#its my comfort fic lol

[hart-on-my-sleeve]

Please talk about your au please if you want to of course

👉👈 I always want to, I'm just shy ahaha

The fic I'm writing is an x reader because ofc it is lol buT here's kinda the rundown minus the romantic bits. Also kind of inspired by the anime "The Vampire Dies in No Time"

- Vampires have blended in with society, society is still convinced they're a myth

- Jimmy is considered a weak vampire. He can only transform into a bat and his powers aren't very strong. Takes forever and a lot of concentration to turn anyone into a vampire or hypnotize someone.

- However, he can run *insanely* fast. Not the strongest, but the fastest vampire. No one can catch him. (It's not like breaking the sound barrier or anything, but very abnormal speeds and agility)

- He can read peoples thoughts very easily if he wants to. Easier to manipulate people.

- When in his human like form, hes constantly levitating to appear taller

- One of the oldest vampires, but ofc doesn't show it. Used to be a noble that held fancy parties, but times change and the hunters/vampire killers made these moot

- Works with hunters and vampires alike, but doesn't fight. He's an intelligence agent pretty much - gathering Intel all the time and trading that Intel for money and safety

- Irwin is his favorite hunter to work with

- Adrian and him go waaaaaaay back. They be vamps together yaaaaay haha

- He has a tiny cottage somewhere in the woods. He rarely goes to it though as he's constantly traveling

- Hates the sun, loves the night life and dance clubs. Still a music nut.

- Drinking blood makes him loopy, especially if it's real tasty 👅

- Still a southern gentleman, but he's incredibly stealthy manipulative. Doesn't use force to get what he wants (most of the time) but will have other ways to do so. That silver tongue, heh.

- Full of himself and an absolute liar... But also deeply trusts his friends. Yet, some of them have deeply broken his trust, and it still haunts him.

- Still a goober and still very silly and trollish... And gets into little flighty fits if you make fun of him

- When he doesn't know how to handle an emotion, he immediately turns into a bat. Especially when he's flustered.

I think also one of my favorite bits I've written so far is:

"There's a lot of things I say that ain't true, baby. I lie, I cheat, I do whatever I can to make life easy. But let me tell you - I ain't lyin’ when I say this.” He grabs my face, pulling it in. He's nearly snarling, his fangs glistening. “Don’t you dare let idiots like him make you think less of yourself, ya hear me?”

I'm still writing and thinking of things, but that's what I've got so far. Thank you for letting me share 💖

[popponn]

sometimes, you wondered if the 'i love you's you had said were enough. if he understood how much you mean to them. if he truly ever heard and took them with him, tucked in a secret corner in his heart.

you wonder, if he knows that you regret not saying it more to him.

"i..." you tried to tell the empty space in front of you. a space that had come to place itself in your life in a presence that resembles a puzzle's hole more than a crack.

something should have been there and you know more than anyone what it is—who it is. yet, it remained unfilled no matter how much you wish to reverse time back to a happier time.

you wish it was all meaningless. that all these thoughts are mere hauntings built up by your own fantasies and when you blink, he will be there. maybe he could smile, maybe he could feign a cool mask, but all the same, his finger would intertwine with yours.

maybe, he would take a step closer to you, bumping your shoulder. maybe, his eyes would stray and look around, while the heat from his body remains just next to you. maybe, full of concern, full of care, he will ask you, "what's wrong?"

but, it is mere wishful thinking.

from somewhere, the strangers' footsteps resounded in the distance and he was not by your side. it would have been like a penitence, like an admittance to no one. so, in the end, you swallowed all your words down.

"i love you," you wanted to say, "i truly do."

sae, ISAGI, nagi, chigiri, VIL, jack, deuce, cater, jade, cyno, al-haitham, zhongli, NEUVILLETTE, wriothesley, diluc, KAEYA, XIAO + your faves.

[koobiie]

fanart for what may be my favorite fic of all time, Running Behind by @asidian! here's prompto enjoying all the foods from the fic beacuse he deserves it <3

[mmso-notlikethat]

This idea was floating my mind yesterday after shift, I was so tired and needed some silent comfort, and ofc bucktommy will come to my mind. and with what we got today I definitely wanted to share my thought, but again I don't know what happened and it turned into a fic? ficlet? idk I just talk a lot 😭 oh and please read the tags

••••

They didn't have any plans, buck was ending a 24h shift, and tommy was going to start a 48 in few hours.

Thats why tommy was confused when he got a weak knock on his door. He wasn't expecting anyone. Especially not his boyfriend who told him about his plans to spend his off day sleeping until his next shift.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see his boyfriend there, exhaustion covering his features, some semi deep scratches on his face, and a big pout showing his discomfort and tiredness. His duffle hanging loosely on his left shoulder.

"Evan.." Tommy's hand started to move to reach Bucks face, but before it could reach there, Buck threw himself on Tommy, wrapping his right arm around Tommys neck and burying his face there.

Tommy, taking his weight easily, held an arm around buck's waist, and the other quickly took the duffle out of buck's shoulder, which immediately gave buck the opportunity to wrap himself around tommy and put his whole weight on his boyfriend there.

Tommy was concerned, he rubbed a hand along bucks spine, the other around his shoulder, and kissed the side of his temple. "Hey there," he said softly "everything okay?"

"Yeah" buck answered with a sigh. "Just..." another sigh and let his self relax into his boyfriends embrace "exhausted"

They stayed there for a moment, then tommy swung his boyfriend inside the door "okay lets get you inside big boy" and led him to the couch

"Let me see that pretty face of yours" tommy said softly

Buck didn't want to let go. He needed the comfort and warmth of his boyfriend around him. He wanted to bury himself inside of tommy and stay there, but he did reluctantly

Tommy looked worried, gently held his hand above the wounds on bucks face, brushed on them with a feather like touch, which caused buck to wince slightly, "sorry.." tommy muttered "what happened"

"Oh, nothing much, just some stupid accident happened on call," Buck said, waving a hand

Tommy still looked concerned, and he just hummed softly

"Sorry," Buck said quickly, obviously starting to get anxious about the whole situation. "I know you have a shift in a few hours, I really shouldn't come over without talking to you first. it's just that this stupid day was so exhausting, and Gerrard wasn't making it any easier, and this wounds, I know they are nothing to fuss about, you know these happen they aren't even painful or anything.." he tried to laugh it off but instead he felt something building in his throat, and his eyes burning, he shifted his eyes avoiding Tommy's, continuing with a cracked voice "sorry tommy, I should go you have to get to harbor, don't want you to be late and —"

"Evan," tommy said, cutting his boyfriend there. Pulling him out of his head "Why are you apologizing now? None of that, I'm definitely not mad or upset that you came, and never will be!" Tommy said firmly, "you are always welcome here, and I want to always be here when you need me" and without any more words tommy pulled buck in his arms and wrapped them around him "I just got worried" then he kissed his hair and leaned on it "and I am sure I won't be late to my shift, unless I need to be there 5 hours before it start"

Buck laughed lightly and held to tommy tightly, buried his face in the crock of Tommy's neck, and breathed shakily

"I'm here Evan, as long as you need" Tommy said softly, holding Buck with a hand, and caressing his hair with the other

They stayed there until tommy felt buck relax in his arms, the tension leaving his body slightly. then he pulled himself up, which caused his boyfriend to whine in protest, tommy looked at Buck, caring and loving gaze, scanning his face and when their eyes met, he smiled at him softly and gave him a quick peck on his lips, and another gentle kiss beside his wounds, "oh I guess kisses does have a healing effect" buck said

"Oh? Then I think i have to give you a full dose of them until you fully heal, dont want to compromise your health there"

They both huffed a small laugh, tommy kissed him again, tucked him in his arms, and they stayed there, in their comfortable warm zone

[becauseplot]

anyway yeah fr i miss ordo theoritas. i miss the theory crafting i miss the hugeass meetings before/after Big Lore Event to brief/debrief everyone involved i miss the chaos and confusion and laughter and teamwork. i miss the cellbit, bad, and phil (key-keepers my beloveds) being the heads of the ordo working together to untangle the mysteries to the island. they were hardly ever on at the same time bc schedules and time zones (WAILS) but in my head they had so many late nights down in the evidence rooms like this

just. yeah. yeahh.

[zannolin]

Fic Summary: It's been nearly ten years since they saw each other. Ten years since they lived in the same state, much less occupied the same room. Ten years since they were friends; eight and a half since Will stopped referring to Mike as such, much less his best one.

Ten years, and here Mike is, and here Will is, and here’s the guy in the chinos who just bought Will’s first friend, first love, first heartbreak a drink. Here is what the poets call cosmic fucking irony, Will thinks: the setup for the world’s unfunniest a guy walks into a bar joke, and Will’s the punchline. Will’s been punched in the gut.

(or, after ten years of no contact, will encounters mike wheeler in a new york city bar, and he doesn't know what to do about it.)

[realbeefman]

i'm a cis woman, but in the past few years i've developed a habit of headcanoning any male character i relate to as a trans women, beginning a fic trying to explore that, and then miserably falling short as i can never figure out how to end the story. i've recently joined a new fandom and started my most recent attempt at writing this ever-elusive character interpretation i've been trying to explain for years. and it occurs to me that maybe the reason i keep trying to interpret these characters i relate to as women and failing to, is because i'm trying to project the wrong experience. because i think that conclusion i can never fully bring myself to write isn't one about coming to terms with womanhood and embracing that identity, but about coming to terms with being a man.

so tldr im a trans man and this is a coming out post.

[reborn--maggot]

[ID in alt]

if i had a nickel for every time theres a fic where benji is kidnapped (??), presumed dead for several months, and then resurfaces as a completely changed person sporting a mask, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot, but its funny that it happened twice.

Midas!Benji (full face mask) belongs to @helyiios , I think there was a solid half hour at most between me coming up with the idea and finding their fic exploring the same general concept LOL.

[enihk-writes]

[日久见人心]

characters: present!chung myung + afab!she/her!reader

baek cheon x afab!she/her!reader (implied and one-sided from the reader's end because they are not the main plot point for this fic lol)

summary: old habits die hard, even when you are born in a new body. to his credit, he does try not to seem like he is the reincarnation of the plum blossom sword saint, but his subconscious actions said otherwise. he didn't think you of all people would notice.

word count: 3.85k

author's note: the phrase 日久见人心 (rì jiǔ jiàn rén xīn) is part of the full saying 路遥知马力，日久见人心 (lù yáo zhī mǎ lì, rì jiǔ jiàn rén xīn) and i vaguely remember it was something my mother tongue teacher back in secondary said we could use in our composition essays or whatever,,,, and recently i saw it on those cringey rise-and-grind motivational crypto bro ig pages my ex-classmates are reposting on their stories which kinda gave me an idea lmao.... anyways the meaning of the quote is that we need to take time to understand a person's character (also the fic is the result of my caffeine overconsumption lol and not related to my previous cmxreader because i needed a break from all that angst romance i've been writing wwwwwwww)

═══════════════

chung myung has been starting to think that you were cut out from the same cloth as yu iseol.

quiet, aloof and always watching.

if someone said that you both were twins, he wouldn't be surprised. but then again, there were differences. the most obvious one was that iseol had more talent with the blade than you did, and the other was that iseol had no talent in actually taking care of herself. you were barely managing, but compared to your senior sister? it was far more decent. the two of you had tang soso to thank for not dying as fast as you could have.

chung myung. bowl.

he looks up to see your hand outstretched, waiting to pick up the empty bowl he'd cleaned off long ago. chung myung grunts and hands it over, propping his arm up and resting his head on it as he watched you go around the dining hall to collect the dinnerware.

you lived in mount hua, sure, but you weren't the fighting sort. maybe because anything you did could get you sick — if the weather dropped or rose a little too quickly, your body would tremble and shiver. did you move a little too much today? did you happen to sleep later than you were supposed to that night? by the next morning you were down with a terrible fever that kept you in your room for the rest of the day. but now that tang soso was here, she would drag you down to the medicine hall, grumbling under her breath, all while you looked at her teary-eyed and apologetic.

maybe it was out of shame or embarrassment that made you try to be yourself useful in other ways, though you would often fail and cause more trouble. everyone would just sigh and pick up after your mess, ushering you out to do something else.

during those days, he'd find you hunched behind the baths, sobbing in frustration. chung myung didn't know what to do or say, he'd always talked more with his fist before his heart, so he'd end up hiding in the trees to watch over you instead. and once you've cried it all out, you would stand, wash your face and go to bed. trying something else tomorrow.

chung myung gives credit where credit was due. for a sickly kid, you sure had a thicker skin than the others.

eventually, you stuck with being the cleaner. your weird, meticulous habits somehow working well in this job. the cups and plates were wiped till it shone, silverware were polished until you could see your own face and that hard-to-scrub dirt on the grout would be pristine and white when left in your hands. chung myung wonders secretly if maybe you'd picked this talent up from that neat freak baek cheon.

what are you thinking about?

he almost hits you out of instinct. you really were cut from the same cloth as yu iseol.

he lets out a shaky breath as he turns to face you, who had been sitting behind him. you look at him owlishly and he would have thought you weren't breathing if not for the movement of your nostrils. crossing his leg over the other, he juts his chin at you in acknowledgement.

what is it?

you're quieter, and thinking a lot more than normal today.

ah... this kid... how does everything that comes out of that mouth sound like an insult? chung myung tries to reign in his short temper, he didn't want to hit a frail person for no reason, and he knows that you just happen to always talk like that.

hm. i was thinking about you.

woah. pervert.

ah... maybe he should hit your head just once. just once and he'll never hit you again.

i'm kidding.

really? were you now?

i'm really kidding, don't go and look like you're going hit me like you do with our senior brothers.

okay, you were off the hook. for now.

hmph. you shouldn't tease your elders.

what elder.

chung myung forgets that you were the same age as him. well, in this body, not spiritually. but if he were to talk about life experience and reincarnation, he was the older one but fuck! you didn't know that! he didn't tell anyone he was the plum blossom sword saint ugh!

chung myung, are you going to have an aneurysm?

shut up!

═══════════════

winter in mount hua was really cold. and chung myung, surprisingly, didn't do so well with the cold. though, he would rather die than let anyone ever find out about that.

he wakes up early to train as usual, but the cold this morning was so biting, he was tempted to just stay in bed, it wasn't easy being an old man. ah, but the other disciples would be celebrating if he didn't appear for morning practice and that was no good. after all, the future of the sect still depended on him, didn't it?

he got dressed and stepped out of his room —

chung myung.

fuck! couldn't you talk to people like a normal person? why do you love to sneak up on people like this? cheong mun sa-hyung please, please, please give him patience and strength.

you look cold.

he was! great observation! chung myung wants to yell that to you with gritted teeth. he was still, unfortunately, very unnerved by how he couldn't feel your presence.

follow me. i have something for you.

you didn't wait for him to reply, instead grabbing his hand as you dragged him to the kitchen. he didn't try to resist, letting you pull him wherever, like a parent going to see what their child just found.

the two of you walk across the training grounds that had been buried under a blanket of pristine snow, the dim light of your paper lantern showing you the way. treading past and leaving two sets of footprints behind.

you push him into the kitchen, hanging the lantern up on a hook in the wall. chung myung notices the fire in the stone stove, you had already started it before going out to find him, probably because you were boiling something in that pot standing over the fire. chung myung sits on the ground, huddling before the blaze, it felt warm and comforting in the kitchen. the sound of water boiling in the pot and the crackling of the charred wood its heat blowing across his frigid face was, unsurprisingly, giving him a boost of energy.

you carefully move the pot to the side, removing the lid to check the contents in it. looking pleased with the result, you take out a bowl still steaming into your hands and placed it on the ground between you and chung myung as quickly as you could.

he looks over curiously. it looked like some kind of pudding, he doesn't think he's seen it before —

it's milk pudding, with lotus seeds and almonds

oh? he pondered, eyeing the bowl as you handed him a spoon.

aren't these ingredients used to make mooncakes?

chung myung asks, folding his arms. he notices that you were avoiding his gaze. don't tell him you...?

did you steal these from the warehouse?

hey! steal is a strong word!

oh i'm sorry, your highness, did you perhaps take the ingredients from the fucking warehouse?

he scoffed mockingly, exaggerating his manner of speech in mild irritation. he laughed at your grimace and pouty expression. ah, he feels like he's making fun of a toddler, he should be ashamed for bullying a kid at his age.

hm, he hasn't done something this juvenile in a long time. it was oddly nostalgic, in a way. he mused, digging into the soft and smooth surface of the pudding with the spoon, trying to scoop up the lotus seeds and almonds in it too.

mmh. 's not bad.

wow, i didn't know you knew how to compliment people

should i take that back then?

i'm sorry.

═══════════════

you had been working hard in cleaning the floors for spring cleaning. but the boys were so heavy-footed and honestly far too uninterested in their surroundings that the well-polished wooden floorboards you were really proud of was always dusty.

should you just barricade the entrance of the dorms until nightfall? just so they wouldn't walk all over your hard work?

you sit on the steps, your hair tied into a scarf, head resting on the propped broom you held between your legs. thinking long and hard over your predicament while looking over at the training grounds where chung myung was drilling down on everyone else.

the sun hung high in the cloudless afternoon sky, its rays casting down on the compound harshly. you were beginning to feel dizzy and closed your eyes, hoping to relieve the pain growing in your head.

you didn't hear anything outside the constant ringing in your ears, so one can only imagine your surprise when the reddish tint you saw while your eyes were closed grew dark.

who?

you cracked open your eyes to try and make out the person standing before you, wincing when the bright light nearly blinded you.

a familiar chuckle graced your ears as the ringing grew quiet. ah, it was senior baek cheon.

he taps the bamboo flask against your forehead, the water in it swishing against the walls. you take it, grateful, chugging down the contents, choking on it a little when a few drops went down the wrong pipe.

hey, hey... slow down... no one's going to take it away from you...

you cough, turning away in embarrassment. baek cheon sits down next to you on the steps, watching your antics in quiet amusement. you didn't want to look at him, not when he was practically topless, with his hair tied up high and swept over his shoulder.

chung myung looks at the scene from afar, not really clocking anything in his mind until he sees the way you were trying to scoot a little further away like a snail touching salt and your hands covering up your cheeks.

oh.

oh?

so you and baek cheon huh?

chung myung feels the cogs in his brain turn. at times like these he wishes he had someone to talk about this with, maybe tang bo. he would have loved to hear about petty gossip like this, and they could have teased the kids like the old men they were.

so you think something is going on between her and baek cheon sasuk too, huh?

jo-gul's voice comes up from behind, and chung myung didn't need to look over to see the guy's eyes trained on his targets.

if you have so much free time to discuss other people's love lives, i think we can continue with our training right, sahyungs?

chung myung called out loudly for everyone to hear.

jo-gul you fucking bastard!

you and your big mouth...

ugh... i can't get up...

the poor guy could only hang his head in quiet embarrassment. baek cheon laughed at the antics of the others, getting up to walk back to the training grounds. but not before he reached out to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

if you're going to rest, do it in the shade. i don't think you want to fall ill again tomorrow, do you?

he asks, and you shake your head in response.

mmh. i'll see you around?

see you...

you wave meekly as he left, your insides going through an entire acrobatics routine. wondering what that short exchange was all about. it couldn't be that he liked you back? or did he catch onto your growing crush? you wanted to throw yourself off the cliff.

═══════════════

i didn't take you for a guy that had habits like this.

chung myung gulped down the last of the warm water in his cup, setting it down on the counter, and looked at you quizzically. your elbows were propped up over the edge of the counter and you were perched on the stool in a rather un-ladylike manner.

it's good for your health you know.

psh... isn't that an old wives tale?

he scoffs and shakes his head.

haah...

he sighs.

the young people these days.

you look at him, head tilted in confusion. humming for a bit, you let your thoughts simmer before you decided to pose the question.

hey, why'd you speak like that?

chung myung pauses.

like what?

you know... like an old man?

he sucks in a quick breath. there was no way you of all people would have figured it out, right?

he felt like he was spiralling into a bit of a panic.

hey.

you snap your fingers in his face, moving to stand beside him while he was deep in thought.

earth to chung myung?

he looks at you.

he takes a good look at you.

you were not the brightest bulb in the bush, or however that saying goes, at least when compared to him. there was no way you connected the dots and figured out he was the plum blossom sword saint. yeah, this was for sure a case of the right formula and the wrong answer.

he had to divert your thoughts before you start to think deeper.

i think i hear baek cheon sasuk coming over.

huh?

it was your turn to panic a little, and he darts out of the kitchen to escape what would have been your incoming torrent of scrutiny. you realise just then that you had been completely bamboozled by the bastard chung myung.

running to the door, you yell out a string of curses at the run-away instigator. ah, your blood pressure...

═══════════════

you think chung myung might have been raised by old people. because there was no other plausible reason that he acts the way he does.

sometimes he walks with his hands behind his back, and while most people your age would stand straight and position their arms in a stiff way, chung myung puts his hands on his lower back — like he was supporting it. you know who else does this? the sect leader and the other elders. and it doesn't help his case that he was always slouching a little.

another thing you notice was how his taste in food was a few notches blander than the rest of you. he wasn't fond of anything too salty or sour or anything undercooked. he'd always pick out the softest parts of any cooked meat, saying it was the juiciest, which was somewhat believable. but then wasn't it also nearest to where the animals organs used to be before it was gutted? wouldn't it taste bitter?

speaking of bitter, chung myung liked to eat food that made you squeamish. he'd nag at the nutritional value of them and when nobody wanted to try it out, he'd mumble something about kids these days not knowing what's good for them and scarf it down by himself.

that was another thing about him, why was he always calling you a kid when you were the same age as him? it wasn't that big of a deal for you. but calling the other seniors kids? you wondered if it was his way of showing his martial superiority in a twisted way, or if it was another underlying reason.

surely, it must be because he was raised by the elderly.

god, you were so smart, weren't you? connecting the dots like that?

═══════════════

chung myung was sure you were dropped on the head as an infant.

you had cornered him in the toilets. broke down and the door and everything, just to ask him who he was raised by. it was ridiculous, the scene that was folding out right then and he chooses to ignore that your weak body had somehow broken down a fucking wooden door. he has to ignore that, for his own sanity.

you were on the walls, hands clawing and feet digging on the rough surface. chung myung shirks away, exasperated. somewhere in the afterlife, he thinks he could hear the loud cackle of his friends at his predicament.

chung myung.

he tries to evade eye contact.

chung myung.

oh man, look at that spider on the ceiling spinning a web.

hey where are you looking? i'm over here.

he finally looks at you turning his head slowly.

uh... i think... you might be a bit too close...

a bit too close was a forgiving statement. your head had craned forward far enough that your face was almost less than a centimetre away from his.

you lean back at his reply. still not keeping your eyes off him. after all, he still hadn't answered your question.

you know that i'm an orphan... right?

yeah. so am i.

i wasn't raised by anybody...

oh.

you step back, pondering for a moment. chung myung feels the breath he was holding leave his lungs. you caused him so much anxiety. remember when he thought you were cut from the same cloth as yu iseol? he stands corrected, but you were insane in the opposite direction.

okay. so who raised you?

chung myung feels his eye twitch. why were you asking the same thing? he already told you!

i'm telling you—!

nuh-uh. that's not what i want to know. i want to know if you grew up with old people.

then you should have asked that from the beginning!

i panicked, okay?

he sighs, deeply, and covers his face in his hands. he feels his miraculous second life leaving his body at this exchange.

to answer your question. no, i didn't.

huh. i see.

you answer simply.

chung myung peeks at you through his fingers, surprised at your unusual silence. you, on the other hand, had grown more confused by his answer. if he hadn't been raised by the elderly, then how would anybody act the way he did? not to mention, he had knowledge of niche historical facts that nobody other than a person living in that time would have known of.

can i go now?

huh? oh yeah... sure...? oh! wait—!

you had answered too absentmindedly! you weren't done questioning him! shit! the slippery bastard had gotten away!

you jog out the door, only to bump into someone when turning a corner. a pair of arms catch you from falling. looking up you were met with baek cheon's worried gaze, which morphed into confusion when he realized at the same time as you did that you had ran out of the boys' toilets.

uh... wait... i can explain...

you wondered if a lighting bolt could strike down in broad daylight.

═══════════════

you were sulking in the kitchen.

the guy you had a somewhat infatuation with caught you in an embarrassing moment. you had convinced yourself all chances you had with him were ruined. this was all chung myung's fault. every time you had the slightest inconvenience you would secretly curse him out a little in your heart. you used to feel bad when you still had a working conscience, but not anymore though.

speak of the devil, and he comes walking in.

chung myung came in to ransack the cellar behind the kitchen for wine. he had been craving it for the past few days after his own stash ran out. he had waited for everyone else to be asleep before sneaking in as quietly as he could.

so one can only imagine the shock he felt, even though he swears he had already seen it all, when he finds your shadowy figure sitting crossed-legged on the counter and your two eyes staring right back at him in the darkness.

keugh—!

chung myung bites back a scream. fuck! can he please have one, one. peaceful day where you didn't fuck around with his psyche?

you didn't know he was coming in so soon. but you didn't care much since you had something to give him anyway.

shoving the lacquer box engraved with floral designs into his chest, you motion for him to take a look inside. chung mying complied, hesitantly lifting off the lid to find rows of thin mooncakes, without the egg yolks probably, and another layer under that was filled with a flaky-looking biscuit.

it's called tau sar piah.

he hums, taking the round ball out to inspect it. shrugging, he popped it into his mouth and chews down on the pastry. the flavour, it was familiar. he thinks, was it—?

dried mung bean paste?

you nodded, grinning.

what's this for though?

don't tell me you forgot.

forget? what did he forget?

it's your birthday you goon. well, in a few hours but still.

oh. he had forgotten, momentarily. you really were a good kid, remembering this old man's birthday and making something for him. shit, chung myung thinks he might tear up. was this what it was like to have grandchildren? he thinks he understands why cheong mun sa-hyung might have suggested he take on disciples of his own, or well, trusted him enough to babysit the children of the sect back then. ugh, he was a grandfather after all, and you were somehow his most troublesome child.

he sniffles. closing the lid on the box and grabbing the wine. well, it would be lonely to eat all of this on his own, and waking up the others would be too much of a hassle. suppose you would make do as his drinking buddy tonight. hooking an arm under your knees, he slings you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. the other grabbing the food and drink.

he jumps on the roofs until he brings you to a spot where the moon felt the closest. he drops you on your feet as you balance yourself on the uneven shingles. chung myung plopped down, leg crossed over the other, as he began to down the wine straight from the bottle.

he hands you the lid of the box, picking out the mooncake and biting into it.

wow. tastes kinda ass.

ugh, ungrateful much?

i never said i wouldn't eat it.

can't you just say your appreciation like a normal person?

a pause.

...thank you.

chung myung replied in a softer voice.

hmph. see? that wasn't so hard?

you huffed, teasing him.

chung myung only scoffed and rolled his eyes.

the night drudged on, and you spent the time talking about everything and nothing. things that happened that week, gossip you've heard, events that had happened in the past, antics of the other sect members...

chung myung feels his eyelids grow heavy. was it alright to rest his grieving heart for a while on his birthday? cheong mun sa-hyung and the others' surely wouldn't mind.

and as he feels himself drifting off to sleep, your voice quips up.

hey, do you think i should confess to sasuk?

psh—!

chung myung spits out the wine in his mouth, choking on the liquid that went up and out his nose. it felt as though he was vomiting out blood from that question alone.

you were really his most troublesome kid.

[good-wine-and-cheese]

Just feel like talking a little about interesting behaviours that have come out of this version of Tenma I'm writing in my fic. Specifically, about his relationship to "parental instinct". There are two passages that made me think about it, as follows:

In this state, Hiroshi could not comfort his child. Tenma wasn’t sure that he could, either. But… He put his hands on her shoulders, then gently drew her closer. This – it felt familiar, painful. But she fit there in his arms just as Atom, just as Tobio; and he was filled with it, some kind of an automatic instinct that told him this was what he was supposed to do.

In the first he's only really conscious of it in passing; the urge that he should hug Uran is strange and alien. "It" - something that sounds ominous to him.

Tenma could feel it again, that same sense of urgency as when Uran had run to him for comfort. It was a piece of human programming that had a superseding power, the kind that demanded he follow it above all else. Right now, it urged him toward Atom.

And then there's this one; he's more aware of it happening now, and associates it with programming that overrides his natural state of being. Like he's being puppeted.

It's just an interesting thought process that I like thinking about. He definitely has parental instinct, but it's been repressed so much for obvious reasons and is associated mostly with pain and failure. So he almost can't think of it as something internal to him, and instead views it as something that takes over him. Like it's a computer virus, like mind control. Something that "happens" to him - he's not responsible for those feelings and can safely separate himself. And even though it's generally a positive force (telling him that he should be comforting Uran and Atom respectively) he kind of hates it. Probably because he knows it's a part of him.

I dunno, just interesting things that have worked their way into writing Tenma.

[foccaccia]

does anyone have recommendations for fictional media that has like. actual lesbians in it. not like supergirl Two White Skinny Girls, One Blonde and One Brunette Kiss media, or "its implied lesbianism!!!" but just regular fucking lesbians

[pixelatedraindrops]

Imagine Makoto has never gotten comfort or help when he's sick but then after he and Yuma are on good terms, Yuma takes care of him and Makoto's super touched

Yuma can't cook but he gets Makoto a wet rag to help him feel better, let's him lay his head in his lap and just makes let's him rest

Oh, trust me. That exact kind of scenario Iives rent free in my head ALL the time. And I even made it a bit of an angsty headcannon.

~SPOILERS~

~

Due to Makoto having to hide the truth about his body and what he is, he never once let a doctor examine him in the 3 years he’s lived. He may have been the same as all the citizens, but what if he was just slightly different due to being the only “perfect” one of his kind?

Because of this concern, every time he gets sick, he deals with it all alone. He tries to nurse himself the best he can and continues to push himself to work despite his health. Hiding his condition with his voice changing mask, and it fools people every time.

And if it gets bad enough… then he just lets himself die.

He is immortal after all…and not defective.

Hoping he comes back feeling better the next day when he revives. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

But when Yuma eventually finds this out, he is furious and becomes even more determined to care for Makoto himself. Telling him his life is precious and he should never throw it away like that.

“It’s our…I mean your body…don’t treat it like that…”

Yuma tells him that anytime he ever gets sick and is too afraid to ask for help from his people, that he can just call him. And he’ll come as fast as he can to assist him. (Unless he’s in the middle of a case, then he’d have to wait)

This of course touches Makoto to the point of tears. And he allows his original to continue to take care of him. Their bond growing stronger as he does so.

His original…is a good person.

He… likes him.

But Makoto will take advantage of this…

TOO MUCH

…because he wants yuma to visit him more <3

[rainbowbeanstyles]

im not handling it well folks

[cherrylight]

dreamily sighs and screams

[silkjade]

in the end alhaitham will always be my fave to write (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[writer-rider-flirty-thirties]

I have an idea for a tdiz fic (my first one) but that requires me to write and we (me and writing) are currently on a "break" ala Rachel and Ross style where, unfortunately, I am not Rachel so I will not be writing a letter that is "Eighteen pages! Front and back!" which, honestly, would solve everything...

Le sigh...