canon that Asgore would read Asriel a shit load of poems, and their favorite was Lewis Carroll and his nonsense poems like the Jabberwocky.

Papyrus watched with an unbreaking gaze as Asgore flipped through the pages of a book.

"Ah… here's a good one. Beware the Jabberwock, my son. The jaws that bite, the claws that catch… beware the jubjub bird and shun the frumious bandersnatch… do you read poetry, Lieutenant?"

Except from 28

That's all I've got for this post! I'll do some more gushing for other asks, but thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to rant about absolutely nothing!

#wdyw #underfell #underfell frans #fanfic #underfell sans #underfell frisk #frans #guys I'm so annoyed right now #I have to hang out with my dad and all he's talking about is Trump #wish he'd shut up #but like writing these little rambles is bringing me joy #so keep them coming!#if not to keep me sane while in this stupid fucking car

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quagmireisadora · 5 years

Text

[Jonghyun / Taemin] Spring Runs in My Blood (Part 1)

Rating: R-ish Warning: none (yet) Genre: soulmate au Length: ~7694 (this part)

A/N: I rarely write JongTae and I never write soulmate aus so, my gratitude to @minhoandthebabes for allowing me to indulge in both with her. Title is a reference to the poem 봄 by Yoon Dongju

------

It wasn't the timer itself but the anticipation of it going off that led Jonghyun to the cafe. Not fate, not kismet. No. It was purely nerves. That's what he told himself later on.

In all honesty, his nerves had been performing calisthenics ever since he'd hit the "three months to go" mark and they'd sat him down for an orientation at work. What to expect and what not to expect, they’d told him--expect to be surprised, pleasantly or otherwise; don't expect sex right off the bat. Everyone went through an orientation like that, he was assured. Everyone was given a full rundown on the physical and emotional changes that were to come in the following… rest of his life, really. That's the standard duration spent with a soulmate, anyway. A lifetime.

So there he was, in the cafe, definitely not predestined to be there and simply craving caffeine before an important meeting with an important client. His head was in the bulky presentation he still needed to review, not on some stupid sequence of numbers on his wrist. Definitely not on the damn numbers, because they caught him by surprise. After all, time doesn't wait. Not for clients and not for meetings.

As he was placing his order, his wrist began vibrating.

"Oh hell…" he mumbled to himself, clutching at the string of green zeros as if to hide a shameful scar. “I can’t do this right now!” he thought as his eyes roved the cafe, looking for other victims of similar misfortune, other people panicking just like him. Anyone else with a soulmate problem? he silently--desperately--called out in his mind. Anyone at all?

Taemin went there often. The wifi was great, the coffee he didn't really care about. Snacks were nice too, and the barista was hot. At least, he'd tried to get her number and she hadn't slapped him, so that was a plus. Many years later as he recounted the memory for guests, he insisted he visited the place to escape his mother's nagging and his brother's domestics.

But really, he only went there for the wifi.

When he was just about to execute a perfect KO against another player, his timer buzzed. He jumped in surprise, yelled out a shocked “shit!”, did everything he wasn't supposed to do. And sent his drink flying onto an old man in a suit.

"Yah!" the man barked indignantly. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"A-ahh…! Why'd you sit so close to me, then?" Taemin complained in response. He looked back at his computer to find he'd been defeated and that his opponent--some guy from Taipei--was sending him all kinds of trash talk in celebration. "Ahhh!" he let out another disappointed sound.

The old man stared incredulously at him. "You punk...! Do you have any idea how expensive this suit is?!" he demanded, waving his lapel wildly, drops of juice flying from the action.

"Do you have any idea how good that drink was?!" Taemin snapped back, a few other patrons within earshot snorted. "What?" Taemin replied to them too. "It was really good, OK?! Had like little bits of pineapple and everything! And now your… stupid expensive suit is drinking all of it. You should be the one sorry to me, ahjussi!"

"Oh, I'll show you sorry--" the man glowered and rolled up his sleeves.

Jonghyun rubbed a hand on his forehead. "These idiots are being too noisy…" he muttered, still looking around. "How will I find that person now?!"

"--you need to watch your tone, young man!" the ahjussi yelled.

"I'm not a young man!" Taemin fought back, then realised that was incorrect. "I mean. I'm young and I'm a man. But. No, wait--" he held his hands out in front of himself to compute the situation, but the buzzing on his arm continued to be a distraction for his already addled brain. "Ahhh this stupid stupid timer going off right now!" he slapped the place like that would help stop it.

Had Jonghyun not been eavesdropping, he wouldn't have caught that. "Wh--what?" he narrowed his eyes, walking over to the scene and addressing the young and disoriented guy. "E-excuse me?" he started.

"Wat?"

"May I see your uhm…" he gestured to the other's arm, holding his own out. "May I see it?"

Taemin looked from the offered limb to the man. "Why?"

Jonghyun rolled his eyes in exasperation and grabbed the guy's hand to compare their timers. The buzzing stopped, a sign that they really were a match. He looked around the cafe and no one else seemed to be coming forward. "You’ve got to be--! Are you really the one?" he demanded, like that made absolutely no sense.

Taemin scratched his head. "The one what?"

It was the ahjussi with the ruined suit who came to their rescue. "Oh… I see," he backed away from them, his threats dissipating. "Uhh. Congrats," he waved his hand dismissively at them and left their side.

As more people around them caught on, they started to clap, the applause growing in a wave until every single pair of eyes in the cafe was on them. Taemin’s confused face slowly split into a grin, and then he waved at the other patrons like he was some kind of celebrity.

Jonghyun, on the other hand, wanted to shrink away in shame.

A barista came over with a tray, a gift set of two matching cups and several coupons for free drinks on it. "Congratulations, sirs," she bowed to them and smiled pleasantly. "Please accept these on our behalf, and make sure to post about this wonderful coincidence on your SNS!” She gestured politely to the large glass front of the cafe. “The nearest Soulmate Depot is across the street. Please be careful on your way, and visit us again soon!"

"Waaahhh~" Taemin accepted the gifts happily. "This is all so--!"

"Unbelievable..." Jonghyun completed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "W-wait," he had a sudden thought. "Are you even eighteen?"

"Why does that matter…?" Taemin scowled before his expression lightened. "Wait, you're gay?!" he pointed a ridiculing finger at the man as he laughed, then stopped with shock in his eyes. "Wait, I'm gay?!" he touched his chest. "But… girls think I'm hot."

Jonghyun nearly swooned and fainted at the stupidity. "Please come with me," he said in a very strict and very formal tone.

"What?! Where?!" Taemin defended himself. But his arm was tugged and he was left with no choice. He packed his things, hurriedly stuffing them into a backpack, and followed the other out.

It had snowed recently. The ground was slippery and the sky overcast. Someone at Jonghyun’s office had circulated news that there was a storm coming later in the week. But considering how insane his day had been so far, he wouldn't have been shocked if the sky started spitting a blizzard down at them any minute. As they walked towards the depot, he hugged his coat closer around himself.

"How old are you?" his inquiry had an impersonal tone.

"Uhh… twenty-six?" Taemin replied, counting on his fingers. "I think?"

You think? Jonghyun wondered if this guy was on drugs. He was sure he couldn’t handle an addict for a soulmate. "Uhm. By any chance, have you completed high-school?" he continued his questions.

"Duh," the other snorted. "I'm not some. Uhh. Imbecile?" he confirmed the word with Jonghyun. "Yeah, yeah. Imbecile. I have a job and all, OK?"

"Oh. May I ask where you work?" Jonghyun stopped walking and took out his phone, held it at the ready to cross-check the information.

"Ahhh why're you asking all this stuff?!" Taemin jiggled a finger in his ear. "So annoying…"

The other grit his teeth, struggling to maintain his composure. "Sir, if we're about to spend the rest of our lives together, I'd feel more comfortable knowing all this.”

"Oh," Taemin blinked. "Fair," he shrugged. "Uhh, I mean. I said I have a job but uhm--"

Here comes the clincher, Jonghyun thought.

"Heh. See, I did have a job. But then I went to the army for two years, and then I had only two months to go on my timer and nobody would give me a job. So now," Taemin chuckled stupidly. "I'm… unemployed?"

It didn't sound as bad as Jonghyun had expected it to be. Maybe not a druggie, just a weirdo. Still bad, but maybe he could learn to live with it. "And… may I ask how you survive, sir?"

Taemin picked his nose as he answered, completely bored now. "Well, hyung found his soulmate last year. They married and get a stipend from the state. And eomma and appa… they do what they can," he said with a noncommittal shrug, getting his hand slapped away from his face by a disgusted Jonghyun.

Moving on from the place and the subject, Taemin blinked at the large blue and white sign above their heads when they’d arrived across the street from the cafe. "I've never been inside one of these…" he spoke with awe, then turned to explain to the other. "You know. Cause I didn't have a soulmate before. But. Now I do. So. Yeah."

"I gathered," Jonghyun spoke from behind gritted teeth. He was losing his patience with all this. "Let's just get this over with."

They were asked to present their wrists to a scanner each. After a series of beeps and blinking lights, the door hushed open for them. They looked around the empty hallway, its walls and ceiling and even carpeting a pristine white.

"Whoa…" Taemin let out.

Soon, a woman with a confident gait walked over and stopped before them with a bow. "Welcome to Nonhyeon Soulmate Depot! Congratulations on beginning your journey together. We hope to give you all the information you need before you can go on and make happy and wonderful memories!" she bowed again and gestured for them to go through a tall set of doors at the far end of the hallway.

They shuffled over together, and a second wrist scan later were allowed into a much larger room filled with desks and cubicles and mechanical apparatus of all kinds.

"Whoa!" Taemin gushed again.

While the place looked full, it wasn't really. Only a handful of other couples were scattered around, seated at different tables. Each was being instructed by pleasant-faced officials, pointing at pamphlets or screens, talking with exaggerated motions, directing them to their next stop.

"Whoa--" Taemin started to express his amazement a third time when he was cut off by an irate Jonghyun.

"I think we should call someone over to help.”

On cue, a woman walked over to them, her air professional but her smile tight like she wasn't impressed with what they had to offer. "Welcome," she bowed as well. "This won't take very long. We've got biometrics over there--" she began to walk, pointing to various cubicles as they passed them. "Blood test over here, general physical test over here, eyesight and hearing here, urine test in the far end over by the toilet signs. And over here--" she stopped at one point. "We'll require your national ID numbers to link you up on our database," she explained. "Standard procedure. We also have an in-house specialist providing advice on pregnancy, but you won't be needing that."

"Oh. Why not?" Taemin asked with some disappointment.

The woman turned to him with exasperation. "Because you're both men. Now, come this way please…"

As they were herded from place to place, Jonghyun was constantly shocked by the man and his ridiculously dumb questions. The officers at the HQ seemed to have a very high threshold for nonsense, but Jonghyun--not a chance. He went eagerly when they separated them for individual interrogation.

In return for his curiosity, Taemin was asked all kinds of questions too. Did he have cancer. Did anyone in his family have cancer. Was he allergic to anything, did he have any phobias, was he currently on any special medication. Was there any history of mental illness in his family, or in his own life. He tried answering as faithfully as he could, even when some of the questions were complicated. Soon, he was starting to feel uncomfortable with all the measuring and weighing and poking and prodding he was being subjected to.

But when they were finally brought to the last counter, he was told he'd get a monthly stipend of five million won with a potential for increase depending on how their relationship progressed. Taemin nearly jumped for joy, doing a little jig when they were reunited again.

"Five-mill-yun, Five-mill-yun," he sang as Jonghyun watched him, embarrassed and wanting desperately to leave. The relief he felt when a woman came up to them and said they were free to go, was unparalleled. He stormed off into the night, wishing this was all a very elaborate nightmare his hysterical brain had conjured up, and that he'd wake up laughing about it.

But, nope.

"Hey…!" Taemin chased him down, almost slipping on ice. "Hey, wait!" he called after the other, reaching him only to keel over and breathe with difficulty. "What's--what's your name, though?!"

"I am Kim Jonghyun," came the stiff reply. "And you are…?"

"Taemin. Lee Taemin," he said with a bright smile. "Sixty-fifth nephew of the great Lee… Lee uhh," he scratched his head. "What was that philosopher dude's name again…?" he asked himself before flapping his wrist to dismiss his own thoughts. "Never mind. Nice to meet you anyway," he nodded and walked beside the guy for several feet.

It was only fifteen minutes later that Taemin stopped in confusion. "Wait, wait. Am I supposed to come with you?"

Jonghyun gave him a deprecating look. "Sir. I understand we are soulmates. But right now, I have more important things to attend to. Please," he gestured back the way they’d come. "Let me be on my way."

Taemin frowned. "But… numbers," he said like that explained everything.

Jonghyun huffed tiredly. "May I have your phone?" he held his own out. When he had both devices, he passed them against each other. "There. You have my details now. May I go?"

Taemin started to nod, but then held up a finger. "W-wait. They gave me--" he fished through the pockets of his large and puffy jacket before pulling out a box of condoms and holding it as if triumphantly. "These."

Jonghyun felt his face burn. "Goodbye!" he barked and scuttled away in urgency.

"So rude…!" Taemin scowled and spun on his heel to walk in the opposite direction. Once again, he made it several steps before he stopped and rang the newly added contact on his phone.

"Yes?!" Jonghyun hissed.

"Uhh, I'm lost. Where's the nearest station?"

Jonghyun nearly burst out in tears. Why did he have to walk into that café?

------

At home, Taemin was asked eager questions by his family. Who was it? What kind of person were they? Where did they live? Were they coming to pick him up that night? Was he moving out soon? He brushed all their inquiries away like he did with anything they'd ever asked of him.

Then he returned to playing video games again.

On the other, posher side of town, Jonghyun's coworkers easily forgave him for being late. The important meeting turned into a discussion about his soulmate, major project stakeholders and clients turning into gossip mongers within the blink of an eye. Jonghyun shifted uncomfortably from the attention to his personal life, happy to finally leave the room when the meeting was adjourned.

"You're happy, though?" Jinki asked him at the end of the day.

"Hardly," Jonghyun tried to keep the whine out of his voice but couldn't help it. "He's an idiot."

Jinki chuckled. "I'm sure he's not that bad."

Little did he know that over the duration of one week, Taemin would be the direct result of ensuing disaster.

To be fair, he did nothing out of the ordinary--he spent his time sitting in front of a screen and stuffing his face with junk food. His phone rang several times, but he ignored it. His mother knocked on his door at mealtimes but he ignored that, too. His hyung finally walked in and tried to fight the game controller out of his hands, but he resisted it until he couldn't.

By the end of the third day, there were weird headaches that lasted hours--pangs that nearly blinded him with tears. Then, his stomach started to get upset, rejecting everything he ate regardless of how healthy and nourishing his mother insisted it was. His father bought a bag of red ginseng to boil for him, his sister-in-law found a good acupuncturist in the neighborhood. They did their best to ignore his stubbornness, to stop his health from failing the way it was. But every remedy every solution was accompanied by the same, very strict advice.

"You need to go be with your soulmate."

Jonghyun knew this would happen, just as he knew he would probably end up suffering the same illness. As time wore on, he felt shittier and shittier and his health got worse and worse. And although Roo’s company would usually comfort him in such times, there was no curing this with puppy tricks and silly games.

When his stomach took a break from heaving its contents, he crawled out of the bathroom and rested against whatever he could find before reaching for his phone. He texted instead of calling. “I assume your condition is just as bad as mine,” he managed to write in formal words, despite the shudder in his hands. “Please come to this location, I believe meeting may help us.”

Taemin, in a daze of sickness and pain, wrote back a “who dis” to the location pin, before rolling away and falling asleep. His phone rang frantically for a long time in response to that, but there was simply no rousing him.

Somewhere across the river, a man let out an agonized and indignant yell of annoyance.

It was several hours later that Taemin could finally gather the strength and fortitude to sit up in bed, then waddle his way out of his room. It took him a long while to stop swooning and shrug on a jacket, leaving his home to the happy encouragement of his entire family. Outside, the air was biting cold, but the sun was out for a change. It reinforced his courage to keep going--he’d feel better soon, he thought to himself. A few minutes out in the fresh air would do him well. Right?

Wrong.

In a cold sweat, hanging off the side of a pedestrian bridge, he threw up again. Walking had been a bad idea. Being outside had been a bad idea. Thinking was a bad idea, too, he realized from under the haze of his splitting headache. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and cursed loudly, answering the call.

“Where the hell are you?” Jonghyun’s impatient voice immediately berated.

“I… I don’t know where I am!” Taemin whined, looking around for signs. “Come--come get me, I’m dying!

“You’re not dying, just… just send me your location, OK? I’ll come to you.”

It took them a while to navigate around each other, sharing directions and several calls filled with colorful language. Jonghyun’s head reeled with more than his sickness, and he had to try very hard not to just give up and fall onto the side of the street himself. But they did finally manage to find each other, and to their credit, Taemin wasn’t yet comatose enough to not recognize his soulmate and latch onto him as soon as he was within arm’s reach.

Relief filled them the minute they came into contact with each other, a long and heavy sigh escaping their mouths in unison. Jonghyun brushed the dirt off of Taemin’s clothes, muttering something about lying on the sidewalk like a homeless man, and then he piled them onto a bus.

By the time they’d arrived at his apartment building, they were both walking upright again.

“Is… this a kidnapping?” Taemin shattered all hope of a civil conversation the minute he opened his mouth.

“Yes,” Jonghyun replied sarcastically. “Man kidnaps his own soulmate, of course, what a terrible and common crime. In what world would that even make sense?!” he yelled.

“Y-you could be into…” Taemin gestured wildly, even though his argument held no conviction. “Organ trafficking!” If he had any other protests to make in that line of thought, they were all invalidated when he was yanked into an elevator.

“Wait… is this your house? Are you taking us to your apartment?” he asked as they waited in the lift car. “Do you have video games?”

“No…” Jonghyun shook his head, frowning. “Why?”

The other made a disgusted face. “What kind of person doesn’t have video games…” he mumbled, pulling out his phone and switching it to game mode. A hologram appeared above his screen, accompanied by the sounds of clashing swords and grunted exclamations.

Jonghyun scoffed, then snatched the device away. “Hey--” he said sternly, putting the device out of reach of the other as a struggle ensued. “Hey, listen to me! I’m bringing you into my house because we need to spend time with each other. Do you understand? That means no video games, no sulking in different rooms, no doing our own things, OK?” he explained. “Do you understand me?”

“Yeah, yeah, stop shouting,” Taemin complained when he gave up, covering his ear and mumbling something about feisty old men. He plodded after the other when they arrived at their floor, hands deep in his pockets and eyes on the carpet. “What are we going to do then?” he pouted as Jonghyun unlocked his front door. “You don’t have video games, you don’t look like a fun guy, and--” he suddenly brightened with an idea.

“Do we fuck?”

Jonghyun let out a choked noise. “N-no!” he denied, hesitating for a minute before allowing the other into his home. “We don’t even know each other yet!”

“But I mean…” Taemin followed his host indoors. “We’re two guys, aren’t we? Are we supposed to fuck? I don’t even know how we would fuck. Do you know how we would fuck? I don’t think we can fuck. What happens if we do fuck? Do I fuck you or do you fuck me? Is fucking even legal between two guys? Are we supposed to fuck in this neighborhood--?”

“Can you!” Jonghyun whirled and covered the man’s mouth. “Stop saying fuck so much?” he hissed. “It’s… it’s making me nervous!”

Taemin frowned, but nodded. But as was in his nature, when he was let go of, he muttered a single and unnecessary “fuck” and then ran away into another room.

“What has my life come to…” Jonghyun sobbed as he watched the other clown around in his apartment, opening door after door and peeking in.

------

When he’d calmed the guy down and handed him a glass of juice, they sat across from each other in the TV lounge, studying one another--or at least, Jonghyun did the studying while Taemin simply hummed tunelessly and sipped from a curly plastic straw. We’re adults, Jonghyun thought to himself. Right? Even if he’s a moron, we’re adults, we can deal with this like adults. This is no big deal.

“So. Uhm. Since you were so enthusiastic about it. Have you uhh…” he made a vague gesture at the man’s torso. “You know. Ever explored? Down there?”

Taemin frowned as he sipped noisily. “What, you mean Australia?” he asked. “No, I’ve never even crossed the equator before. Why’re you asking about travel all of a sudden?”

Jonghyun nearly fainted. No, he realized. We’re not adults. “I’m asking about your… you know! Man things!” he gestured wildly, a jabbing action at the other's crotch.

Taemin let out a low sound of comprehension. "Right, yeah, uhh--" he scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Yeah. Sometimes. When there's. You know. Girl groups on TV and stuff," he shrugged.

"Girl groups," Jonghyun repeated to confirm. "On TV."

"Yeah, why--" Taemin pouted a little, sitting up in the armchair, feeling a little defensive. "You haven't?"

Jonghyun made a motion of the hands as if to say obviously that's a stupid thing to do, and I would never do that. "Wait, so," he started again after an awkward pause. "You… you like girls?"

Taemin scratched his forehead. "I… I've never been with one," he answered honestly. "Never been with anyone."

Jonghyun studied him at that, watched the way he sat, the way he shifted and scratched and worried his lip. Watched his nervous tics and his curious eyes. He leaned back in his chair and watched for a long time--somehow unbothered by how his staring could be perceived by the other. Somehow unconcerned with that etiquette for now.

Growing self-conscious by the minute, Taemin bounced his leg nervously as he looked around the apartment. "You live alone?" he asked before noticing the water dish in the corner. "You… you have a doggy?" he pronounced the word like a kid would.

"Hmm?" Jonghyun perked up a little at that. "You like doggies--I mean. Dogs?" he asked. "I can… I can let her out, if you're OK with them?"

Taemin’s eyes took on a gleam when he nodded eagerly. "Can I pet?"

Roo struggled in Jonghyun's arms, barking at the stranger when he walked her out. With each step she growled, baring her teeth.

Taemin's hand reach out tentatively for her to sniff. When she was satisfied he wasn't a threat she continued her barking until he giggled and offered more of his hand, scratching her neck. "Such a good girl…" he hushed. "How old?" he looked up at Jonghyun with awestruck eyes.

"Two years," the other replied with some pride.

For a while that's all Taemin did, playing with the pup, watching her perform her tricks, feeding her a treat or two, cackling gleefully when she licked his face. Jonghyun watched them with fondness, thinking this wasn't so bad after all. The man was an idiot, yes. And he had no experience with relationships, sure. But at least he wasn't some jerk. At least he wasn't an asshole--at least he wasn't a complete mismatch. That's what Jonghyun had been most afraid of.

Later that day as Roo ate, Taemin sat nearby ruffling the soft fur between her ears. "You want kids, don't you?" he asked his host.

Jonghyun was taken aback by the sudden question. "Why… what makes you say that?"

"My hyung says… he says that only people who can't have kids keep doggies now," Taemin replied.

There was a long silence between them at that, until Jonghyun broke it with an almost unintelligible, "Do you want kids?"

Taemin blinked at the other, looking to where he stood cleaning dishes. "I don't think I could afford to raise a child," he admitted.

Jonghyun took off his gloves and motioned around them at the apartment, at its large space, apparently designed for a family. "You don't have to do it alone, now. We can use both our stipends."

The other shook his head. "I want to use that money to… to help my family."

"Uhh…?" Jonghyun raised an eyebrow at that. "Isn't that money meant for us? For this relationship?" He frowned at Taemin. "Are there… does your family have financial difficulties?"

A nonchalant shrug replied. "Eomma used to work until she hurt her back and appa retired three years ago. Now hyung earns everything in a house of four, so… my stipend will help?" he reasoned. "Why. Do you--should I give that money to you?"

Jonghyun tutted. "No, of course not. But--" his frown deepened. "Why don't you get a job again?"

Taemin whined. "Like I haven't tried?!" he insisted, walking back to the armchair and falling into it with a pout. "They keep giving the job to people with more time, more freedom. Single people. People with no soulmates…" he complained. "Why is it so unfair?"

"That's… that doesn't seem right to me," Jonghyun shook his head, joining the other across the table. "Workplace equality includes people like us. We're protected by the law. You should complain about that to the--"

Taemin excitedly pointed at the other. "That's exactly what I say to them at every interview!" he nearly yelled. "... before they ask me to leave," he wilted in place.

Jonghyun thought about that. He had heard of people leaving the company before, citing an increase in responsibilities once they had a soulmate and a family to look after. He’d heard of it happening to others. But if the truth was that they were being let go in exchange for younger yet-unconnected workers with several years ahead of them before their timers ran out... if that was the truth, he suddenly felt threatened. The boss had said he was up for a promotion soon, would him meeting Taemin change that?

“What uhm...” he tried to allay his own fears by continuing to question the man. “What did you do? Before you went away for your service?”

“I... used to work as an engineer,” Taemin scratched his chin.

“E-engineer?” Jonghyun scoffed, wondering if he should cross-check the information after all. An idiot like this? And engineering? “You’re--you’re not joking, are you?” he confirmed suspiciously.

The other scowled. “No, I’m not.”

Balking, Jonghyun shifted forward in his chair. “Th-that’s...! That’s so prestigious! Why don’t you apply to get your old job back?!”

“Because they don’t want me back!” Taemin insisted. “I called, I sent my CV, I applied for internships--even when I’m not an intern anymore. And they--!” he sunk lower in his seat. “Just give me back my phone. I have a game to finish.”

“Taemin ssi,” Jonghyun said sternly. “There has to be another reason why they’re refusing. Have you ever thought of that? I mean, I still have my job,” he pointed to himself. “There has to be something else, something you’re not doing right--”

“Why did you bring me here if all you’re gonna do is lecture me?” Taemin complained.

The elder sighed. “OK... OK,” he placated. “You don’t want to talk. And I can’t leave you to play games by yourself. What else do you want to do?”

Taemin shrugged, still pouting.

“Have you... ever kissed someone?” Jonghyun inquired, receiving a shake of the head. “Would you like to try it?

Taemin looked around the apartment in confusion. “Who do I kiss?”

“Who do you think?!” Jonghyun demanded in frustration.

“Oh...” the other blinked, then widened his eyes. “Oh! Like two soulmates doing the--” he crossed his fingers together, “The thing. Oh. Yeah. Uhh... OK, then--” he sat forward excitedly, then stopped. “Wait, what am I supposed to do?”

Jonghyun couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. He move closer, kneeling in front of the other and taking hold of his hands. They were small, he noticed. Soft, small, with a few silver rings on some of the fingers. “I’ll help you,” he assured in a kind voice.

Taemin shifted, unsure. “Do I need to do something?” he asked. “Like... do I hold my breath? Do I close my eyes? Is there a prayer I need to say? Or like a symbol I need to make or--?”

“Just...” Jonghyun held a finger to his own lips and craned in closer. He placed his palm to the side of the man’s face, feeling the hair and skin against his fingertips. The simple contact alone sent his heart into a speeding frenzy, his eyes studying the other for every shift every blink every exhale. There was so much to be read in Taemin’s expression, he realized then. So much sitting unspoken at the corner of those puffy lips, so many dreams in those trusting eyes. As the distance between their mouths narrowed to nearly nothing, he kept his gaze on the other, unfaltering until they were so close he had to let his eyes run out of focus before he blinked them shut.

The contact was so dizzying, Taemin thought he’d fall out of his seat. He’d never thought he’d be kissing a man, much less a man who was his soulmate. He’d also never imagined it would make him feel like there were fireworks going off in every inch of his body, like he lay face-first on a frying pan, the oil spitting as soon as it came in contact with his skin. He reached out for support, finding a pair of shoulders to lean against as his lungs started to burn for lack of air.

Jonghyun moved away a minute, then burst out laughing when he saw the other gasp. “You’re supposed to breathe!” he cracked up.

“How… how am I supposed to know that?!” Taemin demanded.

For once the other’s stupidity didn’t feel as stupid. “How did that feel?” Jonghyun asked, stroking his thumbs over bony knees.

“... wasn’t long enough for me to decide,” a mutter replied.

“Want to go again?”

Taemin frowned in confusion. “Go where--?” he started to ask before the lips were on him again, firmer and more insistent. He noticed more this time around. Their temperature, their softness, the way they slipped against his own mouth like. Like… he tried to compare it to something he knew but this was like nothing else. This was something that couldn’t be compared. So he held onto the strong shoulders and tried kissing back.

When Jonghyun hummed, the sound reverberated against Taemin’s cheek. He gasped once more, for more than breath this time, fingers tightening on the other’s shirt, brows knitting together, eyes squeezed shut, tongue--

The circle of Jonghyun’s arms grew tighter, bringing them closer together. He was filled with an odd sense of validation, of being complete and on the verge of unbelievable happiness. And the closer he pressed Taemin to himself, the larger the feeling became.

When they parted a second time, Taemin felt shaky. “I… I should--” he stood and fell back into his seat, knees weak and thighs trembling. He looked at the other with some shock, some fright, some confusion at the intensity of his feelings. “I’m going home,” he announced when his legs were working again, finding his phone on a table and dashing for the door.

He didn’t stop when the other protested, didn’t stop when he slipped on the stairs, didn’t stop for the traffic signals or the angry ahjussis pushing carts. He ran like there was no tomorrow, like there was a monster coming to swallow him whole if he didn’t get far away soon enough. He raced and wound through the streets, arriving at his parents’ home out of breath and maybe even a little out of his mind.

When his father let him in and asked him what he was doing back so soon, he pushed his way through and locked himself in his room. Sitting with his back to the door, hearing his chest pound in his head, feeling his breath rasp at the ends, he ignored his mother’s concerned knocking and stayed hidden.

------

The curriculum changed every few years, but when Taemin was a child schools would spend a few minutes every week instructing their students about soulmates. Some found each other as babies, their teacher had explained. Some didn’t meet until they were well into their seventies. Some had soulmates across the border while others were destined for someone on the other side of the world. It was a convoluted system that governments often debated on and countries frequently clashed over. But it always found someone for someone else--that was the guarantee people usually lived with. In this massive world filled with people and problems and prejudice, no one was ever alone.

Growing up, Taemin was used to constantly seeing people around him head to a Soulmate Depot hand in hand with strangers, or suddenly announce wedding dates. It was common for friends to stop seeing old friends, for families to be halved, for people to move across the country or even for children to be sent off to someone else’s home when their timers ran out. In the army too, he’d often hear snatches of gossip when a fellow private abruptly disappeared overnight or had to be reassigned public service positions closer to civilian sectors. Countrywide, the Ministry of Emotional Health monitored its citizens’ timers, their connections, and--it claimed--all their unique situations. Everything was controlled with an iron fist, ensuring citizens’ basic rights weren’t violated and any separations were managed quietly, without fuss or media attention. And Taemin... he’d been conditioned, over the years, to accept it all as a natural course of life. A mundane theme from his everyday. Everyone must have a soulmate, everyone must register, and everyone must try to make it work.

It was only when his best friend moved to another country and his brother brought home a bride overnight that he understood the weight, the implication of it all.

Meeting a soulmate in this sterile system, an act celebrated in media and spoken of avidly on morning talk shows--Taemin had come to expect it. What he hadn’t expected was how different the experience would be from his calculations. He’d always thought he would meet a city girl, like his hyung. That they would go on dates for a few months before marrying and settling down, living together, working together, spending the rest of their lives together like all the advertisements on TV. He’d resigned himself to something like that.

Someone like Jonghyun was not in his plans at all.

------

Over the next few days, they lived as they always had until the pain returned with a vengeance. Jonghyun tried to give the other space, tried to leave him alone. Remembering how Taemin had scampered away, he tried not to be too eager or pushy, that would only scare the guy into staying away. But the pain left him feeling as empty as his large apartment. He lay in bed sad and alone one evening, eyes on his phone, hoping for a call or a text. Anything.

In his place, Taemin distracted himself once more with games and food and drinks. He stayed in his room, watched old anime shows he’d already watched years ago, turned a blind eye to the pulsing in his rib cage. Maybe if I stay in once place the feeling will go away, he convinced himself while his health worsened. Yeah, maybe if I do other shit I won’t think about it anymore. He told himself to forget the way Jonghyun’s hands had held him, the way his breath had been warm and his tongue quick. He told himself to forget all of that--but the more he tried, the more space the memory took up in his mind.

He tried whatever he could to not think about the way his stomach turned every time his phone screen lit up with a message and it wasn’t Jonghyun. Eventually, he buried the thing under the mattress, out of sight. He pressed his hands to his ears when his mother asked him why he wasn’t going back, why he was making himself suffer. He yelled and threw a tantrum when his father reprimanded him with a “if you’re not going back, at least look for a job!”

Everything was agonizing. Everyone was an enemy. Finding himself a few blankets, he built a cocoon for his weakened body like it would protect him from the rest of the world. But when his breath shortened and his head began to split, his family couldn’t ignore him anymore.

It was finally Taesun and his annoyance that pulled him out of a pile on the floor and dragged him to their car. “You’re worrying everyone,” he scolded. “We can’t have you sitting at home acting like this. It’s making us feel on edge all the time!” He found Taemin’s phone, fought his brother away to look through the contacts and made a call.

Jonghyun pounced when he saw the number. “Taemin?! Is that you?! Where are you? Do you need me to come get you again--?!”

“Jonghyun ssi,” Taesun stopped him with a chuckle. “This is his brother.”

“Wh-why are you… is he OK? What happened?!”

“He’s with me. I’m bringing him over. He’s uhh--” he looked over at Taemin twitching in the passenger seat. “Look, I apologize for such short notice. Would it be OK if I leave him with you? It only has to be for a few days. You know. Until you two… get used to all this?”

Jonghyun blinked. “Uhh… s-sure? If he’s OK with it?”

“Well, he’s an idiot so,” Taesun laughed a little as he drove them through the narrow streets.

“He’s my idiot now,” Jonghyun murmured, getting out of bed with a groan, taking the support of walls and furniture to maneuver through the apartment.

Taesun smiled at that. “You seem like a good person. I’m not worried anymore. We’ll be there shortly,” he advised. “If you’re going through what he’s going through, please be safe until we get there.”

By the time Jonghyun made it downstairs and negotiated the lobby to arrive at the glass doors leading out, he was a sweaty shivering mess.

Parking nearby, Taesun lugged his as-good-as-comatose brother along until he saw the man sitting outside his building. “He’s all yours,” he handed the kid over when they were within earshot. “Aigoo, this kid… stubborn like you won’t believe!”

Taemin, having spent the whole drive whimpering and scratching at his arms, reached out weakly when he saw Jonghyun, his consciousness slipping away under his pain. But as soon as he was pulled into the other’s arms, he gave a long moan of relief as he clutched desperately and tried to climb onto the man like a child.

“It’s OK,” Jonghyun hushed. “You’re here now, it’s going to be OK.” He noticed the bag. “Are those his things?”

“Ah… yeah, clothes and some other stuff,” Taesun handed it over. “Please. If you need anything at all, just give me a call. Take care of each other,” he waved a hand with concern, hesitant to leave.

Jonghyun nodded and tried to wave back, walking them in and towards the elevator. He felt his strength returned little by little, felt his senses clear the longer he held Taemin in his arms. “You’re OK now,” he murmured. “You’re safe now, I’ve got you.”

Taemin shivered, burrowing into the other’s neck. “Yeah...” he managed, his mind still not entirely whole. When he heard the sound of an excited dog in the distance it only made him hold on tighter.

Jonghyun, feeling the strain of carrying the other all the way in, finally sat him down on the sofa and crouched before him like he had only days ago. “Do you need anything?” he asked. “Anything at all? Food, water…?” But his questions fell on deaf ears. The exhaustion of their time apart and the comfort of their meeting had clearly taken a heavy toll on the other. His head lolled forward as he started to fall asleep.

Taemin felt a pair of lips press against his forehead before his mind took him away.

When he awoke, he was alone, in a strange room on a strange sofa… no. Bed. He sat up in confusion. “What the…?” he began before a very adorable and very familiar doggy jumped onto him.

“Oh! Roo!” he grinned, gathering her into his arms. “Hello~” he carried her out of the room, following the smell of food. “Hmm, looks like your appa’s cooking us something nice? Isn’t he? Isn’t he, you cute little baby? Isn’t--?”

Jonghyun turned to look at him with eyebrows raised. “You like sausages?” he asked.

Taemin blinked. “Will you cut them like octopuses?” he asked, leaning against something as his giddiness still came and went in waves. “Eomma always cuts them like that for me…”

“Are you twelve?” Jonghyun ridiculed, but did as he was requested. “Your hyung seems nice,” he commented as he worked. “Poor guy looked so stressed. You’re a real troublemaker in your house, aren’t you?”

“No…!” Taemin protested, letting Roo run off and making his way to the fridge. “I just. Have a strong personality, OK?”

“Let me guess,” Jonghyun chuckled, holding the bowl of rice and sausages out to the other. “That’s something your eomma says, isn’t it?”

There was no more exchanged between them. Taemin’s appetite kicked the door in hard. He finished his bowl, took seconds and even thirds. Then he washed it all down with a bottle of juice, found yogurt and cut fruit in the fridge. Jonghyun made the mistake of leaving him alone while he showered, and when he returned all the boiled eggs and baby carrots and cheese slices were gone.

“Can we order pizza?” Taemin asked, still sitting on the floor in front of an ajar and now sad-looking fridge.

“What the fuck?!” Jonghyun balked at his raided pantry. “You even ate all the side dishes my eomma sent last week!”

“I… I was hungry!” Taemin defended.

“You ate what would’ve lasted me a month!”

“I told you I was hungry! Why don’t you pay attention? Why don’t you listen when I’m talking Why don’t you--?!” Taemin’s stomach grumbled and he clutched at it. “Ugghh so hungry…” he whined.

Jonghyun held his head in his hands.

Some time later, with a slice of pizza in one hand and his phone in the other, Taemin lounged on the living room floor as he chuckled along to stupid memes online. He entertained himself like this for a while until he noticed his host fuming at him.

“W-what?” he asked self-consciously.

“Put your phone away,” Jonghyun ordered, an edge to his voice, his face only softening when Taemin did as he was told. “Now. We’re going to spend some quality time together. And we’re going to learn to live with each other.” He patted the space next to him on the sofa. “Come here. Let’s watch a movie together. Then we’ll go out. Someplace warm. Like a cafe, OK?” he offered.

Taemin nodded slowly. “O-OK.”

#jongtae #long fic #shinee

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