#every cell of my being is stressed beyond what is humanly possible and i wanted it to include art and then i forgot time existed :(

[mikonez]

I’m playing with your Oscar and my Arthur like dolls and I’m making them kissy kiss (technically no sweeter innocence fanart but also I just think it’s funny we picture each other’s Oscar while reading it lmao)

Mikonez and Potatolord crossover blindfaith moment

OH MYGO D SEEING OUR GUYS TOGETHER FEELS LIKE I WON THE LOTTERY ON CHRISTMAS

he!! could do!!!! dinner!!!! 🗣🗣‼️ @lighthouseshepard look what you have done to us

naturally I read it again for the *cough* time and this time only pictured your guys (for enrichment) and.

big fan >:)

[wanqlinkai-moved]

Angels Tell Lies

After a wild night at the Gramarie house party, Xiao Gui can’t seem to get a hold of Y/N. Things begin revealing that situations are beyond normal since their disappearance.

*All gifs provided belongs to me :)

Prev丨 Arrival 丨4 + Admit One (5/?)

1 minute. 4 minutes. 12 minutes... 27 minutes! Yanjun has been waiting for his other angel companion at their shared human’s apartment

Yanjun hasn't been working this job for long. He’s supposed to take over his senior angel position in this angel guardianship program.

But losing the person they’re supposed to be guiding, isn’t the highlight of his job experience.

Yanjun can only wait in anticipation. Staring at the clock plastered on the white walls above the T.V. and then at the door, exaggerating out a loud sigh

“11:12 PM and I’m still here alone.”

Yanjun sighs again, placing his head to be cradled by his hands. 

“How can I lose a grown person?” he questions himself

Then suddenly remembering how everything happened.

Memories flashing back from the previous night before

Y/N was on the phone with one of their friends, discussing their excitement, and planning for the Gramarie house party.

Celebrating the kick-off of Summer break

How grand

“Watch over them during a crowded party, full of loud students getting wasted like no tomorrow? No thank you.” Yanjun remembers his decision vividly.

At that moment, sitting there on the kitchen counter, scrolling through the angel social net

His senior angel off somewhere else for an emergency meeting with the guardian officials.

In the time being, he was there stuck at the apartment while Y/N wanted to go to a party.

His end decision, thinking it’ll be okay and it was the best, was to not go along.

Just one day without ‘supervision’ wouldn’t damage anyone.

Wishfully expecting a peaceful day after dealing with countless nights of them crying and stressing over final exams, papers, and projects. Spitting profanity here and there at inanimate objects. Complaining about the lack of sleep and so on.

How can he relate? The answer is not at all!

Memories from his indiviual life and his death isn’t so clear. Loads of haziness.

Yanjun likes to pretend as his dreams are recurring memories from before he became an angel and now a guardian.

Occasionally he'll question this guardianship job. How and why did he even decide upon do this field of angelic work?

Sometimes angels can feel warmth from inside themselves when their human is are experiencing positive moments in their life.

Periodically their sorrows and anger as well

There’s no way in expressing it, but it’s all part of the bond between humans and their angels.

One of the ways that angels can feel more human, than a bit lifeless?

Invisible.

Can humans even see angels? The answer is yes.

They don’t particularly walk around with big white chicken wings, possibly knocking items over in the process

More like their wings are hidden

If humans were more observative enough when they appear. They can catch a glimpse of the outlining of their wings.

Shinning and glass like, glistening once the sunlight radiates, causing the wings to magically illuminate off those lights. Unlike blinding reflection as a mirror meeting the sunlight.

Whereas unveiling the angels' wings.

The white creamy color slowly fills in, starting from their coracoid, then to every little detailed wingtiped feathers.  

Although no human has gotten a chance to witness this happen.

Or even seen their angels presenting themselves ‘humanly’ or have they

On the contrary, this action is forbidden

Only if it’s necessary to reveal themselves that way, which doesn’t happen?

There’s so much paperwork and verifications to go through. 

At least that’s what Yanjun has been told.

Alone in the abandon apartment, Yanjun freely roams around exposed.

In human form of course 

Wearing the common angel attire. 

White long sleeve collared shirt, classic light washed (ripped) jeans as he prefers, and white socks snuggling his feet, shaking agitatedly.

Another 20 more minutes passes by and he’s dreading his saint life.

Still wanting to believe this is some joke, presented by the department

They’re going to kick the door down with balloons, colorful confetti, and a cake congratulating him with his advancement and accomplishments in the guardianship

Hopeless

He’s been waiting anxiously enough. Yanjun grabs his cell phone and begins dialing his senior’s number

The ringing of the doorbell, grabs his attention from completely the task.

Relief dawns down and excitement overpowers his senses to his surroundings

Desensitizing himself

Offering him to be consumed by the moment, the contemplation, and the lost from his recklessness.

Carelessly being unable to hear the loud arguments being held outside the door. Yanjun paces forward grabbing a hold of the doorknob.

“Zhangjing! Finally, I’m freaking out here and you took for!?”

“Who the hell are you!”

“Ever…”

Swinging the door open widely, hoping to be bombarded by words of dissatisfaction from Zhangjing. 

Consequently, but definitely greeted with dissatisfaction, standing there were three of Y/N’s friends on their ‘Mission Cobra™’ 

A/N: This is my first time writing a bullet point au that’s not a shit post? I hope overall you likey ♡

[sulfurousdreamscapes]

Humans aren’t real. This is widely known and understood by now. Of course, it doesn’t stop children and old crones from believing in them, but if you happen to be of a reasonable age, you realise that if humans were real, you would have seen them by now.

There’s as many stories about them as there are ghosts. The interesting thing about humans is that they never seem to fit a single archetype. They can be timid and scared of us, running away shrieking and screaming in one story, while in another they bravely stand their ground. Of course, most stories about humans are the scary ones. The ones in which they sit before arcane symbols and cause utter annihilation of ghosts.

That’s their strength, if they have one: they are resourceful, and can do anything they want to, even if they lack such basic abilities as being able to move through material surfaces, or teleporting across short distances.

Now, the strangest story of them all came from the Old Woman of the Well, she who refuses to leave the well, now dry in the summer and usually layered with carcasses of snakes and frogs.

“They’re us,” she said, cackling in a fashion that was halfway between harmless and utterly malicious. “No, no, they were us. We were humans once. But then, we died, and now we are ghosts.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, examining the well’s bricks with idle interest. “If ghosts were made out of dead humans, then how come there are no animal ghosts? Animals die, too.”

“You don’t remember,” she laughed, “But I do. The Old Woman of the Well remembers all! We were banished. Far away. I remember. And they rid us of our desires, our oh-so-dangerous desires for revenge.”

“Why would a ghost want revenge? Over who? No one can possibly do us any harm, not even one of your fabled humans,” I said.

She shook her head, and revealed herself to a live frog, causing it to die of fright. “Ghosts… are born out of a need for revenge. We were humans, living in a human world, but dead before we could fulfil our most ardent desire. Love, passion, greed, lust… such strange emotions empower ghosts. We were stripped of all that made us ghosts. Sent to live in a far away place, where no humans venture.”

“That’s makes for a pretty story,” I sighed, “But there’s no way to verify it, is there? You know very well that no one can leave the village. So what, we wait for a human to come waddling on its two legs, all the way to the Village of White?”

“The day may come yet,” she laughed, “And what will you do then? Remember—the human world is beyond our understanding. They possess powers beyond our wildest reckoning.”

I nodded and levitated up. I wished the Old Woman of the Well a pleasant evening and returned to haunting the streets of the village, and observing the trees, making sure they were growing well and proper.

I saw it during the day. At first, I just stayed there, frozen in the field. Far in the distance, it walked on its two legs, like some kind of bird, but it looked like a ghost: complete with clothes. But its clothes were a mess of colours, and its skin wasn’t pale white, nor did it glow: it was just brown. How strange.

Watching a ghost-like figure walk that way was incredible unnerving. It was as if it was stomping the ground with a desire to murder every begin in its path. Then suddenly, it froze in place. I peered, and noticed that its eyes were dead set on me. A fright settled on me like I’d never seen, and I disappeared behind a tree, my glow slowly fading from where I was moments ago. I peeked. The human was rushing back wildly. It was frightening.

I expected the other ghosts to laugh at me, but surprisingly, they believed me. I was, after all, the most ardent rationalist in town. If I’d seen a human, then something was wrong, they realised. Something was gravely, severely wrong.

The ghosts agreed to retreat behind walls, to take up positions behind windows, and to only move at night. No telekinesis, and no teleportation. They were both too risky. We were ready on a footing I’d never seen before: we, who had lived centuries alone, in peace.

The night passed without event.

Most of the ghosts thought to relax as day broke, but then we saw the strange beings again. I stress ‘we’. This time, they were definitely real, and they were several. They walked close together, like a pack of wolves, and they carried a number of objects with them. The stories told that humans were responsible for many things: buildings, wells, walls, fences, windows and doors. Were they here to make more things?

I watched them from the corner of a window that overlooked the town from the church. The also carried weapons. I could recognise them from the stories. Guns. Swords. Already, I was scared beyond my wits, even if the rational side of me told me that humans couldn’t touch me. Their hands, guns, swords—nothing can touch us.

But the symbols? Where were those? What if they unleashed those?

For now, they just seemed to be passing through the town, but then they stopped. They started pointing at the buildings, and they pulled out a map.

They stayed.

We ended up having to form a telepathic network alerting everyone of where each of the seven humans was. No one was to be seen. Not that anyone wanted to be seen. Most of the ghosts were just as frightened as me, and they’d retreated to far behind walls, and below floors, and many had fled to the woods.

That night, the thought finally settled on me. Humans are real. They’re right here, amongst us.

What if the Old Woman of the Well was right?

The Old Woman of the Well was gone. I searched a radius around the well, both under the ground, within the bricks, up in the sky, between every blade of grass, but I could not see her aura. She had left us. Could she have been annihilated, a part of me brought up the thought. No, of course not, that would be ludicrous. Ghosts are annihilated only in fairy tales.

And yet, fairy tales were coming true before us.

I asked if the others had seen her, but no one had. I was the only one who met with her… other than the children. I sought out the children, who had been whisked away to playing in the distant fields. They hadn’t seen her either. I was about to leave when one of them approached me, a girl with precious long hair, who went by the name Gully.

“What business do you have with her?” she asked, her eyes betraying a little suspicion.

“I need to know what she knows,” I said plainly, unsure if a child could understand what was happening. I was mistaken, of course. Children most easily believe in human stories. Their imagination isn’t worn by the rigours of experience.

“She is gone. Not annihilated, but gone. She fulfilled her purpose, probably,” Gully said, floating to take a position higher than me. I let her.

“You mean her desire from before she was a ghost?” I couldn’t believe I was entertaining this, but these were strange times indeed. “Has she fulfilled her humanly purpose?”

“I said probably, didn’t I?” Gully turned around to leave. Then, a little while later, her neck twisted around so that her head faced me. “I’d be careful if I were you. This is the end.”

When I returned to the village, there was an eerie quietness. I typically moved underground, but it was harder to sense your surroundings there, so I emerged into an alley and looked about. Where were the others gone? Where were the humans?

I’d just about finished examining one of the old buildings when I heard a low humming.

There was a fire in the centre of the town. Sticks piled together, and a bonfire burning. The smoke billowed high in the air, and as if by an invisible tether, the ghosts of the town were tied to the smoke. Their wailing exploded in my ear all of a sudden, and it was unbearable.

“Another one,” I heard a deep voice from near the bonfire. It was one of the humans. I disappeared, but even when I reappeared in a building, I felt a tug. I was being pulled. Towards the bonfire.

“Come to me, ghost,” the same voice said. And in my vision, there flashed the symbols. Horrific, painful, unnatural symbols that twisted every part of me.

“The village should be cleansed now,” one of the humans spoke. There was so much raucous noise. The fire, the wailing, the human cacophony.

I felt myself rise, rise above the fire, carried by the smoke, through all the other ghosts.

Annihilation, I thought. I guess I was human once, after all.

I felt the cold first. It has a way of freezing your skin—your human skin, wrapped taut over muscle and bone—but also the insides, every cell in your body becoming like ice. Ears ringing. Teeth chattering. When I opened my eyes, the light was strong, I felt like my eyes had gone out, and all I would see from then on was white.

Someone was dead. Someone who was very close to me. Someone so close, and yet so far. Someone so kind, and yet so cruel. Why were they gone like this? They did not deserve this. But perhaps I did. I deserved this.

It wasn't a death I'd wanted, but it was a death I'd imagined all too often. Somewhere far away from home, in the middle of the snow, where nothing grew, where all life was snuffed out. It was a long death. A drawn-out death. The kind of death that makes ghosts out of perfectly good humans. And I wasn't even perfectly good.

Like I said, it's the feeling that kicks in first. And I felt a hand. It was cold, but I knew it was a hand—a real, human hand. It was clasped in mine, but when I tugged at it, it wouldn't tug back. I slipped my hand out, but the hand wouldn't move. It was frozen. I clasped it again, not because they needed it, but because I needed it. I held onto them as tightly as possible. And yet, nothing changed.

Nothing changed.

Nothing changed.

Everything—the same as it was. The same as it always was, and the same as it was always supposed to be. Nothing changes when you look at a memory, even if you wish it was different. That's just how memories work. That's just how ghosts are born.

The flashes showed me several scenes. A hearth. A field. A church. The laughter and smiles I'd seen so many times before, but couldn't place now. Were there names? There were no names left any more. Just the smiles and tears attached to faces I recognise but could not describe. Each flash lasted just so long as to tell me that I had seen this before, but no more.

The final flash evaporated, and I found myself staring at the stars. Below, the bonfire burned. The wailing had ended, and there were no more ghosts left. But the humans were gone, too. Their bodies lay on the ground, their insides spilt out, blades and bullets lodged into each others' bodies. I descended and tried to make sense in the light of the bonfire.

"They're gone," Gully said.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"I possessed them and made them kill each other," she said nonchalantly.

"Where did you learn that?"

"The Old Woman of the Well taught me."

Children.

I looked at the bonfire. The horrid bonfire. "Everyone's annihilated," I said.

"The children remain," Gully said.

"Children who will never grow up. What will you do now?"

"We'll do what ghosts are supposed to do," she said.

"And what's that?"

"We'll haunt."

Today’s throwback story is about a hallway with a door.