#quick transmigration

[clairewritesfanfics]

Villain Creation System Chapter 1

Pairing/s: Invincible x Reader x Invincible Variants

Synopsis:

You died. Literally. The process itself was nothing special. The interesting part is what happened after. Instead of the abyss or paradise, a mysterious voice strikes up a deal with you in front of your fresh corpse.

[I am the Villain Creation System, if you want a second chance at life, then you must corrupt the souls of various Mark Graysons across the multiverse.] “Do I have a choice?” [Of course! Agree to our terms, or spend the rest of eternity alone and conscious of your own nonexistence, unable to move on to the next life and barred from what your ilk calls Heaven.] [ ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ] “...okay, sold.” [Yay!]

You successfully destroyed the lives of different versions of Mark Grayson, but when it's time to claim your prize, something goes wrong and you are stuck in this godforsaken timeline. What's worse was that they have found you.

"Come with me and we will rule the universe together." "Be my wife and bear my children. No harm will ever come to you." "After you died, no one could compare to you, not even your own corpse."

You: (•_•)

Trigger Warnings: you are literally dead, death in general, dark humor (e.g. necrophilia jokes), innuendos, mild swearing, mentions of violence and bodily harm, toxic relationships, the Marks are their own warning

The problem began when you died. 

You didn’t save a kid from a speeding truck or get murdered, no, you died just as you lived: in a remarkably boring, somewhat embarrassing fashion. You fell down the stairs.

In your defence, you just finished a brutal exam and your Red Bull:Coffee cocktail could only do so much for a brain running on 2 hours of sleep. Your eyelids were barely holding on. You didn’t see the “wet floor” sign, slipped and cracked your head on the bottom steps of the stairs. 

On the bright side, you didn’t have to study anymore. On the other hand, you were young, barely half a century old, you had a bucket list that reached the triple digits but you only got to cross out five things. You didn’t get your dream job. You didn’t even purchase your own house yet, never painted and decorated it the way you wanted. You haven’t said your goodbyes. You haven’t experienced love, real, actual, can’t-live-without love.

It wasn’t fair. You always knew that life was unfair, but it was only when you died did it really hit you. You wanted so much more. 

You stared at your corpse, with its elbows and knees twisting into awkward positions, growing colder and stiffer by the second. 

Life wasn’t fair, you knew this. But it wasn’t until you saw yourself at the bottom of the stairs did you realize that life was a bitch. 

Now, there was only one question left. Where do I go from here?

You weren’t an exceptionally good person, but you really hoped you weren't going to end up in Hell. 

Before you could fear for your eternal soul, a disembodied voice, as robotic as it was sweet, greeted you with all the cheer of a kindergarten teacher: [Congratulations on your death! You are the first person to be chosen by the Villain Creation System!]

“...”

[I can tell from that dumbfounded expression that you are confused. Please, let this system explain. Open up your ear holes because I will not repeat myself!]

The thing cleared its throat and a light screen hovered over your dead body, displaying a series of stick figure illustrations.

[As your ancestors have found out, most souls are moved to limbo after death, where they are judged.]

The stick figure in this ridiculous powerpoint presentation died, had its soul enter what seemed to be a judicial court, and was presented with two doors. 

[Depending on the verdict, the soul may reincarnate as another human or a different species, or if they’ve fulfilled all the requirements, they can enter Paradise.] 

A third door appeared between the existing two.

[In special cases, one soul out of 300 trillion is chosen to bind with systems such as I. You already know, but let me reintroduce myself, I am Villain Creation System No. 00001. You see, many fictional worlds are very much real and alive in their own pocket universes. It is a system’s job to ensure a safe and steady existence, preventing the collapse of each dimension.]

The third door moved towards you and you found yourself floating in what resembled the vacuum of space, surrounded by infinite light projections of the Milky Way. 

[Unlike your reality, these special worlds live closely to the void, because its creators–its writers tend to be finite creatures, mere mortals cosplaying as gods.]

One by one, each galaxy turned to dust and you were back at the bottom of the stairs, standing right next to your dead body.

“I think I’ve read about this before…” When you used to have a lot of free time, you would binge read Chinese web novels about protagonists who jumped from world to world, completing tasks and granting wishes, whether it be getting back at cheating husbands or avenging dead relatives. 

“I have several questions.”

[It would be odd if you didn’t.]

This thing sure could talk. “Why me?”

[You mortals truly do love that question.] The thing sighed, as though it was shaking its head at you that very moment. [There’s nothing special about you, if that’s what you’re thinking. We rolled a hypothetical die and got you.]

“ Okay.” Ow. It wasn’t like you believed in life having inherent meaning, but to be outright told by a supernatural creature that you weren’t special still stung.

You pushed the feelings of hurt aside and asked, “Why do you exist? What’s the point?”

[What a boring question. If I told you that “it is fate,” will that be enough? If I say that it is “merely for a petty god’s entertainment,” will you be satisfied? Please don’t bother yourself with such questions, you will only end up hurting your own head.]

“I feel like I’m being insulted.”

[Surely, you’re imagining it.]

You inhaled, more out of habit than anything else because your lungs were decorative now. You calmed yourself. You’d rather not piss off a mysterious entity that seemed happy with your death and had souls dancing at the palm of its nonexistent hands. “All right. What do I have to do?”

[It’s just as my name suggests, you will be sent to different so-called fictional worlds to help create the villains, after all, what’s a story without a great villain? That is a rhetorical question, by the way.]

“You make it sound so simple.” Creating villains, huh. You have watched enough cartoons, read enough books to know that there would be a lot of pain involved. 

[Ding. Allow me to add: your efforts will not go unrewarded; should you complete your tasks, the Almighty One will grant you a redo in your life. If you do everything perfectly, THEY might even give you special privileges.]

“Such as?”

[In addition to your rebirth, you could freely modify your appearance to your liking, or you may ask for knowledge unparalleled in your generation.]

You glanced down at your feet. The blood from your broken skull pooled around you as you weighed your options.

“Do I have a choice?”

[Of course! Agree to our terms, or spend the rest of eternity alone and conscious of your own nonexistence, unable to move on to the next life and barred from what your ilk calls Heaven.] 

[  ˶ˆᗜˆ˵  ]

“...okay, sold.”

[Yay!]

A second chance at life. 

Divine boons, to boot.

It sounded way too good to be true. If anything, rather than speaking with an agent of God (or God’s equivalent) you felt like you were about to shake hands with the Devil.

You totally should have known better. 

The whole thing was fishy from beginning to end, but what else was there to do? Pray?

***

[Mark Grayson of Alternative Universe No. 444 has achieved 100% Darkening. A villain is born.]

[Congratulations on another successful corruption, Host!]

This version of Mark pulled you into his arms. Those who hurt you have become meat paste on the ground around him. 

He touched your cheek, begged you to stay with tears falling like rain on your lashes. It was too late. Often, he was too late. 

“Please,” he cried, holding your face. “Please come back to me.”

You couldn’t even if you wanted to. The system pulled on your soul like the tide returning to the sea. 

[Initiating extraction … ]

[Prepare for a meeting with the Main System. We will calculate your grade and remaining reward points then.]

Finally… You could go back home. You already knew what you were going to ask first, a memory wipe before your second chance. You used your reward points early on and bought a “system cheat” to help alleviate the guilt of everything you’ve done, along with something to diminish the weight of certain emotions, but these cheat codes couldn’t be transferred to your world, the real world.

[ERROR. ERROR.]

Pain shot through every nerve and cut through every vein of your soul. This has never happened before. You writhed in the void until–

Your eyes shot open.

You gasped and sat up. Your heart hammered in your chest and you struggled to regulate your breathing. 

You looked around you. A bedroom. Your bedroom. One of its many variations. 

“What’s going on?!” You demanded from your system. 

You were done. You had just finished your last mission, the final Mark Grayson had been converted, and the system promised that it would send you to speak with its boss and its boss’ boss. You were finally going to get your second chance, free yourself from this damned multiverse. 

However, when you opened your eyes after the extraction process, you could instantly tell that something was wrong.

For one thing, you have awoken in this same bedroom in at least three other parallel dimensions. The posters and pictures on the walls might’ve changed and the bed was next to the window instead of the door, but you knew that this was your room in the many worlds of Invincible.

You yelled at the air and in your mind, “Zero-One? Zero-One, where the hell are you? Hey!” 

No answer.

You fell forward and screamed into your mattress.

You should have prayed. 

Chapter 2: Coming soon

Author's note: As someone who still hasn't finished two other works about world-hopping, I feel a bit ashamed (it's been over three years T.T) but YOU CANNOT STOP ME. Anyway, I shouldn't be doing this, but the hyperfixation gods have their claws deep in my shoulders and I can't study without publishing at least the first chapter. For those who have read my Origin series for the Mark Variants, you may or may not think of this as its direct sequel. I got a crappy memory so continuation would be hard to keep up with. But if you have any questions, feel free to message me. For those who read by my Obey Me fanfic, yeah, this system and the Secondary Character Grievance Delivery System are basically co-workers, lol.

[elaemae]

Me reading a qt novel in wattpad: *Peacefully absorbing the plot*

Random commenter: *Calls the MC selfish for bullying the ML even though she's just trying to follow the plot and die at her destined time to go back to her real mother.*

Me:😊💢

Also random commenter: *Criticizes the MC for mourning and feeling bad for the ML's bullies even though she actually got closer to them over the years because she's pretending to be one of the villains.*

Me: Let's see you mingle and be friendly to people for years just to be a bystander as they die or get exiled!😊😊😊 Even if those bullies were bad people, its human nature to unconsciously open their hearts to people who were amicable and nice to them for years even if its wrong!! MC wasn't defending them, trying to save them, or making excuses for their actions, she's mourning for them!

Also-also random commenters: *Cursing and getting angry at MC for not respecting the mom of her original body even though said mom had a mother and daughter sold to a brothel because of a piece of bread that they stole because the mom abuses the servants and doesn't feed them.*

Me: Right. Sure. FINE. Mc is wrong for not being a righteous robot.

Guess she should fight against her fate with all her might and save everyone and everything with the power of sunshines and rainbows.

[phoenixtakaramono]

Knight Commander Homelander vs Dragon Butcher

from The Name of the Game

(BONUS ART OF HALF-DRAGON BILLY BELOW)

[devildom-dedicated-daydreams]

An Unlikely Backer (Mammon x Reader) Chapter 4

Previous Chapter: Today I'm a Cute French Maid

Full arc title: The Unfavored Daughter Chooses an Unlikely Backer (link to arc masterlist here)

Chapter title: The Best Things in Life are Free, the Second Best Things…

Word count: 1.6K

Pairing: Mammon x FMC, Mammon x F!Reader

MAMMON

The duchy was falling apart. The mines had been stripped of every piece of gold and diamond they could offer and Mammon was now feeding his people from his own pocket. Sure the royal family would give a hefty award for winning the war but he had hundreds of people living in the dukedom, he had a lot of mouths to feed and he needed a separate award for the men who accompanied him to battle. The royal sum won’t last them long.

“You keep sighing.” It was his former nanny and current head maid, Everleigh. She brought him a pot of tea. He really didn’t like tea, but it wasn’t like they could afford wine or hot chocolate anymore. He technically could, but then what would the people eat?

“Leigh, what should I do? I suck at writing letters.” He had crumpled at least a dozen pieces of paper trying to find a way to ask for a loan from Viscount Leopold. 

“Take a break, Your Grace, you haven’t rested since you arrived yesterday.”

Unable to resist temptation, he snuck out for a drink at Ammencera Promenade without his men to clear his head. But of course, they caught him.

With another sigh, he gave up. “I think I will take a break.”

Leigh grinned before bowing and living his study.

He finished every drop of the warm tea before retiring to his bedroom.

The next morning he woke up earlier than the break of dawn, slipped into plain-looking trousers and the dirty white shirt he wore when he sparred with the knights, and escaped back to Ammencera Promenade. Everleigh didn’t like him going there, not because it was the so-called “land of the peasants,” but because she didn’t want him getting caught and ostracized even more by the other nobles.

He didn’t care what the other nobles thought about him though.

He passed by several decrepit buildings and a bunch of construction workers and glassware makers laughing.

“They look awfully cheery for men who are awake this early in the morning,” Mammon said as he met with Richard, the elderly toymaker he met with last night before getting his drink. 

“I hear business is booming.”

“Huh.” Mammon shrugged. “Ya got what I asked?”

Richard chuckled. “Ten dolls and ten soldiers, just like you commissioned.”

Mammon beamed and gave him his payment before taking the sack of toys from his old friend. “Thanks, Richard. I may need to come back again so do your best to stay alive.”

“Ha! Never gets old.”

Mammon hurried to the orphanage, where Winnet stood holding her own sack. “Finally! I thought I was going to freeze to death.”

“Why didn’t you wait inside?”

“I was worried you’d get lost with all this fresh snow.”

“I’m not that stupid.”

“I really doubt it.”

“Where are the wonder twins?”

“At home, exhausted.” Minette grinned. “They had a rush order and they found their new ‘muse.’”

“Really?” That was a first. 

“Well, come on, the kids are waiting.”

***

YOU

You were in the library when Lyrra informed you that your purchases have been delivered to the estate. 

“Send them to my room.” Without looking away from your book, you tossed her a coin, which she shakingly caught with both hands. 

“Yes, milady!”

“And be sure to call me when lunch is prepared.”

“Of course.”

The system watched the maid skip away with glee before dinging. [Won’t the family be mad about the giant hole you left in their pocket?]

You chuckled. “I’m counting on it.”

Lo and behold, your father was fuming when he caught you walking into the dining hall for lunch.

You ignored his and your stepmother’s glares as you made your way to your seat. No one spoke a word while the servants brought the meal. No one moved even when the last plate was set down.

Shrugging to yourself, you picked up your spoon to try the soup–the head of the house coughed loudly, an act that even a young child of any nobleman would deem inappropriate and rude.

You didn’t flinch, of course, in fact, you haven’t acknowledged his presence since you entered. The man has ignored this body 90 percent of the time. 

Smiling tenderly, you proceeded to eat first.

That set him off. “You dare eat!”

You set down the spoon and dabbed your chin with your napkin before making eye contact. He was a sour-looking man, with graying hair and a nasty set of distracting yellowing teeth. 

You offered a small but loose. "It is lunch time, is it not? You all seemed unwilling to eat so I went ahead and took the first bite to show you that the food isn't poisoned."

Your father turned pink so his loving wife stepped in, grinning forcefully at you. "I hear you went out shopping."

Your sisters lit up at the mention of the merchandise delivered at the door. 

"I saw everything. I didn't even recognize any of the branding," commented Deneve. 

“So many things and yet so little taste,” added Alma. “That reminds me you’re wearing an interesting ensemble today, sister.”

“Yes, the redness of your lips is so lovely. You look worthy enough to be married to Marquess Whitlock.”

Marquess Whitlock was an old man notorious for sleeping around with the so-called ladies of the night.

The two girls burst into a fit of muffled giggling, content with their wittiness.

“Now, girls, be nice to your sister. It’s your job to guide her during times like this.” Your stepmother was definitely smirking behind that veneer of pity and sympathy she showed you.

You merely hummed. “I don’t blame you for not noticing the brand names, after all, the Queen was the one who suggested them. She also complimented the glow of my face when I visited her the other day.”

The girls froze and a silence befell the room. To insult the Queen’s taste, the opinion of anybody from the royal family, was a major faux pas akin to social suicide. There was an old legend about a king from long ago who went to war and came home with a woman with origins unknown. Not much was known about her aside from her love of flowers. During a tea party, one of the guests innocently inquired why she wore a floral dress, as the pattern was commonly associated with little girls. The king cut the person’s tongue and florals bombarded the market for years.

Even if the majority found it over-the-top, no one would ever talk badly about how you previously donned the violet of the royal family or how your former fiance insisted on wearing flashy suits. (Not where it could be heard, anyway.)

“Nonetheless, even you have spent way more than necessary,” your father said. 

Before you could open your mouth, your stepbrother, Bardrich, defended you, “Father, Alma and Deneve have spent more on fur coats and hats this season, I’m sure a few more won’t be too bad.”

You narrowed your eyes but quickly smiled at him. 

Bardrich wasn’t horrible to look at. In fact, he was one of the female lead’s many admirers who made several appearances in the webcomic. They first met with her in a tree and she yelled at him for saying it was unladylike. He ate up the “not like other girls” act like grapes. 

However, your body had no memories of this man outside of being just one of the members of your distant family, so it was a big shock for him to defend you like this.

“I beg your pardon, my lord, my ladyship.” The butler arrived holding a silver tray with a single letter.

You knew exactly what it was–

“It’s a royal invitation to the celebratory ball.”

The mood in the dining hall lightened instantly as everyone discussed what to wear and who to expect.

You quietly finished your lunch before excusing yourself to your room, leaving the family to their own. 

[My Host, your ability to lie while smiling sweetly continues to impress me. Now please explain just what you’re going to do when everyone arrives at the ball and sees that Queen is wearing the same unflattering makeup!]

“No need to yell.” You picked up the boxes that didn’t have the Winfred’s logo. You unwrapped a wooden box freshly varnished and beautifully inlaid with rose flowers. You then went to find the other boxes that didn’t contain clothes or accessories. After finding the different glass vials, you opened the Witches’ Cauldron Chem Set and made a facial cleanser kit, then you made a hypoallergenic powder, a blush, and a lipstick, each one contained in ornate, professionally carved glass and metal containers. You had to thank Winnet for introducing you to such talented craftsmen.

You then wrote her a letter which included the usual greetings and polite chitchat in addition to your instructions: “Please avoid using your usual makeup during these three weeks as they will interfere with the treatment. If you must paint your face, please use the ones I have included in the box.”

When everybody was asleep, you rang for Lyrra. You handed her a delicately wrapped box and the sealed letter. 

You slipped her a pouch of gold coins. “This must be sent ASAP, and no one else but you and the delivery man is to know about it, understand?”

She nodded, arms heavy with your gifts to Her Majesty and her salary.

“Oh, and before you go.” You threw her something. “Consider this a reward for your good job.”

Lyrra drooled at the diamond bracelet between her fingertips. “I’ll continue to serve you faithfully!”

“I’m sure you will.”

[lizhly-writes]

no wait wait WAIT I’ve finally figured out how a quick transmigration might WORK if i wrote it.

have you ever just, SUPER not wanted to do something? those chores are so boring! that university thesis is a slog! do I really want to make small talk at this baby shower where everyone hates me? how do i handle this interview? how do i go through this divorce? how do I break into this museum? how do i kill a man? oh shit, how do I hide the bodies?

not to worry, the 'hero of another story system' is here for you! you might not know how to do and handle all of these things, but someone out there sure does! there's someone right for YOUR situation in this system! for the low low price of don't worry about it* you can get a skilled** professional working in your body to do the things YOU don't want to do!

who are these professionals! i'm glad you've asked! they come from the world all over -- and the multiverse all over, at that! yes, that's right, we can get you a university graduate from Galaxy A trained to fight the Zerg rush or a talented cultivator assassin or the last man standing in a zombie apocalypse! the choice is yours, and you have two free trial credits to purchase the contract*** you like!

* customers can trade in soul pieces (speak to your personal system for market price) or contract credits.

** we believe that every person has value! some of this value may be higher than others! skills of available contractors on the marketplace may vary!

*** trial customers limited to two (2) C grade contracts or two (2) B grade contracts. for more details, please ask your personal system today!

[vodkassassin]

Quick transmigration original story (agent 22) for WIP Wednesday!

@mad-madam-m oooh I’m so glad you’re interested!

—

Alesseo sets his glass down on the table with such a careful hand that it barely makes a sound. He chooses to stare at the clear liquid inside of it, and the vibrations that carry across the surface of that with every small noise of the room, instead of at the other people at the table.

Though, he can feel their stares on him.

He thinks it was a blessing, in fact, that the original Alesseo’s family was not close to him. That they did not care too much for him to interact overly much. Less interaction means they don’t know him as well as they might even pretend to.

As long as he remains politely distant, it won’t be too difficult to build himself a road of points toward resolving one of the original’s major Regrets.

“You’ll be going back to the university, then?” One of the brothers, the second eldest brother, Dantevius, suddenly asks.

Alesseo blinks and raises his gaze up from the cup. He considers the older man for a moment before dipping his head in a simple nod.

“Yes.” He replies.

“It’s too soon.” Mother immediately intercedes. There is a severe expression on her face that makes her look years older than she actually is. “You just got home from the hospital! You need more time to rest and recover.”

“The exams are coming up soon, so I need to prepare.”

“Mm.” Liera’s lips press even thinner, but she has no way to refute that.

After all, it’s not as if the university will reschedule the annual exams just for one student.

No matter what noble family he hails from.

“Recently, I’ve some investigations that bring me around the university sometimes.” Dantevius continues the conversations amiably, a pleasant expression on his face. Although, he also looks somewhat imploring. “I could…”

There’s a brief moment of silence. Glances are exchanged between family members, but none of them quite look at Alesseo. The youngest looks rather awkward, even.

Dantevius coughs to clear his throat. “I was wondering if it wouldn’t be too rude of me to, ah, stop by?”

Alesseo looks at him, confused.

“And… visit?” Dantevius isn’t looking at him. His gaze is a mask of politeness aimed toward the far wall.

Beside him, the eldest son is looking a little bit annoyed now.

“A few times?”

Alesseo isn’t sure how to respond?

“Ahem. Once?”

“Oh.” Alesseo coughs into his fist, eyes returning to his drink. “I don’t think there’s a rule against that.”

There’s another beat of awkward silence. He glances up. Dantevius is staring at him with a rather intense gaze, sharper at the corners than usual.

Oh! It makes sense, actually.

If Dantevius, who is a rather well-known officer of the knights order’s investigation unit, shows up at the university, it would draw a lot of attention. Too much attention would make trying to investigate whatever case he is on that has to do with the university rather difficult.

However…

If Dantevius, who is an older brother of one of the students of the university, dropped by casually to see his younger sibling for a family visit, then it was much more likely he’d be left alone out of politeness. Which would give him easier access to the university, and thus make the investigation go much smoother.

Alesseo nods decisively. Yes, there definitely is a reason that Dantevius Ardizzone was an up-and-coming super star of the Knights Order investigative unit. It wasn’t just because of his looks, he was actually very smart.

“I’m sorry for not inviting you before now.” He says. “I wasn’t aware that you would want to come. But, I wouldn’t mind if you visited, big brother. Whenever you want.”

Assured that he’s made the correct decision, Alesseo mentally pats himself on the back and finally digs into his meal.

He’s too busy eating to notice the contemplative frown that has made its way onto Dantevius’ face.

[bafflinghaze]

在狗血文里做老师[快穿]

作者：岩城太瘦生

Becoming a Teacher in Dog-Blood Novels

Zhu Qingchen, who tragically passed away at 20 and was posthumously named “Prince’s Tutor,” was chosen by the system as a “good teacher” to complete various tasks—each in a different dog-blooded novel. Zhu Qingchen: Is the “Prince’s Tutor” title just for show? System: No way! Absolutely not! In the ancient world, the protagonist was a brilliant scholar who studied hard for ten years, only to be taken advantage of by a scumbag the night before his imperial exam. The next day, sick with a fever, he collapsed before the emperor and was exiled to the frontier for a decade. Afterward, the scumbag tried to rope him into rebellion, eventually making himself emperor and trapping the scholar in the palace as his queen. Zhu Qingchen: Wait, what? Waking up with a “whoosh”, Zhu sharpened his knife all night at the door, ready to protect his top scholar. [No one messes with my star student!] In the modern world, the protagonist ranked last in his class for three years but turned it around to place first right before the college entrance exam. However, the scumbag ripped up his admission ticket the night before, causing him to miss the exam. He finally entered the New Western School, where he was humiliated by the scumbag’s arrogant boss during a school celebration. Zhu Qingchen: What the hell? Zhu “swooshed” on his little electric donkey, escorting the protagonist to the exam hall. I testify! This is my student; let him go in to take the exam first, and then come out to make up his identity certificate! [He doesn’t need an admission ticket; he can take the exam first and worry about paperwork later!] In the ABO world, the protagonist was a beta with average abilities, but his grades were good enough for the best university in the empire. The scumbag concealed his scores, locked him in a room, and prevented him from attending university, turning him into a canary and forcing him to bear three children. He even made him wear women’s clothing to an imperial banquet, where the protagonist’s identity was exposed, humiliating him in front of the imperial marshal. Zhu Qingchen: Excuse me, what?! He broke into the room with a “swoosh”, rescuing the protagonist from the nightmare. To make matters even better, the imperial leaders intervened and took action. The imposing imperial marshal announced in front of the cameras, “Anyone who dares to steal talent from the empire is an enemy of the world.” Zhu Qingchen, who was on standby, showed a brilliant smile with eight big white teeth and gave a thumbs-up. “Well said!”

Raws: https://www.jjwxc.net/onebook.php?novelid=7828564

Translation: https://www.novelupdates.com/series/becoming-a-teacher-in-dog-blood-novels/ (in progress)

Shou MC: Zhu Qingchen | Gong ML: Li Yue

Setting: Base setting - ancient China, quick transmigration to ancient China, modern settings, and interstellar settings.

The MC is here to help protagonists kick away scum gongs!

The MC transmigrates into different abusive-romance novels, and becomes the teacher of the OG protagonist shous. With the MC's guidance, the OG protagonists get smarter, stronger, and avoid various pits, and generally become awesome/reach their full potential (e.g. in the imperial examination).

The MC's system is actually super cute here, doing things like using its screen to fan the MC 🤣🤣🤣

As for the ML....he's such a romantic for the MC. His assistance and generally clinginess becomes a lot more blatant as the worlds progress, very sweet.

I recommend this novel to those who want to see scum gongs put in jail 😆

[atlasreading]

Book #1: I Really Am a Slag Shou! Book Review

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"I Really Am a Slag Shou!" by 你的荣光

Rating: ★★★★☆

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Spoiler-Free Review:

I was satisfied by the ending, the main couple, and even the side couple, but it didn’t give me as much excitement as I wished it did. There are some features and moments that are weird, and the book didn’t make me feel hollow when I finished it—like how my 5 star-rated books do.

If you are looking for more romance than serious world-buildt fantasy and love having many different couple tropes, than I recommend it!

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Full Review + My Extended Thoughts:

This part of the review is NOT spoiler free.

"I Really Am a Slag Shou" is about a 20-year-old boy named Chi Zhao, who was killed by a falling flower pot (when I found that out, I admit I did laugh). He was then given a chance to resurrect himself by the Slag Shou System, who told him that if he filled in the role as a "slag shou" (the "bottom" in a gay relationship that is a "slag" or someone who is not a good partner/person) and successfully earned 100 points from a collection of fictional worlds, Chi Zhao would be revived and sent home. Chi Zhao agrees, but he realizes that every protagonist seems to be quite odd.

After reading this, I have to say that Chi Zhao and the ML, Fu Yihe are made for each other. They are both equally crazy for one another, so much so that they would rather hurt themselves or others in order to save the other. Also, they've been together for hundreds of years and have even raised a kid. Truly a cute couple.

I loved the system. He was annoying but also so cute. In one of the extras, we are given a hint of a love triangle between him, the main system, and a rice cooker (No, I am not joking). I kind of wish the system had his own book!

There were some parts that were weird/taboo, which irked me a bit. I'd prefer not to get into it, but it includes weird power dynamics in a few of the fictional worlds.

There was no smut. I personally don't care about that fact, but some of you might do so I included it here.

I liked the end, and I believe it tied off the book quite well. In all of the fictional worlds, Chi Zhao and Fu Fihe end up together, and they all have happy endings. The first world's ending could be debated since Chi Zhao committed suicide when Fu Fihe died of old age.

All in all, it's not a completely serious novel, so if you enjoy more romance than intense lore and world-building in a quick transmigration novel, than I would recommend this novel to you!

----------------------------------------

Remember that this review is my personal opinion, and if you would rate this book higher or lower than I did, it is valid!

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[danmeinovels]

1. 恶毒妖怪只想种田[快穿]

Vicious Monster Loves Farming [Quick Transmigration]

Title: 恶毒妖怪只田[快穿]

JJ ID: 4872796

Author: 择兰

CP: Jiang Lin (S) x Zong Yu (G)

SJ: Yes. Mingjie. Previous life default biased to clear.

Tofu: None

CF: There are CF who like MC & ML, but they are rejected.

Others:

• Slow burn, way less romance.

• ML is more of a background board.

[lindoesntwin]

BE JEALOUS

A woman transmigrates into different worlds where she faces conniving women and tricky men and has to complete tasks set by a system and the completion of these tasks gives her points which she can spend in the system shop to help her in her tasks or she could save up to go back to her world.

Other titles: My Boyfriend Is the Jealous Type; Quick Transmigration: The Yandere Male Lead Is Jealous Again

[outofcontextwebnovels]

iconic ning shu moment

(quick transmigration cannon fodder's record of counterattacks)

[forkdragon]

I’m sick and spent all day sleeping with little breaks of awareness in between and I kept having dreams where I was the male lead CEO in a trashy romance novel that was trying to escape the plotline

[arytha]

me shaking this author and asking for something coherent PLEASE i've read too many chapters (195 out of 308) to give up on this now but im DYING for something more interesting than your tell but not show writing and asinine timeskips and weird scene jumps

[phoenixtakaramono]

The Name of the Game - Ch 1 AO3 Publish Date Announcement

Since Gen V is airing on 9/29, this is a notice that chapter 1 of my 135ch QT will be posted to AO3 anytime after between 9/30-10/1. I'm currently editing the last action scene of TNotG ch1 but we're looking at approximately between 60+ to 70+ pages for the prologue itself.

Keep a lookout for it in the "Billy Butcher/The Homelander | John" tag! \(￣︶￣*\)) I'll also post here on tumblr and tweet a reminder of the official date and time before posting!

*EDIT (10/1/23): It’s up! The AO3 link is up above in the title.

[imageartifacts]

CANONICALLY SWITCHY PROTAGONIST SIGHTED!!!

[endlessapples]

Summer's Paradise | 1 The Warmth

xia yizhou | caleb x reader

synopsis:

Waking up in a different world where you have to pretend you have amnesia to get by is one thing. Waking up in a different world where you're married to a complete stranger and have to pretend you have amnesia is another. Yet, this stranger seems to know you well. Too well. And with everything this world seems to be hiding from you, he's the only one you can bring yourself to trust. But when distrust wedges itself between you and your newfound connection with this stranger-turned-husband, you begin to doubt if you can ever find a way to leave this world and return back to yours.

tags: eventual smut, amnesia, eventual forced imprisonment, transmigration, yandere!caleb, dark!caleb, domestic fluff (weirdly enough), manipulation, themes of forceful confinement, slight angst, married!au

word count: 5.1k

chapter 1 the warmth | chapter 2 the smoke

When you wake up in the hospital, blearing white light fills up your vision. And when it clears, your gaze settles on a stranger sleeping on your small cot.

He’s entirely too big for the room. You can see that from the uncomfortable position he’s in, on his knees and bent over so that he can keep his head propped up on your bed. His hat, black to match the uniform he’s in and broad-capped, rests next to his feet.

And then you look down and realize that he’s clutching your hand tightly in his. Even though he’s asleep, you notice almost aimlessly that his grip is so tight that you’re almost certain blood isn’t even properly flowing to your fingers anymore. You try to wiggle your fingers. Yup, an hour more and you’d probably lose that hand.

He twitches. And then he jolts up, almost knocking his head against yours. His eyes are shockingly purple—the shade of the night sky of the last sunset of summer, right after the sun dips below the horizon.

Your mouth gapes open in shock, and you almost fall back. His reflexes are quick—before your head even dips down, he’s already caught you by your waist and settled you back down on the bed. Gently. Cautiously.

“Whoa there, Pipsqueak!” he laughs. And then concern flashes through his eyes, and his hands have reached up to cup your cheeks. His touch is slightly warm. His voice softens all of a sudden. “How are you feeling?”

You flush under his intense scrutiny. He’s really a handsome man. Pause, you mentally smack yourself, this man is a stranger and he’s in your hospital room!

Wait, why are you in a hospital room?

You remember your desk at your apartment. You had been running off of no sleep and pushing towards an all-nighter, scanning through papers and spreadsheets desperately to meet your project’s deadline. And you remember setting an alarm for a 20-minute nap. And then you fell asleep...and now you were in the hospital?

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, finally finding your voice. You crane your neck to try to move out of his grip. “Um, who are you?”

He pauses. He looks hurt, concerned, sad, and weirdly enough, almost numb to your words. He withdraws his hands from your face.

“I’m Caleb.” A smile strains onto his face, almost like it was rehearsed and repeated, at the blank expression on your face. “Xia Yizhou.”

Caleb. Xia. The characters ring with familiarity in your head for a second. And then the feeling is gone.

“I’m—,” you begin to say, but before you’ve even finished saying your name, it’s already fallen off his lips.

Weird. How did he know your name? Alarm bells are ringing in your head all of a sudden. Just because he’s a good-looking guy doesn’t mean you should be okay with him being all up in your personal space. After all, he could be a killer or a weirdo. A good-looking one at that. And you’re his next bed-bound victim.

Your gaze falls down, and you begin to notice the band-aids wrapped tightly around you. One peek down the collar of your hospital pajamas has you noticing that even your chest is wrapped with white gauze. Even underneath your sleeve, you can see the band-aids. And your palms, on closer look, there’s a scab over your healing scrapes.

“Did I get hit by a car or something?” you muttered to yourself.

The stranger—Caleb, you correct yourself in your mind—shakes his head fiercely. “You got attacked by wanderers. When you were with me. I...” He stops speaking and drops his head.

Wanderers?

You stare at him even more blankly. And then your hands fly to your mouth. Your voice comes out in a hush, as your eyes dart around anxiously: “Is this like a zombie apocalypse or something? Are they surrounding the hospital right now? Are we going to die?”

A laugh of disbelief leaves his mouth before he can stop it. And then he stops, his head raising up and his eyes squinting in confusion, and then he looks even more concerned. Were there actually zombies? At that rate, you should’ve just been left for dead. Or Undead.

“Wanderers. They’re monsters that roam around after coming to earth, and you are a hunter...,” he pauses, “were a hunter who hunted them down.”

You feel relief dawning on you for a second at the fact that zombies aren’t part of this new weird reality you had awakened yourself to and then horror dawns on you when you realize that perhaps, these wanderer monsters perhaps aren’t any better to deal with. Especially when it seems like it is...or it was your job to deal with them.

“Like, with weapons?” you whisper, in shock. He nods. You are sure the only weapon you ever wielded was pepper spray walking home at night from overtime. Hell, you often had to ask your neighbor to help you bring up the heavier packages from the mailroom to your place.

But true to his words, you can feel that you are stronger, more muscular and toned, despite being what looks like hospitalized and severely injured.

Okay, so everything is seeming much less than a caffeine-induced nightmare and more like a twisted version of your normal reality.

“So I’m not a...hunter anymore?” you speak carefully.

He stares at you, in silence. He looks like he was contemplating a hard decision. And then he shakes his head.

“No, not anymore.”

Sure, you are certain that this version of you on the outside is still very much capable of swinging some heavy sword. But the you on the inside is someone who finds public-speaking during your meetings terrifying. Much less having the courage that it takes to slay monsters.

But you still tentatively ask. “Why?”

His eyes crinkle all of a sudden. His left hand reaches out, and he fondly strokes the top of your head. You don’t find it repulsive or jarring. His touch is...familiar.

“You tell me, Pipsqueak. After all, you decided to quit after we got recently married.”

Married? You blubber at his response. Your index finger reaches out to point at him, and then back at you, and then back at him.

And then your vision goes black.

🍏🍎

When you wake up, you are hopeful that what will meet your gaze would be the black screen of your overworked laptop and a drool-covered notepad with smudged ink. But instead, you can hear hushed whispers speaking with each other.

“Amnesia...Might be long-term...Recovery unknown...”

You peek an eye open. Damn, you are still in the hospital room.

Caleb somehow immediately senses that you had awakened, and in a flash, he’s by your side with the doctor—an aging man with a couple of gray hairs in his otherwise black hair—next to him. He reaches out and pats your cheek lightly, drawing your attention up to his face.

“Look, Pipsqueak, the doctor said that I can bring you home starting next week. It looks like most of your injuries are close to being fully recovered and being home will be good for your psychological well-being and might help you remember anything.” He flashes a confident smile.

The doctor beside him nods before adding. “These cases are rare, and we don’t know if there’s a cure, but taking some time to rest more will help stabilize your body and your mind. We’ll release you once it looks like you can fly, and I can refer you to a neurologist for support.”

Caleb’s smile temporarily strains before it relaxes. You feel like it was a trick of your eyes with how subtle and quick it is. He speaks, not to you but to the doctor. “But no pressure, right? She’ll need to take it slow and then we’ll reach out to one in Skyhaven once she’s all adjusted.”

His gaze slides down to you. “Right, Pipsqueak?”

Well, until you return to your normal reality, it seems like you are stuck here. And Caleb knows you—hell, he’s married to this version of you. And the doctor doesn’t seem to question your relationship either.

You nod. Or try your best to with the stiff muscles in your neck.

It looks like you’ll just have to enjoy being married to a hot guy while you still can. Not that that will be hard. But it seems like everything else in this world will be difficult to deal with...

🍏🍎

You can’t sleep well that night in the hospital. It’s almost funny—it looks like the you of this universe has caught up with her sleep debt from her coma. Instead, you lay on your back on your bed.

Your gaze falls onto the table next to the bed. You spot a phone. Your phone.

Caleb had dropped it off by your side before he had left. “Fully charged,” he had grinned down at you. It seems like you had a phone addiction even here. He looked like he didn’t want to leave, really, but you had squinted at him earlier as he had begun to slide a chair to your bedside and gone: “Have you even changed your clothes since you’ve come here? Slept in a proper bed?” He had shamelessly averted his gaze.

You had shaken your head at him in an almost maternal disappointment and crossed your arms in front of you, grimacing. “Okay, from your uniform, it looks like you’re financially secure. Get a hotel room for the night. Take a shower. Get a change of clothes. And sleep not on the floor with my already small bed as a pillow but on an actual bed with actual pillows and an actual blanket. I don’t want even the idea of a whiff of stinky man near me for the rest of the night.”

He had looked like a kicked puppy then, and you swore you could see drooping ears and a tail on him. And even more so when he had left. He had lingered by the door, staring back at you with pitiful eyes. You had a feeling you would have given in if you looked at him any longer, so instead, you turned so your back was facing him. “Go!” you spoke fiercely. And then your voice softened. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

“I’ll see you in the morning? Good night then, Pipsqueak.” He whispered, gently. And then the door closed.

Hours later, you are still awake, and your phone is taunting you from the bedside table. It looks like an exact carbon copy of your phone back in your universe. It has a cute phone case with little apple designs and an attached wallet where you had tucked in the cards you needed.

You turn it on, and it recognizes your face, letting you in. The search engines look different to the ones in your Universe, but with some exploration, you are able to take yourself to what resembles closest to the search engine you usually used.

You pause before typing in.

Wanderer.

Images of wanderers pop up, and a wiki page categorizing their types is the first link. You squint. Okay, they are scary. And dangerous. But weirdly enough, less scary than the zombies in the tv shows you sometimes watch.

You then try another search.

Hunter.

You see a link to the official Hunters Association page show up. You click on it, and the page opens up to a simple emblem. There’s a description that you quickly read, and then you close out of the page. Next, news articles about the heroic deeds of hunters pop up and you read through them.

A woman in a gray uniform pops up. Jenna, is her name. She looks familiar. Really familiar. Is she your former boss? And then you scroll down even more and even more before stopping when a title popped up out at you, dating three years back.

Meet this year’s newest hunter admits.

You see a picture of you in the crowd. It is you, but it feels different somehow. This you, dressed in what you had identified as the hunter uniform, smiles at the camera with a confident ease. She feels almost alien, even though she wears the same skin as you. Or you’re wearing the same skin as her. You immediately exit the page.

You try one more search.

Waking up in another world with a husband you don’t even know about meaning?

Nothing relevant pops up. Except for some transmigration novels recommendations you spot. Glad to know those exist here too.

 You turn off your phone in defeat and roll onto your side. Staring outside at the sliver of the night sky that your blinds don’t fully cover, you let out a sigh and close your eyes. Maybe when you wake up next, you won’t even need to worry about wanderers and hunters and broad-shouldered men in uniform with puppy-like purple eyes who look at you in ways you can’t really decipher.

🍏🍎

Caleb doesn’t leave your side for the entire week, even though you’re certain from his uniform that he’s definitely in a higher-up position in one of the however many government organizations existing here—Farspace Fleet, you confirm when you eavesdrop on him during one of the many  times he’s in the hallway grumbling on the phone with someone.

It’s almost abnormally normal how much ease you feel letting this random stranger into your life. He knows you—or this version of you—well. Every detail, from the temperature you like in your room to the type of shows that you’d like to watch on the tv to your food dislikes and likes.

When you try to discreetly pick out the veggies you don’t like for a dish, he catches you and insists you finish them. “Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean you can avoid them. You won’t get all better without them.”

When you pretend not to hear him, he lets out a long sigh and plucks the spoon out of your own hand. “Ahh,” he hums.

You puff out your cheeks, annoyed all of a sudden. “I’m not two-years-old, Caleb. I’ll eat my veggies by myself." When you try to yank the utensil back, he leans back just out of reach.

“Uh-uh,” he tsks, poking at your cheek with a playful smile on his face, “I know what you’ll do. You’ll eat them and then try to spit them out into the napkin when I’m not noticing. Now open up.”

Yikes, how did he know?

Unfortunately for you, Caleb’s grip on the spoon is much stronger than yours, and unless you want to rely on your hands to eat your food, which seems like a bigger pain for the butt, you’ll have to settle on this approach. So you reluctantly oblige. But you notice with a pointed look the small pile of cilantro he has nudged aside on his own plate. He pretends to ignore your look and pokes the spoon to your lips.

Vegetable force-feeder aside, honestly, having Caleb around is almost like having a built-in helper robot, one that is attuned to your every need. Except instead of wires and cold metal, he’s made of hot flesh.

When you go on walks outside, he’s right behind you, watching carefully as if to make sure you won’t fall. He’s a hoverer, that’s for sure.

When you narrow your eyes at him and ask him “Do you even have enough PTO to be lurking around me like this”, he always pretends like he can’t answer the question and shamelessly changes it to a different topic.

The week passes by in a flash, with Caleb showing up the moment the sun rises and leaving back for his hotel late at night. And before you know it, you’ve become used to him. Almost too used to him.

🍏🍎

Caleb shows up early at 7am, even though he had told you the previous night that he’d be here at 8am to pick you up. You had insisted last night that he go home early—9pm sharp, in fact, instead of the usual midnight. He still looks like he hasn’t had enough sleep, and now that you’re less frazzled by your current reality, you can spot the dark circles clearly brimming underneath his eyes. Still, you mentally wolf-whistle, he’s gorgeous.

He’s back in his uniform. And before he comes near you, he tries to subtly sniff himself. Obviously, your comment about stinky men still rings loud and clear in his mind. You feel a bit sorry for him. He didn’t even stink when you had brought it up. In fact, he smelled good still. Annoyingly good.

But here you are, his supposed wife who’s not really his wife but is actually another soul who temporarily slipped into his wife’s body. But you try to assure yourself that hygiene really is the most important thing every human should prioritize.

 “Did you sleep well?” you ask. He peers up at you through his lashes, pitifully, as he helps peel the blanket off of your legs and assists you to your feet before pulling a set of clothes out of his bag. He looks like a kicked dog, and you feel a little bad at how you’ve been pushing him around.

“How can I? I’m used to you being at my side every night. And last night you didn’t even let me stay to my usual hour,” he shrugs. He unfolds the set. It’s a plain baggy t-shirt and some loose pants. When he reaches out as if he’s about to reach for the buttons of your shirt, he hesitates and drops his hands.

“You should get changed.” He takes a few steps back, until his back hits the wall of the room.

You squint at him. “Aren’t you turning your back?”

His face flushes red and then he swiftly turns around. You can see that his ears have turned a bright red. Cute. You laugh to yourself.

But he really is big. There’s not much space, and you have to keep your arms from swinging into him as you take off your pajamas and pull on the change of clothes as swiftly as possible. It’s quiet, the only sound the rustling of your clothes.

When you’re done, you poke your finger into his back. “I’m done.”

He flinches, like he’s been jolted by your touch. He turns around, and you can see that his cheeks are rosy. In the past week you’ve been with him, he hasn’t been this flustered. But maybe it’s because you’ve been in your usual baggy hospital pajamas set and messed up greasy hair. Now, you look refreshed and energized. Like a civilian instead of a sick patient.

Still, as his flush fades and he reaches to adjust the crumpled collar of your shirt, you think to yourself that it’s odd that he looks pretty comfortable touching you but not with the other way around.

You take a step back and almost wobble. It looks like despite all your perceived muscle, laying in a coma for a week without any movement has really weakened you. And your adventures out into the hospital courtyard don’t seem to be serving you that much justice in the physical movement department.

“Whoa!” you gasp out. In a flash, Caleb has swept you up onto his arm so that you’re comfortably nestled in his hold above the ground. He effortlessly holds your bag of items in the other. Unconsciously, you had reached out and wrapped your arms around his shoulders in a panic at your shift in gravity. And by the time you stabilize yourself, he’s already out of the room and in the hallway.

“You know...you’re pretty reliable and everything but uh, next time, give me a heads up?” you see the shocked expressions of the people in the hallway, including a nurse you had become familiar with in the past week, and bury your burning face into his shoulders. You knock your fist against his shoulder when he doesn’t respond, and he just laughs.

“Got it, Captain,” you can almost hear the cheeky grin in his voice, and you whack him again with your fist. But to him, it probably just feels like something barely grazing against him with the way he continues without care.

He eventually sets you down when you make it to the station. Caleb catches your look of confusion, and he provides the name. “Coelum Express. It’s not a long trip.” He then stares at your band-aids peeking out underneath your sleeves. His face twists into a frown. “I’d fly us in if I could, but security’s been tighter because of the frequency of Wanderer attacks lately. If anything starts hurting, let me know.”

You don’t like worrying him. In fact, you never liked worrying anyone. Back in your other world, when you had been sick and about to pass out, it was only your neighbor that took care of you because he had spotted you half-conscious in the stairwell. Other than that, you even refused to let your family know that you weren’t feeling well.

You wonder if a version of him exists here. He had moved in a few years back and rarely spoke to anyone. And he always wore a black mask. You couldn’t really remember if you had ever seen his face, oddly enough, but if he resembled anyone, it would have to be the big puppy of a man next to you.

You realize that Caleb is still looking at you. You shake your head free from your thoughts. “I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

“Really,” you nudge him. “I’m a grown adult. I can handle myself. And what, it’s only a few hours?”

He reaches out and ruffles your hair. You try to duck and bat away his hands, and when you focus back on him, you can see that the smile on his face is almost rueful. “Even when you forget all about me, you don’t seem to forget that you don’t need me.”

You don’t like how bitter he looks. Something takes over you, and you run a tentative hand across his chest. Your fingers bump the silver chain around his neck—dog tags, with a small apple charm. When U Come Back. Those words sound familiar in your head again. But like with everything else about this world, the moment you try to grab onto it, it’s already dissolved.

“Caleb, I need you,” you whisper before you can stop yourself.

You won’t tell him that you’re a stranger possessing the body of his wife, that the person you are in your other world is someone entirely different from the person he knows here. But it’s true. He’s the only one you know in this unfamiliar world. And you need him.

He’s staring at you in that way again. Like he’s trying to read your mind, while helplessly offering to you something you might want to read from his mind. Vulnerable, in a trance where you’re the person leading him into it and you’re also the only person who can lead him out of it.

And you know he’s seeing someone else through you.

Silver glints in your field of vision again, and you step back. You offer him an awkward smile, averting your gaze. “Come on, let’s not miss the train.”

🍏🍎

The train ride is, as Caleb says, quick. Clouds pass by you in a flash, and you stay with your face pressed up against the glass in aware. The world here, as familiar as it is in some ways, is much more high-tech than yours in other ways. Caleb doesn’t say much to you during the ride. He sits there, watching you.

Before long, the two of you are back at his place. Our place, you correct in your mind. This is the home of Caleb and the version of you that he’s married to.

It’s cozy and decorated exactly to your taste. You can see some peeks of Caleb through it—the airplane diagrams on the wall, the models neatly organized on the black shelves, and some large books with bugs on the front. Everything else though feels familiar and comfortable to you. Like Caleb, this place is catered to your every liking and taste.

He’s setting your bags down behind you as you begin to roam around. You peruse through the framed pictures set around. There’s a picture of you in a pretty white dress smiling at the camera at him. And another of the two of you with your fingers up in peace signs at the camera. You move on from the frames.

“Are you hungry? I can make something for lunch.” He throws the comment at you as you’re burying your head in the pile of throw pillows on the sofa. You peek up at him and nod your head eagerly.

He’s about to leave into the kitchen when you glance at your finger. Your ring finger.

“Hey, Caleb,” you call out. He stops in his tracks. “We’re married right? Where’s my ring?”

You’ve seen the ring on his finger. It’s a silver band with a small airplane embedded on it. And it made sense that the hospital probably took the ring off of your finger after the incident. But Caleb hadn’t even made a mention of it.

You can’t see his face when he responds, his back turned to you. “It’s getting repaired at the shop. It got damaged during the wanderer attack. It’ll be back, good as new.”

You open your mouth, about to ask something else, when the phone in his pocket beeps. Before you can say anything, he’s already turned to give you an apologetic smile as he picks up the phone and heads off into the kitchen.

When he comes out, he’s already heading to a different room. You watch him with curious eyes as he comes out, his hat in his hand.

“Shoot, it’s something urgent at the Fleet.” He walks over to you and reaches down to pat your head. “I’ll order some food to the door, and I’ll be back tonight. If you need me, call me. My number’s in your phone.”

And then he’s gone.

With Caleb away from your side during the day instead of the night, you’re once again left with your thoughts. Here you are, married, in the home of newlyweds, when the you of your world has only had your job to worry about and a practically nonexistent love life to shoo away from your mind.

You flop to your other side, grimacing a bit at the impact. You’re still bruised.

You can hear the faint ticking of a clock, but other than that, there’s nothing to stimulate your mind here. In your boredom, exhaustion creeps up on you and you fall asleep.

Your sleep is restless. You hear a loud screech echo in your ears, your feet are covered in mud as you sprint in the darkness, and you can feel the ground shaking underneath you as something behind you scrambles to catch up to you.

You’re getting tired. You know that you won’t be able to run any further before it catches up to you. And then you’re falling. Tree branches scratch at your body as you sink deeper. And then you’re in a room, confined to a chair.

Someone’s watching you. You can’t see them, but you can hear their soft breathing. You call out, demanding: “Who’s there?”

Footsteps sound in front of you. Your head whips up, and a loud gasp falls from your lips.

“Caleb?”

You jolt awake, your heart racing. A quick glance to the window next to the sofa shows that the sky is already getting dim.

The house is still silent. Caleb’s not back yet.

It isn’t until this realization that you can relax. And you feel guilt prod at you because of it.

Because this is Caleb. Familiar Caleb. Caleb who’s supposed to be your husband and has taken care of your entire need during your recovery. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. You shake your head and get to your feet.

As you’re about to head to the front door to check on the delivery food you’re certain has already grown cold, you decide to change direction and head towards the bedrooms. It’s not until you’re in the hallway that you spot something small glinting on the floor, right in front of the large wall in the hallway.

It’s a ring. Almost identical to Caleb’s ring except it’s daintier and shaped in a way that it would fit comfortably on yours. Odd, didn’t Caleb say that this was supposed to be at the repair shop? You look closer at it, trying to figure it out even more underneath the dimming light of the setting sun.

And then you notice the faint copper on the silver.

It’s blood.

You glance up at the large wall. You reach out, just about to press your hand firmly against it, when you hear the front door open and a voice ring out.

“Where are you, Pipsqueak? You didn’t eat the delivery food?”

You quickly scoop up the ring and hide it in the pocket of your pants. Getting up, you wander back out into the living room.

Caleb’s back. He looks tired, but when he spots you, relief washes over his expression. And then his expression turns slightly cold. “What have you been doing until now?”

You can feel the weight of the ring in your pocket. But you try to forget about it, not when Caleb seems to have a sixth sense in detecting your lies, and you seem to not have that same sixth sense for detecting his lies. Even now, you can’t tell if he’s hiding something from you. You don’t like to think that he is. After all, he’s the only one you have here that you can trust.

“I fell asleep on the couch, and when I woke up just now, I tried to find the bathroom.” You shrug. “And I got lost.”

He relaxes a little. “It’s in our bedroom. The first door in the hallway. Since you didn’t eat anything today and I didn’t either, I’ll make something. It’s not good to eat delivery food left out after all.”

You nod, almost mindlessly. When you turn to find your way to the bathroom, because really you did have to go use it, you don’t even notice that he’s still standing there, his eyes not leaving you.

A/N: it's been a while since I've written fanfic for any fandom, so I hope it isn't too rusty!! Let me know your thoughts/theories about what's going on with Caleb and why you're in this new world (where's the other you/).

You can also find this published on AO3 as well under my user applesanonymous :) but both shouldddd be published at the same time!