shin hoseok | love is a fleeting feeling. it’d be nice if that thought was mutual. | 2.9k words. | just pure angst. | based off “how can I say?” by day6 and “honestly” by monsta x. sequel: today, i smile.
Now that we’re back to Caretaker’s main timeline I thought about how Asriel got his infamous scar. I think almost everyone (including me) believes that it was caused by one of the fallen humans, but I haven’t seen that many people speculate about why a human might have attacked Asriel in the first place. The easy answer would be that the human was just incredibly violent and/or was frightened by Asriel and lashed out, but then I started thinking… could there be a reason for a human to attack Asriel that has little to do with the latter just being violent?
Well, turns out that there is: we know from the game that a human soul alone isn’t enough to cross the barrier; it takes a human absorbing a monster soul or vice versa to cross. Now, in canon, this knowledge came from Alphys, who has spent the better part of her role as a royal scientist studying soul power, but we know from Caretaker’s second interlude that Gaster did the same here. Maybe one of the previous humans learned this information and in an attempt to get back to the surface (and possibly also get away from Chara) tried to take Asriel’s soul. And Asriel would be the easiest candidate, since as a Boss Monster he has a soul strong enough to last some time after death, plus he probably spends more time away from his home than Asgore and Toriel seem to do, leaving him the most likely Boss Monster to run into a desperate human.
TL; DR, Asriel may have been attacked for his soul and that’s why he has a scar. Maybe it’s a bit too early to start thinking about this, but it’s been in my mind for a while so might as well get it out now :P
Hope you'll take up my request :D with RFA + Saeran + V's reaction when they swapped soul with MC (you know like Saeyoung swapping soul with MC and vice versa) for 24 hours. Thank you!!
Okay so I had a lot of fun with this request, it’s super creative! These were originally long, like wayyy too long so I cut them down a bit so let me know if they sound too choppy! Anyways, thank you for the awesome request and I hope that you enjoy!! ^^
Yoosung stretched his arms one morning as he was waking up, feeling slightly unusual
He shrugged and went to get out of bed until he felt something heavy on his chest
Yoosung shrieked as he saw a pair of breasts where his flat chest should of been and as he looked over the bed next to you, he saw, well himself
Being awoken by shaking, you rubbed your eyes to see yourself looking panicked but that didn’t make any sense, how were you looking at yourself like this?
“WE’VE SOMEHOW SWITCHED BODIES MC!!!” Yoosung yelled into your (well his) face as he started to hyperventilate
“Calm down Yoosung! We’ll figure this out together okay?” You tried reassuring your crazed boyfriend
“But I have an English exam today! How am I suppose to take it if I look like you?!” Yoosung resumed his panicking
You explained to him that you were good at English when you were in school so you’d take the exam for him
Since he didn’t have much of a choice, Yoosung agreed as he waited anxiously for you to return from his classes
Trying to distract himself, Yoosung stared down at your chest, wondering what breasts felt like and gave them a squeeze
“YOOSUNG KIM STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!” You screamed at him when you walked through the door, telling him that you finished his exam
Since it was late, the two of you decided to get some sleep and figure out a solution tomorrow
And when it came, you and Yoosung were back in your own bodies, both of you more then relieved to be back to your true forms as you both hugged each other
Although Yoosung would miss having boobies
Zen woke up one morning feeling a little different but shrugged it off as nerves for his opening night for his latest musical
But just as Zen was about to run his fingers through his long silver locks, he noticed that his hair felt different
Panicked, Zen turned to you sleeping in bed expect he saw himself instead
“This is a dream, this is just a dream. Calm down it’s just opening night nerves.” Zen tried to ease himself
But when you woke up, the two of you screamed, somehow your bodies had been switched
“What are we going to do MC?! Opening night is tonight and I can’t perform if I’m not me!” Zen cried out as his anxiety skyrocketed
“Listen it’s okay Zen, just teach me what I need to know. I know that I can sing since I have your voice. We can do this!” You encouraged your boyfriend
So you and Zen had a hardcore acting training session where Zen, in your body, taught you how to be him plus the lines for the musical
Thanks to your determination, opening night was a success as Zen cheered loudly for you
Opting to sleep the night away, you and Zen woke up the next day back in your own bodies as Zen hugged himself saying how much he missed his perfect body
One morning Jaehee got out of bed not feeling like herself and looked down to see a completely different cup size plus you pajamas on her
Jaehee quickly turned to your sleeping figure expect she wasn’t looking at you, she was looking at herself
“MC get up right now! I’m you and you’re me!” Jaehee yelled as she shook the shoulders of her own body
You woke up to find yourself staring at you, unable to find words to process what was going on
“Our bodies have been switched somehow MC! And I have to go to work, Mr. Han would never let me take a day off! What are we going to do?!”
You grabbed the shoulders of your body and told Jaehee to calm down
“It alright Jaehee, we’ll figure this out somehow but until then, I’ll go to work as you okay?”
As much as Jaehee wanted to argue with you she knew that this was the only way so on the drive there Jaehee explained what you needed to do
Although you almost failed a number of times, you managed to make it through the day as Jaehee without anyone noticing
You came home to a cup of coffee and Jaehee thanking you for going to work as her
With the both of you beat, you thought you’d figure things out tomorrow except you were both back to normal by morning
Jaehee gave you a hug saying how relieved she was while you told yourself to remind Jaehee more often how awesome of a worker she is
Jumin woke up one morning instantly knowing that something was off
He was about to put one of his hands to rub his temples when he saw that his arms were shorter and his chest was bigger
Jumin’s eyes widened slightly as he looked down to see himself sleeping, he had somehow turned into you
“MC, get up right now. Something urgent has happened plus the way your laying is causing drool to get all over my satin pajamas.”
You woke up to see yourself staring at you, with wide eyes you started patting down to find that you were somehow put inside of Jumin’s body
“This isn’t good MC. I have a meeting today with multiple investors that I need to attend but I can’t since I’m you. What a mess we’re in.”
You saw yourself looking worried so you put a hand on your own body’s shoulder and reassured Jumin
“I can go to the meeting as you Jumin, just tell me what to do and I’ll make sure to impress the investors!”
So with Jumin’s training you managed to impress the investors and gain all of their support
The two of you were still confused but decided to go to bed and figure things out the next day but when you both woke up, everything was back to normal
You and Jumin were both relived with Jumin thanking you and taking the next week off from work to recover from all of this
Seven had woken up one morning, feeling more groggy and tired then usual
He reached over to put his glasses on but when they were on, they made his vision blurry
Seven looked down to you except he saw himself sleeping, pinching his cheeks but saw that he was somehow in your body
“MC! Wake up! Something strange has happened and it’s not my fault for once!” Seven yelled at his own body until you woke up
You woke up to see yourself looking panicked and that you became your boyfriend
“This isn’t good MC! I have to exchange a file to another agent in person, but I can’t go as you! What are we going to do?!” Seven exclaimed as he shook your shoulders
“Calm down Seven, I’ll just go as you. Tell me what to say and how to act, everything will be fine.” You said in Seven’s voice as you saw your own face soften as Seven calmed down
So Seven explained to you what to do and soon enough, he was watching you as him deliver the file to the other agent
Seven sighed in relief as you gave him a thumbs up, wearing his signature smile as he laughed in your voice
The two of you still didn’t know how you two switched bodies but you both decided to just sleep the night away and figure things out tomorrow
But when the two of you woke up, you were both back in your regular bodies, you and Seven a little upset that you couldn’t have had more fun as each other but Seven promised to try and make it happen again someday
V woke up one morning thinking a miracle had occurred, he could actually see clearly through his eyes
He turned to your sleeping figure to tell you the amazing news expect he was actually looking at himself instead
Confusion washed over V as he looked down to realize that he was somehow in your body and he assumed you were in his
“Erm, MC you need to wake up now something very… interesting has happened to us. What are we going to do?”
Waking up to see a blurry imagine of yourself was not the best way to wake up, you screamed to V that you couldn’t see but as he explained the situation, you calmed down
“MC, I have to attend that important art gallery today. What should we do dear?” V asked in a panicked voice
You told V to take a deep breath as the two of you tried to sort things out then an idea came to you
“V, why don’t I go to the art gallery as you! Just tell me about your exhibits and stay by my side for the night and we can pull this off.”
With a shaky breath, V agreed and the two of you went to the gallery with him helping guide you since you still weren’t sure how to maneuver as V
The night went smoothly and no one noticed that you were V and V was you
You and V still weren’t sure how to resolve he situation but by the next morning, the two of you were back in your correct bodies
V gave you a hug as you told him how relieved you were but he thought about how much he missed having vision and started seriously considering the eye surgery
Saeran hated waking up in the morning and felt even worse then usual
He went to turn over in bed and cuddle with you except when Saeran opened his eyes, he saw himself sleeping
You woke up to see yourself screaming and as you looked at your hands, you saw the rough, calloused hands of Saeran
“What the hell is going on MC?! Why are you me and I’m you?! I-I don’t know what to do!”
You watched Saeran, as you, start to have a panic attack so you wrapped Saeran in a hug as you watched yourself cry
“It’s okay Saeran, we’re going to figure this out. For now let’s just calm down and get some ice cream!” You told him in reassuring voice
Seeing Saeran as yourself having a panic attack was strange but it didn’t matter, you were going to help Saeran even if he was you
You and Saeran spent the day indoors, trying to find ways to return to your normal selves
Watching Saeran as you shovel down scoop after scoop of ice cream made you giggle, which was something you’d never hear Saeran do if you weren’t in his body
By the end of the day, Saeran calmed down but neither of you had any idea how to fix the situation
So you and Saeran decided to sleep it off and think of some solution then next day - But you and Saeran woke up in your regular bodies with Saeran giving you a bone-crushing hug because of how happy he was
You however ended up having a stomachache because of all the ice cream Saeran ate when he was you so as an apology, Saeran spent the day taking care of you
I can’t think in terms of boundaries. Those imaginary lines are as unreal to me as elves and pixies. I can’t believe that they mark the end or the beginning of anything of real concern to the human soul. Virtues and vices, pleasures and pains cross boundaries at will.
A/N: First time writing A/B/O so please be gentle. Figured I’d drop a new story for the new blog. Enjoy it, y’all!
‘Fuck. This isn’t happening…’ you thought as you pulled on the locked door of the third closed pharmacy near your house. It was Christmas Eve and some how, with the stress of your job and the approaching holiday, you had managed to run out of suppressants. You knew it was useless; your heat was here and there was nothing you could do to stop it even if you did find an open pharmacy. You were going to have to ride it out.
You pulled the collar of your Alpha ‘brother’s’ old jacket around your throat a little more, trying to cover the strong, sweet smell of your heat unsuccessfully with the Alpha smell of fresh cut grass, sandalwood and a hint of his mate’s lavender and rain as you darted down the snow covered street, desperate to find some help but not knowing how to achieve it. You had been essentially alone and living on suppressants for so long that dealing with a full blown heat by yourself completely terrified you.
To turn one thing into another, one must spend time mastering their craft. A blank canvas becoming a piece of splendor does not require the commitment needed to turn silence to sound or order to chaos. To create art, one must devote years to achieve absolute perfection. However, even this conviction is but a passing moment for those who would take themselves and transform man into a weapon; swift as steel, strong as stone, and resilient as the sturdiest scale. Many would have their entire life pass beneath them - the waters of time flowing below the bridge’s bow - and still not succeed. It requires a mind devoid of distraction and vice, a soul clean of regret and fear, and a body which can withstand pain as the mountains resist the wind.
Or you could just multiclass into monk after 8 levels of barbarian and start punching anything that could give you XP.
I have always preferred that the Monk, in games like D&D and so on, would be a prestige class of sorts; something requiring intense devotion and forethought in game rather than a sideways decision made after pawing through the character creation pages for twenty minutes. That’s just my stupid opinion, but I’ll tell you what isn’t stupid; this bag o’ stuff to hit things with, and its hastily scrawled-on label of ‘monk’. You can pluck from this and adapt whatever you get for usage within your game, satisfaction guaranteed, or your metaphorical money back.
Dwarven Knuckles of the Barrage of Brass
These are an angular pair of dwarven brass knuckles. They are geometric in design, favouring the regimented familiarity of squares and 90′ angles over the comfort of a fit around un-dwarven fingers. The design presents a scowling, helmeted warrior on the business-end of the implements, detailed in two shades of yellowed metal. They are broad, unwieldy, and weigh like a corpse chained to the wrist. Once per day, when the name of the current monarch is spoken aloud, in reverence or rage, the world slows around the wearer to where the beat of the bee’s wings matches that of the human heart. However, in this pause, only the torso of the wearer can move with any speed. This will remain the fact for the wearer until they have given a dozen attacks with the weapons, whereupon the standard flow of time will return and with it the simultaneous impact of all twelve strikes to whatever unfortunate creature was within punching distance.
This weapon is a quarterstaff of light, almost entirely flexible, bamboo. It has a red, woolen padding around the centered half and each end is capped with the iron bracing of a cudgel. The weapon strikes as well as any other, finding flesh with a painful pummeling the same way a landslide meets the valley, but it is not significant in terms of its wounding. It’s true utility is found when one cap is placed upon the ground. The quarterstaff will always stand erect, no matter the severity of its angle or intensity of its interference. This means that a talented acrobat can stay gripped to the Keenstaff despite it being precariously balanced atop a wind-worn mountain peak, roaring steam train, or in the hand of another performer.
Mantle of the Thousand Masters
The Thousand Master’s Mantle is uninspiring and insignificant to behold. A dull, leather shoulder cloak, bound with frayed laces at the front, affixed with a simple hood. It keeps the rain from your hair, the sun from your neck, and the wind from your collar, but it’s true capability is not apparent until worn in combat. When threatened with hostility, the mantle becomes a glimmering cloak of golden cloth, shining like silver with a shine beyond whatever light it is reflecting. Behind the the wearer’s head will sprout a tree of a half-dozen wooden humanoid hands of leaf and bark in a display of perfect symmetry. Each hand thinks and moves as their master’s, striking with their strength and precision, dancing with their elegance, gesturing as they see fit. They can hold weapons, manipulate objects, and interact with other creatures, but when the combat ceases, the hands will wilt like dying flowers, leaving behind only fragmented twists of twigs and litter as any sign of their existence.
This obscuring mask features the weeping, yet emotionless demeanor of a young person, neither explicitly masculine or feminine on detail, yet somehow both. The mask is made of porcelain and feels worryingly fragile, like you could snap it by looking too closely upon it. Once worn over the face, secured with a black ribbon round the back of the head, the eyes of the mask begin to weep a constant trickle of water, much like a steam of tears. However, the wearer becomes aware of their new ability to change the nature of those tears. Upon choice, the tears can change to a searing cascade of molten fire, a crumbling fall of rock and soil, a seeping drip of blood, and a dozen other variations. The wearer also finds that their own kicks, punches, and so forth, inflict additional injuries to their recipients in a manner represented by the mask’s emissions. Blood will cut the skin and cause bleeding, water will fill their lungs and have them choke and splutter, earth will slowly turn them to stone with every hit, and fire will burn the flesh like a red-hot brand.
The Empty Hand is a gauntlet of boiled leather plates around a fingerless, padded mitt. It is stitched with the snaking trail of black and white thread of ancient masters of the craft and fits whatever hand wears it. The gauntlet allows the possessor to take any weapon they have - be it a blade, bow, mace, or whatever - and have their hand become equally as powerful. The wearer need only take the desired item and silently meditate and pray to the god whose glory the Empty Hand was made in. The weapon will then become absorbed into the gauntlet’s being, becoming one. The Empty hand now swings and severs with the power and strength of that weapon, while the possessor is still considered unarmed. A greataxe will have each strike open deep, dreadful scars and bone-breaking cleaves through skin and steel, whereas a crossbow will allow the hand to project bolts out forth from their palm at incredible range and precision.
A mixture of gullibility and cynicism had been an outstanding characteristic of mob mentality before it became an everyday phenomenon of masses. In an ever-changing, incomprehensible world the masses had reached the point where they would, at the same time, believe everything and nothing, think that everything was possible and that nothing was true. The mixture in itself was remarkable enough, because it spelled the end of the illusion that gullibility was a weakness of unsuspecting primitive souls and cynicism the vice of superior and refined minds. Mass propaganda discovered that its audience was ready at all times to believe the worst, no matter how absurd, and did not particularly object to being deceived because it held every statement to be a lie anyhow. The totalitarian mass leaders based their propaganda on the correct psychological assumption that, under such conditions, one could make people believe the most fantastic statements one day, and trust that if the next day they were given irrefutable proof of their falsehood, they would take refuge in cynicism; instead of deserting the leaders who had lied to them, they would protest that they had known all along that the statement was a lie and would admire the leaders for their superior tactical cleverness.
Hannah Arendt, Totalitarianism: Part Three of The Origins of Totalitarianism, p. 80
A/N: Hello! I’m back with another B.A.P soul mate oneshot. It is our one and only smart ass Youngjae’s turn. I wrote this based on finding things your soul mate loses and vice versa. So I hope you enjoy!
Youngjae kind of, sort of, hated his luck. Well, he hated the person who decided that when his soul mate lost something, he would find it. He did not so much mind finding his soul mate’s things. It’s the fact that if he lost anything he wasn’t going to be reunited with his things until he met his soul mate or unless his soul mate lost it too, then it would come back to him. No such luck though.
His favourite t-shirt was gone.
His favourite necklace?
He feels agitated sometimes but the small surprise of a random key ring on his bed would surprise him. Then he would keep that key ring with his keys all the time. Several days ago he found a small ring. It was too small for any of his fingers so he put it on a chain and wore it; it was his new favourite necklace.
Himchan would tease him every time he had something new with him, which was obviously something Youngjae himself wouldn’t have bought.
“Got a new necklace I see”, Himchan said as he eyes the ring around his neck.
“Well, it was too small to wear as a ring”, Youngjae says.
“So nice!” Junhong says from the sofa.
“Why didn’t you just keep it safely until you meet “the one”?” Jongup asked.
He was sitting next to Junhong as they both watched TV.
“I lost my favourite necklace, so I needed a replacement”, Youngjae says as plays around with the ring.
“How are you even supposed to know when you have met “the one”? You don’t get a sign or anything”, Himchan says and Youngjae just shrugs.
It was true though. He wasn’t going to know unless the owner of the ring recognised it.
“For your sake I hope they are wearing your favourite shirt when you meet them”, Daehyun says.
“That would be so cute!” Himchan pipes up.
“How would you approach them though? Just awkwardly walk up to them and tell them they are wearing your t-shirt?” Jongup asked.
Daehyun snickers at the comment but Jongup looks confused. Himchan laughs too.
“Why are you laughing?” Jongup asks.
“You have some thinking to do”, Daehyun says as a swings his arm around Youngjae’s shoulder.
“Yeah, because the way Jongup just described how you approach them might give them the wrong idea”, Himchan adds.
Jongup still looks confused.
“What if they recognise their ring around your neck, see your face and then run off?” Daehyun snickers.
Himchan holds back his laugher and elbows Daehyun on the stomach.
“Alright, stop teasing him”, Yongguk’s voice is finally heard over the laughing.
“Just don’t forget your own name when you meet “the one””, Yongguk laughs.
“You guys are so mean”, Youngjae huffs.
“You get what you serve”, Daehyun says as he sticks his tongue out at Youngjae.
With that Youngjae slams the door behind that as he leaves. He scowled before leaving the building.
“I don’t know why I’m still friends with them some days”, Youngjae says to himself as he walks down the street.
He shoves his hands in his pockets, as he still feels annoyed.
You were walking around the street when you walk past Youngjae. You don’t notice him at first as he is looking down at the floor while walking. He had shoved his hands in his pockets as you walked past. You don’t notice at first but you see something on the floor.
You don’t know why but you are sure it belonged to the stranger you just walk past. You didn’t see it fall out of his pocket or anything but you just know it belongs to him. You bend down to pick it up. It was a plain black ring; it was probably a thumb ring.
You quickly turn around and walk after the stranger.
He looks back in surprise and sees you approaching him.
“I believe this is yours”, you say as you show him the ring.
“I was looking for that this morning!” he says in surprise.
“In the morning? I just found it on the floor and thought you dropped it”, you explain.
He picks up the ring as examines it.
“It’s definitely mine, it’s chipped by here”, he says and shows the small chip.
“And it fits”, he says as he puts it on his thumb as you suspected.
“Well, I’m glad you got it back”, you say with a smile and look up at him.
“Oh”, you say as you notice the ring around his neck.
He notices your gaze.
“Don’t tell me…” he trains off as he reaches around his neck and takes off the chain.
“That’s my favourite ring”, you say as he gently places the ring in your hand.
“Does that mean that you are my soul mate?” he asks.
“Does this necklace belong to you too?” you ask as you pull out a necklace you had tucked away underneath your blouse.
His face lights up and you know his answer.
“You know what though? It looks better on you”, he says with a smile and you laugh.
today in English class the teacher wrote “vices and virtues” on the board and my inner fangirl like stared at them wide eyed and he went “vices and virtues is what withholds us from gaining freedom” and I whispered out loud “yeah because brendon urie made that album and proceeded to steal my soul”
i don’t know why but Robert Pattinson always has this look on his face like he was forced to listen to a middle school talent show sing a pop rendition of his favorite 70s classic before turning to look into the camera with his dead, dead soul begging for the vice principal to plunge a sharpened pencil between his eyes where he’s lowered his head in preparation of the sacrifice
Warnings: so much fluff it will give you cavities, a tiny, tiny, tiny bit of angst, swearing
A/N: This is my entry for @impalaimagining‘s 3k Followers Challenge/Sam Winchester Birthday Challenge! You don’t understand how much I giggled while writing this. It’s so fluffy you’re gonna die. The song I chose was No One by Alicia Keys, and the quote is in bold in the fic, so it is easy to find. Any and all mistakes are mine.
A/N/N: I wrote this while watching the Harry Potter weekend on Freeform, so that would be the reason for the references…
'That would be as silly as loving it,’ I said. 'It’s impossible for me to get emotional about it, because real estate doesn’t interest me. It’s no doubt a great flaw in my personality, but I can’t think in terms of boundaries. Those imaginary lines are as unreal to me as elves and pixies. I can’t believe that they mark the end or the beginning of anything of real concern to a human soul. Virtues and vices, pleasures and pains cross boundaries at will.’
The Reasons I currently think that Teddie was born from Tohru Adachi's Shadow
“But Neni, how the hell would you ever come to associate Teddie to Adachi?” you might ask now. “Except for the fact that they’re both horny, they have nothing in common at all!”
Well, my dear friends, get in your seats and fasten your seat-belts, because I am about to take you on a mystical journey into the land of “Associations Neni’s brain makes when high on Lemon Soda and an overdose of Videogames.”