#A life for a life. A wraith for a breath. au

[mimikyu-oli]

Michael faces a kind of human-sized puppet whose eyelids and lips are sewn together.

Michael: What are you!?

We-where am I?!

X_x: the place and name

Is of no importance

Michael: What?

X_x: your brother.

Michael: …

X_x: he will die

Michael: …. what?

X_x: his life is ending

Tonight

Michael: What?!

No! Nonono, that can’t be happening!

X_x

Michael: You’re lying!

…right?

X_x

Michael: He’s not… really dying….

Right?

X_x

Michael: …….

…no.

X_x

Michael: ANSWER ME!!!

X_x

Michael stares at the ground.

X_x: he can still live

Michael: …what?

X_x: he can still live.

Michael: …how?

X_x

Michael: Tell me HOW!?

X_x: an exchange must be done

Michael: An exchange?

X_x: A Life

For a life

Michael: what?

X_x: you must take a life

And give it to him

Michael: …

X_x: take a life

And give it to your brother

Michael: I can’t took-

X_x

Michael: Can this life be mine?

X_x: any Life would suffice

Michael: Then…

X_x

Michael: Then take my life.

X_x

Michael: Give him my life.

X_x: are you ok with the consequences

Michael: Yes.

X_x: you will die

Instead of him

Michael: …

X_x: are you really ok with this decision

Michael gulped.

Michael: … Yes...

I’m ok with it.

X_x: if that's what you wish

[diejager]

could you maybe do more of the Phoenix series or is that discontinued? But if you're still working on it can you maybe do something like monster TF 141 use hunter as a heater? Ik if it doesn't make any sense but like monster TF 141 are on a mission and its horribly cold and they're actually cold so hunter just walks up and turns into a phoenix? and just starts heating up the room 141 is in. idk I just have had this idea in my head for a while

Cw: human heating, tell me if I missed any. Note: Nope! It’s still on going, well, at least the original Au of the Phoenix hybrid!reader spinoff.

“I’ll have a bloody word with the tosser who sent us here,” Soap hissed, body wracked with tremors as he breathed into his mittened hands, hoping that the small bit of heat would warm him just a bit more than the failing heating system of their Siberian  safehouse.

They had planed to rest and warm up their temporary residence while Price took Ghost and you to survey the area, all warmly covered but mostly immune to such cold temperature. A dragon rarely needed anything other than the beating fire in their heart, kindled and powerful; a wraith, long since dead, had no worry about feeling cold or warm, only hunger and anger; and a phoenix, whose body was stuck in a perpetual cycle of life and death, had no fear of being cold when they were an embodiment of life’s fire. 

It was only natural that Price took the only people who could withstand the harshness of Siberia for a long and careful inspection when the others would freeze and shake in their thick boots and warm coats. They safehouse looked old, surfaces covered in a thin layer of dust, shelves filled with canned food - both expired and unexpired- and walls and floors as frozen as the loud winds blowing against the thick windows. It wasn’t much of a surprise that something would malfunction, the soviet era building left to appear rotten and forgotten to fit it’s intended use, and it seemed to lack any sort of upkeep. 

“We’re freezing our arses off in here!” Soap growled out, leaning closer to Gaz’s side to steal more warmth from under his wing, the soft feathers all ruffled, “Can’t even-”

Crunch

The two perked up, hands immediately reaching for their weapons, bodies tense and ready for a fire fight until your head popped in, huffing about the melted snow soaking your clothes. They jumped to their feet, running to your side for a lick of warmth that oozed off your skin. You froze at the grabbing hands, pulling you to the cold sofa and pushed under a mass of groaning and moaning bodies, happily soaking in your fire.

“Let me- ” you squirmed between them, shuffling out from under them to stretch your arms and back.

The four watched your neck crack with a wince, flames erupting from your feet, wild and bright embers licking at your skin until it engulfed you in a fiery blaze. It was both too hot to touch and too strong to approach, a fire that would threaten to burn if they touched you. It worked to protect you from an early death while you shifted into the majestic bird you were, a gentle flame in the form of orange and yellow feathers, softer than any silk and warmer than any suns. 

In your place stood a phoenix, lashes fluttering while your flapped your wings, stretched backwards to scratch the itch from the lack of use. You cooed, preening under their awed expressions before you flew back in your prior position, body heat growing hotter and hotter, strong enough to warm up the entire room. 

“Thank you, Hunter,” Gaz smiled at you, a sweet and grateful grin that made your feathers shyly ruffle up.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[diodellet]

try wishing for it: magical girl au (scarabia x gn!reader)

inspired by @ceruleancattail's magical girl au and @yan-lorkai's yandere genie fic. note: i also imagine scarabia's mascot form to look like this. title is ripped from tohma's magical girl eudaemonics. content warnings: -yandere (if you squint, since scarabia's taking the role of kyubey in this fic. references of manipulation and general moral grayness.) -fic uses "magical girl" but means it in a gender-neutral sense (reader is referred to with they/them pronouns) word count: 2.7k words

Being a magical girl means gaining the power to do virtually anything you can dream of.

The first time you defeat a wraith, you stare in awe at your hands, breathing heavily from sheer excitement rather than exertion. With one final roar, the beast falls to the ground, before dissolving into black smoke.

“Woah, you did it! You really took it down!” Kalim barrels into you, gushing praise after praise. “See, Jamil? I told you they were going to be powerful!” 

Jamil is more mindful of you, instead floating over to land on your other shoulder. “Nice job.”

“You’re a natural!” Kalim’s bouncing with joy in your palm, waving his little stubby arms. “You probably won’t even need to use your three wishes!”

Right, there was that. In the case that you were against an overwhelmingly powerful foe, you could draw on your familiars’ magic—a ‘wish,’ they called it.

“Don’t jinx them, Kalim.”

“...What happens if I asked for more wishes?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” The stitches of Jamil’s plush smile don’t change, but there’s a note of something foreboding in his words. “Though, you don’t seem like the type to squander them. Don’t worry about it too much.” Despite their cartoonish appearance, your familiars’ words and warnings carried a grave weight

Your gaze drifts to the slain wraith. All that remains is the tarnished metal collar that hung around its neck, until it too crumbles into dust.

There’s something hauntingly beautiful in that faint shimmer of gold as it gets blown away by the wind.

Being a magical girl means toting around two innocuous round plushies of your familiars to class.

With your new double life, you get two new companions following you around. It means bearing Kalim’s excited chattering as you take notes, dealing with Jamil’s snide teasing as your classmates point out your new bag charms.

What you don’t expect is to see the two of them sitting in your living room the next morning, clad in your school’s uniform.

“Good mor—oof!” Your book bag collides with Kalim’s chest and you use the momentum to drag him and Jamil by the elbow out of your house, ignoring your dad’s concerned calls with a loud “I’m heading out!”

You didn’t get the memo that being able to transform was part of their repertoire as magical familiars, but you should’ve expected this. Between Kalim’s thousand-kilowatt smile and Jamil’s calculating gaze, you very much prefer them as small round plushies.

(It’s strange that your schoolmates and teachers don’t question the two new additions to the class, but you appreciate that your cover wasn’t blown with this curveball. You suspect it might have to do with the red glow in Jamil’s eyes. You decide to question them at the end of the class day.)

“It’d be better if one of you stayed as a plushie.”

“Then that means it would be Jamil since he’s better at keeping attention off of us.”

“By that logic, they’re talking about you, Kalim.” Is it you or is that a hint of a smile on Jamil’s lips?

“Oh.” Kalim’s expression falls into a pout. “But I like attending classes with you!”

He probably wouldn’t like it as much during exams week. “I wouldn’t be able to keep a low profile if people noticed you…guys following me around.”

“Aw, I guess so…Thanks for treating us to ice cream, though!”

You offer to buy them another one, just to make their one and only day at school special. You start heading towards another freezer, there’s a special lottery on these soda popsicles.

Jamil’s attention turns toward the counter. He’d been eyeing the person at the cashier. “Wait, something seems—” 

And that’s all the warning he can give before a group of wraiths crashes through the convenience store wall. Ending up in a sprawled mess of tangled limbs was not ideal. It’s settled, you definitely preferred them in their plushie forms.

Being a magical girl means getting woken up by Kalim in the middle of the night to patrol the city.

As a hand-sized plush ball, he’s already pretty strong. But under the cover of night, he can shed his disguise and drag accompany you around to see you deliver justice to evildoers. 

Your drowsiness fades away as you leap from rooftop to rooftop, dispatching fledgeling wraiths hiding in narrow alleyways, stopping drunken confrontations, watching over lone pedestrians traversing through seedier parts of the city.

“There’s another one, it’s a low-ranking wraith!”

“I’ve got it!” Magic gathers around your weapon, bathing it in golden light as you swing and cleave the monster into two.

It didn’t even get a fighting chance to writhe or fight back. All it can do is dissipate into nothing.

Which is for the best.

“That was so quick!” Kalim bounds over to you as your weapon fades out of view. “You’re getting better and better at fighting!”

“Well, you did say it was a weak one…” You tug at the collar of your outfit. His praise feels like staring into the glare of the sun, straight on. “I’m probably not that much better than those other magical girls before me.”

“Still! It doesn’t make you any less amazing—Are you hurt anywhere?” Kalim starts looking you over for any injuries that he might have missed.

Too close. “Not a scratch. Come on, let’s head home.”

Though you should’ve expected things would go sideways at some point, that the night would bring untold horrors instead of passing peacefully. In a mix of your carelessness and Kalim’s overexcitement, an avian-like wraith appears and catches you both offguard, talons closing around his midsection and carrying him into the sky, each powerful beat of its wings taking him farther and farther away from you.

Adrenaline surges through you and the asphalt of the sidewalk cracks underneath your soles as you leap to the sky in pursuit. “Kalim!” Just before you can close the distance, he screams at you to get back, making you falter. A long shadow whips through the air—a prehensile tail of sorts—preventing you from approaching. 

Switching tactics, you aim for its wings. Better to bring it to the ground.

(Miraculously, Kalim got the cue to turn into his plushie form to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. You manage to catch him before the both of you crash. Though, Kalim’s awed gushing was probably going to give you a sunburn.)

Being a magical girl means Jamil takes your healthcare into his own hands, sometimes.

“It’s the sleep deprivation.”

“No, it’s not.” A coughing fit strikes you at that moment, betraying the extent of your sickness.

“It’s because you’re overexerting yourself with your ‘nightly escapades.’”

“Fine—so what if I am? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? To protect helpless people day and night?”

“Obviously, not at the cost of your own wellbeing!”

You didn’t think you would ever end up in this kind of situation, being yelled at by a floating plush ball while confined to your bed of messy blankets and used tissues.

The angry heat in your face is making your headache worse, makes you see gray for a moment before you could fire back.

“...I’m sorry,” you spit without an ounce of penance.

Jamil sighs. “Well. There’s no use in pressing the matter any further.” Just before he disappears, he tells you to get some rest.

Easier said than done.

The minutes inch by agonizingly slow. Your room is so silent, magnifying the buzz of your own thoughts. Up until this point, your life became a whirlwind of academics, extracurriculars, and fighting evil monsters. But at this moment of standstill, you can’t help but come to the realization that he was right. With your rashness, you basically incapacitated yourself. Sure, your familiars were also capable magic users. Sure, they could hold off wraiths from doing any major damage, but the thought that this entire situation could have been avoided, that this was entirely your fault—

A tear slips down your cheek, then more and more, until you’re quietly sobbing, frustrated, into your palms.

The mattress of your bed dips with the added weight of another person. “Mom—”

Jamil shushes you. “Drink this first.” You hear the rustle of plastic—did he go to the pharmacy?—and feel him press two tablets into your hand. As you swallow them, he hands you a glass of water. His other hand rests against your sweat-covered back, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin. 

(It is a stark contrast to his rough words from earlier.)

“I thought you…” They probably had other magical fighters to watch over, didn’t they?

It’s probably the fever messing with your senses, but there’s an uncharacteristic softness in Jamil’s voice. “Shh. No more of that, now.”

“...then why?” Were you really the only one?

“Just focus on getting better.” 

“But—”

“Your mom’s making soup for dinner, she will come to check on you in an hour. I’ll stay with you until then. Rest.” 

His words are not enough to placate your worries fully, but there’s a soft glow of red in his irises that makes you acquiesce and close your eyes, all while clutching onto Jamil’s wrist.

Being a magical girl means thinking up new ways to explain your many conversations “to yourself.”

Your parents are easy, it’s just the angst of youth. But your siblings are a little more difficult to convince. In addition to your moments of listlessness, they can hear your frantic back and forth pacing and the thump of you throwing your plushies against the paper-thin walls of your room. It can only mean one thing—

“Get out! I’m not having romance issues!” You slam the door behind your sibling’s cackles.

Your familiars remain still, seated on your bed until the sound of footsteps is sufficiently out of earshot.

“Are you really seeing someone?” Kalim pipes up.

“No!” You bury your face into your hands. “I—How would I have the time for that?”

“Besides,” Jamil chimes in, “we’re the only ones who’ve been accompanying them. Unless—”

Your body moves of its own accord, snatching Jamil with both hands and giving him a threatening squeeze, an unspoken ‘don’t you dare finish that sentence’ left hanging in mid-air.

When he stays quiet, your death grip lightens up. Just a little bit. A heavy exhale leaves your frame. “Look, for all that we’ve gone through—”

(A part of you is hesitant to admit it but, having gained them as new companions made your journey as a magical girl feel less daunting. You felt safe knowing that you could rely on them to watch your back, in spite of the close calls you’ve had. 

As for whether or not you’d started looking at them differently, well, you’d need more time to think on it. There. End of conversation.)

“I guess… I’m glad I met you. The both of you,” you finished lamely.

The silence that followed was deafening. For once, you’d wished their plushie forms could emote more instead of giving you that placid smile. 

With a pop! and shower of golden sparks, Kalim’s arms close around you in a tight hug. A bright grin splitting his cheeks. “I’m happy we’re friends too!”

“Stop squeezing me!” Jamil grits out.

Being a magical girl means double checking your word choice, especially for any quips and retorts.

The first time you transformed, you commented offhandedly about your footwear and Jamil made a little adjustment to your attire. 

With a snap of his fingers, a golden bangle clasps around your ankle. Lightweight, no doubt it would look beautiful when the light hits it at the right angle, but—

A frown pulls at your lips.

“Would you like another one? Just for some…symmetry,” Jamil suggests. 

You decide better against responding to that. 

“Think of it as a gift from me and Kalim.”

Was this something they bestowed to every magical fighter they took under their wing? “...Some gift this is.”

“Relax, you still have three wishes left. I won’t trick you into wasting them.”

Well, that diminished most of your initial doubt. “How can I be sure of that?” you question.

Jamil’s head tilts to the side, appraising you with an eerily-observant gaze. “All you have to do is ask. Anything that your heart desires, anything your mind can conceive.” 

You don’t like how his eyes are trained on you, making you feel small. You pick at an imaginary speck of dirt on your top, straighten out the already-impeccable fabric.

A thick silence falls over the both of you.

“...Will you—will you both ask me if I’m sure, before granting my wish?” It’s such a stupid thing to worry about, to fuss over the intricacies of your arrangement as Magical Girl and Familiar.

“Of course.” Jamil gives you a smile. “Shall we head to where Kalim is?”

“Yeah.” Your weapon appears in your hand with a flash of gold. “Let’s destroy that wraith’s nest.”

(More than desires you want fulfilled, there are anxieties you want quelled, fears you want silenced. Miracles to the myriad of unfortunate catastrophes that plagued your home—the flawed world that you lived in. So what if you contained untold power at your fingertips? You were only one person tasked with the protection of hundreds. At the peak of your distress—in the midst of sirens and flashing lights—you call for Jamil and utter your first wish through choked sobs.)

Being a magical girl means not relying on your powers, sometimes.

The trapped kitten gives another pitiful wail, thrashing against your grip as you clamber down the tree. In holding onto it tightly, you earn a set of angry-red scratch marks along the backs of your hands before reaching solid ground. The kitten bounds away with a final hiss.

“Why didn’t you transform?” Kalim asks.

You shrug, running a finger over one of the scratches. “I guess it’s ’cause I didn’t wanna mess up the outfit.”

“What do you mean?”

Bashful, your gaze ducks to your shoes, worn from years of use but sturdily hanging on. “It’s just, lately, the wraiths have been getting more and more powerful. And I…” Feel weak? Pressured? Alright, maybe you were still hung up over leaving a little crater at a major intersection, but it was either that or letting the ursine wraith lay waste to the nearby shopping center. There wasn’t any time to dwell on those shortcomings.

(But your mind liked to circle back to it. Was there any more you could do? Why couldn’t you do more?)

They warned you about this, that at some point, you would end up facing more destructive wraiths. That you would have to choose among innocents.

He takes your injured hands. “You can always make a wish.” Kalim’s healing magic washes over you, cool and gentle, like a stream of water. You watch the scratches slowly close up until they become nothing more than a set of faint white lines. “That’s what me and Jamil are for.”

“That’s true…”

“Anything you want.” Kalim repeats. “I’ll make it happen.”

It’s those simple words— and the sight of him cradling your hands in his palms—that grant you the courage to speak your next words, your second wish.

Being a magical girl means weighing your soul against the lives of people, friends and strangers alike.

“Come on, you have to get up.” Tears are streaming down Kalim’s cheeks, his hands hover by your prone and bloodied form, unsure of which wounds to heal.

Wearily, you gaze cranes upwards as if every bit of movement caused pain throughout your body.

Jamil has witnessed this scenario a thousand times. He keeps a stoic face. “Are you just going to let them destroy everything?”

“...I can’t let them…”

“You’re hurting yourself! Jamil, you have to do something!”

“It’s not my choice to make.”

When in the face of an unstoppable threat—a horde of chimeran wraiths that will lay waste to your home, will you make that final third wish and trust in them?

Jamil knows how you’ll answer. Rather than using them as quick and easy schemes, your first two wishes were—in some way—made for the good of others around you. For someone who won’t even know or care about that small bit of kindness. At the core of every human is a desperate self-preservation instinct that pushes them to make a final wish. And like clockwork, you will follow like the rest of the magical girls that they created. It’s a strategy that has benefited him and Kalim. And he has been fervently waiting for this moment, for a powerful one like you to—

“I’m...not giving up…!”

Or not? 

His lips curl into a smile. “Then give them hell.”

They can wait this out. Compared to their infinite lifespan, your emotional fortitude was only a drop in the ocean.

a/n: aaaa thanks @jessamine-rose for betaing this fic with ur fresh eyes. this au rlly gave me brainworms of the feral variety, i think i liked leaving most of the details ambiguous and free to interpretation, but i might come up with a separate author's note post about worldbuilding bits i couldnt fit in? eh we'll see! i hope yall enjoyed reading this! edit: author's note can be found here! tagging some jamilnatics: @viperwhispered @twstgo @just-a-little-silly @mama-m1na @crystallizsch @sillystr1ngs (lmk if you wanna join the taglist for jamil writing in the replies)

[hyucksos]

heavy is the crown — mark lee [preview]

pairing: mark lee x f!reader genre: fantasy/supernatural au, crime-action, angst, romance preview wc: 1.2k (actual wc: tbc) synopsis: a series of visions lead you to mark lee, a seemingly normal human boy with no ties to the world of the gifted— your world. as such, you're concerned as to why you keep seeing him in your dreams, and the army of wraiths that just can't seem to leave him alone despite him being powerless... or so you thought. as he joins you at the academy, you learn that there may be more to this mark lee than you thought there was. taglist: open | click here to join

You had no idea what Taekwondo was. At least, not until today.

According to Donghyuck, it’s a form of martial arts, similar to the combat training you go through at the academy every day. You weren’t actually sure on whether to believe him or not considering Donghyuck is Donghyuck and his whole life before joining the academy sounded like a jumble of lies (you learnt not to trust him wholeheartedly after he convinced you that bananas were considered a delicacy in the outside world. He made you eat them with a knife and fork for a full week).

But now, as you’re sitting amongst the sea of heads in the stands overlooking the arena below, you think that Donghyuck might just be telling the truth this time.

You tug on the gloves that hug your hands and forearms, the latex that sticks uncomfortably to your skin not at all helping in easing your nerves. You rarely step foot outside the academy— not like it’s ever been restricted; you know being in unfamiliar environments could potentially spike your elemental, and you didn’t want to risk accidentally committing arson, or anything like that. As much as you hate your gloves, you know they keep you safe, which is why you keep them on.

Weirdly enough, nobody seems to pay you any mind; not with your gloves, not even with the bulky silhouette of your hanbok-like uniform you knew you should have changed out of before coming here. It’s as though you’re invisible, everyone’s eyes fixed on the arena below.

“The next match is about to begin. In the blue corner representing Blue Wave Taekwondo, here to show off his agility and skill— let’s give it up for Jeno Lee!”

You startle when the people around you cheer loudly, and you slowly bring your own hands together to join in on the applause. You can’t really make out the athlete’s face as he steps into the ring, most of his features blocked by the helmet he dons. You’re curious, having never seen a sparring match that required this much gear before— then again, you suppose that's just how it goes for an ordinary human sport.

“And in the red corner, known for his speed and precision, Kick It Dojang’s very own Mark Lee! Let’s give him a warm welcome!”

The buzz of the crowd fades into the background the moment your gaze lands on the boy decked in red and white, but you don’t register it until a second later— not until he straightens his back after bowing to his opponent, and his eyes meet yours.

A sharp pain suddenly hits your temples, and you hiss as your head falls to your hands. Immediately, the world starts to warp.

You’re looking at the boy from your visions, the boy you now know as Mark Lee. His head lies in your lap, lifeless, his skin pale and cold. Shadows swirl around you, whispering things you don’t understand.

“Mark,” you breathe, voice trembling. “Wake up. I need you to wake up, please.”

But nothing.

The whispers grow louder, your own voice feeling like it's being drowned out by their presence. Your chest starts to tighten with the weight of the darkness-

The vision cuts off abruptly, and you’re left breathless as your eyes refocus to the arena before you. You’re not sure how much time has passed, but Mark is still in the ring, already in the midst of sparring with his opponent.

Your visions of him were what led you here in the first place, each one like fragments of a puzzle pulling you closer and closer. They're mostly brief, but you know they mean something, especially because of the shadows that would often surround him as they hiss with intent you couldn't decipher.

But this one was different.

For the first time, he had a name. For the first time, you saw him up close— vulnerable, his life resting in your hands as the wraiths closed in around you both.

It felt like the collision of two separate worlds that were never supposed to merge, and you know that this was no ordinary vision. Whatever it is that just happened... it was only the beginning.

And you knew you needed to let Mark know.

Mark bounces his head to the music blasting through his wired earpieces, his eyes trained on his scuffed Converses as he walks. He's been told it's a real bad habit, to not watch where he's going (especially when he couldn't even hear his surroundings most of the time), but he swears he's working on it. Plus, his headphones aren't even the noise-cancelling kind, so he's still able to hear what goes on around him, albeit only partly; like right now.

Mark stops in his tracks, pulling out one of the buds from his ears as he looks behind him.

Nothing.

It's been happening a lot recently, to get the sensation of someone whispering in his ear only for him to look up and realise that he's alone. He's tried brushing it off as a gust of wind— even a figment of his own imagination— but he knows better than to believe that, not when the night is too still, too quiet, and he's far from losing his mind.

He also knows better than to ask if anybody's there— he's seen enough horror movies to know how badly that would end for him.

Perhaps walking through the park at this hour wasn't his best idea in the first place.

Mark stares idly at the barely-lit pavement for a few seconds more before bringing his earbud back to his ear, turning back around to resume his walk— only to be met with you.

He stumbles backwards with a startled gasp, his phone almost falling from his hand before he realises that no, you're not a ghost.

You’re the girl from earlier.

Of course, Mark remembers you. How could he not, when you're the only one who stuck out like a sore thumb in a sea of spectators? It was odd enough as it is for him to be distracted right before a match, but there was just something about you that pulled him in; Mark couldn't pinpoint exactly what. Maybe it was your odd choice of attire, the traditional Korean-inspired silhouette of your all-black trench coat that cinched at your waist, or maybe it was the latex gloves that caught his attention first.

Either way, he’s feeling it again, that magnetic pull that renders him unable to look away, and it's not just because you're pretty— it feels as though there's literally something weighing him down, pulling on his chest.

Before he could question it, he notices your eyes lose focus on him, settling on something behind him instead. You’re the first one to break the silence.

"Duck."

Mark frowns. "What?"

In a split second, you're already ripping off your gloves, a flame roaring to life in your palm before you hurl the fire over his shoulder.

Mark’s confusion morphs into a split-second horror as he instinctively ducks, stumbling over his own two feet as he hears the air behind him fill with an otherworldly screech. Still, he dares himself to look over his shoulder, just in time to see multiple shadowy figures burst into flames before dissolving into nothingness.

The sight only causes Mark to fall on his butt, his neck snapping back towards you.

“What the hell was that?” His voice cracks, barely above a whisper. “And- what- what did you just do?”

You let out a shaky breath, flicking your bare wrist before you put on your glove, almost nonchalantly. Almost like you didn’t just shoot fire out of your hands.

Oh, maybe he is losing his mind.

[mint-yooxgi]

Spectre - Yandere!Wraith!Hyunjin

Yandere AU & Wraith AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Monologue

Pairing: Hyunjin X Implied Chubby!Reader

Words: 1,630

Warnings: Implied stalking and murder, talk of self-mutilation and dirty thoughts. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: This one is meant to be read as if he's talking directly to you. Think "Meant To Be Yours" from the musical Heathers, just less intense anger. Hehehe, I hope you like it! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Fifth of The Feral Drabbles

“Don’t be scared, Pretty. You know I would never hurt you.

Just let me in. Don’t you want me to take care of you?

Ignoring me won’t make me go away; you can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m attached to you now, whether you like it or not. Our bond can never be broken. You’re mine and I’m yours, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that you are never taken away from me again.

Pretty, why are you crying? You should be overjoyed! I’m not going to leave you ever again!

Oh, I get it! They’re tears of joy, aren’t they? You’re just as ecstatic as I am to know we’ll no longer be apart, and now with this newfound bond, I’ll be able to touch you! Isn’t that exciting?

I’ll be honest, Pretty, I’ve longed to know what your skin feels like beneath my fingertips. For too long my gentle brushes have simply passed right through you. I want to feel you pressed against me. I want to hold you in my arms both in the most innocent of ways, and also in the most intimate. I’ll finally be able to make you feel so good.

You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Now, I’ll no longer have to stand by and watch those others who have been ridiculously unworthy of you touch you. No one will ever lay their filthy hands on you again. No one but me is allowed to touch you.

I’d do anything you’d want. I’ll admit, when I still drew breath, I was quite a selfish lover, but I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’ve spent too long fantasizing about burying my face between those plush thighs of yours to not want to take my time with you, and indulge in every desire you’ve ever had. I’ve seen how frustrated the others always leave you, and I’ll make sure that you’re satisfied in every way I can.

All you have to do is let me in…

I already told you, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave you alone. You mean too much to me.

Wait! I know! I’ll prove to you how well I know you! Then, you’ll have to let me in. Or maybe, I could try seducing you with my words? Would you like that, Pretty? For me to delve deeply into your soul and caress you with the romantic tenderness you have always craved to hear from your lovers? 

I know my visage is usually meant to bring death and terror, but there is nothing more that I long to do than breathe into you the vibrance of life. You’re so beautiful, and you deserve only the best. You deserve someone to laugh at all of your corny jokes with. You deserve someone who will cherish you like you are the most delicate flower in the garden of the universe, of which you are. You deserve to be loved how you’ve always wanted, and I am more than willing to give that to you.

In fact, do you remember that day you were out with that- that- thing.

Forgive me, I dare not speak that bastard’s name. I honestly don’t know what you saw in him. He was a good for nothing, ugly, vile, piece of-

Sorry, Pretty. I guess I just got too carried away…

You can’t blame me. That’s just what you do to me. Picturing you with anyone else… well, I’m not a wraith for nothing.

Anyways, as I was saying, do you remember that day? How certain things started happening when he dared to get close to you?

Yes, that was me. I couldn’t stand the sight of him touching what’s mine. He never deserved you. Besides, you didn’t know what he was like when you weren’t around.

I took the liberty to follow him. I just had to know why you preferred his company, and seriously Pretty, you should have heard the shit he would talk about with his friends behind your back. It’s a shame someone seemed to pick them off one by one…

Yes, Pretty, that was also my doing. I couldn’t have scum walking this earth who could so easily disrespect My Pretty, now could I? Sometimes being what I am has its perks.

No, don’t cry harder! I promise I’ll never hurt you! I love you!

I- I- I don’t want you to be scared of me.

I know! Would hurting me make you feel better?

I mean, you locking me out like this already hurts me, but I’ll gladly let you do whatever you want to me. Now that we’re bonded, I’m susceptible to more things than before, but the regular stuff still works, too. Iron, salt, fire: pick your poison, I’ll suffer through it all. Though, if you’d prefer something more substantial, like a blade, I’ll gladly bleed for you. After all, only you can touch me now.

…Is it that surprising that I would want to bleed for you? After I already told you that I would do absolutely anything and everything for you? 

Carve your fucking name into my skin. I don’t care. In fact, I’ll gladly do it for you.

Just please, won’t you let me in? I want to see your pretty face again; it’s been too long since I’ve last gazed upon you.

I don’t care if I appeared to you only an hour ago! It’s been too long!

You know, this isn’t how I pictured this going…

I won’t lie to you pretty, I had hoped we would be in the midst of making love right now.

It’s you who makes me so crazy, you know. You seriously have no idea what you do to me…

Long have I since desired to worship you. I mean, I already worship the very ground you walk on, but you’ve never seemed to notice. I honestly hated knowing how you thought those roses I always left for you every week were from that bastard. 

Selfishly, I wanted to show up with those red flowers, litter your bed in their petals, and then make love to you like you’ve never been loved before. Until you were shaking from a single touch. Until you were dripping down my face from the amount of times I would make you come from my tongue alone. Until the only thing your hoarse voice could utter, the only thing that you could think of, would be my name.

Don’t you want me, too? I’ve been with you this whole time, but now that you can actually see me, you don’t-

It’s my appearance, isn’t it? I’m not desirable to you.

It’s okay, Pretty. I can handle the truth. You don’t find me attractive, do you? That’s why you’re so scared right now. You’re terrified of how I might react.

I can change, you know. I’ll change for you. Whatever you want from me, know that it’s yours. I’ll figure everything out, just as long as I get to have you in the end. You already own all of me, and you know I’m willing to give my everything for you.

I am a little shocked, though. I have always been told that I’m quite handsome, especially when I was alive, but I guess I don’t suit everyone’s tastes. Unfortunate that I only care about yours, but you don’t seem to desire my looks.

You’ve gone awfully silent all of a sudden. That means I’m right, doesn’t it? You aren’t attracted to me like I thought you would be.

Your breathing just picked up when you said that. Are you, perchance, lying?

Oh, Pretty, it’s okay. I’m so in tune with your body and your every reaction, I can tell when you’re being dishonest with yourself. I’m just happy to know that my theory is wrong. You do find me attractive, don’t you?

I’m all yours, Pretty. You know that? Everything that I am, belongs to you. I just want to take my time loving you, and getting to cherish you like you’ve always wanted. Like you’ve always deserved.

So, please, won’t you open the door?

What do you mean, ‘no’?

I’m getting tired of these games, Pretty. I’ve tried playing nice, but the way you’re hiding from me is getting on my every last nerve. I’ve already waited years for this moment, and now that it’s here, you’re pushing me away? I don’t think so.

I’ll give you five seconds, and if you don’t open this fucking door before the time is up, I will smash through it without a second thought. Even you can’t keep me away forever. I won’t let you.

One.

Two.

You’re really testing my patience, Pretty. You know that, right?

Three.

Four.

Five.

That’s it, I warned you. I’m coming in whether you like it or not.

Wait, why can’t I get through your door? Pretty, did you do something?

Answer me, Pretty.

Pretty…

I know you’re scared, Pretty, but just let me in. Open the door, and let me in. I’m starting to get really angry, and I would hate to have to do something that I might come to regret. You can’t hide from me forever.

I’m fucking done waiting for you. You’re mine, whether you like it or not. I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to bust this fucking door down and find you. I’ll drag you out of that room if I have to; you’re not going anywhere without me. You can’t. You better be prepared for that, Pretty.

After all, this salt line will only protect you for so long, and once I’m through… Once I’m through, I’ll make you feel my love. It’s the only thing my spirit still lives on to do.”

[otgfmybeloved]

Pinescone Vampire AU!!!!

“Um, where’s the bathroom?” Wirt asked.

“Amon, show him to the bathroom,” Pacifica commanded, waving her hand. One of her security guards stepped forward from a darkened corner, like a wraith appearing from a shadow. Wirt nervously placed his napkin on the table and stood up.

Dipper watched Wirt go to make sure he was out of earshot before he leaned forward and said to Pacifica, as stern and serious as he could, “What can I do to keep you from killing him.”

It was rare to see Pacifica caught off guard. Her life was curated to her needs– no one ever took what was hers. And yet here Dipper was.

“What do you mean?” Pacifica asked. If Dipper wasn’t mistaken, there was a tone of intrigue in her voice.

“I mean… I mean I don’t want him to die,” Dipper said. He wasn’t sure what magic words he could say to make Pacifica agree. He just had to hope that after all these years she still had a heart. Pacifica watched him, her surprise growing with every word he spoke. “I just– I really like him, okay? I don’t know why I’m so drawn to him, but the thought of you… of you killing him makes me ill. I want… I want to know him.”

Pacifica’s mouth crept open into an incredulous smile. “Ah! Do you have a little crush, Dipper?”

“I– I don’t know,” Dipper admitted. “There’s just something about him.”

Pacifica squinted at him. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to steal my meal from me? I worked hard to get this one, just so you know. I picked him as a personal challenge.”

Dipper looked up in horror. “No! I couldn’t hurt him. I just don’t want him to die! I’m so serious, Paz.”

Pacifica regarded him quietly for a moment before sighing in defeat. “Fine. You can have him. But like I said, getting him wasn’t easy. I’ve been looking forward to tonight for weeks.”

“Thank you!” Dipper cried.

But Pacifica continued. “You can get what you want on one condition: that you actually try to score with him. I’m not letting you save his life for nothing. If I can’t get my pleasure out of him, you’d better be able to get yours. I’m doing this for you because I love you, and I know you, and I don’t want you to pass this opportunity up. Oh, and another condition. You perform at my next party.”

“What!”

Pacifica smirked and sat back in her chair, arms folded over her chest. She closed her eyes and began to quietly sing the lyrics to Disco Girl, looking too pleased with herself. Dipper took the opportunity to quickly snag the wine glass from Wirt’s place at the table and hide it on the floor.

Pacifica opened her eyes. “You heard me, BABBA boy.”

Dipper covered his face with his hands. He would do anything. Even that. Even though he could hardly stomach the thought of it, it was a small price to pay for a life. He peeked at Pacifica through his fingers. “Fine.” He cleared his throat and placed his hands neatly on the table. “So why did you pick him?”

“For the challenge,” Pacifica shrugged. “He’s obviously not like the others. The humans I bring to dinner are so easy it’s laughable. I just walk up and say hello and it’s like they’re begging me to fuck and kill them. Wirt… my intentions with him were pure, at first. I really did need help with the new house. And he really is good. I was sad to see him go, so thanks, I guess. But he wouldn’t submit to me like the others. He wasn’t champing at the bit to sleep with me. He needed to be worn down, so I wore him down. It took months to get to the point where it seemed like he’d be down to fuck. Tonight was supposed to be the crescendo of our relationship, Dipper! But if you like him that much, you should do the honors, right? Maybe I should go for more normies in the future. I need that closure now. I like to finish what I start.”

Dipper struggled to empathize at all with Pacifica. He was just glad Wirt was safe. As if on cue, Wirt and the bodyguard returned. Both vampires smiled silently at him as he sat down. Dipper could hear Wirt’s breath catching, his heart pounding. They were being too weird. He had to say something normal.

“Hi,” Dipper said. Fuck. In what fucking world is that normal? What, next should I ask if he had a good piss?

Wirt smiled awkwardly at him and quickly looked away to smooth his napkin over his lap. “Hi.”

“Lord help us,” Pacifica grumbled.

[splitster]

answering more asks!!

featuring pom wraith, pingo, ocs?!, and older art check it out (three's some art 💖)↓↓

THANK you!! ohhh i do have old pikmin ocs... i actually revamped my old captain a while back, i can share him:

i had a whole crew of pikmin ocs who were a part of the S.S. Harmony, they were gonna be SUCH a nuisance to everyone they ran into...

i thought about making a rescue corps oc for fun. hrmm! maybe...

AHHH thank you!! i've seen a shocking number tags and asks from people saying that I'm apparently the reason they like Dingo now? and i have to say that is so mind boggling to me, because when i first played Pikmin 4 I didn't care about him at all!! he was a nothing sandwich to me... but then i drew him a few times... and started thinking... and then things went downhill and now i REALLY like him...

(referring to this post) i think dingo is better when he's withered

(referring to this comic) I HEAR YOU... I HEAR YOU... but if any tear at all would cause oxygen poisoning, i wouldn't be able to draw them all battered and cool :(

i imagine that there's a seal around the neck in case there's a breach in the suit's lining. so as long as their backpack (life-support) works and is connected to their helmets, then they can breathe✨

(referring to this post) Olimar would be horrified because he knows Louie, and if he sees that note there's only one thing it could mean! his coworker tried to eat pom!! if pom hasn't been outed as wraith and Olimar is questioning her, she'd just say Louie bit her and then refuse to answer any follow up questions 💖

Shepherd would be... concerned. she might think they have a weird fling going on and louie's talking about a kiss? she probably wouldn't realize Louie quite literally means he ate something from pom. oops!

that's a really good question... I'll be honest, with a lot of the "when and how did x happen" questions, there's not an official timeline or anything; the pom wraith au is sort of an umbrella with a bunch of different stories and what-ifs underneath it. although there was one story where louie does find out her secret!

louie and pom end up bridging their differences (with the help of olimar), and become good friends while pom is continuing the rescue effort. then there's a very unfortunate incident where pom and louie are away from the base and they're attacked... pom has to reveal herself to defend them and she accidentally hurts louie :(

its fine though, louie doesn't care what pom is. they're both freaks in his mind and that's all that really matters. he does end up having to defend pom from olimar (who's been made vindictive through his trauma with the plasm wraith) sometime later!! here's some older art:

sure

me too! they do NOT get along... louie's kinda pissed at her for chasing him around on PNF404 and beating him in dandori battles when he just wants to stay there and vibe. pom meanwhile doesn't understand him, he pisses her off too! she likes olimar a lot, and as an outsider it looks like louie doesn't appreciate the friendship olimar offers him. to someone who's trying to understand and participate in this whole friendship business, she thinks he's ungrateful and weird. they do not get along!! at the beginning at least...

AHHHH!!! THANK YOU!!! WAHH...🥺💖💖 i'm very glad you enjoy my silly little art style!! i want to make things very squishy so i appreciate that 💖

i don't think that man is going to live!

wait actually if you eat enough maybe you just turn into a wraith. that'd be scary! hopefully olimar's there to stop him

that's a fun thought! he would probably be able to sense that something is off about her. but he'd also probably just think "she's weird like me." honestly, the whole wraith thing doesn't really matter much to him -- the only thing it changes is that pom can now offer her tendrils as a skewer for his cooking at any time and location!

i think i'm gonna call her rose wraith!! and ohh, i didn't know that... i was just gonna call her rose wraith since she has a rose head. i'm creative i promise

(referring to this post i think) AHHH hehe... honestly, when Pom first learns about Dingo's fear of blood, she only tries to keep him from it because it's really annoying dealing with your coworker when they faint. he's like a sack of potatoes when he's knocked out. but yes, as they become actual friends pom will (subtly) do her best to keep blood away from dingo. it's fortunate she doesn't have any!

she might not get phobias, but she understands what its like to have a crippling fear, so she's empathetic!

THANK you. he has sunglasses. he's pretty cool

AHH THANK YOU... i like them a lot... 👉👈

let the marching pikmin give you the energy you need to practice🫡

[shelbyshoe]

Gentle Gods 🥀

(Unedited Aeon Drabble)

Hades and Persephone au

Her bare feet tread through the tall blades of grass, and Leon watched it wither around each step. Her long dark gown billowed in the warm breeze behind her like a wraith.

"You should keep your distance," she said. Her voice warm like honey and enticed him closer.

"Why?" he asked.

"It isn't safe." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. Did she not know? Didn't she feel it? The life giving earth that reached out to him like a mother. How it brushed soft blooms against his ankles, how it called him in the wind? He was no mortal.

"You'll need a better reason than that." Leon took a step closer in his excitement, tiny yellow snapdragon blossoms tumbled from his golden hair. Her eyes observed this like a wild cat. Did she think he would harm her?

"I won't hurt you," he assured her. And then, she laughed. The sound was a song so soft that he leaned in to hear her better.

"You couldn't if you tried," she said.

"What's your name?" he asked. Her smile fell away.

"Names have power."

"Would it help if I gave you mine? I'm Leon."

"λέων," she whispered. He hadn't heard his name said that way in a long time. The sound took him aback. She turned as if to leave. He sprung forward to gently take her arm.

When their skin touched, it was as though the world stood still. As if time itself held its breath to see what they would do.

"You don't wither when you touch me." Her eyes widened and took in his fingers against her warm skin.

"You never answered my question." Leon dropped his hand and waited.

"Name's Ada." Her eyes moved over his face, lingered on his lips. "Never expected to meet a nymph so bold."

"I'm not."

"What?"

"I'm not a nymph." Leon held up his hand and allowed a bloom to appear in his palm. It spread it's soft red petals as if to stretch after a long slumber.

"I'm a god," he said and handed her the bloom he had enchanted. She tentatively reached for it. Her fingertips brushed the petals before she took it from him.

Ada cradled the little blossom in her palms. Her cool demeanor slipped briefly, a moment that he'd replay long after she'd gone. It returned before she acknowledged him again.

"How."

"Life coexists with death, goddess." Leon cupped his hands beneath her smaller ones. The bloom just as vibrant as when he'd made it. "See? It's yours." He'd heard of the goddess of death, heard the softly murmured rumors in the dark. But he didn't see what they saw. Her face softened, her flushed lips parted lightly, as she leaned in to kiss him.

There was something about that kiss. A promise of more, of unsated curiosity. It would all be worth it to take her lips again.

The wind shifted. The roiling clouds dimmed. Danger was coming, a goddess willing to pull them apart.

"You need to leave." He stood with her behind him, arms out to shield her. Ada laughed.

"Take care of yourself," she said. Leon watched her walk around him. With each step she sank into the soil until she disappeared.

Ada stood in her crystal caves, glittering low light over the little bloom in her hand. She stroked its satin petals that had yet to die.

When had she last been touched without the feeling of decay to follow? Leon. She'd remember him. She'd think of him each time she surfaced. They'd meet again, she was sure of it.

"See you around, gentle god," she said to his little gift.

[aclowntiny]

hi!! I know you said soul exchanges weren't necessary for requests, but I'm more than willing to give mine up for this one because it's a universe I adore

superhero!ateez meeting reader. who or what the reader is? entirely up to you 👀👀👀 (the possibilities are endless omg)

((also plz I've been binging all of your writing because it's just so amazing. the cute stuff just gives me lil butterflies and the fuzzies))

yELLS you’re the sweetest actually 🫶🏻 trying to balance all of my stuff & writing, but hopefully what I have out isn’t the last of the butterflies 🦋 & fuzzies I’ll be giving you 🥰 also this is such a good AU idea??? OMG not me spending forever thinking about their powers 🫣 tried not to just drop them directly into famous heroes’ roles… but Yunho HAD to be spiderman & I will not apologize 😤😝 also, I’d be down to do a part 2 for sure hehe

Warnings: some gun/minor violence/death references, some blood, suggestive comment(s), some pain/peril for Reader, long post lol

Meeting Superhero!Ateez

Hongjoong

Magic was not something to be tarried with. It was not a substance one could bend to their will, it was an art and a fickle one at that.

No one understood that better than a person who wasn’t meant to have it in the first place. He hadn’t been tricked into selling his soul, lost himself in some foolish, evil deal, no. Oh, no.

He’d gone and died.

It had felt just like blacking out when he’d been hit, coming to like the collision was barely beyond a concussion. But the world wasn’t the world when Hongjoong awoke.

There was no sun, no plants, only twisted, dead roots, and the people passing by him little more than glowing wraiths, some looking more human than others. His first reaction was to hold his hands before his eyes, exhaling in relief at the sight of their flesh. Except it felt like his ribcage had shrunk; he was unable to get as much air in or out as usual, every fight for air shallowed.

“What’s happening? Where am I?”

“This is the Underworld,” a low voice replied from behind him, sending him shooting up to his feet and turning to face its owner.

A woman perhaps twice his age, one draped in loose black veils falling around the tight shadowy raiment she wore. Her hair like emerald flame wreathing an expression of dark curiosity, like Hongjoong were a bug she hadn’t decided if she was annoyed by.

He was confused, but not afraid. “Well, I want out. There was so much I was in the middle of out there. I can’t lose it all in some accident. I can barely breathe down here!”

The woman chuckled deeply. “Getting sent back is no simple task. We do not idly accept mistakes.”

“Isn’t there something I can do?” Hongjoong urged, stepping forward and gazing into the woman’s blazing green eyes.

“You will never be fully living again. To return is to become a conduit of the Underworld.”

“Will I be a ghost?”

“No, but your humanity will never fully be restored. Death’s connection is inescapable. A part of you will forever be tied to us. Is this what you wish?”

Hongjoong had a career up there. Friends who weren’t ghosts. A hard drive full of projects. A distinct lack of green flame littering the ground. Music. Fashion. Whatever life he could have. Breath in his lungs. The words escaped his shallow chest so quickly he barely realized he’d spoken them. “Yes, it is.”

The deal was sealed willingly and the Underworld faded away, the final sight in Hongjoong’s eyes those points of green burning into his soul.

~

Nothing seemed different when breath rushed fully back into his heaving lungs or when he crawled from the wreckage of his car. His feet still hit solid ground as he walked back to his apartment under the night sky.

And the next day when he was yanked into an alley by two dark figures, his heart sure beat. And when they, speaking of him being the one they were sent for, raised knives, surely it was a one-way ticket out of his second life. Maybe he’d be like a cat, get nine…

All of the stress, every endorphin pumped through Hongjoong’s newly-reanimated body, dropped from him like sweat and arced out as green flame.

The cloaked assailants recoiled at the flame, cursed as glowing forms rose from it. Two of them little more than skeletons, one of them much more humanoid. More like the wraiths Hongjoong saw. More like the Emerald Lady herself. He couldn't help recoiling himself, glancing down again at his hands in disbelief. That was of his making?

The duo of skeletons lashed out first, parrying dagger with sword. You sealed the deal, slamming the butt of your polearm down upon the concrete and sending cracks erupting across the charcoal grey. Beneath their staggered feet, a fissure opened up, sending the men plummeting to some unknown doom.

And with that, you turned to Hongjoong, head cocked with interest. "You're going to be hunted from now on."

He took a deep breath, balled his hands into fists. "What did she do to me?"

"Why do you think she let you go so easily? You're the next Crane."

Tempting was it to look away from the burning glow of your eyes, so similar to the ones who bore him half-escape. Hongjoong wasn't the sort to give in, though. "What does that mean?"

"You were never meant to come to the Underworld, even witness it. Whatever your memories tell you, that was no ordinary accident you were in."

Seonghwa

When you first saw him, sparks flew. Literally.

You’d been focused on the mission at hand, hovering above what you hoped was the main jet for infiltration when a burst of the most beautiful glittering energy sparked before you, wavering like the Aurora Borealis at the edges as it struck open the adjacent craft. It was enough to shake you from the crosshairs haze of disabling anything, stealing your gaze over to the sweeping flight of a black-haired man in a dashing caped suit of violet and silver.

Stories of such a man had reached your ears. “You’re the one they call Cosmos, aren’t you?” You called, mirroring the smile that rose to his lips.

He nodded. “And you must be Depth Charge.”

“I will have you know that that was not my first choice,” you replied as you sent a pulse echoing through the jet’s steel, “or my choice at all. It barely makes sense. I go up, not down.”

Cosmos chuckled at that. His eyes sparkled like the stars in his little energy burst trick, giving him an air of innocence despite his trim figure, the way he sailed through the sky in that l roguish suit. Maybe this was going to be a fun fight after all.

He swerved narrowly past a barrage of jet-fire. “Maybe we should talk when we’re not, you know, attempting to prevent the theft of confidential technology?”

"You're no fun," you mock-scoffed, smirking and boosting yourself to the next jet with a pulse of energy.

"And you're not the one getting shot at!" He fired back, blasting more crackling, star-studded energy at the next barrage before ducking below the shrapnel.

"Yeah, yeah, just come back me up, I see our guy," you urged him, crawling to the top of the jet and focusing the waves you felt into a bladelike space.

The hole had just been cut open when Cosmos swooped in next to you. He was somehow taller than you'd pictured once you saw him up close, serious expression completely changing his bearing. You studied his profile for a few seconds before sliding in through your entry hole legs first. Boots hitting hard floor with a wince-inducing jolt up your ankles, you readied another sonic blade and crept closer to the cockpit. Some shuffling at your back told you Cosmos followed close behind.

Two goons rose from their seats at the sight of you, landing a couple of punches to both of you and even managing to knock you over before you sent their inertia right back at them, slamming them against the wall as you held your surely-bruised jaw. For all his spark, Cosmos held his own in hand-to-hand combat. Well, relatively speaking. He ended up knocking his opponent out with a surprising roundhouse kick. You smiled again, giving a shake of your head.

"What?"

"Extra," you chuckled.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied, extending an arm to the cockpit door, "would you like to do the honors?"

"Thank you, my good man," you humored him, peeling open the door to meet with a faceful of gun barrels.

"I would stay back if I were you," the head thief remarked. Geez, was the guy reading an old movie script?

"I would stand down, actually, unless you'd like to sail through a hole torn in space," Cosmos told him, standing firm.

Your jaw dropped as you turned to face him. "You can do that?"

He gave you an urgent look.

"Sorry."

"You wouldn't risk letting this device go any more than I would," your enemy sneered, tugging his tie into place.

"I wouldn't have to. That's kind of the thing with being able to manipulate gravity. And yes, I can do that."

With that, he raised a hand and the jet flipped upside down. No, wait, you flipped upside down, drifting into the air against your own volition and flailing fecklessly for a few flaps before firing off a balancing pulse. The case drifted loosely in the air, into the hands of one of the gunners, and then right back out as Cosmos summoned it forth. The men opened fire instantly, bullets drifting slowly into air filling with faint whisps of smoke. Both of you banked hard left to dodge the fire, grunting as you hit the wall hard, but Cosmos stood firm again, offering you his hand. Taking it, you felt yourself hurtling through the air, a familiar sensation as speed returned, then the harsh blasts of wind upon leaving the hull.

"Sorry I stole your target," he told you as he drifted and you blasted away, gazes turning from the final jet's descent.

"Stole it?" You snorted, giving him a smile. "I believe that's called helping me. I'm not exactly in this for the brownie button."

"Oh, yeah, what was it again? For fun, right?"

"Something like that," you agreed.

"By the way, if we're going to be working together, we better know each other's names. Real names. My name is Seonghwa." And there were those stars again, lighting up his dark eyes in a manner far too on the nose for his hero name.

Heart fluttering, you gave him your name.

Yunho

Fortunate. That’s how many people described living in a city with a guardian. Hopeful, like if they were to get into trouble, that very man could, in the most literal sense, swoop in and rescue them. It was like magic how he appeared at the scene of wrongdoings- it only added to the feeling that he could see all that occurred through the hustle and bustle of the proverbial concrete jungle.

For Yunho, it was a lot of pressure. Phrases like the man, the myth, the legend hit a little too close to home. What if he were to let someone down? What if one day the mask got yanked off and all everyone saw was a fresh college graduate semi-desperately searching for a job to apply his major to? He didn’t always feel like a hero, just like a man doing his best to help out.

A man with wishes and dreams like any other. Oftentimes that wish was simply for life to be normal again. Like, he had been granted this amazing opportunity and yet it still fell like a burden across his heart sometimes. Especially when he looked at you.

You were his next door neighbor, the occupant of the apartment adjacent to his. Some days you both would be out on your balconies at the same time just staring out at city lights with your favorite drink in hand and you’d glance across the way and smile at each other. Start a little conversation. What do you think those people across the way are doing? Man, you wouldn’t believe this customer at work today. Whatcha got there, the usual?

It dawned on Yunho sometimes in some poetic delusion that you two took and occupied identical spaces, yet they would be wholly unknown to the other. Made reflections of someone still learned. It made him want to clean his apartment, frankly.

It put things into perspective about his powers, too. One time his spidey sense went off and he told you to step back, only for a bird poo to land exactly where your head would have been. As a jest you’d called him your hero, but the jolt that sent through his heart was anything but funny. Fuel, that’s what it was. Motivation to be the man, the myth, the legend, even in the smallest way.

~

The sense rang through his body, slid down his spine, mere seconds before the cry for help. Yunho would have recognized that voice anywhere.

As he launched a web out and swung closer to the sound, his heart pounded. It had never been anyone he knew before. It wasn’t supposed to be someone he knew. But it was you. Sailing between buildings, he stuck to the top of the nearest one, gazing down at the man before you and narrowing his eyes at his wild gestures. Without warning, though, he was grabbing you, pinning you to the wall and reaching a hand-

Thwip! A hand that was pinned to his side before it could even reach a weapon, touch you again. Swinging out from his viewpoint corner, Yunho slammed into the creep with his feet, kicking him off of you. In retaliation, he landed a punch with his good hand.

“What is this,” Yunho lowered his voice lest you recognize it as your neighbor’s, “‘I can take you with one hand tied behind my back’?”

Before the man could reply Yunho tied him down again, not wanting to stoop any closer to his level of brutality.

“I think I’ll have a word with the police on you. Heard they were investigating a bunch of abductions. It’s about time they got some practice in.”

Footsteps rang out as you ran to his side. “Spiderman! Thank you! I had no idea if anyone would hear me, but I should have known!”

“Hear you? I could feel you,” he replied, “well, er, that is, I… I have this, you know, danger sense and I-”

“Hey, it’s ok. I get it,” you said, wrapping your arms around him in a quick side hug, “I know you’re nothing like that guy. Your partner’s lucky to have a guy like you.”

“Well,” Yunho’s voice lowered even more as your eyes peered into his masked ones, as if you could see him, “I don’t actually have one. No one’s really into, uh, yeah.”

“Well, then, can I do this?” With two fingers, you motioned near the edge of his mask, sliding up its corner.

Yunho inhaled, eyes widening beneath their white affects. “Sure.”

Your fingers felt cool when they brushed the edges of his skin, staying true to their word as they peeled up the tiniest section of his mask. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. It took everything in Yunho not to giggle then and there.

“Thank you again,” you breathed as you leaned back.

“No problem,” Yunho replied, “need a walk back home?”

You put a hand on your hip. “Since when does Spiderman walk?”

Chuckling, he shrugged. “Thought offering a swing might scare you.”

You smiled. “I’d be down.”

“Alright, then, hold on tight and name the address.”

Yeosang

It was just another day on the streets of Seoul. The day's bustle had taken its toll on the sidewalk, crowding the strip with bodies and voices. All Yeosang wanted was to get out of there. No sooner had that thought occurred, though, was he reflexively granted that wish: one of the multitudinous passersby careened sideways into him, and in his startlement he’d disappeared entirely.

Cursing internally, he searched for witnesses, sighing with relief at the simple alley he’d unthinkingly sent himself to. Premature relief, for as he turned to leave said alley, there you were standing as if frozen in a bend over a trash can, eyes wide as saucers. He felt his own eyes reflexively widen, resisting every impulse to disappear again and leave you just wondering if you’d gone crazy, never to see him again in a city that large.

A smile spread across your face. “That was awesome! Dude, you just teleported!”

“No, I didn’t,” he deadpanned, taking a few steps toward the alley opening.

“Ok, gaslighter.”

Yeosang stopped dead in his tracks, turned to fix an eye upon you again, sighed. “You understand what a big secret you just witnessed?”

Straightening, you shot him a finger gun. “So you did teleport?”

“Yes, I did. I know how this works,” Yeosang answered, “what will it take for you to keep quiet?”

“Are you a superhero?” You asked, skipping over a scattering of alley trash to move to his side.

“I-” Yeosang sighed. Most days he felt more cursed than heroic. Burdened with secrecy and threats to all who stood for differences, deviations of any kind. But a mutation like his? Inherently greater safety than most challengers to Seoul folk. Dodging the proverbial bullet. He’d managed to teleport a woman who jumped off a building and have a conversation with her. Weeks later. She saw him again, said she considered him her hero. Humbling to say the least. After the long pause, he swallowed. “I try.”

“That’s so cool! What you need is a sidekick.”

“I’m not exactly spiderman,” he replied sheepishly.

Your eyes darted briefly away, then back to his. “Home base?”

“I mean, I live somewhere already, but-”

“No, no,” you cut him off, waving a hand, “I mean like a secret hideout where you can conduct your operations and keep your research with your…administrative assistant.”

“Ok,” Yeosang chuckled, “that’s a pretty clever workaround for ‘sidekick’. But you have to realize people like me aren’t exactly caped crusaders. It’s not an organized thing, I don’t have a danger sense, I just…help where I can.”

At that, you nodded, eager expression finally sobering a bit. “I know. I had a friend whose family attacked him over his powers. He barely made it out of there. I don’t even know where he is now. I guess I just want a better face for you guys. Maybe I just want to make a hero.”

Oh. Yeosang was not expecting that. His eyes widened, softened, blinked. “It’s a nice thought, but maybe let’s start small.” A part of him couldn’t believe he was even implying an agreement, but he’d been alone for so long. Alone wanting to believe someday the world would change.

“Like some cameras? A red-string sort of situation on local crime? Bullet dodge training?”

“I, uh, I think I’ve got the last one covered,” Yeosang replied, putting his hands in his pockets and finally shuffling toward the alley horizon, squinting as he crossed the sun’s threshold.

“You’ve been in a shootout?” You gasped, following him with a hand out over your wide eyes.

“Shh,” he hushed you, glancing back and forth at the thankfully empty street, “I told you! I try to help where I can. Even if it means making myself a target. I’m much harder to hit than the usual robbery victim.”

“This is so cool. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Yeosang.”

You gave him your name, glanced back at him from the peripheries of his vision. “They ever give you a nickname?”

“They usually just say I’m like trying to hit a ghost.”

“Ghost,” you murmured, “that could work.”

“Maybe it could,” Yeosang murmured back, smiling faintly into your wide grin, “maybe.”

San

Most of the other workers thought you were too young. You looked more the age of the test subjects, they said, despite you denying any presence of the mutagens. All you wanted was to understand them, just like anybody else. After all, harnessing the genetic component that allowed adaptation that fast had both amazing and terrifying implications for humanity. Implications not lost on the subjects themselves. It was for that reason that you were assigned to the one dubbed safest for beginners.

He was a young man about your age, a man with well-sculpted features and a contagious smile-on the rare occasion you got to see it. It wasn’t a happy life, after all, in a laboratory quarters, even if they did “simulate comfort”. It was a lie and everyone knew it- those were no apartments. They were cells. It was no way to live, and there you were working there and contributing to it.

Well, sort of. “Ok, I know they say no pins in the walls, but I keep hearing how the guy who likes to give himself bear claws has practically scratched the entire things off his room, so seems a bit hypocritical. I got your old Day6 poster,” you told your subject, holding up a few pushpins in one hand and his poster in the other.

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble?” San asked, grin emphasizing his charming dimples.

“If they fire me, they lose the latest honors geneticist, so I don’t think they want to risk it over a poster.”

“Good point,” he conceded, accepting your gift and crossing the room to pin it on the wall nearest his bed one corner at a time.

His motions were careful, calculated- far less erratic than many of the other subjects’. Subjects. You kept using that word. Dehumanizing. Was that the end goal?

“Alright, what do you think?”

San’s voice cut through your thoughts, directing your attention to the band now displayed upon his wall. One small addition and the room had that much more personality. That much more San.

You smiled. “I like it.”

He nodded toward all the guys in the picture. “Who’s your favorite?”

“I dunno,” you mused, pointing, “that one’s pretty handsome.”

“Young K? Oh, everyone tells me I look like him,” San grins.

“No, they don’t!” You tease. “You would’ve just said that about anyone I called handsome!”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “gotta have some fun before my daily blood sample, huh?”

Smiling sadly, you just nodded, stepping back to take up your syringe tray from where you’d set it on his bookshelf.

~

Shrill warnings echoed throughout every corner of the alternately dimming and brightening laboratory, lights flashing their own alarm as your feet struck the smooth, institutional stained concrete. There’d been a containment breach, an immediate interruption to your protein synthesis as battle stations rang.

Restrain. That was the order. As if you could do anything against a guy with bear claws or venomous barbs or someone with the agility of a cheetah. That was why your company wanted the source so badly- super soldiers and all that. Always soldiers. Never curing wounds. Never jellyfish immortality. None of the subjects had thought of that one, either, as far as you knew, but then you’d yet to witness anyone using the mutagen’s power.

What could you do? There was a taser in your pocket, a small standard-issue you’d received in case of this very unlikely scenario. Restrain was about the only chance you had, but the thought of running into the breach barely crossed your mind amidst the chaos of scrambling compatriots and banging doors as the mass escape began.

All you could think of was reaching Quarters 314. San’s room. It was insane, it was stupid, it was the absolute irrevocable death of your career there- but then again, so would all the subjects escaping be.

If a bunch of the most powerful mutants you housed were escaping already, you wanted San to have freedom. Every cent you had, you’d bet that he could walk back out onto the streets and never hurt a single soul. That’s why they gave him to you in the first place- he was complacent. Kind.

304. The moment the door entered the haze of your vision, you slammed your key card on the lock sensor pad and tumbled in.

San was hunched near the doorway. “What’s going on, did someone get hurt?”

“They’re escaping. All the strongest ones,” pausing for a heartbeat, you reconsidered your words, thought about how every man and woman in the building had the same skills, “well, all the fighters. Come on.”

His eyes, shining as ever, widened. “Are we evacuating?”

“No,” you shook your head, grabbing his hand, “you’re leaving.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This might be your one chance to get back out there and live. I’ve been coming in here every day for weeks. You don’t deserve to live in a cell. As badly as I wanna know how you work, this isn’t a life for anyone. Do you want out?” You asked, tone firm despite your frantic heart, searching his eyes.

San nodded. “Ok. Thank you. I can get us out.”

You frowned. “Us?”

“If this is all on the cameras you stick everywhere, they won’t be your biggest fans anymore.”

“Good point. Are you going to…” You trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject.

He hummed in response, those soft eyes you’d seen every day hardening like never before and that sharp jaw setting. He squared…braced himself.

“You don’t like doing it, do you?” The question came out of your mouth before it had fully entered your brain, but to your relief he didn’t look annoyed.

“Depends on what it is. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

You shook your head.

“Well, sorry this is your first time,” San said, and with that, his shoulders squared again, his head falling as if struck down.

Subconsciously, you reached out hands at his pained expression, but what could you do? It was all inside him.

At least at first. Soon, the slick fabric of his moisture-wicking regulation top was splitting, bursts of blood spraying as new bone and tissue arose, tendrils that solidified into sharp flesh-toned blades before bursting into feathers. Tears fell from San’s eyes as he shakily rose back to his feet. He’d just grown wings.

And as if all that blood and tissue and the sheer amount of development occurring over mere seconds was little more than a strenuous workout, he wiped his brow with his left hand and extended his right.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.”

Mingi

Sometimes he wondered why he was chosen.

What it was about him that another race from a different planet would think he had what it took to bear and protect one of their greatest treasures? He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe the right place. The demand had been simple- keep it safe until others arrive for it.

The crash had happened when he was home, a sound so deafening it was like the world was ending. Shaking as he was, Mingi had run outside into the rush of the night wind, out along the smoke trail in the woods to see if whatever catastrophe had had survivors, if victims. And survivors there were- ones a bit odd-looking. Almost human save for the violet hue of their skin, the pointed tips of their ears, the vertical slits of eyelids revealed when the woman’s visor fell from across her eyes. Their skin felt different, too, as Mingi pulled them from beneath crushed metal and fire, firm and with smoothness gently interrupted by texture he could only describe as like small scales.

They didn’t look happy with him, but still accepted his help stumbling between trees and back into his home. They understood bandages, accepted beds. Swore Mingi to secrecy even as they thanked him days later. Be it technology or some uncanny occasion, they could speak to him. They could understand.

The mission they’d set out on was one of guardianship; the relic, something of myth, needed new housing and a new bearer.

“The one worthy will be selected,” the man told him in his deep, faintly accented hiss of a voice.

It was an imposition, sure. But how often did aliens land near one’s property guarding a weapon of legend? Mingi’s whole week had felt like a dream, and until he woke up the least he could do was deepen its lucidity.

“Can I see it?” He asked, peering up earnestly into their snakelike eyes from above the intricately carven and paneled box of steel with the most incredible iridescent shine he’d ever seen. Its contents had to be even more beautiful, right?

They watched, glanced down at the way his hands hovered reverently, stared back into his eyes.

“You are not of deceitful mind,” the woman replied.

“It is not out of depth that he welcomed strangers into his home,” the man shot back.

“No, it was out of kindness,” the woman insisted, waving a hand over the box, “as a reward, you may look upon the Heart of Steel.”

Gingerly, she traced some of the lines that Mingi had barely noticed with the tips of her long fingers, reaching beneath the bottom and holding her hands there until the top of the box simply floated a foot or two above the remainder, held by some microcosm gravity that drew a breath of awe from Mingi. Reflexively his fingers stretched toward the contents of the box, a smooth metal teardrop shape crafted from that same resplendent material.

Heat radiated from its small surface the moment he moved closer, sending him drawing back, but like a magnet it shot after him and into his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at both of the beings who still hadn’t offered him names, “I swear I’m not doing this!”

“No,” the woman shook her head, snake-eyes wide, “you are being chosen.”

~

“And you expect me to believe this why?” You asked him, brow arched.

“Because,” Mingi put up his hands in defense, eyes scanning your form, “I didn’t even want to touch it! Why would I steal this thing I know nothing about?”

“Delskvlln was right. Not a deep thinker,” you commented.

“See? I know him! They ended up telling me their names! His wife was…er…Syssmerlyss? I am so sorry if I’m not pronouncing it correctly.”

“Well, the accent needs work, but I suppose Syssmerlyss was right- you have a certain kindness about you.” You took two steps closer to him, half-tapping, half-pushing him on the shoulder twice in a gesture that probably didn’t fully translate. “Come on, then, we have training to do.”

“Well,” he scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly, “sometimes the suit doesn't cooperate, but I think I’m starting to get pretty good with the gravity swords.”

“It gave you the swords?”

“Heh, uh…yeah?”

Wooyoung

It was hard sometimes, using such abilities for good. Had he so chosen, Jung Wooyoung could have become a world leader, a dictator even. But that thought terrified him. The pressure sounded unbearable. No fun, either, not that former friends hadn’t tried to convince him countless times to use his gifts for that, too. He preferred the traditional methods of seduction, were he to desire employing any at all.

Accessing minds was Wooyoung’s least favorite skill, in fact. Seeing and hearing thoughts was crushing, uncomfortable, an unfair dominance. Bouncing twice as high as a person should be able to with a force field, though? Making things levitate out of people’s hands? Bee’s knees.

He'd been a rogue in the city, just a wanderer who did what he could to help others when he wasn’t working. Flinging the gun out of an armed robber’s hand, blocking bullets with force fields, even fighting back when he had to.

They just didn’t learn. He couldn’t help scoffing a bit and teasing them when they fired at him.

“Now, gentleman, isn’t this a bit insulting?” He’d ask, casually flipping a hand as the bullets ricocheted and buried themselves harmlessly into walls. “And besides, I don’t want to hurt you. I just think this doesn’t belong to you.”

Cue him summoning the stolen money or goods right from their indignant hands and, eventually, back to the rightful owner. After convincing them all to stand still with their hands in the air, of course.

There had just begun whispers of his presence, trepidation at the prospect of an illegal smuggle or a robbery for the first time, a name for him emerging when he faced the first true opposition.

“So, you’re the Vigilante everyone’s talking about, are you?”

“Is that what they call me?” Wooyoung shot back.

“Guess you aren’t in it for the fame,” you snickered, stepping further from the shadows of the doorway, a tube-shaped device Wooyoung didn’t recognize in your hand.

“What do you want with me?” He asked, glancing at it and crossing his arms.

“Ideally, you to get out of the way,” you replied, flicking something on the device and sending it unfolding with large cracks, climbing up your forearm like a mechanical caterpillar and glowing at the tip once your hand was completely enveloped.

“Out of the way of wh-” He didn’t have time to complete his sentence before a bolt of energy arced his way, his instincts barely kicking in in time for him to launch away from it.

Putting up a force field, he stood his ground, staring at you with new interest. “You’re part of the weapons racket, aren’t you?”

“A plus, genius,” you replied, smug satisfaction glinting in your eyes, “the city isn’t going to need you much longer.”

“You’re right,” he said, “because I’m about to kick your ass.”

Another bolt of purple energy came at him, shattering the faint glow of his field. Wooyoung’s jaw dropped, but he quickly righted it as he moved closer. It felt like his whole body clenched as his energy focused on peeling the device off. You winced in pain and jumped back as the gun fired an erratic shot that rained chunks of ceiling down behind Wooyoung’s back, sending a little lightning strike of guilt across his heart, but he kept at it, sending each piece yanked off to your side to fortify the restraints he was making. You struggled, panting and tugging as he worked, kicking aside his work and scrambling toward a panel on the wall. With each button you pressed, Wooyoung slid your feet out from under you, but in the end he heard the dreaded activation beep. The look you turned and shot him was a mix of defiance and resignation that shook him to his core and froze him to the spot. He didn’t even stop you as you ran away, just slid the nearest couple pieces of your contraption towards himself, grabbed them, and made his own flight out before the place blew.

Shielding himself from the heat and sound, he knelt and examined the scraps. Luck was on his side, it seemed; he’d gotten the chunk bearing manufacturer and serial number info. For the first time in his life, Wooyoung wasn’t going to just deflect and run- he was going to chase you down.

Jongho

It was cloudy. It was almost always cloudy. Not exactly ideal conditions for your lot, but what were you going to do? Couldn't exactly bottle sunshine, as they said.

Not that they weren't probably trying. Scientists had gone positively psycho in your city, the hottest trend being harnessing the elements. Success rate? You, at least. It wasn't supposed to be you. Maybe not anyone, for that matter, but the spores ended up in your body regardless. You'd heard that they were supposed to be used or they'd take over, but the call to do so was strong regardless.

Trees planted on the sidewalk suddenly bloomed and flourished. Green sprouted in odd hosts within the concrete jungle. Flowers out of sidewalks and the like. Anything to combat what the rest of humanity was doing, right?

That was all it had been until someone saw you. An older man, betrayingly grandfatherly, began a mild conversation that quickly deepened, progressed to him requesting your help in an investigation on the very place that exposed you to their research.

"Why me? I barely spent any time there. I wasn't the test subject, it was an accident!" Never had you realized you were afraid to return until it was asked of you. The infection was hell until it stuck, pain all over your body like you'd never known, violent reactions as your body writhed and tried again and again to reject the foreign invasion.

Then poof, there you were as the city's chlorophyll ninja.

"Because you have been inside. You've visited once, why not again? They'll never suspect a thing, and if they do, you're armed with something much greater than what I got."

"Oh," you raised a brow, "so this is personal?"

"It's beyond that," the main replied quickly, gaze darting from yours, "but yes. I'm getting older. This sort of mission is getting more difficult. But more than anything they would recognize me in a heartbeat, and I didn't exactly quit on good terms."

"I'm not in this fight. I didn't ask for any of this," you repeated, "and now you want me to go in there blind and alone? Maybe I don't want to be your recon pawn."

The old man waved a hand, the one that wasn't gloved. "You wouldn't be alone, poor dear. You think you're the only escaped lab rat? I used to think I was." Grabbing the hem of his pant leg, he pulled it up to reveal a very elaborate cybernetic prosthesis. "Both are different. But no, I've kept tabs on the place for a long time. Found another much like you."

With that, he motioned to the doorway with his free hand. Guess you could figure out why the other was covered. As your gaze traced the man's one organic limb, your eyes fell to the doorway, where a young man about your age stepped out.

His appearance was pretty innocuous. His hair was short and dark, his expression stony but his features kind. His broad shoulders were draped with a long coat that swayed near the base of his boots, and beneath that he wore a dark turtleneck and jeans.

"How do you do, Neo?" You quipped as your eyes scanned his form.

To your great surprise, that 'mission go' look on his face melted rapidly into a wide grin, a chuckle. Guy had a nice smile.

"It's Jongho. That was good, though." He nodded down toward you. "Was the green intentional?"

You yourself glanced down at your outfit, and you'd be darned. You were wearing green. Apparently this Jongho fellow knew more about you than you did of him. You were surprised he didn't comment on the potted plant necklace you'd gotten from Etsy- the one you'd nicknamed 'ammo'.

"No, but I guess fate has a sense of humor. Do you have beef with FTR Labs too?"

Jongho nodded. "They have my brother."

At that, your heart dropped. Just by the man's tone of voice you could tell he was trying to be brave, but he didn't want to go back to FTR any more than you did. Want, no. Need? Yes. Maybe the old man was right- maybe they were taking their experiments too far. You hadn't even seen what they'd done to Jongho yet. If it had been a fight for his body, too, let alone his brother's.

"Alright," you nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets, "I'll go with you. Do you have a plan?"

"Of course. My main goal is to disrupt their comms first."

"Classic. How do you propose we do that?"

"I figured a little lightning would do the trick."

"Excuse me?"

Wordlessly, Jongho stared at you, his eyes almost glazing over as gusts of wind rolled through the room and clouds drifted over his head, spattering his black-clad shoulders with tiny droplets of rain. Electricity arced between two of the clouds, light flashing like tiny, branched white roots as it traveled down his cheek, through his arm and into his hand as if illuminating his very veins. Harnessing the elements.

Nothing could have stopped your jaw from dropping, but as you righted yourself, you couldn't help smiling with a strange rush of anticipation. "Hey, if you're the one that's been keeping it so cloudy these days, can you at least rain a little on my friends?" And with that, you let ammo grow out, engulfing your upper body with the comforting hug of leafy vines.

"Kids," the old man shook his head, "always showing off."

[mimikyu-oli]

FNAF AUs List

You Walk Another Line series:

1) An Imposter Case au:

Heights

Synopsis

3) Rebranded Case au:

What is Lucas?

---

Three Threads for the Fourth au:

Elizabeth's timeline

William's timeline

Michael's timeline

4th timeline:

First birth

Morning of the first day

The Lost Future. (spoilers)

Beings: Dr. Hippo and Madame Automate

The Maestro

Mitchel's personality

Masquerade

---

I Am Sheltering A Human-Size Racoon au:

Ethan Bennett

Cassendra Bennett

Who is Cassendra

Zorro

Allen

Lewis

Dorothy McMallan

Koda Evergreen

Jacob Bennett

Esteban's confort foods

Residents

Head cannon generator: Ethan

What is in the attic: poll

Esteban and her friends in a girls all-nighter hangout.

The House

Datthing

---

Memories of the Neighbor's House au:

Synopsis

Lucius Mortimer

Jess

Josh

Evelyn Mortimer

Edmund Mortimer

Ann Viceroy

Jeremy Viceroy

Rosa Brooks

Darius Brooks

---

You Didn't Think You Would Be Him Right? au:

---

After the Frights au:

After the Frights List

Alone with the ghost of the past.

Ask answer

Sea Bonnies? More like Sea Fraud!: the base

---

Solitude among others (Lonely Freddy):

Synopsis

---

Backtracker Nightguard au:

Synopsis

Synopsis 2

This guy

---

Grave Dinner au:

Synopsis

Michael great unmasking

Employees

---

Ghostly Bonding au:

Synopsis

Synopsis 2

---

Cleaved Together au:

Synopsis

---

The Bearer of Thread au:

Synopsis

---

Hey there, Mudman! au:

Synopsis

Ask answer

---

A Goo-ly Situation au:

Synopsis

---

Blue Reversion au:

Synopsis

---

In fact I was pointing at a mirror au:

Synopsis

---

He was always the fifth au:

Synopsis

---

As the Counselor Suggest au:

Synopsis

Synopsis 2

Ideas of William’s deaths!

---

Bonus:

Michael's friend possessing a Funtime

Michael possess Helpy and goes back in time

C.C. gets kidnaped

C.C. time traveled

Forced Bonding au

See you in another time au

Frights Hotel

this is weird

Immortalization Wasn't Expected au

Truck-kun had hit again.

Congratulation! You're a father now! au

Michael gets in the past and more

Siamese twin Michael?

Simulation

The Frights investiguators

A life for a life. A wraith for a breath.

Jeff

Michael taking William’s place

Sequestration

[medlarmeadows]

httyd au but angelstone. rumi is this super strong and skilled dragonrider, riding a brilliantly white nightwing named sunny, while peter is at the bottom of the ranks with his small brown dragon named lizard. everyone adores and looks up to rumi, while peter is ignored and nobody ever wants to partner with him for patrols. he has a tendency to chicken out when facing foes, leaving behind his teammates to face them alone (he never admits its because everybody would say he sucked at the job, never admits that the constant condescension brings down his own belief in himself).

(more under the cut!)

one day, their people face a new war with another clan of dragonriders. when choosing partners, rumi unexpectedly chooses peter. everyone's shocked, some people saying "rumi are you sure? he's deadweight." but rumi stands firm in their decision. when peter asks them why later on, all rumi gives is a cryptic "we were meant to be together, peter sqloint."

flash forward and they're actually such a great duo!!! during fights, peter is tempted to turn tail and flee, but rumi is always there with encouraging words and he's standing his ground (in the air) and continues fighting alongside rumi. everybody around winders how this nobody is suddenly excelling. and despite everything, there are still people who look down on peter, crediting his improvement to rumi alone and never acknowledging the potential peter always had inside him. all it needed was a spark

then comes a huge battle with the leader from the opposing dragonriders. you know that scene in httyd 1 where everyone thinks hiccup dies? yeah THAT. rumi and peter are fighting tooth and nail against the huge dragon that the other leader is riding. rumi gets a lucky shot, tossing the leadee off his dragon. but the enraged dragon retaliates, breathing fire against them. all of a sudden there's a loud "RUMIII", and peter is in front of them. lizard's tail knocks sunny enough to spin both sunny and rumi out of the line of fire. all rumi can do is scream for peter as they see him disappesr behind bright orange flames

rumi was angry. no, they were more than angry. they wanted vengeance. peter, sweet peter. kind and compassionate peter who saw the goodness in the world despite never receiving kindness from it. peter sqloint did not deserve to die. rumi felt a hollowing in their chest, an anguish they didn't think they would've felt months ago had they not fallen in love with peter as they had fought side by side

peter would be avenged

rumi attacks like a wraith, charging with sunny as though they were one being and not two. together, they take down the dragon and make sure that the leader was dead before descending down to the burning remains of the battlefield below to find peter.

they don't see peter first. instead, they see a brown dragon curled in on itself. rumi slowly coaxes lizard to relax, and they see peter. he's unconscious, cuts littering his face and all around his body. his leather armour is torn in several places.

rumi isn't sure he would wake up.

but somehow, he does.

and as life returned to peter, rumi felt life return to themself too. because peter was awake. peter was alive.

there's major celebrations in their island and for once, the people are acknowledging - are celebratin - peter's heroism during the final battle.

and as the celebrations die down, rumi steals peter away from the crowd to speak. and i think you can imagine what happens from then on ;)

also thanatos i guess is one of the stoic other dragonriders they always bump into who develops a soft fondness for them despite coming off as no-nonsense at first. he's the undercover wingman/cupid as somehow he ends up in the middle with both rumi and peter coming to him about their feelings for the other person (thanatos just wants to fight people damnit)

[okkotsuyuutaloml]

a/n: i'm cleaning my computer and found a bunch of short stories which i had written for my english class (but ended up not submitting it bcs i chickened out and instead wrote an argumentative essay)

pairing: mark webber and sebastian vettel (platonic)

cw: murder, gore, horror, au

wc:

main mlist ! | f1 mlist !

thank you @taestwinkle for proofreading this for me!

in the shadowed heart of the decaying city of dunwich, where whispers of despair lingered in the alleys, two souls teetered on the brink of madness: mark webber, a forsaken artist and sebastian vettel, a macabre surgeon.

mark's studio was a morbid sanctuary, adorned with grotesque canvases that defied the boundaries of human suffering. his latest masterpiece, "the eviscerated symphony," had drawn the attention of the macabre elite, including sebastian.

sebastian, a surgeon by day and a collector of the macabre by night, had an insatiable appetite for the obscure. he frequented the darkest corners of the city in search of subjects for his experiments, always lurking in the shadows.

one fateful evening, seb's twisted path led him to mark's studio. the pungent scent of wet paint and decay hung heavy in the air as he entered. a symphony of anguish unfolded before him on the canvases, each stroke and brushstroke an ode to despair.

mark turned, his eyes like fractured mirrors, reflecting a thousand sorrows. "you," he said, his voice a haunting melody. "you are not here for my art. you are here for something darker."

sebastian nodded, a twisted grin dancing on his lips. "i seek inspiration, dear artist, and i hear your work is nothing short of transcendent."

a sinister alliance formed between them that night. sebastian provided mark with the most macabre subjects for his art, dissected and splayed open for his creative endeavors. in return, mark invited sebastian to witness his artistry firsthand, to see the unholy marriage of life and death on his canvases.

their twisted collaboration soon grew into an obsession. mark's art became more grotesque with each passing day, his brush strokes capturing the essence of suffering in a way that no other artist could fathom. sebastian, on the other hand, pushed the boundaries of medical science, experimenting on living subjects in the name of his insatiable curiosity.

one chilling night, as rain poured in torrents, the duo embarked on their most audacious endeavor yet. they ventured to the city's catacombs, a labyrinth underworld where the forgotten dead whispered their secrets. mark's canvas was set amidst the bones, lit by flickering candles, as sebastian worked meticulously to extract the essence of agony from a still-breathing victim.

as the night wore on, a maddening fusion of art and science unfolded. mark's brush moved with a feverish intensity, capturing the tortured soul of the victim on canvas. sebastian's surgical instruments danced like malevolent wraiths, unraveling the mysteries of life and death.

but then, in the catacombs' eerie silence, something unexpected happened. the victim's pain transcended the physical, and his suffering began to infect the very air around them. mark's brush shook as he felt the tendrils of agony wrap around his heart and sebastian's once-celestial curiosity curdled into a grotesque obsession.

as the ritual reached its height, the boundary between life and death blurred. the victim's anguished cries merged with mark's screams of artistic ecstasy and sebastian's maniacal laughter. in that unholy moment, they glimpsed something beyond their comprehension—a realm where suffering and creation merged, a dimension of pure horror.

the catacombs trembled, and a cataclysmic force tore through the studio above. the city of dunwich was forever scarred by the malevolent energy they had unleashed. the cataclysmic artistry they had wrought that night was their final masterpiece—a grotesque testament to the depths of human depravity.

in the end, mark and seb were never seen again, their souls claimed by the dark forces they had summoned. their studio became a forbidden legend, a place where the line between art and abomination had been irrevocably blurred.

and so, in the heart of the decaying city of dunwich, the legacy of mark and sebastian lived on—a nightmarish tale whispered in the alleys, a reminder of the darkness that dwells within the human soul.

a/n: definitely didn't have merriam webster open 😋

[just-some-friendly-fun]

Thinking about that one HTTYD AU.... For MK1 ... by @m4nt1dr4x Thinking... Thinking sm rn... ... Thinking of Sub-Zero with a Snow Wraith, although it's impossible to train and achieve its cooperation, much less loyalty. What would stop Bi-Han from pushing past the expectation of the impossible to achieve what he wants? A powerful creature who works well in the environment of Arctika and is equally aggressive as the Lin Kuei Grandmaster can be. ... Thinking of Scorpion with a Singetail, considering that to ride/train one they usually have dragon-proof metal bridles that have chains, and you'll never guess who's good at using chains (along with the fact that Singetails are capable of defending themselves even when outnumbered)

.... Thinking of Raiden with a Skrill, although a complete contrast in personality. They both hold the capacity to exhibit extreme damage when their rage or aggression if left uncontrolled or unresolved, at least Raiden's godly counterpart did. I'd like to think of the Skrill as Raiden attempting to be good at "controlling" his anger. Plus, to tame a skrill, would require earning its trust through being willing to sacrifice yourself for its life, which I think Raiden is completely willing to do honestly. ... Thinking of Mileena with a Changewing--- why? Because I keep thinking back to the theory where it mentioned Mileena and Tanya sneaking out one night and having a dragon that can perfectly camouflage itself, is a perfect creature to help you sneak out to hang with your girlfriend. ... Thinking of Kitana with a Hobblegrunt. I don't know if I have a specific or deeper reasoning other than the fact that I think the creature would pair well with Kitana's fans and they just look nice together. ... Thinking of Shang-Tsung with a Dramillion, Death-Gripper, or even a Snaptrapper. Considering that Snaptrappers lure their prey in with an intoxicatingly sweet smell, which matches his manipulative tendency to speak with honeyed and enticing words that make you want to agree with everything he says. Dramillions work as well since they can copy other dragons' breaths, which pairs with his ability to change into other characters and use their abilities as well. As for the Death-Gripper, I think I chose that one mainly because I think Shang Tsung would've shared similar paths with Grimmel in utilizing their own venom to control them. ... And thinking about Ermac having an Armorwing dragon that died around the same time he did, only to come back as a Boneknapper which might be representative of his own revival. (I also am a firm believer that Armorwings are somehow the same as Boneknappers)

[evish-rambles]

So I decided just to make a new blog aksfjkaghkslfaf. n e way this is a spot for me to basically just turn my voices time (technical term for talking to yourself in/about character) into something i can actually look back on. I expect my posts could range anywhere from single sentence concepts all the way to like,, paragraphs upon paragraphs of nonsense. Horray!!

My tagging system may evolve overtime but as of right now; "oc: [name]" is used for my characters, "foc: [name]" is for my friends characters, and "npc: [name]" will be used for npcs of any campaign. "character into" is for if i actually decide to write up intros for my losers (I may do some quick synopses? if so they'll be under the cut <3), "fic ideas" is pretty self explanatory, and any aus will be tagged, ex. "band au" "evil au" etc. If i come up with anything else i'll probably add it here!! I fully expect this blog to be more well tagged than my main aklsfgaslkhf

alright! settle in for chaos >:)

Basic Character Intros!! Wahoo!! I'm gonna list em in chronological order of when I made them. Race, Class and Subclass, age, a song i feel fits them best, and a brief backstory rundown will all be given.

DnD PC's

Zezrina Frear (She/Her)

Drow, College of Spirits Bard

227 (equivalent of 25)

The Mariners Revenge Song by The Decemberists

Has a power where she can talk to ghosts who tell her the future, inherited from her mother who was driven insane by visions of Zez's death. Her mother then died under mysterious circumstances and Zez ran from her family to try and figure out what actually happened.

Imagine if you fused the Madrigal family from Encanto with Luke and May Castellan from Percy Jackson.

Vildanna Cadieux (She/Her)

Half-Elf/Hexblood, Shadow Sorcerer

19

What The World Needs from Ride The Cyclone

Orphaned daughter of an attempted coup, Vildanna believes she alone knows right from wrong. She believes truly that good people (her) do only good things, and bad people (anyone who opposes her) do only bad things. This is complicated somewhat by the fact that shes the character I play for Curse of Strahd :)

She also has a litte rat dog named Syvestre, have you ever seen the "nightime pee artist" meme? that.

Kezarel Riverseeker (She/Her)

Human, Necromancy Wizard

16

High (Keep Up) by Bo Baskoro

As the middle of 7 in a prominent Waterdhavian noble house, Kez knows that unless she can prove herself she'll be forced into a political marriage. Her chosen path is to become a Court Mage for her family, an educator and protector. She protects her self by mimicking the behavior of her mother, who is... not a great person.

General Nizira Votsky (He/Him)

Reborn Half-Orc, Vengeance Paladin

46

Just A Man from EPIC: The Musical

After a long life in the military Nizira settled down with his adopted son Alexi. This was interrupted when people broke into his home, killed him, and kidnapped Alexi. With his dying breath Nizira swore vengeance and was reborn as basically a wraith, his hunger for violence is the only thing keeping him alive.

Arda Pendragon (He/Him)

Aasimar, Mutant Bloodhunter

25

Reaper Man by Mother Mother

An ex-noble who got kicked out for being too gay!! Arda fell in love with a man who lived in the woods outside his town who was executed for "crimes against the throne". Now he drifts through life seeking any carnal pleasure to distract himself from the loss.

His father is an Angel and also his angelic guide, which makes for some interesting conversations.

Weary aka Lavender Farmane (She/It)

Teifling, Gunslinger Fighter

22

Mr. Capgras Encounters a Second Hand Vanity... by Will Wood and the Tapeworms

Oh the TMA hyperfixation hit me hard here. A simple kid from a farming village comes home one day to find her sister June replaced by someone else, even worse; shes the only one who seems to notice. Over the next 3 years Weary is slowly driven to the brink of madness, eventually leading to her using her inventive mind to create a firearm and "kill" the thing that isn't June. Naturally she's sent to a psych ward which she manages to escape from. Now shes on the run from the law, ever vigilant to anyone else who seems to change.

Ivy "Venus" Allium (She/Her)

Firbolg, Knowledge Cleric

26 (19)

Dear Wormwood by The Oh Hellos

Valas Diril Hylinn (He/Him)

Drow, Battlemaster Fighter

412 (41)

Layin' Pipe by David Wilcox

Amze Sankrat (She/They/It)

Shifter, Gloomstalker Ranger

17

Fire by Kimya Dawson

Wyvern Maradil aka Lucien Clement Hargreaves (He/They)

Dhampir, Hexblade Warlock

257 (25)

I Am by Foot Ox

Azalea Ito (She/Her)

Water Genasi, Mercy Monk

20

My Smile is Extinct by Kane Strang

Casimir Belladonna (She/He)

Aasimar, Zealot Barbarian

21

Soap by Penelope Scott

Aria Novri (She/Her)

Changeling, Aberrant Mind Sorcerer

22

Mary by Alex G

Maximillian Fabron (They/He)

Goliath, Drake Warden Ranger

25

Liar by Queen

Dogma aka Ephraim Olach (They/Them)

Reborn Teifling, Undead Warlock Crown Paladin

29

The Weight by Amigo The Devil

Wisteria Bancroft (She/Her)

Warforged, Bladesinger Wizard

18

Marie Douceur Marie Colère by Marie Lafôret

Pollux Verrum-Sinclair (She/They)

Air Genasi, Armorer Artificer

37

Chip On My Shoulder from Legally Blonde The Musical

Verity Goodheart (She/Her)

Satyr, Eloquence Bard

19

Bugbear by Chloe Moriondo

Oscar Larke aka Valentine (He/Him)

Dhampir, Glamour Bard Soulknife Rogue

26

Remember My Name by Mitski

Michaelangelo Yelquinal (He/Him)

High Elf, Spores Druid

204 (20)

Freedom! '90 by George Michael

Muse Lavesque (She/Her)

Teifling, Profane Soul Bloodhunter

39

Looking Forward from Steven Universe: Future

Wickland Thorpe (He/Him)

Fire Genasi, Whispers Bard Swashbuckler Rogue

24

Truth Or Dare by Ricky Montgomery

Prudence (She/Her)

Warforged, Conquest Paladin

(unknown)

SPIT IN MY FACE! by ThxSoMch

Lance Mahoney aka Violet (He/Him)

Yuan-Ti, Feywanderer Ranger

14

Keep You Safe by The Crane Wives

Non-DnD Characters

Phoebe Lane (She/Her) - Monsterhearts 2

The Fey

15

Not Your Seed from The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals

Calithe aka Nightwave (She/Her) - Masks

The Outsider

17

Dare To Be Stupid by "Weird Al" Yankovic

Selene Duskrith (She/They) - BG3

Drow, Moon Druid

267 (26)

Sylvia by Autoheart

Calliope Schaefer (She/They) - Kids on Brooms

Charismatic Slacker

20

What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish

DnD NPC's

Kazius Absinthe Valcod (He/Any Pronouns)

Teifling, Wizard

~1100 (28)

Lavender by Two Door Cinema Club

Cecilia (She/Her)

Reborn, Gunslinger Fighter

27

Bury Me Face Down by Grandson

Ovid (He/Him)

Disgraced God

(unknown)

Sonne by Rammestein

[chaniis-atlantis]

Tell me about your creatively named "Stargate Fanfic". 😁

"Stargate Fanfic" my beloved! It's funny that you ask about this one because it's the long fic I gifted to you way back in 2021! It was my first stargate fic and even after it got its "Across the Universe" title, I never changed the doc name. Now she and her huge word count sits unassumingly in my files, waiting for me to finally finish her.

You already know the plot but I'll pitch it for anyone else. It started as a "faking dating" fic and then kinda spiraled into a passion project AU where John and Todd the Wraith get kiddnapped by Wraith and have to find their way back home while also falling in love. Like I said, its an AU so theres a lot of my own ideas and at this point I wouldn't necessarily say John and Todd are in character, but I really love it and will be super proud of it when it's finally done!

This snippet is from the current in-progress chapter. Todd is confronting the Wraith Queen who organized his capture (and who is his ex)

Todd closed his eyes, just to feel her one last time. She was still as soft as she’d been all those years ago. Soft and slightly warm under his rough hand. She still seemed so young, but she wasn’t anymore. She was smart not to trust him, that instinct would take her far.

What surprised him is when she said, “You could come with me.”

He pulled his hand away, not because he was disgusted by the prospect, but because it made his heart ache.

She reached out with her own to try and follow his retreat, but halfway through she saw the look in his eyes and withdrew. “Because you love another?”

He could almost laugh. It was far too easy to imagine a life where he went with her and rebuilt what they’d had. It was easy to see himself commanding her Hive and dragging it back to glory. They could be great like they had been before, he was certain of that. The idea was sweet on his mind and his tongue. All prospects involving belonging to a Hive were like; they were nearly irresistible. How hard it was to turn down living in a place he truly belonged.

Like the times before, he almost wanted it – almost. Different from those times, he had a better reason for turning her down.

“It is not Sheppard,” he told her “Though it is true that I have carved a new life out for myself, and that I love another, it is not because of that.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Then what?”

“Because I am not good for you.” The truth was sharp to say.

“What if I forgave you?”

“You won’t, not really. And even if you did, it is possible to forgive Wraith who hurt us and still move on from them. Wraith who hurt us do not always deserve to know us again, least of all me to you. You deserve to make your own life apart from me, truly, without me as a single thought in your mind ever again. I didn’t mean to take your life away, but I did. Take it back. Do not ask me to be by your side when it is the one place I should never be.”

She stared at him for so long that he was afraid she’d frozen there, but at last she took a deep breath, ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and asked in the smallest voice ever, “Even if I still love you?”

“Especially then.”

Thanks for the ask!

[quietwingsinthesky]

Happy Sammy Sunday!

This was supposed to be a drabble, but it quickly got out of hand. So! Enjoy this Sam & Lucifer ficlet: AU edition (now with dragons!)

Lucifer won’t allow anyone to ride him. The last five who tried were all gravely injured.

Sam is foolish number six, a rider without a dragon, a failure for a failure, and the last chance either of them have before they are cast down. Dragons are intelligent. Sam can’t help but wonder if Lucifer knows that he’s destroying himself.

(Just like he will never know if they gave Lucifer to him to tame because of Dean’s success with the oldest of his clutch, Michael, or because they would rather Sam die by a dragon than…)

Lucifer is the second largest of his clutch, and his wings eclipse the sun when he raises them at Sam’s approach. In the darkness, he’s an terrifying wraith of scarred white scales. Every breath he exhales is enough to threaten Sam’s balance, and his pale hide does little to hide the fire’s heat inside his throat.

If Sam had frozen in fear, he’s sure Lucifer would have burnt him up, his own fate be damned.

Sam forsakes caution. He drags his leather glove off his right hand. Lucifer watches him, neck curved towards Sam and head tilted. His tongue flickers out to taste Sam’s scent, revealing fangs larger than Sam’s arms. Lucifer’s massive foreleg extends, crushing the ground beside Sam as his claws flex into the rock below. Sam doesn’t stop.

He can almost hear Dean yelling at him to put his glove back on. It’s a stupid move, but Sam has a feeling Lucifer will take nothing but a true bond, the old way, to take all of Sam’s mind and give all of his own in return.

It’s going to hurt.

Lucifer’s heartscales are pale pink. This close, Sam can hear his heartbeat. It thumps like the stalking footsteps of a predator, and though each pulse sends tremors course through Sam’s body, he doesn’t run. He turns his palm over, observes the calluses and the wrinkles of his palm and the long-healed cuts that mar his fingers. He doesn’t allow himself to stall another moment, no countdowns in his head or deep breaths. He turns his hand over again and slams his palm into Lucifer’s chest.

Sam screams. He won’t let go.

Lucifer’s mind hits his like a comet, bearing down to see if Sam will break under the weight of him. He is not merciful, but Sam has tried to form bonds with other dragons and never felt anything like him before. For a moment, Sam’s body isn’t his own. Lucifer is behind his senses, taking them in, even the pain his own scorching hide rips through Sam. Lucifer is the one who presses Sam’s hand harder into his heartscales, but Sam- Sam is a towering beast with limbs he’s never felt before, with hungry fire burning through his entire being. Sam feels the rough crags of stone beneath Lucifer, the wind brushing over the thin membranes of his wings, even the leftover taste of blood from his last meal. Sam leans forward towards the small human body that is both Lucifer’s and his own, as Lucifer curls fingers around the heartscales that are both Sam’s and his.

Sam, Lucifer purrs, and the thought isn’t only Sam’s name, but his entire life, every thought he’s ever had, all of his anger and hurt and love laid bare and perused by this creature. Sam, in turn, is given Lucifer’s loss, his betrayal, his insurmountable pride.

Winchester, Lucifer continues with amused familiarity a moment later, when their minds have gone from two to one to two again, and Sam is left gasping and clutching his burnt hand. It’ll scar.

Lucifer bows to Sam as Sam puts his glove back on. The smooth leather still drags painfully over his injury. He takes a deep breath, grips Lucifer’s scales as firmly as he can, and hauls himself into the cradle between Lucifer’s spines. It’s only right if they’re doing this the old way that Sam’s first flight with Lucifer should be bareback. He can feel Lucifer’s muscles flex beneath his scales, every breath and heartbeat powerful enough to rock Sam on his seat. Lucifer stands tall again, head turned to the sky. He whips his tail with delight, and Sam feels it spread through his own mind, bright and overwhelming. He tempers it with focus, digging his heels into Lucifer’s sides, where his shoulders meet his wings. One wrong move and Lucifer could fling him off, but even thinking that leads to a possessive reassurance from his dragon that it won’t happen. Sam is Lucifer’s now, and Lucifer won’t allow anything to take Sam from him.

He spreads his wings. Sam braces for the running start most dragons need to take flight, but Lucifer sweeps them into the air with only a few thunderous flaps. The ground spirals below them dizzyingly as they take to the sky.