#like personally i think fucking around w souls n shit ink gave him one with like. All The Emotions

[wisebilly]

FAWKK

[ynahzone]

for today i offer you me talking about xchara's character development but it sounds kinda half assed / out dated because this was from weeks and weeks ago

im a big nerd so it's not surprising im talking about it, anyways

(warning really long post)

in the start XChara was depicted as a bright and happy kid along with XFrisk, with him getting upset over XGaster saying he's gonna end it all maybe it's safe to say he was happy being with XGaster and his works despite XGaster being underwhelmed with himself and his creations. And then Ink came right? Yeah it was all fun and games until XGaster decided to kill off Asriel

on the first overwrite XChara did nothing to stop it and just stood there.

on the second timeline he started growing upset and kept reminiscing about his past with Asriel, until Asgore became the big guy here and cheered him up. So like he got into a sad state but got cheered up in hopes for a better future, until XGaster deemed this timeline was too boring so he killed both the supports of XChara and XFrisk (Asgore and Sans (rip babygirl)) and that got XChara ANGRY

for once XChara stood up and tried to defend what's left in the timeline, but after XGaster's stiff "just let me work" he let go and just stood there bracing for impact again.

There was a part on timeline III where XChara called out XGaster for being insecure, so uhh his hate for him was like, starting to arise up now.

In Timeline IV it was shown the XChara locked himself in his room waiting for everything to end in the timeline, so yeah so he hits rock bottom in this timeline and his v v upset n all, and all that changed when XGaster took XFrisk to make him do genocide n stuff and XChara was like oohhh shit ohhh ooohhhhh and then like XALPHYS GIVES XMUFFET A CODIGO SAYING WHATS GOING AWN and then he stops XFrisk from stabbing XChara and told him thaf "he never cared about you" anx "you should stand up for yourself, stop him now" smn smn smn so XChara took that and rebelled against XGaster and punched him in the balls then resets the timeline

WHICH XGASTER FOUND RUDE so he sent off the twins to a timeline wherein no one knows them and XChara and XFrisk HATED everyone so they like planned to kill XGaster (i think) and then targetted XAlphys to like tell them where XGaster is and XUndyne butts in and beats the livinf shit out of them so like yeah yeah XChara hes so pissed rn so they took a moment to just unwind

then like XUndyne goes and offered the twins trainings, basically XUndyne gave them hope that they'd be a able to beat the shit out pf XGaster to which XChara took because he BELIEVED theres still hope, atp XFrisk already gave up

so like yada yada yada yeahh XChara went ti trainings and then they ambush XGaster n all n stuff and XUndyne fucking dies and XChara gets his half soul fragment stolen now he's sharing a soul with XGaster (which mind you, at this point the person he hates the most)

now, in XChara's timeline he's like,,, he killed XFrisk multiple times as commanded by XGaster (i THINK)

since they share a soul now XChara changed drastically, he probably judt submitted to XGaster n all (orrr that thing warped his perception of everythknf or smn like that)

then XChara says he wants XFrisk back, SOMETHING TO NOTE HERE is that throughout the whole series XChara still cares for his brother, XFrisk, even if it seems off putting, no matter what. and thats what i find endearing

so like yeah XGaster just said FUCK IT then revives XFrisk and prolly merge their souls so now XChara is this ghost that gpes around w XFrisk

take note XGaster said "2 masterminds in 1 body" or something similar,this is probably unimportant but this part was the whole theme for the X-Event (will be talking abt X-Event in another message)

In the next timelines, XChara can be described as someone with the brains, an ASSHOLE, a PIECE OF SHIT and someone who lacks boldness when going without a plan, a sadist and yada yada yada

now heres what makes me relate to him, through timeline IX (or Papyrus, i forgot my roman numerals) instead of reacting as happy and cheerful to a new crowd he now reacts to it with disgust

much like how XGaster would, in Papyrus' timeline he started acting much like XGaster would, in short he's becoming the person he hated the most.

now

TIMELINE X

AUUGHHH MY FAVORITE AAUUUGGHHHHHHH

in this episode it like shows how devoted and determined he is into ending it all

despite him growing like XGaster he still sticks to his original goals, props to him

so like YEAH but at this point it looks like his care for XFrisk is deteriorating, it's like all he cares about now is his goals and not his brother (but his goal is literally to end XGaster to stop the suffering so....,, slay ig?)

he started forgetting why he even stuck around with him brother, he didn't care what it takes he didn't care what will happen to XFrisk when he makes him do all these crazy shit all he cared about was his plan

he always strived for a better future, so much he forgot about everyone else

he basically turned into a manipulative piece of shit 😍

so like yada yada yada stuff he tells XFrisk to make Cross (aka my husband <3) kill him

the difference between XFrisk and XChara on this timeline is that XFrisk still cares, XChara lacked empathy at this point

oh yeaj did i mentioned XChara also threatened Cross to KILL XFrisk because that's how determined he is

and when he found advantage knowing XGaster's half soul wasn't with him and it'd be easy to kill him off and take the soul he took it and used it

his second plan to kill XGaster was to give everyone back their memories of the previous timelines so they're mad n all

but since Cross refused to cooperate on his first plan he decided to tell XFrisk to tell everyone to just kill him off or leave him alone

now this, this is the part where they thought they reached victory but nope, Cross comes in and kills everyone then takes XFrisk's soul and then BOOM the world is deleted and his whole plan goes in shambles

he was quick to planning, he tried to kill Cross to be free from his body and go back to his originsl host (XFrisk) so they could still overwrite but noooo Cross kills XFrisk too 💀

so like there

hes stranded, so he chose to try and manipulate Cross (he was successful)

so basically he poured his soul, life, time and XCharussy into putting XGaster down which just failed in the end :(

the thing to alwaye remember about XChara is that no matter whay happens that hoe never backs down #SlayXChara

from his happy and cheerful picture he slowly turns into this sadistic piece of shit wjo seems bad but really just have a good intention and just wants everything back to the way it was without the overwrites

i feel bad for him:(

thinking abt this makes me kin him even more, like im not an asshole but .. some days i catch myself lacking

AND AND most of this is a copy paste btw like, a REALLY long copy paste, im talking 4 discord messages worth of copy pastes— plus i was typing all thiz in a friends server and got this message, i got alot of this but im too lazy to ss all of them messages

much love to mim mwuah shes so great

[un2-verse]

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (3)

Synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he��ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

Pairing: yandere!Taehyung x f!reader

genre: angst, horror, weirdly some fluff lol

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, stalking, manipulation, conditioning, mentions of abuse, suicidal ideations/attempts, self harm, murder, depictions of torture etc (basically its gorey and fucked up), angel trap, etc stabbing and guns. do not read if triggered!!!!

wordcount: 2.2k

taglist: @yes-sol-not-soul @yoongiofmine

a/n: pt 3 is here!! honestly i wasnt expecting this amount of support as i’ve never published my writing before so thank u sm ♡ i was inspired to write this one night and i had no idea where it’d go or anything but i’m happy with the way its turning out :D fun fact abt me, i’ve been obsessed w the franchise since i was little and i actually have 2 saw tattoos, one of billy and one above saying “cherish your life” since that’s pretty much the motto of saw :) and i have quite the collection of saw/billy items so why not turn my fav horror film into a fucked up love story! let me know if u would like to be added to the taglist and pls enjoy reading^^ feel free to send me asks abt the series or anything u want~ i love hearing from u guys!! :D ps— taehyung and the reader dont have much interaction in this part,, theyll definitely be more of them together in part 4 :) unedited so pls excuse any mistakes!! tysm <33 and remember these are fictional characters and do not represent bts personally in any way!!

series masterlist

part one part two

The headlines constantly named the Jigsaw Killer, Billy. The somewhat eerie little doll that had a face as white as a Calla Lily with spirals on it’s cheeks as red as the blood that was shed during the tests. Billy was always dressed in a little black suit with a red bowtie and he was (most of the time) situated on a squeaky battered tricycle. Attached was always a tape that read “play me” and when the subjects did, a chilling voice— one that could make even the world's worst predators shiver with terror— would echo around the room.

Everyone knew that a doll clearly wasn’t responsible, yet they gave it the name Billy in hopes to somewhat humanise the face that instilled panic— they did not want to live in fear.

It was the only face behind the killings.

But this time, there was a different subject stuck in the test and Billy had made sure there was no way for them to survive.

“How are you scared of heights? You’re practically a giant yourself!”

“Just because I’m tall doesn’t mean I can’t be scared of heights Y/Nie.”

You had no idea how long had passed since Taehyung had turned up at the garage, you were too busy chatting away squeezed into the kitchen while your Dad, Yoongi and Hobi worked on the cars in the shop. If anyone could hear you both, they would think you’d known eachother since childhood— the playful jokes and light touches exaggerated that.

You’d only known him for a few hours really, if you added the time spent with him on the first day and now. It hadn’t seemed like all those weeks ago that you first met, he had a familiar presence, as though you had known him for years compared to the hours.

“I just wouldn’t imagine you to be scared of anything Taehyung… you seem so confident and fearless.”

You saw the way Taehyung looked at you. His eyes flashed with understanding.

“I did have my fears back then, much like yours.”

“What do you mean?” you had a rough idea on what he meant but you needed him to voice it.

A deep inhale and the words flowed from his lips before he could stop it, “The fear of living. I had been through some stuff you know, growing up. My mum was working a lot and my dad was an alcoholic, he was so fucking possessive and wouldn’t let her go anywhere without kicking off. It was a fucking shitshow and so toxic. This one time though, I’d pretended that I’d gone to school and waited outside the front door. It didn’t take long before I heard shit getting smashed and my dad shouting.” Taehyung was telling the truth only, he left out the part where he was also as possessive, if not more, than his father. Well, let's say… obsessive. “I just ran in the house and saw my dad towering over my mum and I don’t remember what happened but, I do remember my mum crying and my dad disappeared.”

Now Taehyung was lying through his teeth. He remembered clearly, almost like it was yesterday. He smashed the nearest bottle, pulled his mother away from the monster that scared her and stabbed him. Not just once, not twice but thirty-seven times. Hence the thirty seven tattoo on the palm of his right hand (the one he’d actually killed his father with). There was only Taehyung who knew what it meant, he counted every single time the broken glass pierced his father’s body, he counted with a smile on his face and a chuckle in his throat.

You were at a loss for words. Your mouth gaped in shock, eyes wide and your brain scrambled for the right thing to say. You reached over and grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. His thumb running back and forth along your hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.” There was no way you could relate, your mother and father were happy and in love. They had the ideal relationship, one you wished for yourself. You could empathise though.

“You don’t need to be sorry baby, it’s in the past and I’ve moved on from it. I was like you though, poisoned by the roots that keep you on the ground even though you wanted nothing more than to break free and be no longer.” A silence fell over you both before Taehyung uttered, “I wasn’t successful with my attempt so now I’m here to help you.”

Warmth spread throughout your body, a smile graced your features as you no longer felt alone.

You had a completely different idea to what those words actually meant.

It was nearing the evening when Taehyung’s car had been fixed. Yoongi popped his head in the kitchen to tell him but stopped himself so as to not interrupt the scene before him. You were laughing along to whatever Taehyung was babbling about with your hand resting on his bicep, with that look in your eyes that he hadn’t seen for years. Yoongi felt himself smile as he saw you hanging onto Taehyung's every word.

For the first time in forever, you looked alive.

Yoongi cleared his throat which drew yours and Taehyung’s attention, “Sorry to interrupt guys. We’ve finished with your car so whenever you’re ready we’ll be outside.” The infamous gummy smile overtook his features, you felt yourself beam in return.

“Thanks man! I’ll be like, five minutes.”

Yoongi nodded his head in reply and swiftly left the room.

You’d taken Tae’s hand into yours, playing with the array of rings that occupied his fingers. Solemn thoughts overtook, am I not gonna see him again? Was this, whatever this is, over before it had even begun? Your eyes stayed on his hand as you turned it over and traced your finger over the inked ‘thirty seven’ on his palm. “What does this mean?”

Taehyung didn’t think twice before he practically beamed out, “It’s my lucky number.”

The difference was, it wasn’t really his lucky number… although he did see it that way. It was the number that had stayed with him. It was something he was proud of, whenever he looked at the hand that killed his father, his chest filled with pride and a joyous feeling overtook his senses. It was his first murder. Something he relished in and thus, created the onslaught of Jigsaw killings. He targeted a certain type— those whose sins would lock them up forever if they were ever found out. Racists, murderers, rapists, drug dealers, con-men. Authoritative figures who abused their power. He even went as far as subjecting suicidal people.

You see, things aren’t sequential. Good doesn’t lead to good, nor bad to bad. People who steal, don’t get caught, they live the good life. Others lie, cheat and get elected.

Some people would call it karma but Taehyung, he called it justice.

He’d started this with one thing on his mind— those that don’t appreciate life do not deserve it.

Whenever a serial killer was on the loose, the press did what they always did. They gave them a nickname. While the public had named the doll Billy. The actual killer was named ‘Jigsaw’.

This stemmed from the jigsaw piece that was cut from the victims skin, no one knew why he was doing it or what it even stood for.

It did have a meaning although unknown to the public.

The jigsaw piece that was cut from the subjects was only ever meant to be a symbol that that subject was missing something. A vital piece of the human puzzle. The survival instinct.

After all, until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Across town an underground abandoned warehouse, was where the next subject had found themselves.

They were suspended in the air, their feet merely dangling above the ground. The putrid smell of death lingered in every crevice, the sound of rats scurrying along the concrete floor filled their ears just as they began to stir awake.

A pain in their ribs was the overwhelming factor to them finally coming around. When they groggily opened their eyes, they were paralised with fear due to the scene in front of them.

A doll sat a few feet ahead, perched upon a tricycle. Adorned with a black suit and a red bowtie. A slow red light flashed in his eyes.

Billy.

Before the subject could even register how, when or why they found themselves trapped in a test, footsteps echoed behind them. The subject called out, “Help! Please, somebody help! I shouldn’t be here!”

A tsk reached their ears, as a disembodied voice replied, “Trust me, no one can hear you. Scream all you like. You’d just be wasting your breath, you may as well cherish it before it's gone.”

With hairs stood on end, the subject stilled. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” The man's footsteps grew louder. “I’m here to serve justice, that’s all.”

The man rounded the subject, settling in their view with only his cloaked back visible while he tended to the little doll. He touched Billy delicately—like he was a little child that he loved dearly. He combed his gloved hand through the doll's black hair and eventually pulled his fingers from the tresses to pat his head gently.

“You fucking psycho! Let me go!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that which only infuriated the subject more causing them to shake in anger, a movement they soon ceased when they realised something was penetrating their ribs.

“I’d be very careful if I was you, we wouldn’t want you hurting yourself now… would we?” The cloaked figure spun around. An angry glint to his eye.

“What the fuck, you’re fucking crazy. Let me out, this isn’t right!” The subject tried their hardest to swing their legs, to somehow kick the man who’d imprisoned them.

“I think you’ll find it is right. You’re unworthy of the body you possess.” He inched closer, “see, when someone purposely intends to harm others, they lose their right to life.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The man arched a brow as he replied, “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He felt like it was a game of cat and mouse except, he was a tiger and his subject, was the tiniest prey to mankind. “But, let me remind you! Since you can’t get your thick fucking head to work. You’re a liar, a cheater and an abuser. That ring any bells?”

The subject's face dropped.

“Ah, I see by your expression you know exactly what I’m talking about! Glad to see we’re on the same page.” He shrugged his cloak off placing it to the side of the doll. “I want to play a game.”

“What game? This isn’t a fucking game! You’re sick in the head you fucking cunt!”

The atmosphere shifted, the man remained calm while the subject went ballistic.

“What is this? What fucking game?”

“You feel the machine that’s currently occupying your ribs? Well, in about ten minutes that’s going to rip you apart. I’m proud to say that trap is my baby. I’ve been working on it especially for you! How nice is that?” he reached out to tug at the subject’s legs, tormenting them like a cat would a mouse. “Anyway, as my beautiful angel trap will rip you apart, my darling little friend Billy over here,” the subject followed the direction the man's hand pointed, “is going to match your face with the ugliness of your soul.”

“Fuck, fuck this! How do I stop it? Tell me how I fucking stop it!”

A boxy grin overtook the man's face, laughter poured from his mouth as he leaned over and slapped the subject’s leg. “This is a special game.”

“Who are you? What do you mean by ��special game’?”

He raised himself so he stood tall and grabbed a knife from his pocket, “I’m the man you call Jigsaw.” He traced the tip of the knife along the subject’s ankle, “and when I say a special game… I mean you can’t get out.” While the subject was screaming in realisation, Taehyung walked back for his cloak, hung it over his shoulder and stalked off back the way he came. He sent one last smile to the subject as he rounded them and within the blink of an eye, he gripped the knife and slashed the subject’s achilles.

A chilling scream pierced the eerie atmosphere, the subject couldn’t string words together. Abundances of anxiety, terror and pure panic took reign of their body. Taehyung grabbed the injured muscles and forced his gloved fingers in as he gripped and twisted them, “That’s for Y/N.”

Taehyung had pressed the timer before he cut the subject’s tendons. He grabbed the tape from his pocket and threw it on the ground and with a chuckle he shouted, “Game over!”

Before he reached the end of the hallway, he heard the gunshots pierce his subjects face followed by the sound of the angel trap, even this far away Taehyung heard every crack of the ribs and the noise of the body being tore apart.

Without looking back, Taehyung rounded the corner and slammed the door shut.

He’d chosen the Angel trap for the irony, the subject that was currently hanging from the ceiling was no angel. They were a fucked up, evil, waste of space. Taehyung had done the world a favour, he’d done you a favour.

That got him thinking, how much blood would you shed in order to stay alive?

[a/n: who do we think was in the trap???👀]

[boyf-canons]

☆I’m The Light Blinking At The End Of The Road☆ [Evan x Reader - Soulmate AU]

[I told myself I wouldn’t let 75% of the posts on this blog be about Evan but I’m w e a k ~Mod V]

TW: none, except a little light swearing and a little of Evan’s anxiety.

Everyone knows about the words. The ones that show up on your body as a child—inky black and scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting, impossible to scrub off. It’s common knowledge that the words will be the first ones your soulmate ever says to you.

However, not everyone acknowledges them. Some people go their entire lives without being entirely sure whether or not the person they love is their soulmate, with only simple “Hi”s and “Hello”s on their bodies. Some couples tattoo their own words, foregoing the system. Who’s the universe to say who you’re destined to be with? The universe doesn’t give a shit about any other aspect of your everyday life; why should it care about your “soulmate”?

That was a lot of people believed, anyway. Evan was one of the “lucky” ones—one of those people that got phrases so specific, it would be impossible to meet his soulmate and not know it. However, it was kind of inconvenient. He spent years wearing sweaters and long-sleeved shirts to cover up the phrase inked on his right wrist: “Are you fucking kidding me?” People gawking at his soul mark coupled with his crippling social anxiety made for a very uncomfortable cocktail of emotions.

He had tried scrubbing it off with soap and water as a kid, even considered getting it inked out with a black tattoo. But the soul marks were impossible to scrub off and he was scared of needles, so he stuck with just keeping it covered. Even with the reminder ever-present, Evan didn’t really believe in the whole “soulmates” thing. After all, his parents had been so-called soulmates, and look where that landed them. Plus, a little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like his own whispered that there was no way anyone in the universe would be meant for someone like him.

Well, that was until a quarter through his senior year.

The trees in town were turning gorgeous oranges and yellows, painting Evan’s sleepy hometown in a warm glow. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder as he waited for Jared to pick him up. The familiar maroon, junky-looking car pulled into his driveway, and Evan opened the passenger side and half-sat, half-fell into the seat.

“Evan, bro, did you finish last night’s chem homework?” Jared asked immediately. Evan had half a mind to say an indignant, “Well good morning to you too,”, but then he started thinking about whether Jared would understand what he was saying and not get the sarcasm, something he didn’t really handle well, oh god what if Jared just thought he was an idiot? He’d stop giving him rides to school and his mom would have to drive him, making her late and then she’d lose her job and he’d have to make ends meet by working at a shady bar and—

“Dude, you okay? You thinking about your weird sex dreams about one of the Murphys again?” Jared cackled. Evan turned bright red.

“OhmygodJaredshutup!”

The rest of the ride to school was uneventful, Jared talking more about his weekend (“Yeah, I crashed a college kegger. It wasn’t cool enough for the infamously awesome Jared Kleinman, so I left after an hour. No big deal.”) while Evan just stared out at the world rushing by. He tried not to look at the tops of trees anymore, and not for too long, unless the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach returned, thinking about last summer.

“Okay, but seriously, I need to borrow your chem homework, or I’m doomed,” Jared said pulling in to his parking spot. Evan nodded—at least he didn’t have to pay gas money—and dug through his backpack.

“Uhhhh….h-here it is,” Evan said, kind of shoving it in Jared’s direction. Jared smiled wide.

“Thanks man! I’ll give it back by lunch.”

“Jared, don’t you get A’s in everything? W-Why can’t you just, I dunno…do the work, yourself, maybe?” Evan suggested, getting out of Jared’s car. He just laughed, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“Wow, look at Hansen over here, a straight-up genius,” Jared said sarcastically. Evan looked down at the ground, focusing on a pile of leaves near the sidewalk. “Yeah, like I would do that. I’ve got way cooler things to do with my friends. My other friends.” Jared tugged on his shirt collar in something that Evan would recognize as awkwardness if everything Jared did wasn’t awkward on its own account.

“O-Okay. Um, see you at lunch?” It was more of a question than a statement, and Evan swore at himself in his head as he walked away. God, why did he always let Jared walk all over him? Because he’s your only friend,” that voice in his head said.

“N-Not true! I have—I have friends,” Evan thought defensively.

“Yeah, and that’s why you’re standing in the middle of the parking lot talking to yourself.”

Goddammit. He was doing this again.

Evan messed with the hem of his shirt, rolling it up and smoothing it out again, wringing it with his fingers. He tried very hard to just focus on his blue converse: stepping on a square floor tile, flecked with brown and gold spots, the way his shoe crinkled up when he stepped—

CRASH!

Evan yelped as he knocked into you full-force, knocking you over and onto the ground. His hands shot out to catch himself, and he did—with his arms pinned right beside your’s face. Wide eyes stared up at him, and he felt his face and neck flush a bright, embarrassed red from the position he was in, effectively landing right on topof you.

Evan opened and closed his mouth, making him look kind of like a fish. “I-I-I’m so sorry, I must have—must have tripped, and um, oh my god this is embarrassing I am so so sorry—“

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Evan’s eyes went wide, and he practically jumped off of you. There was a crowd of people forming around them now, watching the scene in the hallway. Evan felt his cheeks and the tips of his ears burning, felt the sting of tears threatening to spill. His throat felt tight and his hands were starting to shake, fingers fumbling where he was messing with his shirt hem. You shot up, glancing worriedly at the gathering crowd and grabbing your things, cursing under your breath. When you saw Evan, however, your eyes got wide again, and you grabbed Evan’s hand, both gentle and insisting.

“Come on, let’s go,” you murmured, squeezing his hand encouragingly and pointedly not looking at the other people surrounding you, and Evan nodded, getting to his feet and walking quickly away. He didn’t even notice you were holding his hand, until he thought about how warm your hand was—and oh god, were his warm too? Were they getting sweaty like they did the night he had waited for Zoe, but only got sweaty because he was thinking about them getting sweaty and now they were because he was thinking so much—

“Okay, I think we’re good,” you said, relieved, effectively stopping Evan’s runaway train of thought. You had a habit of doing that, Evan thought absently. He didn’t stop to ponder if that was a good thing or a bad thing. You had pulled him into a little alcove in a pretty deserted part of the school. Evan’s free fingers still played nervously with his hem.

“Listen, I’m—I’m sorry, about, um, whatever that w-was, and if you took me aside to say you never want to talk to me again I mean I guess that’s fine?” Evan rambled out, not thinking before he spoke.

You gave him a look of complete confusion. “Why would I not want to talk to you?” you asked. “I mean, I think this gives me more than enough reason to want to talk to you.” You made a move to take off your jacket, pulling down your t-shirt sleeve so this boy who had tripped into you could read the black words inked onto your collarbone in his messy handwriting: “I-I-I’m so sorry, I must have—must have tripped, and um, oh my god this is embarrassing I am so so sorry”.

Evan’s jaw hit the floor. This could notbe happening. He fumbled with his shirt sleeve, pulling it up to show your vulgar first words to him. “Wow, I-I can’t believe they…they even got my, um my stutter right??” Evan said, gesturing to your soul marks.

You stared at him blankly for second before laughing. Full-on cackling, bent-over-at-the-middle laughing. You even snorted a little bit, slapping a hand over your mouth. Evan suppressed a giggle; that was kind of…cute?

“This is insane,” you said, still kind of laughing. “The first thing I get when I move here is my soulmate just, showing up out of the blue? What the hell?” And then you were laughing, and Evan was smiling shyly, and then laughing along with you. Two laughing weirdos in an alcove in a high school hallway.

“I’m—I’m (Y/N),” you finally said, holding out your hand.

“E-Evan. Hansen.” He tentatively took it in his own, not objecting a bit when you threaded your fingers through his.

“Well, hello, Evan,” you said, sweetly looking into his eyes. “I’m just loving this incredibly awkward first meeting we’re having, but I don’t want to be late on my first day of classes. Maybe we could meet up later…?” you asked hesitantly. Evan felt his cheeks grow pink again.

“Oh, um, yeah! Yeah, of course. I mean, what kind of guy would say no, to his soulmate, right? God. Soulmate. Um. Wow.” Evan’s still confused and bewildered rambling made you laugh.

“Yeah. Wow.” You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. “I guess I’ll see you later, Evan Hansen.” You smiled at him one last time and squeezed his hand, letting your hand fall from his grasp. You could barely contain your excitement as you walked down the hallway, shoulders hunched and smile wide.

Evan watched you go, out of breath suddenly. He couldn’t believe the universe gave him such good luck—you were so pretty, and caring, and funny, and god you were just so cute, this was impossible. There was no way you were real.

Then, he glanced back down at the words on his wrist, the objectively vulgar words taking on completely new meaning. Instead of feeling like the surrounding chilly fall air, he felt like early spring, in bloom and bursting at the seams.

~~~~

Fic and head canon requests are open! ~Mod V☆

[melchixr]

Curator’s Assistant (Part One)

Anon said: Idk if u still want prompts (((I always am ))) but melchritz w melchi as a art museum curator or something who likes art because it's perfect™ and is super upset when the new assistant moritz comes in bc he's so unorganised it h u r t s but what hurts more is melchior is actually falling in love with this mess against his better judgem e n t Fuck that i’m doing a S O U L M A T E S A U

So anyway, I guess I’m making this into a chaptered story,,,,, i hope ya’ll appreciate that lmao i’m sorry. also first person which i’ve never done before so <<<<<<3333

Words: 1195

Other chapters: Part two  Part Three

I once read that there is a different version of heaven for everyone. And when you die, you go to your own specialized, personalized heaven. Well, if God turns out to be real, and I somehow wind up not getting sent straight to hell, then I would wind up in a heaven similar to an empty museum. The fountain in the courtyard was flowing, and all the lights were on, but there wasn’t a single living soul in the building. Well, besides the girls down at the front desk, and a couple of custodians.

But the halls were empty. No museum-goers or employees roaming around looking suicidal. And no horrific children with sticky fingers swinging at my vases or canvases.

That’s why I’m content with my office being in the farthest corner of the museum, with the modern art. I wandered the empty white corridors with wide windows and into the huge room.

“Ernst!” I called out to the man on the far side of the exhibit, walking around the colorful blocks on the ground and avoiding the massive pelican statues made of trash hanging from the ceiling. The resident artist was setting up paint cans and his large canvas for the ten o’clock live exhibition. He turned around, a goofy smile and a splash of pink paint already on his face. “We’re expecting a big crowd today. I was looking at patron statistics and Wednesday’s have become our most popular days, surprisingly.”

“Should I do another afternoon exhibit then?” he asked, standing and wiping off a handful of brushes on his jeans.

I shrugged, pulling the daily schedule from my book bag, “Well we have field trip leaving at four so wanna do another one in the classical wing at two?”

Ernst just smiled at me the big, warm smile that made me suddenly realize why Hanschen, our head tour guide and art historian, was so happy when they wound up being soulmates.

But I still found the pair perfectly insufferable whenever they were together. For some reason, the now engaged couple always felt the need to retell the story of how Hanschen felt Ernst’s burn first but Ernst didn’t feel Hanschen’s until he had left a message on Ernst’s machine while the artist was at work. The painting was hanging up in their apartment still, with a huge red streak across the canvas and the words ‘HOLY FUCK’ painted on it sloppily.  “Sure thing, boss. Are there canvases downstairs?”

“New shipment came in last night.”

Ernst gave me a plucky thumbs up sign, signalling me to continue on my way and unlock the oak door before me that had the words ‘M. GABOR: HEAD MUSEUM CURATOR’ engraved in gold below the window. “Wait, Melchi, is there a new custodian?”

I paused awkwardly, thinking of all the recent museum news I had stored away. No. No new custodian. And I would be the first person to know.

“No. No, absolutely not,” I stammered out and finally looked over to the younger, much more liberal minded man. “Why?”

“A guy went into your office earlier that I didn’t recognize. But he had keys so I assumed he was maintenence.”

I knew literally every single person who worked here. From Tony in the giftshop, to all ten tour guides, to Pat and Sam, who cleaned up the fountain each night. And last time I checked no one else in the world has a copy of my key besides the owner of the museum.

Ernst saw the cogs in my brain turning so he simply made a shrugging motion and tucked his things into his cart, rolling it loudly out of the room.

I’ve never unlocked my door faster and been more shocked to walk into my own office. My desk was still on the other side of the fairly small room, but the big bay windows looking over the courtyard that would soon be filled with a smatter of art-lovers.  And that was all well laid out and neat.

But right in front of the door was a rickety old desk covered in pieces of paper and a handful of books I didn’t recognize. It definitely wasn’t there when I left last night. The most terrifying thing was the packaging thrown all around at random. Packaging for what  I assumed was the 1345 ink on parchment piece from the Yuan Dynasty I was supposed to pick up today just laying on the ground at my feet. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” I barked loudly at the person standing on the other side of the desk. Picking up the art piece as daintily as possible, I looked at the figure that definitely didn’t belong in here. “Who the HELL are you?”

The figure was a man. He was very thin by the look of it, wearing a slightly baggy thrift store dress shirt and slacks. His hair was jet black and stuck out in every direction in frizzy curls. And not curls like my little brown flips. Just an absolute mess.

“What are you doing in my office?” I growled, looking into his eyes. I couldn’t quite tell the color because the bags below them were so intense that it just looked like a void behind a pair of wire framed glasses. “Get out! Get the FUCK out right FUCKING now before I call the FUCKING cops!”

The man was flinching at every word, but when I took a deep breath in before shouting again, he blurted out. “I’m Moritz Stiefel, your assistant!”

The pause for breath gave way into a long pause as I thought back into the hundreds of time where my boss had tried to tell me that I’m stretching myself too thin and need an assistant if I demand on being the only curator in the whole museum.

And the hundreds of time I told them no, I really don’t.

“My assistant….” I muttered and set the art piece down on my own desk. “So I’m thinking that they hired you, gave you the key on the desk without ever thinking of telling me.”

The guy, Moritz, didn’t respond. Possibly out of fear that I’d pull the plethora of books off my wall and chuck them at his head. I continued with a groan. “Anyway, if you’re going to assist, you might as well be a good one, right?” He nodded. “Fine, first things first, clean this shit up. My office is a tidy area and you aren’t changing that.”

“Yessir.”

“Second, don’t call me that.  How old are you? Twenty? I’m not some old man,” I sat at the desk and took a long sip from my thermos. My eyes gravitated towards the little stream of ink on the side of Moritz’s neck. 

It wasn’t rare to see ‘Love Tattoos’ out in the open. Lots of people showed them off proudly, especially when they had already been turned red. I guess it was a badge of honor to have your soulmate say that special dumb fucking phrase. But Moritz’s was still black.

Huh, okay. I dunno why my brain felt the need to focus in on it.

The practical stranger began to pick up the packaging. “I’m uh...I’m twenty-six.”

“God, you look like a high schooler with a sleeping disorder how are you older than me?” I told him in a stern voice and continued. “Anyway, I want you to ASK before you pick up deliveries from me next time. And when you’re done cleaning can you run up to the program manager’s office and give Janet my weekly update?”

“I don’t know where that is and why can’t you just email it?” Moritz said bluntly. I really liked this guy more when he was shy.

Sighing, I stood and approached my new coworker. “Cause nothing gets done in here when you email. And when you’re done, run to starbucks and get me a grande soy latte, triple shot.”

“I’m an assistant, not an intern!” Moritz bit back indignantly.  He was gonna learn really fast not to speak to me like that.

“My assistant. Chop chop.”

[fish-food-s]

Fake Name

This is a human AU, and it’s where soulmates would one day have each other’s names appear on their arms.

Words: 1636

Warnings: Yelling, cursing, self-harm mention let me know if there are anymore.

— Andy waited in anticipation on his couch. Everyone of his friends, well, both of his friends had already found out their souls mate’s names. Sure, he knew the bullshit statement everyone has been telling him, “you’ll get it when you’re ready,” but he honestly wanted to get over it right now. His hands shook as he ran his fingers over the uncut part of his wrist. The part that was supposed to give him his destiny.

Another month passed, and anxiety had finally come to the conclusion that he was meant to be alone. That has happened before. It’s definitely not rare. Maybe he was one of them too? No one deserved to be with someone like him anyways.

He, being the self-conscious person he is, took a black marker and decided to write a name on his wrist so his Logan and Patton didn’t think he was meant to be alone. He thought of a name. His head churned out ideas as he poured all of them out on a piece of paper.

Tyler Jason Conner Murphy Evan Roman

The last name seemed so beautiful. It rolled off of his tongue so well. “Roman,” he spoke aloud, “its perfect.” He wrote the name onto his wrists so carefully that it was incredibly convincing. The lines were neat and strait, and the ink was pure black. He hid the list of names behind the couch and examined the name. It almost looked real.

“Andy!” A body was thrown on him hugging him and giggling. “You got a name! Let me see let me see!” Andy looked down to see his roommate Patton with his arms around him.

“Patton, calm yourself. Andy is probably already very hyper about it.” He looked up and saw his other roommate Logan standing there with a trace of jealousy in his eyes. Logan pried his soulmate off of Andy and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “Well?”

“I just kinda woke up with it. Not too exciting. Everyone has it,” He lied.

Patton jumped up and down, squealing until Andy’s head hurt, “what’s the name!!”

“R-Roman” he choked. The name was so beautiful, yet so hard to say. “Roman”

“We have encountered someone named Roman,” his heart skipped a beat, “last I saw him, which was a few days ago, he had no name yet. Shall we check on him?

"I-I-I think I should f-find him natural-l-ly,” Andy stuttered.

“Oh, hun are you alright?” Patton questioned, his natural fatherly instincts kicking in.

“Y-yeah. Just the thought of finding my soulmate i-is a bit a-a-alarming,” he lied

“No worries, A, you’ll do great!”

“C-Can you give me his phone number instead? We’ll plan our own meeting, I guess.” Andy fingered the sharpie in his pocket.

Logan nodded and pulled his phone out, “I’m sending it to you right now”

Ding

“I’ll look at it later. I’m going to sleep,” he said, getting up and dragging his feet to his bedroom.

“It’s only 2?”

“I’ll survive.” Andy almost made it until he was stopped with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, if you need us to do anything for you, we’re here. I know how scary it can be. Go at your own pace, ok?” His soft voice pierced his ears at this point. Guilt flooded his brain.

Andy didn’t respond, afraid he’ll start sobbing if he spoke. He jerked his shoulder away from Patton’s hand and continued to his room.

—

Andy had decided to not look at the number Logan gave him ever. He was afraid he’d remember every digit even if he took a glance. He almost got away with this until his phone began to ring.

After a few painful seconds of ignoring it, his phone blew up with message alerts. He hesitantly picked it up and read from the beginning.

[missed call from unknown] [missed call from unknown] [missed call from unknown] [27 texts from unknown] [28 texts from unknown] [incoming call from unknown]

Whoever this Roman is, he’s very clingy.

Andy pressed the bright green button and held the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Andy! It’s Roman! Guess what? MY arm says Andy! Isn’t that crazy?”

His heart felt like it was being torn into two, “more than you know.”

“Well, it isn’t that crazy. We are soulmates, after all-” he just wouldn’t stop talking. He held his voice in an almost unnatural, sophisticated state. He could hear water running and a shriek of a kettle in the background. Roman sounds like a cooker. “-Right?”

Andy snapped out of his current state and turned his attention back to Romans words. “Y-yeah,” he stuttered, and Roman continued with his rambling. After a few minutes, Andy became more natural talking to Roman. He felt needed, loved. Their conversation flowed on to many different subjects. Roman offered to FaceTime, but Andy lied and said that he didn’t look his best at the moment.

Finally, they hung up after an hour or so. Andy felt the hope slip from his grasp as he remembered that this was a fake name. A fake destiny.

Andy received one more text. He opened it, to see that Roman wanted to meet at the cafe nearby on Sunday. Andy texted “ok” back with out thinking and flung himself on the bed, blushing until he fell asleep.

–

Today was the day. The day where he would meet Roman. He walked to the cafe in the bright sunlight as he desperately tried to hide behind his cheap sunglasses. Then, he saw him. Roman had on a white hoodie with a red stripe going down the middle. He wore neat jeans and a black t-shirt. His hair was brushed to perfection and his smile was perfect and bright. Andy didn’t deserve him, a beautiful, witty man who seemed to light up everyone’s world.

Before Andy could turn to leave, their eyes locked. Without even blinking, roman lifted his left arm to reveal the word “Andy” written on it. Andy hesitantly did the same while walking towards his table.

“Hey…”

“Hello…”

—

It’s been a month since they met, a month since the lie started, a month since paradise had taken over Andy’s life. They were watching TV together, Andy laid on top of Roman as he played with his hair. Before he knew it, their lips were clashing together desperately.

“Andy…” Roman breathed.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Andy cut him off, his lips clinging for more.

“Andy… what is this?” Roman questioned in the most innocent voice, “W-what the hell?!” This time, he seemed mad. His hand was covered in black ink, smeared from Andy’s wrist.

“Shit,” Andy pushed himself off of Roman and looked at the half-smeared name. Tears formed in his eyes and he remembered that he had applied a new coat right before they were watching TV, and it was still drying. “FUCK.”

“Hun… what’s happening?”

“I’m not your hun…” Andy choked out, tears fogging his vision, “I’m not your babe, honey, sweetheart… I’m not anyone’s. I don’t belong with anyone. I wrote a random name down and I happened to be you, ok?”

Roman stood up and looked down at the terrified other, “So there’s another Andy out there, short of a soulmate, and your here pretending to be the one I’m destined to be with?!” Before Andy could respond, Roman took some makeup wipes from a nearby drawer, ones that Andy would use whenever he slept over.

“Give me your wrist.” Andy didn’t move. He stared at what was once his soulmate, now his lie. “GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING WRIST” he grabbed a hold of it and rubbed the wipe on the skin.

Andy looked away. Everything stung. His heart ached for lying to someone as amazing as Roman. All he could let out was a small voice. “S-stop. That stings,” suddenly, everything stopped. He was thrown onto the couch. He looked up at Roman, his eyes carved with rage and confusion.

“It won’t go away.” He whispered. There was another layer underneath… the real layer. It was under the marker.“ Andy was speechless. We wanted to yell at everything. At the world for causing him so much pain. At himself for not being patient. At Roman for not leaving him sooner.

"N-no. You can’t be with me…” he sobbed. his words escaped his cracked lips.

“I don’t deserve you!” Roman shouted in frustration, “I don’t…. deserve you…”

“You don’t” Andy said, facing away from him now. “I’m stupid. I bring everyone down. I played with your emotions, even tricking myself. How can I hold someone else’s destiny if I can’t even figure out mine? I’m such mess…” He tugged on his hair, trying to block out reality.

“W-what? That’s not what I meant,” Roman said, confused. He made his way towards Andy, putting on hand on his shoulder, “I don’t deserve someone as amazing as you. You’re upfront. You understand my problems. You somehow put up with the stupid nick names I give you.” He put a hand over his eyes to cover his tears, chuckling through the last part,“ I just don’t deserve all that”

In a blink of an eye, Andy’s warmth was wrapped around Roman. A hand patting his back, words reminding him of all the amazing things that he had done, tears falling to meet each other on the floor. Andy’s hands rocked Roman back and forth until the crying died down.

After a few minutes of silence, Andy spoke again. “I love you, you’re my hero, my prince. You know that? I’ve been so happy with you. I hope you know that.”

More sobs escaped Romans cracked lips. Words formed from the mess of noises. “I love you too”