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allthecastlesonclouds · 9 months

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hi giving you an opportunity to infodump about wips and fic ideas <3

AGADSGFJHASDFJKH bird got my fic rambles so. you get my OCs sorry i don't make the rules they are forever a wip and i refuse to shut up about them

SO they're technically backgroundish characters for a DnD world bc Teary is part of the Pantheon for the world but. it's not about them it's about my guys!!

so teary is the son of Light and Shadows. his full name is tearithus, because why the hell not he can have some drama as a treat, he starts as a funky little imp, a bard-esque guy, who's kind of the comedic relief? he's the least toxic-masculinity-ified man you've ever met, though, because. his mother refused. their story is in three arcs and between one and two he gets mass promoted from imp to archdevil bc. yknow. saving the world and all that jazz. anyway he gets some body issues deals with that for a While. he deals with them by creating a magic circle that creates a 'permanent' shape change on his body to send his actual form to the ethereal plane. (he does not deal with them for a While.) he's loud and dramatic until literally anyone in the party starts talking, and then. he just sits and listens.

and his bestie my bestie chara. it's not her actual name (that's barely shared bc. points. fae). her title is the lady of fire, keeper of memories and watcher of time, but she doesn't try to get into that much. she's just a sad gay phoenix woman who misses her wife. she is So Self-Sacrificing and for what? Self hatred?? anyway she lost her wife in the First War, got her wife's Orb, and realized that she's possibly never going to see her wife again because her soul is nowhere. she's a fae (bc phoenix) and so struggles a lot in transitions between realms, but the transition that hit her hardest was, naturally, faerie to material. her wife helped her then. a millenia later, teary shows up at her doorstep, bleeding out, and she helps him just how she was helped. she has innate magic (sorcerer!!) and absolutely loves fucking with her own appearance. her spellcasting focus is her wedding ring– when she realized teary set up the Circle to hide his appearance, she said she wouldn't tell if he hid her ring too– focuses are targeted, she points out, and she'll be damned if she ever loses that. she can die and 'be reborn', but it's based on deals: if she dies, she gets sent to Liminality, too far from where she knows safety, and a Demon or Angel pops up to offer her a deal. she haggles and returns to life with some benefit or disadvantage. towards the end of arc two, she gets hung, and returns in a blaze of fire with true sight, but her Actual Vision is taken– her eyes are pure flame.

if duos were made of my guys, chara and mini would get paired up a lot just because teary and august are Love Interests TM. this whole friend group are Friends With Each Other, and these two have that good good sapphic/aroace bonding. they're besties. they're competitors. they have completely different views on the gods. mini, if i had to sum them up in a 'describe your character like Shit challenge,' would be: an amnesiac ghost wakes up in the Liminality with a sword and decides to solve a mystery. mini is self named– short for minutia– and they're a paladin of the Innkeeper, one of the Pantheon (Time). Mini's title starts as 'The Sword of the Innkeeper' and they are a damn good paladin. they don't have control over too many things at the start– their main motivation is to know Who They Are– but, really, their main arc is finding themself in the world itself, figuring out that they are not defined by who they were in life. it helps that, being a ghost and a dead elf, they have almost complete resistance to magical effects on physical forms and non-magic weapons– they will refuse to die. they're not naïve, but they are optimistic, which pairs them and teary together against chara and august pretty often, who are a bit more pessimistic/pragmatic.

and! speaking of august! my darling augustine, High Angel of Mercy. she begins the story serving under Life, but ends up just serving the cause, the belief of Mercy. She, of all Immortals, is the one pushing closest to Godhood without being one. she doesn't want to be one. she died half a decade into the First War– she was followed home from a town square performance and shot twice– and she's been Working In This Vein of Bullshit for the longest. if i had to give her a dnd class it would be monk: she does the punches, not the magics, but thoroughly diverts the 'magics person is the leader, punchies are the henchman with no thoughts' idea by Being So On Top Of Her Shit. she's got portals set up to each Plane, commissions Sending Earrings/Rings for the group, does a lot of Heaven's paperwork, and is too much of a perfectionist to not Have Her Shit Together. she's not, exactly, go-with-the-flow as much as the rest of the group is, because she is Terrified Of Fucking Up, but she is ruthless and impulsive in battle once she knows the people she's fighting have Wronged in a way that cannot be reprieved. also, she likes to dance. wonder what that's about? couldn't be her Life.

teary and chara have known each other the longest: legends build, you see, and townsfolk are afraid, and so when Teary came to the Material he got shot. a couple times. and a kind soul in the woods told him of the Firebird in the Mountains, so you best believe he hightailed it up there. he found her, and she helped him, and they have tea every Tuesday, where they absolutely gossip and are happy to admit it.

teary and august met next: teary works in hell for a Long While– being an imp, not a god, where would he go?– and august is basically the Deal With Anything Anywhere department of heaven, so when some trappings of Uncanny Necromancy starts to pop up on the material– and they're summoning from both Heaven and Hell– august goes Give Me One'a You Guys and gets teary to help her out. they become friends and just. keep working together.

then there's something messing with faerie, their souls being trapped in heaven instead of melting into the Being Of The World, and teary goes 'gustie i know a guy' and drags in chara. chara and august are DELIGHTED with each other and bond over lightly ribbing teary and also pretty women and also the world is fucked up and we lost Too Much to War, didn't we? anyway they get that cleared up :)

mini comes along last– it's 6 years into the Second War when heaven and hell stop receiving souls and august realizes there's a backup at the Inn at The End of The World. the innkeeper goes Help Me Please the Inn Isn't Made To Hold This Many People and mini, being one of these souls and being nosy and also knowing 'hey i worshipped this one. that's my Diety Right There' goes how can i help? and! the party is complete!

i'll shut up now but there may be a post about the Pantheon if i'm ever prompted with anything because. these ones are my guys but the Pantheon lets me weave words yknow?

#castles ocs #ren <3 #listen. i love them. theyre my darlings.#castles rambles #i did art of teary and mini and august a while back (not cassie. she's hard) but. the designs aren't up to date so :/ as of now unposted!#this ask was likely about fanfics bc it was a wip ask game but. my GUYS. it's my GUYS. i don't care how tropey they are i LOVE them

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.13 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Finally some answers! It's just a shame they aren't for the questions Stretch already had.

Read ‘Neverland’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

If he were asked, Stretch would be the first to admit he was probably not the greatest influence out there for anyone. When he was younger, he’d tried his best for Blue’s sake at least; he worked two jobs, he made sure the laundry was done so Blue could wear clean clothes for school and all that. But as Blue got older and more able to help out, a lot of that shit fell off to the wayside into apathy. Until they got to the surface, anyway, but whatever efforts he’d made to get his life on track in the Aboveground took a sad detour back to wallowing in misery a few months back.

That said, Stretch tried not to be a complete asshole at any given time, but damn if living in Backwater wasn’t putting his manners to the test, because the predominant phrase running through his mind right now as he stared at the older ‘Chara’ clone was, ‘what in the name of holy blue fuck?’.

At least he managed not to say it, but then, he also didn’t manage to say anything else. Instead of a ‘hi’ or a ‘how ya doin’ or even a ‘so, how about those dodgers’ for the smiling Human in front of him, all Stretch did was gape, his bike engine idling and his mouth hanging open in an invitation to any circling flies in search of a new home.

His luck was leaning towards good today, insect-wise, since none took the invite, and all the Human did was smile wider, their eyes crinkling as they held out their hand and said, with a certain slyness, “Don’t you know how to greet a new pal?”

Stretch knew before he even shook their hand what was coming. Mostly, anyway, turned out to be a whoopie cushion hidden in the palm rather than the joy buzzer Stretch was so fond of. But he knew, this was his gag, and still he hastily switched off the engine and reached over. He took their hand in a daze and the rubbery wheeze of a fake fart as their palms met made the Human laugh in delight.

“Still works,” they said gleefully. The Human held up the little whoopie cushion before tucking it into their pocket, leaving aside humor for sincerity. “I have so wanted to meet you.”

“me?” Stretch said blankly. Not exactly showcasing his brilliance, there, but he couldn’t seem to stop staring. That familiar, cherubic smile was so strange when it was on another face. Of all the things he’d seen so far in Backwater, this was, by far, the last he’d ever expected, and that was including the damn corn.

“Oh, yes, Edge has told me all about you,” they said, rocking on their heels. From the neck down, the resemblance took a little detour. No striped shirt here and instead of the green Chara favored, they wore blue. A subtle difference, but one that Stretch latched onto gratefully, along with what they said next. “My name is Frisk.”

“frisk,” Stretch repeated. He felt like a living echo, but that name seemed somehow familiar, niggling at the back of his mind. Eh, didn’t matter, the important thing was that it wasn’t ‘Chara’, ‘cause his mental capacity for accepting the weird was teetering on the brink of overload.

Their mouth twitched again into a smile. "You're wearing my old helmet."

"oh. oh!” Stretch slapped a hand on top of his head and nearly impaled it on a cat ear. Hastily, he started working on the buckle. “uh. sorry about that.”

"No, it's cute,” Frisk said cheerfully. “Red wouldn’t let me ride my bike without it, either.” Stretch could only blink at them, still waiting on an internal reboot, here, and the Human’s mouth twisted wryly. "It’s okay. The resemblance is uncanny, I know. We saw it all on television when it happened a few years ago. Chara, the human who brought Monsters back to the surface. Red thought it was all very funny, but his sense of humor is rather questionable on a good day."

On television? But…how…? Weakly, Stretch said, "i don't understand."

“I know," Frisk said. Their eyes darkened with sympathy. "And I doubt very much that Edge or Red explained." They sighed with fond irritation, "All these years living here, and Edge still loves his puzzles. Never a straight answer if he can twist it around for someone to solve. Red is just a shit. Come on,” they jerked their chin towards the cabin. “Edge is around back.”

Frisk turned and started back up the winding path, bare feet light on the flat stones. Stretch realized he was still straddling his bike and hastily put down the kickstand before following. Okay, so, no Red Riding Hood today, he was more like a Lost Boy and if Peter Pan swooped down right now with Tinkerbell sparkling at his feet, he was gonna swat them both down.

“wait!” he called. Frisk paused and turned around, their expression questioning as Stretch jogged to catch up, trying not to stumble over his untied shoelaces. “you…you’re edge’s roommate, right?”

Frisk considered that and nodded. “That’s as good a word as any.”

“right.” Okay, yeah, he would have felt pretty damn guilty about his frequent admiration of Edge’s hips if it weren’t for Red assuring him Edge wasn’t in a relationship. Roommates, not ‘roommates’, finger quote-slash-finger quote. He was losing the thread, though, and he wanted to pick it back up before it unraveled completely. “look, i’m supposed to be here to ask you about edgar allen.”

“I know,” Frisk smiled again and a pair of dimples peeked out. Now that he was past the initial shock, he could see a splash of freckles on their nose, another little difference distancing them from Chara that was a relief to see. “I’ll explain everything in due time. Come on.” They dashed away again, and all Stretch could do was follow.

In due time, right, he’d been waiting for anyone around here to pay their dues for days, give him some straightforward answers, and it seemed like the only thing he ever got was another winding road.

He’d been doing pretty good about cutting back on the cigarettes, but today Stretch would have maimed someone’s uncle for a full pack and a half an hour to work his way through ‘em, one after another.

Frisk led the way behind the house and as Stretch stepped around the corner, he stopped to stare at the view. It opened up into a clearing that was filled with huge garden spreading out in a chaotic sort of order; beds of bright flowers, rows of different veggies and berries, baskets hanging between them with leafy tendrils spilling out. Parts of it already looked like they were winding down for the summer, like the rows of truly enormous sunflowers skirting the garden, their bright petals already withering and their broad faces gone to seed, heralds to the upcoming change of season.

It was incredible, it was insane, how…?

“how does all this grow in the woods?" Stretch asked wonderingly, to no one in particular. “how do you grow sunflowers without sun?” Some light filtered in through the heavy canopy of branches overhead, sure, but the overwhelming appearance was one of shade. Stretch didn’t know shit about gardening, but this wasn’t exactly his idea of a great place to set one up.

Obviously, someone forgot to tell these plants, it sure wasn’t stopping them.

“They aren’t sunflowers. Not exactly.”

It wasn’t Frisk’s voice and Stretch startled, turning to see Edge kneeling close by in the dirt by another row, briskly picking handfuls from the low plants. There was a basket next to him half-filled with green pods, beans or peas, he wasn’t sure which, and that was where it stayed because it wasn’t the gardening that Stretch was interested in anyway. He promptly forgot about sunflowers, beans, peas, Peter Pan, everything, and stood mutely watching Edge work.

Somehow, he always managed to forget in between seeing him how damned attractive Edge was. Even in shabby working clothes, the underarms of his t-shirt damp with sweat and wearing a pair of dirty flower-patterned garden gloves, he was a hell of a snack pack. All those baggy clothes did was cloak what he knew they concealed, hinting at what lay beneath with a suggestion that unwrapping would reveal delightful surprises and—

Yeah, okay, he was gonna stop that line of thought right there. He was here for a reason and it wasn’t to ogle at Red’s little bro.

Then all his good intentions took a spin down the drain as Edge looked up at him and smiled. Not a scowl, which wouldn’t have surprised him, not a smirk, which was to be expected, but an honest-to-angel smile. Like he was actually glad to see him and the little throb in Stretch’s battered soul didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should.

“So, you’ve finally arrived,” Edge said. He went back to his picking, didn’t seem to notice the way Stretch’s eye lights kept trying to drift down to where his shirt was riding up at the back.

“looks that way.” Stretch tore his gaze from Edge and took the safer route of glancing around at the garden again. “took longer than i thought it would. this place could use a yellow brick road.”

"That seems like it would invite tornados,” Edge said dryly, “and we see enough trouble."

Trouble? That didn’t seem right. How much trouble could show up on their doorstep out here in the boonies. Then again, probably better to just roll with it, for all he knew there were bears out here or monsters with a lowercase ‘m’. Fuck it, could even be monster bears, who knew? It would sure explain why everyone said to keep on the path.

So, Stretch let that be and asked instead, “your bro didn’t give you a heads up that i was coming?”

“No.” And there was a touch of the sourpuss he knew and lo—liked. Edge slithered on down the row and attacked the pods on those plants, adding them in to his basket. “While I at least attempt to keep my brother apprised of any situations in town, he tends to side with the element of surprise.”

From out of nowhere, the Human appeared. They marched right up to Edge and smacked him lightly on the back of the skull and Stretch nearly jumped himself; he’d just about forgotten about them completely despite them being the entire reason behind his visit. Yep, that was the only reason he was here, to ask about Edgar Allen, and he damn well needed to remember that.

“Oh, stop it!” Frisk scolded, “You and your brother, and your petty squabbles! You were just as bad yourself when we were still Underground, always had to play up the puzzles.”

Edge made a show of rubbing his skull, as if that little smack even hurt. His mouth twitched in an almost-smile, and it wasn’t as nice as the one earlier, but it still made Stretch melt a little inside. “That is possible,” he allowed.

“Good. You behave. Now,” Frisk turned back to Stretch and said brightly, “Come inside, we’ll talk over dinner.”

Uh.

Frisk started towards the house and Edge got to his feet, basket in hand, to follow them. Stretch hung back, suddenly wary of going into the gingerbread house. He knew all the stories about spiders and flies, and what happened in their parlors, thanks, and before Frisk could disappear inside, Stretch called, weakly, "i really only came out here to ask about edgar allen."

They hesitated at the open door and from the glint in their eyes, they had an inkling of what Stretch was thinking about. “I know. And Edge set you on a quest to find me so you can ask,” they laughed delightedly, “The phone book was a nice touch.”

"you know about that?” Stretch blurted, “so you’ve known i wanted to talk to you?”

They nodded. “Of course, Edge tells me everything.”

“so why didn't you come into town to see me?!"

Their sudden mischievous smile only made them look even more like Chara. "And spoil his fun?"

Frisk went inside, the door swinging shut behind them. Edge stayed outside, his basket of beans-or-peas balanced on his hip. He arched a browbone and asked, “Are you coming or not?”

Stretch wavered, scuffing his feet against the stone path, both tempted and wary, and before he could make a choice, his magic decided for him. They didn’t have stomachs, actually, but it didn’t stop their magic from imitating one for him, letting out a growl that was a reminder that the lunch Red packed him was still stashed away in his bag uneaten.

That earned him a low chuckle and the melted chocolate of Edge’s voice didn’t help his growling not-belly one damn bit. Edge tilted his head towards the door in invitation, “Come on, it’s dinner time and I can’t bear to let moronic creatures starve. You can help me cook.”

“uh.” Leaving aside the whole moronic thing (he’d probably earned it at some point, anyway), now might be the time to bring up an important fact. “i should warn you ahead of time, i’m not much of a chef.”

Edge only nodded, sighing deeply, “Of course. I should have suspected that looks aside, you were my brother’s doppelgänger rather than mine.”

“what?” How was it this guy could be so unfairly hot and so damned confusing at the same time? “what does that even mean?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

Stretch only crossed his arms over his chest and glared. “ain’t gonna get easier if you don’t start.”

Edge made an impatient sound, “Come inside and we will. Stretch,” his voice went lower, gentle, “Backwater can be unnerving, I know this, but you’re safe here. I would never let anything hurt you in my home.”

Yeah, okay, that was seriously unfair, like Edge was speaking directly to his nerves, reassuring him with honeyed promises and damned if Stretch didn’t believe him. Worse, he wanted to believe him.

He still hung back uncertainly, and one corner of Edge’s mouth quirked up as he added, “Besides, my brother would never forgive me if I let anything happen to his best salesperson.”

That burst the tension hanging in the air and Stretch snorted loudly, “that ain’t saying much, I’ve seen firsthand how red runs the store.”

With a last nervous glance at the garden/woods behind him, Stretch finally followed. He hoped he at least lived to regret it.

~~*~~

An hour later, Stretch was feeling pretty stupid about his little moment of panic. For one, sitting in their kitchen peeling carrots was probably the most normal thing he’d done since he’d gotten here. No ghosts popping out from the walls, nothing coming alive that shouldn’t to say hi. The most complicated thing he had to do was make sure the peelings ended up in the trash bin rather than on the floor and even that he got right at least ninety percent of the time.

Stretch wasn’t entirely incapable of cooking. It was only that his bro enjoyed it so much more than him that he didn’t bother and when he did, the words ‘instant’ or ‘microwave’ were usually involved in some capacity.

He spent the rest of his focus on covertly watching his hosts. Frisk and Edge moved around the kitchen and each other easily, they’d obviously been roomies for some time. They laughed, they teased, made stupid in-jokes that Stretch longed to understand, and Stretch only sat back and watched them. To be honest, there was something a little unnerving about their homey domestication. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting, for sure.

Or maybe he was just a little homesick. In spite of Red’s mothering, he was starting to miss his brother’s care and concern, a little. Probably better to not think of that and Stretch swapped out his peeled carrots for the basket of what he was assured were definitely peas, working on shelling them into another bowl.

The outside of the house might be more wicked witch in the woods, but the inside was more traditional in an airy open floor plan. From his spot in the kitchen, he could see the living room with large, comfy sofas positioned in front of a pretty damn nice television.

There were also several crowded bookshelves and a few cabinets against the walls, each one filled with an impressive collection of action figures and the glass meticulously polished. Pictures on the wall, some of Edge and Frisk, a few more than included Red, along with artwork, pretty landscapes that might well be visible from their front door.

All it all it was simply…normal. Not a single cauldron or any eye of newt in sight, and Stretch could’ve been doing the same thing back in Ebott except for the fact that this Human wasn’t Chara and Edge wasn’t…yeah.

Once the prep was done, dinner didn’t take long to get on the table. Soon they were all sitting with a bowl and if Stretch was a little dubious about the unknown dish set in front of him, all his worries vanished with the first bite.

He was getting used to the tasty food that Edge brought to the shop a couple times a week; Red was always willing to share and now that he thought about it, either Edge always included extra for leftovers or he’d started packing more so that both of them could have enough tasty goodness. Stretch wasn’t sure which was true, but he knew which one he hoped it was.

This, though, this was something entirely else, so much more than simple, tasty nourishment. Cheesy grits with a vegetable medley and a poached egg on top, that’s what Frisk introduced the dish as, but that description couldn’t truly explain the taste. How the fresh peas were buttery sweet, the carrots sweet and crisp, the way the egg yolk burst open when his fork pierced it, the bright, rich yolk dripping down to coat everything in reach with deliciousness. Stretch had to resist the urge to shovel it into his mouth, forcing himself to chew it slowly and didn’t regret it, groaning aloud around his mouthful, it was so damned good. His brother wasn’t a bad cook, but it was like comparing a bowl of oatmeal to a full breakfast platter, there was no comparison.

Stretch took another huge bite, moaning again as he hit the creamy, cheesy goodness of the grits. He looked up and paused mid-chew, to see both Edge and Frisk staring at him.

“hrmmm?” Neither of them replied to his not-a-question and Stretch awkwardly swallowed down his too-large mouthful before trying again, “what?” He grabbed a napkin and wiped at his face, but it came away clean.

“Nothing,” Edge said finally. There was a faint flush of redness high on his cheekbones, for no good reason Stretch could figure, not with the way the air conditioning was blasting out. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to his own bowl. “It’s only nice to see someone enjoying my cooking so thoroughly.”

Frisk only offered a frustratingly Mona Lisa sort of smile and dug in, the three of them eating in silence, aside from Stretch’s occasional happy groans.

Once the bowls were scraped clean, Frisk pushed theirs aside and announced, “All right, then, if I’m going to explain, I think it’s best to start at the beginning.” Frisk slanted a questioning look at Edge. “If that’s all right?”

“Why are you asking me?” Edge stood to clear away the dishes, carrying the stack to the sink. “It’s your story.”

“Because you’re in it.”

Stretch could only sit there, trying not to squirm with impatience as Edge thought that over, rinsing the bowls before stacking them into the dishwasher. “Tell him,” he said. “Mysteries are one thing, but I don’t care for lies.”

Frisk smiled, their eyes gone memory-dark. “I know. All right, then!” They clapped their hands together lightly and Stretch settled in for what he hoped was a damned good story.

“I’m from Backwater originally,” Frisk began, “but I didn’t live here my entire life. When I was a child, my parents died. I ended up going to Ebott to live with relatives and it was—” They frowned, teeth grinding briefly as if they were chewing on the words, managing only a curt, “Unpleasant.” Frisk took a long, slow breath and went on, “One day I simply had enough and ran away. All the way up Mount Ebott and that is where I fell into the Underground.”

Stretch didn’t say anything, but his expression must’ve given him away, or maybe his hands, his joints nearly creaking as he clasped them tightly together. He knew this story, nearly this exact story, told to him by a child who right now should be safely living back in Ebott with their adopted father.

Frisk’s mouth twitched in an almost smile. “No, not your Underground. Theirs. Red and Edge’s.”

Stretch glanced at Edge. He was still washing the cooking pans, pink rubber gloves incongruous against the pale of his bones, but the tilt of his head indicated he was listening. Realization was dawning with glacial slowness; a pair of skeleton brothers in the Underground coming to the surface along with a Human child. He knew this story because it was his own, and more than that.

“you’re talking about the multiverse,” Stretch said slowly.

Of course. He could have slapped himself silly for his stupidity. He’d never even considered their situation might be similar; the age differences threw him off, far more than they should have. Sans was of an age with him, Papyrus a match to Blue. Red was so obviously much older than Stretch it hadn’t even clicked, seriously, was he that off his game? That should’ve been his first thought and instead, it never made it on his list.

But then, none of them really liked to talk about it much, either. Sans and Papyrus sure weren’t bringing up how they ended up here, didn’t take any kind of magic to see the shadows lurking in the depths of their eye lights even now. They’d just showed up one day in Snowdin right before Chara did, two skeletons from another world that seemed so hurt by their pasts that Stretch and Blue let them keep the names and took on nicknames of their own. Turned out it was easy to forget, somehow, that they hadn’t always been there, easy to let a sort of shroud fall over that knowledge. Not like Stretch wasn’t used to it when it came to his past.

Only now the veil was getting ripped away. Edge and Red weren’t only other Monsters, they were other Monsters, holy shit, and they’d been here for how long?

“Yes,” Frisk nodded as if reading his mind, and wasn’t that a terrifying thought. “And we’ve learned that time can flow differently beneath the mountain. It seems that I arrived in their Underground some years before your child fell.”

Their smile faltered, faded, the silence broken by the sound of running water and the soft clatter of dishes in the sink. “Their Underground was...well. It was a place of LV, not love. Their king was mad and when I came to the castle…well.” Frisk shuddered, looking away from Stretch’s numb gaze. A bony hand settled on their shoulder, sharpened fingertips cautious, and Frisk looked up at Edge with something like gratitude. “we were the only survivors. We took the Human souls that the King had collected and went past the barrier, the three of us. Only, we were afraid of the humans’ reactions, so we hid ourselves from the people in Ebott and I brought Edge and Red back here. Backwater has always been fairly openminded when it comes to unusual folk and I thought they might be accepted here. I was right.”

Frisk hesitated then, choosing their words with care, “Backwater is a town that attracts certain things. Good things and bad things. The people here weren’t surprised to meet us.” Their eyes took on a faraway look. “In fact, they were expecting us. As I said, the town attracts good and bad things, and it needs watching over. When we arrived, the current caretaker was old and weakening. They were calling for a suitable replacement and I suppose I was perfect for the job. Not only had I been touched by magic in the Underground, I was also once in the possession of six other Human souls, and that touched me. Changed me, in a way. And so, we took over as caretakers, Edge and I.” Frisk straightened their shoulders, lifting their chin as they said, firmly, “I am the keeper of the town’s soul.”

“And I am their protector,” Edge said. They were first words he’d spoken since Frisk began, each one resonating with strength far beyond the spoken, not a mere statement, he said it as something known. Then he offered a faint smile, almost sheepish, as he added, “I also make pies and pastries to sell in town.”

“And that’s my story,” Frisk finished. They seemed almost nervous, watching Stretch, perhaps waiting for a reaction.

Stretch didn’t know what was on his face, but he sure knew what was rattling around in his head and that was one simple, weak thought, I could really use a cigarette right about now.

He sagged back in his chair and let his head drop down into his hands. This was all…fuck. This wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting, well, mostly, anyway. He’d been more right than he knew about one thing; a witch did live here, sorta, cauldron or not.

“okay,” Stretch said, more to himself than the two people waiting on the other side of the table. “okay, that’s. yeah.”

A hand settled on his shoulder and Stretch yelped, nearly scrambling away from the unexpected touch. He fell off the other side of the chair with a painful thud, fighting to untangle his legs from the tablecloth. Still standing on the other side, Edge only held his hands up in a stick-‘em-up gesture and didn’t try to touch him again. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

“you think?” Stretch sputtered. He managed to get his feet loose but didn’t try to stand; the floor seemed a lot more secure right about now. “fuck, you guys should’ve put that in a damn book instead of all those addresses and gave me time to read the footnotes! wait,” Stretch rolled to his hands and knees, and crawled around the table to look at Frisk, “so what does that make red? why does red live in town and not out here?”

Edge answered him first, a touch sharply, “You’ll need to ask him that.”

Frisk only looked saddened, a shadow falling across their Chara-esque face. “Yes, that is his story to tell.”

Fair enough. Stretch sank back down, rubbing a knuckle between his aching sockets as he considered. “okay, hold up. what about edgar allen?”

“After all that, you’re still worried about the scarecrow?” Edge sounded torn between amusement and offense.

“yeah, i am!” Stretch retorted. He might be a moron on any given day, but he didn’t forget about pals in the face of earth-shattering revelations. “that explanation filled up a lot of the questions on the form, but how does any of it explain edgar allen?” He pointed a finger at Frisk. “edge said he’s gonna die in the fall and you’d know why!”

“Die?” Frisk considered that, nodding slowly, “I suppose that’s accurate, in a way, but it’s also not. Growing things have a power of their own, you know. The corn, the garden, they give life, and that is something the town needs.” Frisk spread their hands, their empty palms up. “But what they offer is without conscious. Townsfolk aren’t in any real danger, but strangers can be, and aside from the loss of life, which I don’t want, we also don’t need to draw the attention of outsiders. Since I came here, every year I call upon a harvest spirit to watch over the crops, to protect the corn and the people who might wander into it. Edgar Allen came to us in the spring and he’ll leave us in the fall, but he’ll return, next year, after a fashion. He always does.”

A harvest spirit. Right. Edge and Red were from another Universe, along with a kid who wasn’t Chara, the scarecrow was a harvest spirit, and Stretch was quietly going nuts inside his own head. Seriously, Stretch should’ve been taking notes, this info dump was gonna take a while to process.

He sat there a while on the floor, trying to gather up his scattered wits, and nope, it was not happening. This was a three-cigarette problem, and he was starting to get eager to get started on renewing his nicotine habit. A glance out the window confirmed that the light outside was going soft and golden, the sun low in the sky. “well. uh. thanks for dinner and all, but i better get going if i’m gonna get home before dark.” Not his best speech, but then, Stretch was definitely not at his best.

“Of course,” Frisk stood, and their smile was gentle. “Please, visit again, Stretch. It was lovely to meet you.”

Edge stepped up again and this time, Stretch didn’t flinch from him. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

He held out a hand and Stretch took it without thinking. It jolted him unexpectedly, a soft cry choked off before it could escape. That simple touch was strangely electric, warm, bare bones curling with such gentleness against his own. Absurdly, it settled him, helped eased the roiling confusion boiling in his mind.

It was in a near daze that he let Edge draw him silently to his feet, pulling him along like a puppet on a string. Stretch barely managed a vague wave in Frisk’s direction as he walked with Edge out the door, and if his gaze automatically fell downward to watch the sway of Edge’s hips as he walked, welp, it wasn’t like there was anyone else around to notice.

At least, Stretch didn’t think so, might be better not to ‘ass of u and me’ around this place, even if all he was doing was watching someone’s ass.

Better safe than sorry; going forward, that was gonna be his motto. Right after he got back to Red’s on his ramshackle motorized bike.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #welcome to backwater

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draikinator-archive · 7 years

Photo

LAMENT is a Chara Dreemurr playlist using only songs from musicals, both television and theatre. Enjoy!

Listen Here on Youtube!

#undertale #chara #chara dreemurr #playlist #lament #art #fanart #youtube playlist because 8tracks sucks donkey dick

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anaami-the-witch · 7 years

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~11~ Moving Forward

G tapped AT Frisk's knee with a tiny mallet, watching her leg flinch and kick gently. "Good," he said, doing the same to her other leg. When the same happened, he exhaled and said, "You're fine, my dear. But please tell me if something goes wrong; I really don't need your husband after me."

She giggled, hopping off his counter and walking to Sans, who'd been watching them the entire time. He wasn't possesive, but knowing Gaster was inside that crooked mind somewhere concerned him.

He immediately held her close to him, his blue eye meeting hers. "how do you feel?" He asked her.

She smiled, kissing his forehead. "Incredible," she whispered, happy to be in his arms again.

Fell Frisk was next, much to Fell's distaste. Despite making her body and bringing her back to him, he still didn't trust that handsy scientist. When G lifted her by the waist onto the table, Fell growled warningly.

G scoffed, checking her to make sure nothing was wrong. "I have my own wife to toy with. Why would I play with yours?" Fell looked ready to brawl, standing up suddenly. His little girl looked up at him and frowned. "Daddy, it's fine! He's just making sure she's okay. She was pretty tired getting into her new body."

He grunted and plopped down, waiting for G to finish with his wife. AT Aliza watched them but for a moment, before turning her attention to her parents. She smiled, unable to help but find them adorable.

Sans would probably never let Frisk go.

"And done," G said, helping her off the table. "I cannot believe I have to repeat myself, they just had to hold off," he grumbled, rubbing his jaw. 'Couples,' G thought. He then said, "Please remember that her body is fragile. Thankfully, there won't be any 'roughhousing'," only the parents caught that meaning, "But still. If her skin starts acting weird, come to me. Be careful bathing their bodies, even if I went through the long process of waterproofing them. If her soul acts up, if anything strange happens, come to me right away."

"you got it doc," Sans said, locking bony fingers with his daughter and mother. Fell simply nodded, holding his daughter while Frisk clung to his free arm.

G stared at them before waving them off. "Get out of my sight already, I've wasted enough time on you!"

"gee, someone lost their funny bone," Sans joked. Both Frisks laughed while Fell found it difficult not to. G looked about ready to explode, only relaxing once they got out of his house, good riddance.

He needed days worth of rest after this ridiculousness.

-----

Papyrus was relaxed, finally, laying in bed as he thought of the events that took place in the past few days.

Seeing Chara at his doorstep almost broke him. He couldn't believe his niece managed to bring her back.

Oh he knew from the beginning was G was planning, he wasn't that slick. But it was still shocking. He didn't let her go all day.

He worried for his Sans, however. Once seeing Frisk, he seemed to have broke a little more just as he was sewed back together with hope and love. Frisk cried and didn't let the fragile skeleton go all day.

Papyrus worried that he would dust from the shock. But he didn't, and Paps couldn't be more grateful for the strange scientist. He'd noticed that Rus and Aliza seemed satisfied somehow, he wondered if they had taken part in his project.

Nonetheless, he was simply content to see things calm down a little.

He heard news of his counterpart opening up just a little from his balled up state. Poor guy, he thought. But maybe things will get a little better.

He wasn't expecting a happy ending for any of them, nor was he expecting this paradise to last forever. But for now, Papyrus just wanted to enjoy his lover in his arms while he had her.

Chara looked up at him sleepily and asked, "Are you alright?" He grinned. "now that i have you, i think i will be." She grinned, wrapping her arms around the skeleton.

Neither knew how much time they had together. Hell, everyone but Grim didn't know if the souls would cling and stick to their bodies.

But for now, all they could have was hope and determination that for now, the daughters will have their mothers.

And the skeletons will have their wives.

-----

@mercy-monster

Next one is the last one 0^0

Characters and AUs belong to @axetale and Toby Fox

#axetale living dead #living dead au #Axetale #axefell going home #Axefell #going home au #axeswap #Papyrus #Sans #axe???#G #axeg!sans #Aliza #Frisk #Grim

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mysticalcrusadementality · 7 years

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Scars Along My Heart (A Frisk, Gaster and Sans Love Triangle)

Damn… That was faster than I thought; I actually didn’t expect anyone to give this post any mind. But the people have spoken so… On with the show!

Also since Tumblr won’t let me italicize or bold texts anymore this key will help you keep track of who is saying/thinking what.

Frisk: (F)

The voice (better know as Chara): (V)

Gaster: (G)

Anything without “” is the characters thoughts

Anything inside {} is said in sign language

~}{~

Frisk waved good-bye to Undyne as she dashed away, most likely heading back to Snowdin while Alphys and Papyrus trained. She chuckled at the thought; if she was honest it seemed like a pretty good fit to have the proud skeleton be her mentor. Being around someone so upbeat and hopeful even in the face of adversity was just the thing for such a shy little introvert like the royal scientist. The content smile on her face soon fell away though as she turned to face the road ahead, dread oozing and spilling over her soul like toxic sludge at the thought of facing Asgore. Again. Mechanically her feet brought her forward, each step dragging across the damp ground as the apprehension seemed to physically weigh her down the closer she got to the castle. It wasn’t even facing off against the king that made her feel this way, it was facing HIM and she’d have to be a real moron to think he wouldn’t have something else planned for her after she’d finished this little side quest he’d sent her on. God just thinking about going through all of that a second time made her feel exhausted. Physically, mentally, spiritually… Exhausted. Unconsciously her arms rose up to wrap themselves around her torso, her grip on her forearms tight as she hugged herself to have even the smallest form of comfort. Even if it was only from herself… (V) You know it doesn’t have to be this way. It whispered in the same way a snake would try to entice its next victim. (F) Oh god not you again. She thought back with a groan. (V) Oh you better believe it doll face. It giggled mockingly. The voice was back, the same voice that had been following her since the beginning of her journey in this strange subterranean world. At first the human hadn’t thought much of it, after all if she had landed in a hole inhabited by anthropomorphic goats with fire magic, little voices in her head that occasionally gave helpful advice was probably the most normal thing to happen in this particular situation. It was weird, but it was nice to have some company. That is until their suggestions started to take on a, darker tone. After exiting the Ruins and making their way to the inviting warmth that was Snowdin Town, the young woman had encountered several formidable enemies. Those battles had been difficult, testing her endurance and ability to think on her feet. More than once had her impatience and recklessness caused her to meet her end, it was only her strange ability to turn back the clock that allowed her to be where she was now. Each time it happened it felt like waking up from a bad dream, an experience she hated no matter how many times it happened. Despite this the girl still tried to end these battles peacefully, Toriel had showed her the kindness they were capable of and in turn she wished to return it and show monsters that she was not here to hurt them. Her companion on the other hand had seen things differently, growing more and more frustrated with each defeat. Insisting that taking a more aggressive approach was the best course of action and that a hardy swing of the toy knife she’d picked up would have been enough to scare her opponents away, or better yet getting rid of them altogether. It was then the human decided that she didn’t like this voice anymore. The monsters had hurt her yes, but unlike Flowey they were never malicious. They’d talked about taking her soul to the king and how it was the last one they needed to finally be free. At the time Frisk hadn’t fully understood what that meant, but she was smart enough to conclude that the monsters were being “trapped” by something and they believed that she had what they needed to escape. They weren’t evil, just desperate. And that was enough to solidify her decision to keep showing them kindness, she couldn’t truly die anyway so she might as well put this “gift” to good use and see if she could help. At that the voice grew distant and cold, leaving her to fend for herself until she ended up in another taxing battle that had her struggling to stay alive. When this happened they always sounded delighted, as if they enjoyed her pain while they tried to persuade her into indulging in some “well deserved payback” as they put it. But she refused. She was not a killer and they did not deserve to die for wanting to be free. Reading the prophecy in Waterfall the first time had left her with a number of emotions to shift through; anger at the humans of the past for their actions came the quickest. Sadness soon followed at the realization of what they had done to monster kind set in and last was a peculiar happiness that she had followed her instincts and continued to spare those that tried to fight her. (F) What do you want? As if I didn’t know already. Rolling her eyes at her luck. (V) Oh, someone’s feeling snarky at the moment. The monsters giving you trouble? Are you finally beginning to see things my way? It honestly disgusted Frisk to notice how they didn’t even try to hide that sick, sadistic glee in their words. (F) Fat-chance Casper, now piss off! She shouted back. The sparks of anger igniting the fire in her soul and prompted her to release the hold on her upper arms, now swinging them as her stride grew longer, faster and with purpose. (V) Come now gumdrop you know as well as I do that this goody two-shoes act has only gotten you killed a dozen times over and steady migraine. If I were in charge we would have been at Asgore’s doorstep a long time ago. (F) Well then it’s a good thing your not then isn’t it? The human hissed back. (V) Such an idiotic, pathetic little thing you are. Too weak and stupid to comprehend that— Okay now that got the young woman’s attention, this pain in the ass poltergeist never passed up the opportunity to insult her and they never cut themselves off in the middle of one either. Halting her advance Frisk scoped out the immediate area, whatever had the voice on edge she needed to keep an eye out for it. At the moment the girl found herself in a deserted hallway, seeing nothing other than the same deep blue stone that made up this portion of the Underground. (F) Okay either the threat is invisible or this is your new way of fucking with me, she told them as she continued to search. (V) Get out of here. NOW. The demand was loud, reverberating in her mind and disorienting her to the point where she almost lost her footing. Shouting in pain she clutched at her head, screwing her eyes shut before taking a few deep breaths to help ride out the intense throbbing between her eyes. “I don’t understand what are you so…” Frisk trailed off. With her eyelids open just a crack she could see something shimmering on the on wall to her left. “What is—” (V) STAY AWAY FROM THAT! They screamed at her. “FUCKING HELL! Again!” The sheer force enough this time that she indeed fell to her knees in front of the shimmer. “Quit doing that!” Blood racing through her veins she waited until her pulse was calm before she rose to her feet. Blinking she looked for the shimmer, but was surprised to see that it had vanished. “What? But it was just here” gasped Frisk. (V) Well it’s not here any more. Let’s go. (F) I don’t think so. Narrowing her gaze in defiance the young woman scanned the wall for the telltale glimmer from before. (V) No I forbid it! The voice practically growled with anger. (F) Yeah well you can take your forbid and shove it up your—there! Quickly Frisk rushed forward to where she saw the shift in the light, keeping both eyes squinted to insure that the thing she now recognized as a grey door remain in her sights. (V) YOU IDIOT I SWEAR IF YOU OPEN THAT DOOR I’LL TEAR APART YOUR MIND UNTIL YOU DON’T HAVE EVEN A SHRED OF SANITY LEFT! This was practically a banshee’s screech within the confines of Frisk’s mind, one that should have left her a crumpled mess on the dirt floor had her determination to see what was in this new room not been so high. Whatever was in there scared no, terrified the voice and that meant one of two things. It was either an object, maybe an ally that could possibly help her get rid of them or it was a horrible monstrosity that would kill her and be able to make the death a permanent one. There was no way of knowing what the outcome would be, but anything was better then going on as she was. So with as much determination as she could the human grabbed the knob and twisted it open before propelling herself forward. She stumbled, nearly falling to the ground again but was able to catch herself at the last second. She prepared for the onslaught of the voice’s tirade but in the back of her head she could only hear a faint buzzing each time they tried to speak. (F) Okay not sure what this place is, but I like it already, she mused taking in the light grey walls of the short hall she was in that lead to an equally small grey room. Then she spotted something strange, at the center of the grey room was a large mound of what could only be described as ink. And it was moving. (F) Who or what is that? The buzzing grew louder but she ignored it in favor of slowly making her way to the black mass, she stopped two feet away from it in case it decided to get violent and in a gentle voice she called to it. “Hey, excuse me who are you?” The black mass seemed to jump, not expecting someone to speak to it. As swiftly as its liquid form could manage it turned to face the human, revealing a white skull-like face that was cracked in two places. The first extended from its left eye to the corner of its open mouth, while the other stretch upwards from its half closed right eye to the back of its head. When it saw her Frisk could have sworn it let out a strangled gasp as it stared at her in shocked. Then the strangest of sounds like the kind a computer would make came tumbling out of its mouth, while two boney hands moved in tune with the sounds. “I’m sorry I don’t understand,” she told him sadly. Frantically they moved their hands faster, the noises they were making almost desperate as they tried to get her to understand. “I’m sorry, I really am but I can’t understand what you’re saying.” It was heartbreaking to see their face fall at her confession; they looked so hopeless and miserable. They stopped making the noises yet their hands continued to move, though now at a slower, more easy to follow pace. “Weird it’s almost like you’re… speaking in hands,” her realization ending in a whisper as she stared at the mysterious monster’s perpetually moving fingers. Let’s see if I still remember how to do this. Kneeling down before them Frisk slowly began to sign out letters. (F) {Hello my name is Frisk. Who are you?} When the monster caught sight of her message they froze, even their busy hands stilling at their surprise. After what felt like an eternity they responded in a similar fashion. (G) {Hello Frisk my name is Wing Dings Gaster.} The buzzing was getting worse now but that didn’t matter, they could communicate, she could talk to Gaster! Now she just had to find out what he was doing here. Giving him a warm smile she continued with her questions. (F) {Can you tell me what this place is? I’ve never seen it before.} (G) {It is part of a place known only as the void. A sort of parallel dimension that shadows this world.} (F) Well damn this is some real life science fiction now. The shock must have shown on her as Gaster’s cracked mouth rose into an amused smile. (F) {How did you get here?} And just like that the smile slipped away to be replaced by a troubled frown. (G) {A lab experiment gone wrong, it brought me here with no way to escape.} (F) {What about the door? Can’t you just go through?} (G) {Even if I did I no longer fully exist in their world. No one can see or hear me. Except you.} (F) {Is there anything I—} Frisk didn’t get to finish that question as the horrible buzzing struck her again, only this time she could hear the voice. (V) I WARNED YOU. The human screamed in pain, grabbing her head as wave after wave of agony came crashing down upon her. Somewhere among the torrent of suffering she registered the feeling of hands carefully clasping her shoulders. Forcing her hazel orbs to open she looked into the dark sockets of Gaster, his white pupils flying over her features as he tried to find what was causing her such distress. In numb awe she watched as he called her soul forward, the typically bright red heart now dim as another heart, this one tattered and as black as tar attempted to snuff out her lights. At the sight Gaster seemed to go through a thousand different emotions at once until his features settled into a look she knew all too well. The look of determination. Nodding to himself the strange goopy skeleton man summoned his own soul, the brilliance of the inverted heart shining proudly in its dull surroundings. Then without warning he sent it forward, crashing into Frisk like two colliding atoms and the room erupted into a blinding white light.

This literally took me all half of yesterday and all of today to finish. Also despite being a frans shipper and the nature of this situation I’m gunna put who Frisk actually ends up with up to you guys. I kinda wanna see if you guys will pick Gatser or not and I can maybe treat this like a reverse effect when people write soriel but still have Frisk wanting to be with him. I love Sans but some times that mother fucker needs a taste of his own medicine >:D Let me know what you guys think.

#I just can't help myself can I?#writing prompt #beta test #undertale #frisk #gaster #sans #love triangle #frans #could also be Frisk x Gaster #since there aren't much out there #fusion

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royalapps-blog1 · 8 years

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princess hours,

about the mun !

name/alias, pronouns, and timezone: pika, she/her, est

other charas: n/a

reservation password: rocky

character profile !

faceclaim: moon bin (moonbin), member of astro

character name: cho hyung-gyu

birthdate/age: 01/26/1999 (18)

position: hyun family; bodyguard (royal court)

positive/negative traits:

(+) resourceful, phlegmatic, pensive

(-) sardonic, brusque, lukewarm

subplots: hayang academy; member

biography !

tw; (mentioned) domestic abuse / alcoholicism, slight violence / blood, profanity

| one

no one knows who the child on the doorstep is, nor where they came from.

he is rather young - only a few years older than a toddler - but his eyes betray someone far, far older; they are dulled by decades of years and jaded by a loss that has trailed behind him since birth. a frail creature, he was. a delicate little thing that lay, curled up, on the doorstep, drenched with the sky’s tears and so fragile, so light, that it looked like it would fly away with the wind if it blew hard enough.

he takes only short, quiet breaths to keep the bruises on his body from letting the earth swallow him whole and sink him six feet under, his voice having fled from his broken soul. (even now he still does, because even when they’re long gone and faded, he knows that in his dreams they never will be.)

it only takes a single glance for the housekeeper to whisk him away, with his broken wings and equally broken ribs, into the mansion once they open the door. there is no thought as to what would happen and where he would go after this, but nevertheless, he spends the rest of his pained sleep with the hurt covered in bandages and treated with a foreign, loving touch that brings his own tears into reality.

| two

no one knows why the child refuses to speak, nor why they seem so set on pushing themselves to the brink of starvation.

he is small and bony, with limbs that are uncomfortably lanky due to lack of use and tangled, matted hair - a stray cat. he sinks in the new set of clothing he has been given to wear in the place of his original rags, and takes only three spoonfuls of anything he eats, no matter how warm and enticing it may look.

the little boy is a stubborn soul. he sits on the bed and hugs his legs to his chest while tilting his head towards the open window, watching as the clouds enshroud the world in a cold darkness without fail. he answers only in soft, fragmented phrases that do little to explain his origin and current existence; in fact, he seems to know almost little to nothing about himself - his age, his birthday, hell, even his own parents are but lost memories.

the only question he can seem to answer is responded to with a muted, gentle, “cho hyung-gyu”.

the servants later meet to discuss in hushed whispers how the head of the household had issued that the boy, hyung-gyu’s, origins would be traced, yet for all the advanced machinery and technology they possessed, none of them could seem to find any matching record or any parents in the area looking for their lost children.

not knowing what to do with him, yet not wanting to send him to an orphanage where he might suffer from the same cruel hands that had almost brought him death, they did the next thing that came to mind.

(little did they know, he had simply happened to catch a name on one of the many crumpled business cards within the alcohol-stained pockets of his father’s coat. he doesn’t remember what his original title had been, but it was all right. he had hated it, anyways.)

| three

for as long as he could remember, hyung-gyu was raised being held at a distance, albeit with care and something that he could swear was pretty damn close to love.

he is nurtured in the hyun household as a moody and tight-lipped outsider, as something akin to a charity case - the royal family is applauded as benevolent and charitable for taking in a poor, tortured infant with no family and relations rather than letting them die out in the unforgiving outside world. the fact that he had been morphed into nothing but a pretty puppet meant to be shown off in the eyes of the media eats away at the male like a parasite, breeding and placing a bitter view of the world over his eyes, and for the first time in his short life, he wishes to be something.

the desire to be considered of worth hangs over his childhood thickly, and he spends his days slowly asphyxiated by his own expectations.

| four

hyung-gyu first breaks on a humid day in the summer, in an elementary school teeming with uppity, spoiled rich kids.

he had stuck out like a sore thumb - he was not of royal blood, or of any kind of substantial blood, really. he was, in their eyes, a normal child, an alien. so perhaps it was not too farfetched for him to find himself in the principal’s office with a broken-nosed student and a pair of angry guardians.

how dare this [filthy, low class] boy hurt their precious son? he hears those words, and resists the temptation to roll his eyes and land himself in an extra day of detention.

he nurses his slightly sore knuckles, and recalls the other male’s snide expression and filthy mouth, and as he mutters out a bland, clearly unapologetic apology, the boy admits to himself that he didn’t regret his actions, not one bit. the feeling of ramming your fist against a complete and utter simpleton’s face was quite satisfying, and in all honesty, they had it coming.

strangely enough, he does not hear of the incident again, only being given a few days of suspension, when he probably should have been expelled, considering that he touched much more than a hair of - to put it figuratively - living money. (now that he thought about it, he suspects that there had been a few negotiations made on part of the family.)

at home, he is pulled aside and chastised thoroughly before being given a chance to provide his motives. the only answer he gives is a single sentence:

“they were shit talking the family.”

| five

there is an unspoken strength that flows through his veins and thrives at his very core, an elegance that gives his feet something almost like flight, and in them he regrows a few feathers. hyung-gyu is far from the scrawny, pathetic little boy he was years ago, and never does he plan to return to that sorry state.

he is independent now; he lives in his own apartment a ways away from the hyun household, but the thread that ties him to what he almost dares to call his own family is just as strong if not sturdier. it is time for him to repay them, now, and he willingly dedicates himself to a life revolving around other lives, for although he was trusted, he would never quite be one of them.

he still speaks and treads on the earth lightly, however, for he has yet to prove himself.

but oh, is he growing ever closer.

extra !

link to open ask box

link to open submission box

link to muse’s bio page

anything else: thank you for taking the time to read my application! i will try my best to be an actively contributing member to the community!

#hyun #m #submission

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