#he's a sad wisp of a thing but he has more personality than 'sad'.

[ofyorkshire]

I love BJ's easy, good-natured sassing.

[notlongtolove]

into the rose garden; for evermore

months of hope, weeks of ache. you’ve stayed. you’ve waited. you’ve stayed in the waiting. more pathetic than poetic if you’re being honest. but now, with him standing here with his heart in his hands, it doesn’t feel simple. this work is part of the burnt norton series

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst... with an ending

content: situationship core, fighting, tears, sad...

word count: 5.5k

note: thank you for all the love on the burnt norton series! i hope you enjoy this last and final part (make sure to read allll the way to the end for something special inspired by this!)

a line: You knew you were tied to a fate of loving hard first, crying harder later.

Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. My words echo Thus, in your mind. - t.s. eliot

It was quiet, but Spencer heard it all the same.

“I love you.”

The confession was as delicate as it was sacred. A soft, almost fragile, wisp of a sound that left your lips. 

His breath stilled before coming out in a shaky exhale as your hand curled around his. He swallowed and wished he could unhear it. Unknow it. But Spencer Reid has always been cursed with knowing things he wished he didn’t.

He’d tried not to notice at first. The way your gaze still lingered on him, how your voice still softened with every call of his name.

Of course, he’d known. And then he’d tried to forget.

When you’d suggested being friends instead—your voice trembling but determined—Spencer had known then that he should’ve walked away. He’d read enough, lived enough, to know how this would end. They said if you could still be friends with someone after loving them, it meant only one of two things: either you had never truly loved them, or you still did.

Spencer knew it wasn’t the former. He was many things—awkward, fractured, clumsy with feelings—but he wasn’t a liar. 

And he loved you like it hurt him.

He had tried to kick the habit of you. Tried to drag out the time between phone calls and texts, tried to wean himself off the need to see your smile, hear your laugh, feel your lips on his. He’d told himself that he was being kind, that this distance he built between you was mercy. He knew it was cruel to keep stringing you along, holding on to you even as he kept you at arm’s length—but he wasn’t selfish enough to pretend he deserved you. 

And so, while you stayed, wanting, waiting, Spencer ran.

Not because he didn’t love you. But because he didn’t know how to stay without breaking you in the process.

Thursday had come and gone. No text, no call. You weren’t phased, not at first, telling yourself the case ran long. It was a willing suspension of disbelief—that he was buried in reports and unsteady sleep, lost in the same work that had stolen him all the times before. 

But then Friday arrived. Time dragged, slow and heavy, as each second passed. The news alerts, spam calls, and junk messages that lit up your screen mocked you relentlessly. The silence of Saturday and Sunday wasn’t any better, each minute unbearably long. Before you knew it, it had been a week since you’d last heard from him, since you’d seen even the faintest ghost of Spencer Reid.

Your friends didn’t ask questions. They didn’t bother prying, all too happy to fill in the blanks themselves. “Good riddance,” one of them had said over drinks one night. You laughed with them, too loud, a sound that didn’t quite belong to you. “About time you let that one go.” And you let them believe that was the truth.

You didn’t fill them in on the part where you’d been the one left hanging, the one Spencer had walked away from without a word. You let them believe you were the strong one, the sensible one, that you’d cut the cord and been better for it. You swallowed that truth alone bitterly because you couldn’t bear their pity. If Spencer wanted to close the door on you, you weren’t about to break your nails bloody clawing it back open. You’d already stood there, holding it wide for him, time and time again.

But in the quiet of the night, your bed empty and cold, anger and sadness slipped in through the cracks. They sat at the edge of your bed like unwanted guests, familiar and persistent, whispering the same questions you had no answers to. “What had changed?” Sadness wept, her shoulders shaking between sobs. “What had you done wrong?” Anger screamed, louder, harsher, her tongue lashing. 

Each thought was a page torn from you, words unsaid thrown into the fire. Vulnerable and wasted—they could only have ever been meant for him. You hated yourself for it. And, for a fleeting second, you hated him too. He was gone. You were still here—waiting, always waiting. But you’d known all along that the flash of his badge, the weight of the gun on his hip, could never have compared to the significance of you. 

In a way, you would’ve been right. Spencer’s work—his pride, his passion, his relentless devotion—It was all-consuming, yes, and it could never compare to you. 

Nothing could compare to you.

You were it for him. 

He knew it from the way sleep came so easily in your presence, his body finally surrendering to the peace and security he felt only in your arms. You were a quiet reprieve he could find nowhere else. He knew it from the way his heart had splintered when he’d heard you crying, the sounds of your sniffles fracturing something inside him. He couldn’t even bring himself to turn on the light. It would’ve been too unbearable, too painful, to face the sight of tears on your face. 

To Spencer, you were the light at the end of a tunnel he’d stopped trying to run through years ago. He loved you for it—God, did he love you for it. But it was a light he didn’t think he deserved to reach.

And that terrified him more than anything. 

Spencer wasn’t made for softness. He knew that. Whatever pieces of him had once been smooth and whole were long gone. He wasn’t the kind of man who could give you love letters or lazy Sundays with whispered promises. He was sleepless nights and cold coffee reheated three times over. He was restless hands and a mind constantly bracing for the next worst thing to happen. His time at the BAU had turned him into something broken and jagged. The last thing he wanted was to ruin you, too. 

Because you, his sweet girl—soft, bright, and unshakably steady—you were everything he wasn’t. You didn’t need that. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved someone better, someone less damaged, someone who didn’t need you just to keep from sinking. 

Maybe you’d found that in him. He was a friend of a co-worker of a friend of a cousin of a—wherever he came from, you hadn’t bothered to remember. He wasn’t Spencer. 

This is your third date. Date. The word itself felt like a foreign concept. It carried a weight of certainty you’d never had before. With Spencer, there were no real beginnings, no clear endings—just nights out cut short, nights in cloaked in secrecy. A thing you never dared—or perhaps in Spencer’s case, cared—to truly define. 

“I’d love to see you again,” he’d said, his voice solidly steady. “How’s Friday?”

“Friday’s fine,” you replied.

And when Friday came, so did he. On time, standing at your door with a smile that was easy to read, so uncomplicated, so un-Spencerlike. You’d gotten dinner, had a walk in the park, stopped by the little ice cream parlour you’d always wanted to take Spencer to. It was all exactly what you’d said it would be. Perfectly and predictably fine.

He dropped a piece of his waffle cracker onto the table, then casually blew it off and popped it into his mouth.

“Five-second rule, right?” he grinned.

“You know, actually, germs can transfer in less than—” 

You hated the fact that Spencer was still playing on your mind. You hated the fact that you knew you weren’t on his more. You caught yourself, then shrugged, laughing it off.

“Forget it, I do it too.”

You tried to forget it. To forget him. It’d been almost 3 weeks since you’d last seen Spencer at this point. Anger and sadness hadn’t left entirely. They lingered, silent but present. You could feel them, but they were easier to ignore now—especially with a new warmth beside you at night, an easy distraction from the quiet ache.

But then, nostalgia came. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. No, she was more insidious than that. 

She sat, cool and poised, on your kitchen counter, watching you with a sickeningly gentle gaze. “Remember how he used to help with the dishes after dinner? He’d wash them twice-over just because he knew you liked them that way. This one doesn't do that, does he? Doesn’t even know.” Her words stung, and they didn’t stop there. "Why didn’t you tell him? Why haven’t you told him?"

You don’t know why. 

Sometimes, nostalgia grew meaner. She waltzed through the house, taking root in all the places you thought you’d exorcised him from. She rested on your dresser, her voice soft but biting. “You’re really going to wear that out with him? He bought it for you, remember? It still smells like him.​​" Her tone sharpened. "Don’t be cruel.”

You weren’t trying to be. 

Still, as you turned to leave the room, you caught the faintest flicker of a thought—Nostalgia’s quiet, treacherous whisper as she lingered in the doorway. “He’s not him.”

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. 

It definitely wasn’t fair for Spencer either when he saw you that day, walking down your street with your hands tucked into your pockets and another’s arm casually draped around your waist. It felt cruel, really. He hadn’t meant to be there. He’d only come to drop off your key. But fate, it seemed, had other plans—a twist and shove of the knife already buried hilt-deep in his chest.

The guy next to you looked stupid, so fucking stupid. There was no other way to put it. Spencer hated everything about him—his stupid fucking face, his stupid fucking hair, and his stupid fucking suit that probably smelled like the overpriced cologne Morgan used to wear. 

Spencer decided to call him Stupid Fucking Bob. It felt appropriate. Cathartic, even.

Stupid Fucking Bob was tall. Taller than most. Not taller than Spencer, though, which gave him the tiniest, pettiest flicker of satisfaction. But it didn’t last. Not when you threw your head back and laughed at something Stupid Fucking Bob had said, your eyes crinkling in that way Spencer knew all too well. 

Stupid Fucking Bob had the audacity to be dressed like he had his life together. A crisp, ironed button-up shirt, perfectly tailored that was worlds away from Spencer’s own casual, comfortable style. His whole look screamed refined—the kind of guy who probably ironed his perfectly matching pair of socks and knew the difference between champagne and prosecco. He’s nothing like Spencer. 

Maybe Stupid Fucking Bob, with his stupid suit and stupid gelled hair was exactly what you needed now. Maybe he was a lawyer. Or a doctor. Something respectable and put-together. Someone who wouldn’t cancel dinners at the last minute or drag you to niche bookstores for fun.

Your hair was braided. That hit him first. He’s never seen you wear it like that before, and it felt like a punch to the gut. And your makeup? You looked beautiful. Well, you were always beautiful, but today you looked different in a way that made his heart ache. The heels on your feet—When had you started wearing heels? Or maybe you always did. He wouldn’t know, he’d never been with you anywhere formal enough to warrant anything beyond casual slides or sneakers. It all hit him harder than he expected.

Spencer turned away, swallowing hard against the bile rising in his throat. He needed to leave. The ache burned, spreading through his chest like wildfire, scorching every inch of him. He couldn’t do this. Not here. Not now. 

But fate seemed to smirk and snapped her fingers.

“Spencer?”

Fuck.

He took a deep breath, forcing it past the lump in his throat, and tried to steady his breathing. His hands carried a slight tremor, and he shoved them into his pockets, curling them into fists. He managed to muster a smile—strained, but passable.

“Hey!” he said, wincing as his voice came out a little too loud, a little too eager. 

“Wow,” you replied, your tone warm but surprised, “I haven’t seen you in—”

“Yeah,” Spencer interrupted quickly, his words tumbling over yours. “We, um, we had a big case.” He let out a short laugh, the kind he’d learned to recognise when suspects were trying to fill the silence with empty words.

You shifted your weight, hesitating for just a second before gesturing to the man standing beside you. “Oh, um, sorry—this is my, uh, friend, he’s…” Stupid Fucking Bob leaned forward, offering a polite, firm handshake.

But before he could reach Spencer, you stepped in, leaning over to stop him. “Oh, Spencer doesn’t…” you said softly. The way your hand gently rested on his arm wasn’t lost on Spencer. Whatever stupid fucking name he gave, Spencer couldn’t hear it over the static in his head. 

Spencer couldn’t decide which was worse—the way you stepped in so instinctively, a painful reminder of how well you still knew him, or the way you were touching Stupid Fucking Bob, like you were starting to know him too. You’d called him a friend. He can’t be anything more than that, right? But the hesitation before you said the word told Spencer otherwise. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spencer muttered through gritted teeth, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. It was the polite thing to do, even though his palms were clammy, and Spencer couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes for more than a second. 

You were looking at him, your expression unreadable. Spencer hated that. And Stupid Fucking Bob just stood there, calm and composed in a way that made Spencer want to throw something. 

Spencer hated Bob. Fuck, he hated Bob. Spencer hated the way his hand rested casually on your lower back, a touch that was so possessive, like it belonged there. But more than Bob, Spencer hated the way you didn’t pull away.

“So, uh,” you said, clearing your throat, “just in the neighbourhood?”

Spencer nodded stiffly, his hands still buried in his pockets, fingers curling tight around nothing. “Yeah, I uh, had some errands to run,” he said, trying and failing to sound casual.

You nodded back, your smile polite but tight, “Yeah, same here—”

“We were just grabbing lunch,” Stupid Fucking Bob cut in, his voice too cheerful, too comfortable. Oh my god, shut the fuck up, Bob. Spencer's jaw tightened, his molars grinding together. 

We.

The word reverberated through his skull. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Right, right,” he said, nodding a little too much, as if that would make the whole thing easier to digest. It didn’t.

“I um, don’t want to keep you from your lunch,” Spencer finally said, his voice tight, his words clipped. He glanced at you, but only for a moment. “I should... I should get going. Errands and… other things.” He motioned vaguely over his shoulder, like there was somewhere he desperately needed to be. There wasn’t.

You hesitated, and for a brief moment, it looked like you might say something. But then Stupid Fucking Bob shifted beside you, his hand brushing against your back once more, and the words died on your lips.

Watching Spencer walk away felt like betrayal at its sharpest, love at its most humiliating.

It wasn’t fair that you had put yourself through the quiet torment of watching, staying, hoping—only for it all to come to nothing. It wasn’t fair that you allowed yourself to feel, to be seen in all your vulnerability, just to have Spencer walk away as if none of it had ever mattered. 

I’ll stay, if he stays. It was your unspoken promise to yourself and your silent plea to him. 

But he hadn’t stayed. 

So it wasn’t fair that you were still here, while he got to walk away. It wasn’t fair, but you let him go regardless.

Because Spencer’s absence had given your life a strange kind of regularity, one you tried to see the best in. You leaned into it, telling yourself it was what you needed. It was a new kind of normalcy. You should’ve liked it, and you did like it. 

At least you told yourself you did.

Three days later, it was a work party that finally unravelled you. Maybe it was the way your coworkers shared plans for the holidays, futures they seemed so certain of, the kind of dreaming you’d stopped allowing to indulge in. Or maybe it was the wine—too much of it, too quickly. Probably the wine. Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you locked the door behind you and leaned against the sink, staring at the girl looking back at you in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair slightly tousled, her smile looked convincing enough. She looked alive, happy even—But you didn’t quite feel like her. 

Your fingers found your phone, scrolling aimlessly until they stopped, hovering over a name. It was instinctive, thoughtless. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you pressed call. “Could you come get me?” A pause, then softer, almost pleading. “Please?”

The party had dwindled to a quiet murmur by the time you stood waiting by the street. You nudged your coworkers along, promising them you’d be alright. 

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” one of them asked, concern flashing across her face.

“I’m fine,” you assured her, waving her off. “I’m waiting for someone.”

You had someone now. Someone dependable. That felt good, right? It was what you deserved. Dependable was good. Dependable was safe. But when you glanced up, sobriety crashed through your buzzed haze in an instant. It wasn’t dependability that greeted you. 

“Spencer?” His name escapes your lips in a whisper, disbelief catching in your throat. “What are you—”

“You called me.” 

Your stomach twists. “I… I did?”

“You did,” he nodded, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. The screen lit up with your call log, stark and undeniable. Your eyes flicked back to him—his hair slightly dishevelled, his coat hanging open. He looked like he’d rushed out the door. Your chest tightens, the ache returning in full force.

All you can think is, Oh God. I called the wrong him.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. Your heart hammers away in your chest as your gaze darts toward the street, desperate for a cab. “I didn’t mean to call—You can go. You should go.”

Spencer’s brow furrows, something unreadable crossing his face. “I’m already here,” he says, “Let me walk you home.” “I—” Your voice is soft, tentative. You hesitate. The choice should be simple. He’s already here. He’s offering to walk you home. There’s nothing inherently wrong with it. And yet, this feels wrong. You despise the fact that it does. You shouldn’t say it. You know you shouldn’t. But the silence between you is unbearable, and his presence feels impossibly close. “Okay,” you murmur, the word slipping out before you can stop it. Suddenly it feels more than wrong. It feels like surrender. 

The night feels colder than it should as the two of you start walking. The silence stretches, long and awkward, until finally, he speaks.

“I’m glad you called me.” 

Your stomach twists. “I didn’t mean to.”

His footsteps falter for just a moment, and when you glance at him, his gaze is sharp, questioning. “Me?”

“What?” you stammer, the word barely forming on your lips.

“You didn’t mean to call me?” His eyes lock onto yours, searching for something. They demand an answer you’re not ready to give. The question hangs in the air between you but the weight of his gaze has you pinned in place.

“I—yes, I didn’t—” You stumble over your words, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Spencer watches you carefully, his eyes never leaving you, “You didn’t mean to, but you called me.”

Your breath shakes as you let out a long exhale. Finally, you whisper, “Yes. I did.”

“That guy,” He leans in just a little, his expression hardening. “Was he who you meant to call?”

You swallow and nod slowly, the answer burning in your throat. The reluctant admission feels raw as something flashes across Spencer’s face—Annoyance? Jealousy? You can’t hold his gaze long enough to tell. “What is he? Your boyfriend?” he mutters when you come to stop at a traffic light. His words strike a match, igniting a quiet anger within you. 

“That’s none of your business,” you shoot back, your voice more defensive than you intended. It wasn’t so much that you needed to defend him—it was more about defending this new part of your life, the one where Spencer wasn’t there, the one where his absence hadn’t completely consumed you. A shred of proof that shows you can stand without Spencer. 

That you are whole without him.

The silence that continues to stretch between you is heavy and suffocating. You silently curse the city for its sudden and inconvenient lack of cabs. Typical. The universe has always had twisted sense of humour.

“You know you don’t actually like him.” Spencer says under his breath. 

“Oh, what the hell do you know?” You burst out. Without thinking, you step forward into the street. The light hasn’t turned green, but the road is clear, and Spencer’s presence is clawing at your throat. You need to do something, anything to get away from it.

Spencer’s hand shoots out, his fingers curling firmly around your wrist. You whip around to face him, anger simmering beneath you. His expression is calm, infuriatingly so, though there’s a flicker of disapproval in his eyes. “I know you,” he says, like he’s daring you to deny it.

“No,” you snap, shrugging his hand off your arm with a sharp jerk. The movement feels more like self-defense than defiance. You press the traffic light button repeatedly, a little too hard each time, even though it’s already lit. It’s a pointless gesture, but it gives your restless hands something to focus on. “You don’t know anything.”

“I do.” His voice was maddeningly steady, calm in a way that made something inside you snap. “I know your hair was braided that day because you probably hadn’t washed it the day before. You hate washing your hair.”

“Just—” You shake your head, voice breaking. “Stop talking.”

“I know those heels definitely hurt your feet,” he continues, relentless, “but you wore them anyway. Probably because you think he likes them.”

“Spencer, stop.” You’re trying to hold it together, to keep the tears at bay, but they come anyway.

“I know—”

“God, Spencer, stop it!” The words explode out of you. “You don’t know shit,” you snap, wiping furiously at your cheeks, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Just—Just fuck off!” 

Spencer visibly flinches, but only slightly. The traffic light changes to green, but neither of you move to cross. “You—” Your chest heaves as you pull in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. You close your eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly, “You should go.”

“Is that really what you want?” 

His question feels like mockery. What does it matter what you want? It clearly never mattered before, and it certainly won’t matter now.

You’d always been a bit of a hopeless romantic. You liked to believe that love, no matter how complicated or painful, was worth it. Maybe that was the only way you could make sense of the pain no one asked you to endure, a way to quantify the heartbreak Spencer never asked you to feel. You told yourself it had to serve some greater purpose, even when that purpose had yet to reap any kind of reward.

You tried to convince yourself that staying was a decision made from a place of independence, that your willingness to endure was an admirable strength born from the innate human need to love, and of wanting to be loved in return. But you knew it ran deeper than just that. You knew that you didn’t deserve this pain, but you also knew you’d never be the one to let go first. Your mother used to tell you that relationships only work if one person loves harder, and you’d realised early on that that person would always be you. 

You knew you were tied to a fate of loving hard first, crying harder later. 

And in that, it would never be fair. 

“Why are you doing this?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest. 

Spencer pauses. When he speaks again, his voice is softer—but no less cutting. “You’re lying to yourself,” he says quietly. “And to him.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you turn sharply, starting to walk. “Oh, I get it,” you said, a scoff lacing your tone. “You’re trying to play matchmaker now? Is that what this is about?” You fold your arms across your chest, tugging at your jacket, a feeble attempt to hide yourself from the hurt he so effortlessly unearthed.

“This isn’t about him.” he says firmly. “This is about you—about us.”

“There is no us,” you spit as you turn to face him momentarily. “Remember?”

“You’re acting out.”

“Wow, real mature Spence,” you snap, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “They teach you that in FBI school? You think just because I’m finally happy—finally not waiting around for you—that means I’m acting like a petty, jealous child?”

“No, I think you’re acting out because you’re hurt.”

“Oh, yeah? Gee, I wonder why.”

“Because I didn’t say it back.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The world stops. The air seems to freeze around you. For a moment, you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move. A car speeds by, its horn blaring. Spencer reacts immediately, stepping to position himself between you and the flow of any other oncoming traffic like a barrier.

“What are you—Don’t just stop—” His hand grips your arm firmly, tugging you toward the sidewalk. But your feet refuse to move, rooted in place, and you barely register his words. “Would you—would you get off the street?” he says urgently. You can’t do anything but stare at him. 

“You heard me?”

His expression softens. “I did. That night.” Spencer’s voice is quieter now, almost a whisper. “I heard you.”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. The glow of the traffic light pulses in the corner of your vision, steadily blinking. Sadness swells in your chest, but it’s overtaken by something sharper, hotter, darker. 

Rage. Inexplicable, undeniable rage.

“You heard me.” You whisper, more so to yourself than to him. “You heard me, and you still—” The tears choke out the rest of the sentence. “Don’t,” you snap, stepping back when he tugs at you again. “Don’t touch me. Don’t—Just go. Please just go.” You turn away from him, your legs carrying you as far as they can, as fast as they can. You don’t even know where you’re headed anymore, only that you need to keep moving. But you hear Spencer behind you, his steps matching your pace. 

“I’m not leaving you here.” Another faint brush of his fingers grazes yours sends you spinning back around, wrenching your hand away as if his touch burns.

“But you did!” you scream, your voice raw. Your grief echoes in the stillness of the street. The two of you are locked in some heartbreaking tableau. It feels almost cinematic—the age-old story of a girl who loved and a boy who didn’t. “You already left, Spencer! You heard me, and you still left!” 

Spencer’s face crumples, and for a moment, he looks as lost as you feel. “I didn’t know what to do,” his words tumble out, his voice breaking. “I—”

“You could’ve stayed! You could’ve said it back! You—” You shake your head, swallowing the grief that rises in your throat, the words too painful to say out loud. 

“I do,” he says suddenly, stepping in front of you. “I love you. I do. I love you. So much.” he repeats, his hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach for you but knows better. “I love you too.” 

That last word—too—cuts through you. It lands with a cruel finality. It should soothe the ache inside you, but it doesn’t. It’s not the solace it should be. It’s only a bitter reminder that he heard you that night. That he left anyway.

“Then why?” The question comes out in a broken whisper, and you hate yourself for how vulnerable it sounds. “Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t even try—” you whisper through your tears. “You just… left.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you—I was scared that I would,” he says, the words tumbling out in a rush as he reaches for your hands in an effort to ground himself. “I didn’t want to screw things up even more. I thought if I left—you’d be better off.”

“Oh, fuck off, Spencer. Look at us. Look at me. Is this what you call better off?” You stand there, unmoving, tears streaking down your face, each one a testament to your heartbreak. The sight of you, raw and broken, makes something deep inside him fracture.

“You hurt me anyway.” Your voice shakes with unspent grief and fury.

“I know, I know I did, baby—”

"Don’t call me that!" you snap, your heart clenching at the word. You try to pull your hands out of his grip, away from his touch, but he holds on.

“Baby—shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Spencer says, his voice cracking. He shuts his eyes for a moment, furrowing his brows, as if trying to collect himself. “I know I fucked up. I know. I’m just—” He exhales shakily. “I’m trying to fix this. Look at me. Please. Just... please.”

You can’t look at him. You focus on the floor, on anything to avoid his eyes, because if you see that pleading expression, you just might break—You’ll shatter all over again.

“That guy?” Spencer’s voice pulls you back, quiet and desperate. “He doesn’t know anything about you. I knew it the minute I saw him. He said you were going to lunch? You hate everything on your street within a five-mile radius. That’s why we always ordered Chinese. Right?” 

Every word he out of his mouth feels like a plea and what’s worse is that you know he’s right. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice breaking. “I was stupid. I didn’t think. I thought leaving was the right thing—that I was protecting you from me. But I see now—I know now. It wasn’t. It was the worst thing I could’ve done. To you. To us. I was wrong.” His voice drops, barely audible. “And I just want a chance to make it right. Please I—”

You hear the break in his voice, and before you can stop yourself, your gaze lifts to meet his, only to see tears pooling in his eyes. The ache in your chest deepens, and this time, you can’t look away.

“Look,” Spencer says, voice cracking, “he’s probably a great guy. Nice, smart—smarter than I ever was if he wants you too. But he doesn’t—” He pauses, swallowing hard, “He can’t love you the way I do. I know people always say I’m smart, that I know a lot. And it’s true—I do. But this? You? Loving you? It’s a fact, the clearest one I’ve ever had. And yeah, I know it took me too damn long to get here. But it’s true. It’s always been true.”

The chasm in your heart splits open, and you didn’t know you were still capable of breaking like this. Of course, Spencer Reid would be good at heartbreaking speeches too. You start to turn away, furiously blinking back the new wave of tears threatening to spill over. 

“Look at me,” he pleads, his voice soft but laced with urgency. “Please. I hate that you won’t look at me, I just—”

You try—God knows you try—but the tears in your eyes blur everything. Still, the desperation in his tone is unmistakable. 

You shake your head, your voice low, “Spence—”

“I want to do this right,” he continues, his words tumbling out with sincerity so raw it sends another wave of hurt right through you. “Just give me a chance to make it right. One chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“I don’t—”

“I mean it,” he says quickly. His voice is low, but there’s a desperate edge to it. “No more mistakes. No more labels—forget the friends thing. I’d rather die than just be friends with you. We’ll go out. We’ll take our time. I’ll show you. I’ll really show you. I’ll make it right this time.”

You feel like you’ve spent a lifetime waiting for this moment, for him to say the words you needed most. Months of hope, weeks of ache. You’ve stayed. You’ve waited. You’ve stayed in the waiting. More pathetic than poetic if you’re being honest. But now, with him standing here with his heart in his hands, it doesn’t feel simple. 

Because for the first time, you have a choice. To go back or turn away.

To leave or to stay.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[ghoulangerlee]

HERE WE GO. dewther phone sex that probably could have gone on for another six thousand words if I'd continued writing instead of forcing myself to end it :)

there is some lore-y stuff in here because I am not me if I don't include my own personal lore, and at the end there's mentions of heats and knotting but neither of those actually happen :)

Dew is a lil mean in this but as it turns out, Aether really likes em mean.

-

The phone rings, pulling him from the inventory reports in front of him—it's the desk phone of all things, not his cell that sits face down a little further away and for a moment, he thinks to ignore it, to continue his work so he can finish quicker and get to bed sooner, but at the late hour it could be some kind of emergency— 

He picks it up, balancing his pen in his other hand as he cradles the desk phone between his ear and shoulder, “Infirmary, this is Aether speaking, how can I help you?”  

There’s silence on the line for a moment and Aether tilts his head, “Hello? Is someone there?”  

A sigh, familiar in its tone echoes across the line, “Hey Aeth,” Dew mumbles, sounding tired, “Didn’t know if you’d still be awake.”  

Aether glances up at the clock across the room, the hands ticking by slowly, it’s late, much later than he’d expected, “Ah,” he says, “I was finishing up some inventory reports in the infirmary, some new guy decided to double the amount of gauze we need so now we’re swimming in it but don’t have any more antibiotics,” he glances down at the papers in front of him, red lines crossed through black numbers, “Been down here most of the day counting things to get everything right again.”  

Dew hums, a pleased little sound, “I like hearing you talk about the work you do,” he says, tone bordering on that sappy-tired one he gets whenever he’s worked to the bone and sleepy, “I miss you.”  

“I miss you too,” Aether murmurs with a small smile, leaning back in his chair and focusing all of his attention on Dew, “How is guard duty with Frater Imperator?” he asks, a brief flash of worry catching him.  

“He’s safe,” Dew says, yawns widely over the line, “A little annoyed by the travel, a lot annoyed that there may still be something or someone after him despite everything,” he’s candid about it, and if Aether closes his eyes, he can almost see Dew sitting in front of him, waving a lazy hand in emphasis as he speaks. “Of course, we’re doing fine, this other church is okay, a little drafty and the ghouls here don’t really speak, but I guess it’s fine for a little while. The elders keep giving me dirty looks when they think Copia isn’t watching though.”  

A pang of regret goes through him, he’d almost went with Dew and Copia, but something had come up in the infirmary, someone had fallen ill and he’d been the best person to fill in, he wishes he were there with Dew right now. “Sounds exciting,” he says, “A little draft isn’t too much for a fire ghoul, right?” he asks teasingly, feeling the tension of the day fade the longer he speaks to Dew.  

“Cold day in Hell that a puny little church with an annoying clergy bothers me enough to make me leave early,” Dew says with a snort, “I wanted to talk to you though, time differences suck. We’re on different continents and everything so I can’t even really feel you right now either.”  

Aether gets it, he can feel the way his bond with Dew is weakened, barely there, dormant in the distance between them—in the back of his mind he can still feel him, but it’s a far cry from the usual. “I know, wisp,” he murmurs, “I wish we were closer too,” he admits, “Church is quiet without you here.”  

“Copia was giving me shit earlier,” Dew admits after a few moments of silence, “Said I looked sad, like someone stole something from me,” he pauses, clears his throat, “Told me to come call you, that you’d probably be up working still even at the late hour.”  

“He was right,” Aether says with a little laugh, “Not that he has any room to talk about what is and isn’t late,” he continues, and then glances up at the ceiling, “Are you still sad?” he asks cheekily, lazily spinning his chair to the side, “Do you need me to talk to you so you can fall asleep?”  

He means it as a joke, but there’s a serious undercurrent there, something they’d discovered before Copia’s lateral move, when Dew had toured but Aether stayed behind—sometimes, sometimes his brain wouldn’t let him sleep, not alone, and he’d call Aether, listen to the quintessence ghoul talk until his eyes grew heavy and he fell into a comfortable sleep—imagining his mate right there beside him.  

Dew hums lazily, “Maybe,” he starts, but this time, there’s something of a breathless quality to his voice, “Or maybe I want to talk to you about other things.”  

It takes Aether a moment, if he focuses hard enough, he can hear something on the other line, a slick sound, a hitch in Dew’s breathing, “Is this a booty call?” he can’t help but ask, the words spilling out before he can stop it, “Dew are you—” he cuts himself off, presses his palm against the bottom of the phone and glances around the office.  

It’s late, of course, and the door isn’t locked, but he’s the only one down here right now, having sent the rest of the staff off, only keeping a bare bones support staff in case of emergencies, but he can’t sense anyone else.  

“I am working,” Aether finally says, lowering his hand, feeling a flush come up the sides of his neck, “If someone were to walk into my office, they’d—”  

“They’d what?” Dew asks sharply, the hitch in his voice making it obvious what he’s doing, “They’d think you were on the phone, right, baby? That you’re working late, working so hard for everyone, making sure the inventory reports are all correct. You’re not doing something silly like touch yourself, are you? You’re on the phone and you’re working diligently.”  

Aether grits his teeth, pressing a fist hard into his thigh, “I’m not touching myself,” he says, and looks down at his desk again, numbers taunting him on the page, “I’ve stopped working for the moment to talk to you,” he inhales deeply, bites his lip when he hears Dew moan quietly over the line.  

“You’re being such a good boy,” Dew murmurs the praise, praise that shoots right down to Aether’s core, “I’m going to touch myself and you’re going to listen to me and keep working, aren’t you?”  

Aether bites harder at his lower lip, tilting his head back against the chair, “I am,” he finally agrees, after a long moment of listening to Dew breathe heavily, the slick sounds of his hand.  

Dew waits for a moment, almost as if he’s aware that Aether’s not working, waits for minutes until Aether sits up, scoots his chair forward and picks his pen back up, “If I were there with you, I’d situate myself under your desk,” he purrs, words going a bit high on the end. “You’d be a busy body about it, complain about me distracting you but we both know you want me to.”  

Aether digs the pen into the paper in front of him, keeping his gaze trained on the numbers on the page and he hums a little, “You are good at being a little shit sometimes,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual.  

A laugh, breathless and the slick sounds seem to get louder, “Uh huh,” he agrees, “I am, but you love me like that, you love when I push your buttons. Take you down a peg, big guy.” Dew grunts a little and Aether can only imagine that he’s fucking up into his fist, “You turn to putty in my hands the second I get my mouth on you,” he breathes.  

“Lies,” Aether says, trying to keep his voice firm as he presses his legs together, “You’re just running your mouth.”  

Dew swears softly, “Aether,” he moans out, “Strong words for the guy who begged me to fuck him right before I left,” he teases, and Aether feels hot under the collar when he thinks about it, how desperate he had been for Dew’s dick. “It’s okay big guy, I love when you fall apart for me, when you can barely speak because you’re so dick drunk,” he coos, “Thinking about how your skin’s so cold, but every time I get inside you, you heat up like a fire ghoul,” he teases, “Like I’m branding you from the inside out, isn’t that right baby, you’re all mine and no one can fuck you as good as I can.”  

Aether squeezes the pen in his hand tight enough that he can hear the plastic creaking, “Dew,” he says sharply, but doesn’t speak beyond that, knows if he says anything else he’s going to make a fool of himself, he’s going to start babbling about how much he wishes Dew were here now, down under his desk, mouth on him, making him come.  

As the silence stretches between them, Dew moans again, this time higher, another swear, the steady creak of bedsprings, little ah, ah, ahs falling from his lips as he does, “Say something sweet for me baby,” he finally says, breathless and oh so close. “Let me hear your gorgeous voice, tell me what you want me to do for you, baby.”  

And oh Dew’s begging now, desperate in the same way he gets when they’re together, even when he’s being mean and teasing Aether—when he’s close, when he just needs a bit more to come.  

The pen clatters to the desk and Aether’s quick to shove his hand down the front of his scrubs, so glad he’d opted for them instead of the stuffy slacks he normally wore when on administration duties, “I want your mouth on me,” he finally admits, “Wanna fuck your face while you wait under the desk for me to finish working,” he manages to get out, moans when his fingers meet his dick, stroking over it quickly. “Want you to put a couple of fingers inside me, something for me to squeeze around,” he swallows heavily, tilts his head back against the chair as he arches his hips up into his own touch, imagining the heat of Dew’s mouth around him, “I feel so empty, firelight,” he admits, voice breaking a little as he does, pants out in the open, “Feels so empty when you’re away, want you to carve a place inside me and never leave.”  

Dew swears again, louder, a litany of fucks falling from his lips and Aether thinks he comes, thinks if he focuses hard enough he can feel it, the heat of it inside him, that maybe their distance is driving him a bit mad with how much he misses him.  

“Come for me baby,” Dew’s voice, rough with his orgasm, fills Aether’s ears, draws a sharp gasp out of him as he clenches around nothing and comes, goes completely breathless with it as he continues to touch himself until he’s too sensitive and he has to pull his hand away though it doesn’t go far, arm falling limp between his thighs once his hand is free from his scrub pants.  

It takes a while for his heart to settle down, for his breathing to fall under control again and he allows it, floats there as he wishes that Dew were here with him right now, a warm weight between his legs, fire all down his chest and stomach as he cradles him close, chasing away the chill that always falls over Aether after coming.  

“—ay we’re going to be back tomorrow, we’ve done all the ground work here, anyway, the rest is just boring admin work that can be done over Doom meetings.” Dew’s murmuring when he comes back into focus, “As soon as I see you baby, I’m going to get my hands all over you just like you deserve,” he promises, filthy and low in his ear, “Gonna have you coming so much you’ll be satisfied for days.”  

Aether hums, interested when his brain catches on the first part, still mostly focused on the second half of Dew’s words, “Tomorrow?” he asks, hating the way his voice sounds so hopeful.  

Fuck, it’d been weeks though, since he’d last seen Dew. Since they’d been together. He misses him.  

“Yeah, baby,” Dew murmurs, “Our plane landed a bit ago, we’re at a hotel for the night, but Copia’s got a car coming to get us in the morning. We’ll be home before you know it.”  

Aether makes another noise, something choked, “Oh,” he says, looks down at the paper on the desk in front of him, half-finished inventory reports, “I’ve got to—”  

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” Dew says firmly, “You’ve got tomorrow off and maybe the day after, Copia’s feeling a bit benevolent,” he says that with a bit of a grin in his voice, “Inventory will be fine for a couple of days, besides, Copia said he’d work on whatever you didn’t finish, just leave it where you’ve got it and he’ll take over. No arguing with me, alright?”  

And well, Aether can’t argue, because he’s feeling a bit selfish, a bit like he wants to shirk his duties for a few days so he can spend time with Dew instead, something warm settling in the pit of his stomach. “Okay,” he settles on, feels the weight lifted off of his shoulders at the word as he leans back in the chair, making it squeak a bit under his weight.  

“Good boy,” Dew says sweetly, “Now, listen, I want you to hang up the phone and go get cleaned up, settle in our bed and before you know it, I’ll be there, waking you up with a kiss.”  

Aether thinks about his nest, the one he’d been working on since Dew had left, how it still smells like the two of them and how much he wants to be there now, “Okay, yeah,” he says, “I can do that.” He swallows, bites his lip, “I love you, Dew.”  

Dew hums softly, “I love you too, big guy, I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”  

When he hangs up the phone, it’s with warm feelings, and as he levers himself up out of the chair, he feels like he’s floating.  

He grabs his phone, scrolling through the few notifications that he has, there’s a couple of text messages that he’s not too concerned with answering tonight, another text from Dew that’s just a heart emoji and then a singular calendar notification.  

Aether raises an eyebrow but thinks nothing of it at first, locks up the office and deposits the key in the safe box for another staff member to find before he heads up from the infirmary and to his and Dew’s bedroom.  

Once he’s showered and settled into bed, wearing only his underwear and a thin t-shirt that used to be Dew’s at one point and is entirely too short on Aether and stretched out the from the number of times he’s squeezed into it, he picks his phone up again.  

Taps the calendar notification and blinks at the entry that had been added recently.  

Mandatory Leave 10.26 - 11.3 – Accepted by F. Imperator  

There’s a text, one that had come in while he was in the shower, from Copia this time.  

Dew may be a little grumpy in the morning, our car arrives in three hours to pick us up, we’ll be back before your heat starts. The others have stocked your room while you were working and I’ve taken the opportunity to clear your schedule for the next week just in case. Let me know if there’s anything you need <3  

He feels a surge of affection, sends back a heart in response and takes a moment to take stock of himself, feels the low simmer of something that had been bothering him for a while, something gnawing at him the entire time he’d been without Dew—and he didn’t think that it was heat, thought it was just something happening because Dew had been away for so long. His mind races a bit, wonders why his heat had decided to show now of all times—  

His phone buzzes again, a text from Dew.  

Go to sleep, Aeth. I can feel you thinking from all the way out here. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.  

He huffs quietly, sends back a fuck you and a heart a moment later, almost immediately, another text comes through.  

Of course, big boy, anything you need. I’ll even let you knot me if you want <3  

[chizups]

Enough of that boring realism for now! Behold, sinner, an angel!

Spent too much on this one just because I tried to figure out what tool works best for me as a liner. More than less I am pleased with this piece.

I also was fighting with myself over that hell of a neckline that became a boob window in the end, even though I tried to avoid it through several redesigns there's always next one. Not sure who lost in this situation lol.

In the mood to write some info about this fantasy. I understand that a ship like that is not everyone's cup of tea, BUT it's not for everyone, it's for ME :D

Behold once again: the info dump✨

***

How character came to be in the first place?

I was gifted Far Cry 6 with Collapse DLC and after playing through it, I had some things to say to Joseph. So I needed an avatar to channel my thoughts. Self insert is always an option, but at the moment I was tired of drawing myself and was not in the mood to make another sona. Besides an unusual looking interpretation of Joseph's mind called for some ethereal entity, not a sad bitch like me lol

I also at the moment was obsessed with playing Warframe (still is), design of my character is based on a frame with the same name - Wisp. Her whole theme is being ethereal and wispy, ghostly character, moving between the fabrics of reality, which works nice with The Bliss, I think. And she has no feet. I'm not sure why it became such a thing for me in this case, I just like this artistic choice, that's all.

Is this character a self insert?

Well, in the end not at all😂 Whatever I wanted to tell through her was taken by the wind it seems. When I started thinking about Blissed Wisp, her biography and their interactions with Joseph, I came to realization that she would be just as easily manipulated by him as so many other characters in the plot, therefore will not say a single word from what was intended to be said in the first place.

If character has to fight, what's their weapon of choice?

Blissed Wisp is a skilled fighter (was created to be) and can use any fire weapon available. However her angelic image in the Project of Eden's Gate limits her choices of weapon to hand to hand combat, which would really be a problem only for her opponents since she is much stronger that an average human being and can injure a person without putting effort into it. She has an option to display her divine power (which are based on warframe abilities as well) but burning people alive is not exactly her cup of tea, so she is restraining herself from using it as well. Blissed Wisp leans more into scaring her opponents - her unusual appearance is just enough to do that - or confuse them by pretending to be a ghostly apparition in the woods.

What song describes character and their partner/love interest?

Who is she? - I Monster

Wisp was a mute witness to Joseph's reflections for years, carefully looking through his thoughts and memories without him noticing. He wasn't the only one she was able to reach, but somehow became most fascinating one to her. For many years after she first spoke to him, Joseph wasn't able to even imagine her face, most probably because she was not allowing him to do that: unsure of how long their connection would last, she figured her appearance was unnecessary information for Joseph to know.

However after some time their established relationship and Seed's religiously charged attitude lead to him become strengthened in faith that he in his mind was talking to an angel or a deity, wishing to get closer to her someday and meet in person if possible, since he was aware that Wisp wasn't just a incorporeal entity (despite her name).

With that desire there were many times Joseph "called" her name in his prayers to engage in conversations.

Where does character live?

Many years was spent in the science facility. I already said before that Far Cry 5 and New Dawn with it's Bliss are two steps away from Outlast and SCP, so I figured making a lab rat of a character that got turned basically into cyborg wasn't really that long of a stretch, but you don't need to agree.

If Wisp arrives in Hope County in time closer to Far Cry 5 dates, her place of residence would be a run down church somewhere in Henbane River region. When she's not there, she is rolling across the bliss fields just genuinely enjoying her freedom under the sun.

She doesn't really hide and is no stranger to cultists in other regions, but in general avoids being seen by people that are not following Joseph's word.

If Wisp arrives in what's left of Hope County by the time of New Dawn, she sticks to New Eden's region, mostly by Joseph's side, helping him with whatever and protecting his people.

How does character handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

Frankly has no idea what mental health is, when it comes to her, trauma is not a word Wisp would use to describe her struggles, yet she is not just traumatized, but was trained for decades to believe that all the suffering she endured - mental and physical - is for the greater purpose that she might not even understand, but pain is inescapable.

However in case of other people, Blissed Wisp mostly understands the needlessness of their suffering, therefore when being a witness to people mental or physical struggles, she feels compassion and expresses it without doubts.

How do Seeds feel about the character?

As was said, obviously Joseph is a big fan. They have a long lasting connection that in some scenarios grows into kind of a romance between a mere man and a deity. Besides the fact that Joseph cherishes his relationship with Blissed Wisp, his Pride cannot help but make somewhat subtle advances towards her now and again in an attempt to strengthen his feeling of uniqueness and chosenness: a unique partner for The Chosen Son of God and Savior of Humanity sounds just right in his mind.

Jacob keeps his distance and is a bit afraid of the entity that Blissed Wisp appears to be in his eyes. Despite the fact that of all people her and Jacob could've find quite a few themes to talk about, he has a hard time to accept her existence, since none of his beliefs really implied the possibility of meeting something like Wisp at all. Of all heralds he is the one who is closed away from Wisp's influence and does not appreciate her in the mountains.

Faith is almost as big of a fan as Joseph, though she is not aware of Blissed Wisp's real nature and believes in her angelic origin, which is not surprising since girl is probably high most of the time. But then again, Wisp was able to insert herself into The Bliss, and that made girls grow closer to each other at least on that topic.

John Seed takes very little of this angelic bullshit, but keeps his mouth shut to appease Joseph first and foremost. He does not believe in Blissed Wisp being an angel, and in his eyes, if paranormal exists, she is a demon at best. However he is not nearly as closed as his older brother and is able to open his mind to Wisp in some cases.

Why this name?

Wisp is not the name of this woman, but the name of the entity she was designed to be. The purposes she was created for did not imply her having a name at all.

Blissed she became under Joseph's influence at Eden's Gate.

What people say about the character?

Though Blissed Wisp is not exactly hiding from people, the influence of Eden's Gate has spread so much, barely any person outside the project would be able to catch a glance of this unusual looking gal. But some did, and that made her into some sort of a local cryptid. Obviously not too many people believe that there is an actual angel roaming Hope County, but people talk there is some... thing.

Sharky was able not only see Blissed Wisp, but have a small chat with her as well and after that just calls her "Joseph's chick" absolutely ignoring her name.

[mayullla]

💐 Yandere Venti 🦋 please! Thank you again!

Title: Past Memories

Character(s): Venti (Genshin impact) Summary: He lost you and his friend in the past. He would not lose you the second time. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, Fem!reader, reincarnation au

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

Venti loved you from the moment he was born from a blow of the wind. The moment he saw you as you held down your the skirt of your dress, he fell in love with you. Your lovely voice, startled by the sudden gust of wind as you held tightly the basket of food that you were carrying.

He was barely visible back then, the wisp thought to itself soon snapping out of his thoughts when his friend called him. Flying quickly towards him, the little spirit turned his head just one time more toward you before heading to his friend.

Unknown to him, you were going to be forever etched into his mind and heart.

He had watched from afar, the person that he loved. His feeling grew more and more the more he looked at you, the more he found out about you. The more lovely you have become to him, the more he watched you. The way you talk, how you laugh, how your eyes watched the sky as the wind curls around you, how your hair follows the wind softly as if dancing along with your clothes, every single thing made him fall more and more in love with you.

It was by chance that his friend became friends with you. The two of you had similar interests, if not that your personalities aligned just right to see each other every so often. It was around that time when Venti took his chance to meet you, to draw closer to you. He thought that this would be enough that everything was perfect.

Too bad nothing last forever.

As the war continued, he watched the world around him decay and destroy. His friend was killed by the enemy he wept in bitter sadness, but soon after you too had left this world with an arrow struck to your chest. Your last moments were with the little wind spirit you called him.

With your remained strength, you raised your hand as he pushed himself towards it like how a person would hold their dying loved one's hand. It made you smile as you told him how adorable he really was, something that he had heard many times from your lips. You told him to take care, you told him your regrets to leave so soon but you also told him that you were so thankful to have been given this life. It was hard for him to leave you even as your hand fell to the floor and your skin cold.

You never felt his heart even after years have passed. As Venti took the appearance of his dead friend for you, he cherished your deep inside his heart. And even after so long, his heart still has a painful thorn on its side.

It didn't happen every day maybe once or twice a year he would drink a little more than usual, a certain date that Diluc had noticed now as he watched the bard just drink, drink, and drink.

He used to try stopping the bard before when he thought that this was just too much, but he stopped at one point letting Venti drink by himself only walking up to him when Venti had called him for another bottle.

Diluc had heard Venti mumbling many times in the past when he got like this. He wanted to forget, yet when the bard passed out, Diluc could hear the name of a woman that the bard loved.

Diluc thought Venti was a heartbroken man, having lost the love of his life in death, something that even archons could not prevent. He thought that Venti would heal at one point, no matter how long it would be. He was right in some ways, but he was also so wrong....

After all this would be the last time that Venti becomes this broken, this shattered like this.

Because... because he found you.

As Venti looked at you, his eyes wide as he wondered why, why has he never noticed you before till now. As you looked at him surprised, your laughter dying out as you played under the sun. He wondered how and why you were here. He knew you had died long ago.

Yet as the wind blew and you touched his skin, wondering if he was okay or not, Venti could not help but gasped. It wasn't relief, nor was it gladness. He was breathless seeing you, but something twisted tangled in his heart too. Somthing far more twisted were hidden within those tears as he held your hand while you looked alarmed at the stranger who was crying.

The fear and loneliness for so long felt like it was finally going to suffocate him as he looked at your worried eyes. Many told him to let go of the past and look forward, yet he was unable to, clinging to the past where you were. He wondered every day if he would ever see you as he sang and rhyme tunes of love when he was alone.

To the sharp mind tho those lyrics had something darker to them, if Venti could continue on without any interruptions, the songs only get darker and darker. But he always stops because he knows that the world does not need to know these feelings they were, in some ways, a desperate fantasy.

This was the last day he would mourn for your death, for you were here now. Now with him. He will be the one to protect you and love you... the things he wanted to do in the past. He will keep you safe, and he will keep you under his watchful eyes.

After all, he lost two people he cherished much. He would never allow you to slip away from his sight again.

[seniorpeon]

"Pleeeeeease Granny, I wanna know who I'll marry when I'm big!" Little Momo hopped in place, flailing her arms around as she'd done for the past 10 minutes. "Kiddo, I told you already, I can't read your future. You're too young to have that kind of information." Seiko chomped the lollipop she had, keeping the stick in her mouth to try and substitute for the nicotine she refused to partake of in front of her granddaughter. The child crossed her arms and slammed on the ground, her legs shooting out from underneath her as she pouted. "I don't care, I just wanna knooooow." Letting out a deep sigh, Seiko took a step away from the door and into the living room, slowly sitting down. You had to be careful at her age not to hurt yourself, moving too fast up and down after all. This all started at Momo's school. After the usual teasing for the important hand sign Seiko would have the girl do, a classmate ran up to her and asked about her grandmother's fortune-telling abilities. "She talks to ghosts and stuff, right? Can she see the future?" Now her granddaughter, moments after returning from school, is begging her to break the cardinal rule of soothsaying: answering specific questions. "Momo, if I tell you the name of the person you'll marry, you'll spend the rest of your life hunting him down. The future isn't something set in stone, there always the chance something-" As he turns back to face the entrance to the living, her eyes meet with Momo's. Her little girl's eyes were welling up with tears as she was biting her lips to hold back a wail. This face wasn't the start of a tantrum, however, it was a face of pure sadness. A pit grew in Seiko's stomach. Her granddaughter was starting to doubt her. Of the futures she had seen, this was the one she wished to prevent more than any other. Slowly moving to her feet, she swept up Momo in her arms, carrying her deeper into the house.

Candles adorned the room, as flickering flames cast shadows that dance across the walls in a silent step. Momo finishes lighting the last candle and returns the one she used to like the rest to his spot. In the center of the ring of candles, her grandmother sat on her knees with her hands clasped in prayer. The outfit Granny wore when she did her spirit medium duties always filled Momo with awe. Gracefully, sleeves and various loose cloth would flutter with every movement. She stared as Granny finished the prayer, and her eyes opened slowly. "Come, little one, it is ready." Her grandmother extended her hand toward Momo, who outstretched her own hand to meet. "Granny, this is kinda... Spooky..." Letting out a soft chuckle, Granny sighed and pulled Momo gently toward her. "The future is a scary thing, Momo. In order to properly entreat the future, I must show it the respect it deserves. Now child, what is it you wish to know?" Immediately destroying the decorum her grandmother had set up, Momo jumped up and flung her arms into the air. "I WANNA KNOW WHO IM GONNA MARRY!!!" Her grandmother took in a deep breath, visibly biting her cheek, and placed her hands in from a glass orb that rested on a pillow in front of her. With her head, she motioned for Momo to sit down beside her, and the child took on a serious expression and sat. Silence, except the occasional deep breaths, permeated the dim room as smoke swirled from the candles around the orb. Spiraling faster and faster, like a twister of ashen wisps, until the orb was completely obscured by the smoke. Then, it was clear. The candles were snuffed one by one, and the room's lights flickered on. It took everything in little Momo's heart to not burst out of her chest and run, her breath caught in her throat and prevented a scream from escaping. Her grandmother's face, contrary to the horror she has just witnessed, was contorted in a hearty laugh that filled the room.

Fear subsided, replaced quickly with embarrassment as the girl balled up her fists and punched her grandmother's legs with the rage of a hundred 5 year olds. This only proved to make the medium laugh harder, as she fell to the floor. "WHAT'S SO FUNNY HUH? WHAT'RE YOU LAUGHING AT YOU BALDIE????" Wiping a tear from her eye, Seiko pushed herself from the floor, pulling the assaulting toddler into an embrace. The hug, however, did not stop the punching. "My little Momo, I'm sorry for the laughter..." She bit hard on her cheek to prevent another chuckle from leaking out. "I can... Be an awkward fellow sometimes..." Stifiling another laugh, she rose to her feet, Momo writhing under her arm as she walked them toward the living room. "Why don't we watch a movie kiddo. There's an actor I think you'll like. Look out for his name and personality, though, don't focus on his looks." She smirked as the child's flailing ceased and accepted her defeat. Washing away the moment, Seiko looked ahead and sighed. What comes next is inevitable. She hoped Takakura could live up to the visions.

[galaxyshine24-7]

Just thought of something angsty, so how would the NRC staff + the overblot crew react to MC overblotting themself? Now they didnt use any of the drugs (why would they? They’re already strong themself without it) it’s more like they were forced to overblot. Like a sniper shotting the drug to them, but the drug isnt any normal drug. The drug instantly cause the user to overblot and become monster like, something akin to mara struck from HSR. And correct me if im wrong but when someone overblotted they’re aware on what they are doing right? Let’s have the MC be mindless :) again something similar to mara struck.

Since we have already establish that MC is honestly much stronger than all of the mafia, their teachers are going to have to fight them because with the overblot making them much stronger, they’re a damn powerhouse. Wonder how that would turn out..

Also you can decide if MC dies or simply just in a brink of death ;)

Hope you like the idea ^_^

(I honestly think that at the end of the Twisted Wonderland game, Yuu overblots some way somehow.)

Silver Bullet Yuu would overblot in a self-sacrificing sort of way. Things are going down in Grim Court and Yuu takes the most drastic measure to get everyone out alive. Someone shooting Yuu with a gun would be very interesting maybe they jump in front of it to stop the big bad from powering up and Yuu overblots instead.

Also, I wouldn't say Yuu is more powerful than the other mafia leaders, but they do know how to give people a run for their money.

Thank you for this ask it's going to be so much fun.💖💖💖💖

Overblot Silver Bullet Yuu

Ash falls from the sky as the gangs raise their weapons at the threat. Everyone has undergone a beating, but nothing like the wounds the threat has pouring down their body. The ruins of NRC have become a battleground, small fights break out over the campus, but the main one is soon to come to an end.

The threat backs away as the current gang leaders and leaders of old old close in. Yuu stands to the side clutching their wounded arm as Grim hisses beside them. Sweat rolls down their brow looking back and forth from the two forces. It's finally coming to an end all the bloodshed and pain is finally over. What was this all for? Power? Fame? Is the cost of lives this insignificant? Yuu's stomach twists in knots anger and sadness fill their being. One thing is for sure this life can never be for them, but seeing the eyes of their friends fill with determination to protect this broken home is something they can't turn away from.

That is when the notice a glim in the distance.

A sniper.

The threat smiles wickedly as wisps of magic surround them. They open up their arms like an embrace, proclaiming the end of all those who stand in their path. Yuu's body moves before they can think, jumping in front of the line of fire as they feel something pierce their chest.

"Y/N!" Crowley cries, It's been years since he has called them by their real name but before they can take it in the world turns black.

Overblot Crew Reaction

Riddle Rosehearts🌹

It happened so fast that the Heartslaybul leader didn't even get time to blink as he watched Yuu's form get covered in black ooze. For once the dorm leader was speechless. He takes a step back feeling fear creep up inside him. Yuu's cries of pain ring through his mind. Ace and Deuce yell for the bartender, but Riddle orders Trey and Cater to hold them back. Yuu's form grows as he watches it towering over the threat. There is no rule on how to handle this situation, but Riddle is determined to do anything to get Yuu back.

Leona Kingscholar🦁

Leona sees Yuu race across his field of vision already knowing what will happen. Jack yells over the noise trying to tell Yuu to hold on.

"Herbivore!" he cries knowing a person who has never interacted with the magic drug can't handle an overblot. By that point, Leona is sweating trying to figure out what to do. It will only take seconds for Yuu to lose control and he doesn't know what will become of them after. Leona readies himself and his members for anything. He can tell the real fight is about to start.

Azul Ashengrotto🐙

Azul is always one step ahead of his opponents, but to think the threat would try to cause themselves to overblot is something he never would have imagined, and Yuu jumping in front of the bullet is something he can't even fathom as he stands in terror. Azul doesn't even care that he heard the bartender's real name. At this point he could learn all about Yuu, but he could lose them altogether, and that is something he won't allow.

Jamil Viper🐍

Jamil raises his weapon jaw clenched. Kalim stands by his side eyes full of tears as Yuu starts to overblot. He can't let it end this way, he still hasn't thanked them for all they did for him. He won't let it end this way, he will use every power he has to see Yuu alive at the end of the day. He owes them that much.

Vil Schoenheit👑

It takes Vil so much strength to hold Epel back watching his friend forced to overblot. His experience with it is the worst he could ever feel, and he can't imagine what it must be like for Yuu. The potato he has watched and grown with writhing in pain and anguish does something to Vil. He knows Yuu will lose control and he won't stand watching his precious potato become rotten.

Idia Shroud🎮

Idia will not let another person he cares about fall to an overblot. He gets his weapons ready telling everyone to prepare themselves for what's to come. Ortho stands next to him holding his hand tightly. Back then he had no power, but now he knows what he can do. Whatever it takes he will cure Yuu once this is all over.

Malleus Draconia🐉

He wasn't fast enough. He should've seen through the threats plan. How can he lose one of his only friends? His anger is unimaginable, a lighting strike hits the sniper burning them to a crisp. Nothing will stop Malleus from destroying all those that hurt Yuu. They have given him nothing, but kindness, and he can't imagine losing them ever. For once in his life they treated him like a regular person even after finding out who he is. He owes Yuu a life debt as he steps forward in front of Yuu's overblot form as he hears the sound of Sebek screaming behind him. Till the very end, he will never turn his back on his friend.

NRC Staff Reactions

Dire Crowley🎩

He falls to his knees. He has failed again to protect those he cares about. His poor friends and now their dear child. Tears stream down his cheeks watching Yuu succumb to the overblot. How dare he call himself a headmaster when he can't even protect his dear students. It takes Crewel to get him to snap out of it. He at least needs to see this all through. He owes his friends and he owes Yuu that much.

Divus Crewel🩸

No, this can't be happening, not his puppy. That he helped raise, it was like yesterday when Crowley introduced them and how small they were. He will not lose them! He almost kicks Crowley for falling to his knees. Right now they need to snap Yuu out of this overblot whatever it takes. It is time for these stray pups to prove themselves worthy.

Mozus Trein📚

It pains Mozus to see the small child he taught how to play piano, and to dance, and sing become a beast from overblot. He stands his ground trembling, he sees Yuu just like he did his daughters. He helps Crowley off the ground encouraging him to continue fighting. He knows they are the only people Yuu can call family and it is their responsibility to help their child in times of trouble.

Ashton Vargas🧤

He isn't one to dwell on emotions, but seeing Yuu sacrifice themselves stirs something unimaginable in him. He cracks his knuckles clutching his fist as he steps up to overblot Yuu.

"You better give me a challenge kiddo. Otherwise, we are going to have some serious training after this."

Vargas was always a man of action not words.

Sam💀

He always knew his little imp was full of surprises. Now it is time for him to get serious. He supplies the group with his arsenal of gadgets. Even getting help from his friends on the other side. He made a deal with his little imp long ago and he plans to keep his end of the bargain.

[bluemoonsunrise]

M O O N G I R L

pairing: kiri sully x metkayina male oc (koa royen’tian)

content warnings: bullying, foul language, depictions of poor mental health, cultural differences between the omatikaya and metkayina, very brief world building, strays from canon, slowish burn???, weird girl x awkward boy. kiri and koa are 19.

word count: ??? (roughly edited)

pov: 3rd person with a heavy focus on kiri

summary: kiri feels out of place in the new village her family calls home. she has suffered great loss after great loss that she cannot seem to sway— and sadness drowns her harsher than any wave can. it is in an unlikely large friend that she begins to feel at home in the sea despite the hardships she faces and the ever-present thump of a mighty, mysterious heart in her ears.

fun tidbit: listen to “moon girl” by ha vay because that song inspired me to write a story centered around kiri

ONE

— demon blood —

kiri had the same dream every night.

without fail for as long as she she could remember, she’d only ever had one dream. the forests of pandora were most beautiful to her when sunlight spilled in through the trees like hundreds of spotlights. she walked in the warm sunspots as the grass tickled her feet each night she fell asleep. she was weightless in her dreams. she was happy. the kind of happy that tickled her stomach and made her smile for no reason at all.

woodsprites floated around her head. atokirina. blessed seedlings. hundreds of them swam through the sky. in her dream, she would reach out her hands for them and they would come to her. landing in her palms and on her arms, their feather-light wisps felt like soft kisses. as more and more came to her, their white light was all that she could see.

it blinded her as they swarmed her.

she could not shake them away. she could not get them off. hundreds upon hundreds of woodsprites crowded her. they clung to her arms. her hair. her fingers. her loincloth. they wiggled their way into her mouth until she was choking on them.

kiri was never well-rested.

“baby girl,” jake said from behind the privacy curtain she’d made out of cloth. “you can’t lay in here all day, you know…”

“i’m tired, dad.” kiri said just loud enough to be heard. curled on her side, she stared at the bracelet on her wrist. a goodbye gift from her grandmother.

“i know, sweetheart, but you’re always tired.” jake said. when she did not response, he sighed and shifted his weight. “can you get up soon? you should be out with your brothers learning how to swim and dive. at this rate, tuk is going to be a better swimmer than you.”

jake meant well.

really, he did— but sometimes kiri wished he would just leave her be.

kiri pushed her privacy curtain aside as she came out. she gave him a very unenthusiastic wave of her hands. ‘ta-da’.

jake leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her head. “atta girl, kiri. food is over there if you’re hungry. you should eat before you go.”

kiri had no appetite. at least, not so fresh after waking up. the dream always made her throat hurt. it was like she could still feel the woodsprites clogging her throat and wiggling in her mouth. it made her shiver.

the sun was unrelenting in awa’atlu. unlike the forests she’d grown up in where the towering trees offered shade, there was no such thing on the beaches. to find shade like that, she’d have to venture far back into the mangroves or keep hidden in the mauri pods.

“look, it’s kiri!” tuk exclaimed from the water, pointing one of her small, dark blue fingers.

kiri sat down on the edge of the woven walkway and dipped her feet into the water. she smiled as her siblings swam toward her. neteyam pushed tuk up out of the water so she that could sit beside their sister. lo’ak grasped the ledge and began to do pull ups.

“are you okay, kiri?” tuk asked. her breath was caught up in her throat from all the swimming.

“i’m fine, baby sister.” kiri said as she pushed tuk’s wet braids out of her face. “how long have you been able to hold your breath for today?”

“two minutes!” tuk said with a beaming smile

“wow. that’s longer than lo’ak.” kiri said.

lo’ak scoffed, splashing kri’s legs with water. “at least i’m in here learning. you haven’t been in the water since we got here.”

kiri stuck her tongue out at him.

he raised an unkind finger that their mother would’ve scolded him for.

he was right though.

the sully family arrived in awa’atlu three days ago. while her siblings spent most of their days in the water learning from tsireya, kiri hid in the sully family’s mauri. she laid in the corner she had claimed for herself behind her privacy curtain and cried.

who could blame her?

having to pack up and move from home was hard enough. add on the fact that her dearest friend had been abducted by the RDA’s blue team and the pain she felt was an ever-stinging wound.

the sea angered that wound.

the salt did not mesh well with her constant heartache.

it was hard to hold her breath because it was hard to focus. her mind felt as scrambled as eggs.

“come swim with us.” neteyam said. he placed his hand on her knee and gave it a small squeeze. “it is fun to watch lo’ak fail at diving.”

“bro, come on.” lo’ak said with a roll of his eyes.

“alright, alright.” kiri said as she shooed away her brothers from her legs. she stood up and held her hand out for tuk. “jump with me?”

tuk nodded. “uh-huh!”

“one…two…three!”

kiri and tuk jumped into the ocean together. the splash was loud in her ears and the bubbles tickled as they swam by her. surfacing, kiri smiled as tuk laughed. wading in the water all together, the sully siblings decided to see who could dive the deepest before needing to come back up for air.

“ready, set, go!” lo’ak said.

gasping all at the same time, all five of them disappeared into the water. swimming down, it was more of a race than a test of skill. neteyam was the furthest down. his longer limbs gave him that edge. tuk fell behind— and she made sure to keep lo’ak with her. he struggled to fight her off as she clung to him.

kiri found it hard not to laugh.

she swam beside neteyam. he smiled at her as they swam down and down and down. it didn’t take long for her chest to feel heavy. if it was any consolation, even her brother seemed low on air and he’d practiced his breath-hold for three days.

neteyam grunted under the water and kiri turned to look up at him. pencil straight, he tried to push himself further down by swinging his arms. she did the same. staring at him, she could see he needed air. she did, too, but she was stubborn.

they could’ve been twins— her and neteyam. born only days apart, they acted like it. they were entirely opposite in every single aspect except their desire to win.

neteyam bailed.

blowing out all the air in his lungs, he rose to the surface. kiri followed shortly after. as the eldest siblings surface, they both gasped.

“tuk cheated! she tried to choke me!” lo’ak exclaimed with tuk still stuck to his back. “i want a redo!”

tuk stuck her tongue out and giggled, waving her hands beside her head. “na-na na-na-na.”

lo’ak dove backwards, sending both of them under the water. like the good brother he was, he pulled tuk back up onto his back as they both laughed.

“you are a good diver. how are you that good if you haven’t practiced?” neteyam asked once he caught his breath.

kiri shook her head, her lips resting under the water. “because i’m obviously the gifted child?”

neteyam and lo’ak both rolled their eyes at her.

with her siblings, kiri could hardly remember why she was sad. sitting with tuk in her lap atop the woven walkway, they watched as their brothers competed with each other for who had the best dive.

lo’ak dove straight— except his legs flopped up in the air instead of staying in place.

“seven!” kiri said as he resurfaced.

tuk gave him a thumbs down. “four!”

lo’ak booed her and she booed him back.

neteyam dove next. he was fast. a sharp jump off the walkway was what any diver wanted— but his form wasn’t as put together as lo’ak’s was.

“ten!” tuk said, clapping her hands together.

“oh, you’re a little shit.” lo’ak laughed.

“eh…” kiri said, tossing her head from side to side. “probably like a five.”

“a five? you’re saying this skxawng did better than me?” neteyam pointed at lo’ak.

“sorry, bro. im just the greates— agh!”

kiri laughed as neteyam pounced on lo’ak and both of them went under. tuk laughed, too. the sisters watched as their brothers raced to the swallow water and wrestled with each other.

“hey!” lo’ak yelped. “don’t pull my tail, asshole!”

“i’m gonna go pull his tail.” tuk said as she scurried off kiri’s lap.

kiri didn’t stop her. she laughed into her hands as tuk attacked from above. she jumped onto neteyam’s back, causing him to crash down into the water with her. lo’ak was too busy cackling to know he was in danger. his startled yelp made kiri laugh all the more as tuk tugged his tail. he grabbed tuk by her hips and launched her through the air. she tucked into herself as she hit the water.

“again!” tuk gasped as she resurfaced. “throw me again, lo’ak!”

“c’mere you little devil. i’m gonna throw you all the way to earth.” lo’ak said as he reached for her.

kiri smiled to herself as both brothers took turns tossing tuk. they turned everything into a competition. who could throw her further? who could throw her higher? neteyam, obviously. kiri didn’t need to stick around to see it.

out of the mauri for the longest she’d been out since they got here, she enjoyed the way the warm breeze felt on her face. she walked the cove by her family’s home alone. her siblings laughter faded under the sound of the crashing waves. she liked the way the waves wipes away her footprints as she walked the shore. she could see shells peeking up at her.

she crouched down and fished out a pretty pink one with her extra finger. rubbing away the sand and rinsing it in the water, she smiled to herself. she’d make a necklace out of it. tucking it into the pouch around her waist, she walked the beach looking for more eye-catching shells.

she wondered what her grandmother would think of a place like this. would she like the sound of the waves? would she enjoy the smell of salt in the air? would she like the way sand felt under her feet? it was hard to know. maybe she would, maybe she wouldn’t.

spider would like it here.

he’d love it here.

he’s be a good diver. with his oxygen-mask, he’d never need to surface unless it ran out. he’d enjoy the sun. he’d enjoy the competition that being in a new place brought. he’d like fishing. he’d like exploring the mangroves.

kiri lowered to sit as her core went weak. she held her stomach and sank down onto the wet sand.

sadness rotted her insides.

it suffocated her like the woodsprites in her dreams.

it was visceral. it made her eyes sting and her chest cave.

oh, spider…

what were they doing to him?

was he even alive…

“she lives after all.”

kiri turned her head. her ears perked as they approached. aonung. tonowari’s son. she recalled his name as he and his friends walked out from the sea. his teal skin soaked in the sunlight. his double-lidded eyes bore into her like a nantang.

“where have you been? you don’t like to swim?” aonung asked as he hooked his fishing bow over his shoulder.

“i haven’t felt like it…” kiri said as she gathered all her shells. she stood and wrapped her beaded shawl around her.

“you’re not meant for it.” aonung laughed as he looked her up and down. “i mean look at you. what kind of tail is that? your arms are so thin. you have demon-hands.”

kiri scowled him as she balled her shawl around her hands and clutched it closer to her. her face burned with embarrassment as aonung’s friends laughed at her.

“you guys would be bad climbers.” she said in a voice too soft. she swallowed around the lump in her throat. “you…you make fun of me because we’re here. if you came to the forest, you’d fall to your death trying to climb around our home base in the floating mountains.”

“you’d have to be stupid like a baby to fall and kill yourself.” aonung said as he stood in front of her. a sharp grin slid across his lips. “it’s very easy to drown. i bet if you went outside the reef you wouldn’t last thirty seconds.”

“i think you’d be surprised.” kiri muttered with her chin tipped high.

“oh?” aonung grabbed her arm and tugged her forward a step. “should we test your skill, demon?”

“your father would skin you alive if he heard you talking like this, aonung. especially to a girl.”

kiri and aonung turned as he emerged from the water. aonung let go of her arm instantly and took a step aside. it was not out of fear. no. the sharp smile on his lips only worsened as the other metkayina male walked up the beach.

he was tall. really tall.

“empty handed again, koa?” aonung flicked his head toward the empty net on his shoulder.

“don’t you have better things to do besides pester people all day? i’m sure your mother has chores for you to do and your father has something to reprimand you for.” koa said.

his voice like was like the wind.

the wind up in the mountains. the wind that brushed by her ears when she rode on the back of her ikran. mighty. clear. comforting.

“c’mon,” one of aonung’s friends said with a flick of his head. “let’s go skin our kills.”

aonung looked down at kiri one last time. he bared his teeth in a vicious smile before he and his group departed. she let her shoulders drop once they were gone. when she turned her head, she was surprised to see the tall male as close as he was. she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“sorry,” he laughed under his breath. he bent down and retrieved a shell from the sand. “you dropped this.”

“oh,” kiri said. she plucked it from his large, teal fingers. she must’ve dropped it when aonung tugged her arm. “thank you…”

“are you alright?” the stranger asked with a small tilt of his head. he looked in the direction aonung had left in. “he can be a real asshole.”

“yeah…” kiri said. she followed his gaze. nodding her head, she whispered, “yeah.”

“what’s your name?”

when kiri looked up at him, she had to tilt her head far back. the metkayina male was a more than a head taller than her— and he was at least three times as broad. his arms were big. he had muscle. omatikaya males were so lean and so lanky that she forgot muscle could look that big.

on the right side of his face, he had a beautiful tattoo on his temple that crested down his cheek to underneath his eye, black inky swishes and swirls decorated his face. small dots were placed strategically within and around the lines. she wondered what it meant— if it meant anything at all.

“my name?” she shook her head. “kiri. sully.”

“kiri’suli…” he said with a slight tilt of his head.

she shook her head as her mouth popped open. “oh, no— not…no. my name is kiri. kiri. sully is my last name. kiri sully.”

“kiri. it’s nice to meet you. i’m koa.” he said extending out his hand. “koa royen’tian.”

“koa,” kiri seemed to breathe his name. for some reason, her head was spinning and she felt really hot. was she embarrassed? “thanks for butting in when you did.”

“why? would you have swam out to the reef to prove yourself?” koa asked with a slight smile.

“yeah, probably.” kiri shrugged.

koa’s eyes widened. his head tilted and his smile lessened. “oh. you’re serious…well, i’m glad i stepped in when i did then because you’d…well…” he looked out past the reef and shook his head.

kiri raised one of her eyebrows. “are you saying i would’ve drowned?”

koa’s smile was gone entirely and he went ridged. “no. no, not at all. you— you’re probably a great swimmer. i just know you would’ve both gotten in trouble.”

kiri laughed. the smile on her face was sweet and soft. “i’m just messing with you.”

“oh,” koa sighed. relief washed over him like a soothing wave. “good. that’s good…”

“are you a hunter?” kiri asked, pointing towards the net hanging on his shoulder.

“a fisherman, yes.” koa said, patting the empty net. kiri raised a brow at him. he let out a low laugh, “i swear, i’m decent at it. i already turned in my haul. that’s why this is empty.”

kiri nodded and hugged her shawl to her. she watched as he shifted his weight. was he eager to get going? she shouldn’t keep him any longer if he was busy.

“do you have to go?” kiri asked, glancing over her shoulder towards the village.

“i should. i have mouths to feed.” koa said with a small sigh. he placed his hands on his hips and looked down at her. “maybe i’ll see you around? don’t be shy. if you see me, say hi.”

kiri nodded and dipped her head the smallest bit. “alright…thanks again.”

koa dipped his head in farewell. kiri tucked her tail as he walked passed her, clutching it as close as she clutched her shells. his footprints in the sand were so deep it took the waves many tries to wipe them away completely. his large tail swished like water itself as he walked. his long, wet hair dripped down his toned back. the beads in his curls clinked as he walked.

he looked back and kiri was quick to look away. she looked down at the sand and pretended to be more interested in the shells. she placed her hand on her chest and let out a soft exhale.

so embarrassing…

kiri continued her hunt for pretty shells in order to distract herself. not only from the sadness and the annoyance that aonung had caused her to feel, but from the ticklish feeling in her belly that lingered seeing koa look back at her.

yet it couldn’t distract her from the thump whispering by in the breeze. her ears perked. she looked up from the sand, her tail flicking behind her.

she could hear it.

thump…thump…thump…

steady.

slow.

mighty.

while the noise had always — in some way or another — worried her, it was comforting to hear. a heartbeat she often assumed was her real mothers. tears brimmed on her lashes but she blinked them away. she didn’t need to cry. she didn’t want to cry.

she had been afraid that the sound would not follow her. she had been scared that the thump, thump, thump that resonated with her own beating heart would remain something she could only hear in the forest.

“i see you,” kiri whispered into the ocean breeze.

she didn’t know what she spoke to.

she didn’t know what heard her.

she just knew that it did.

the waves spilled up the shore and reached for her. a smile curled across her lips as she dragged her hand through the bubbling, clear water. it was warm against the sun-kissed sand. she giggled as small, shelled waterbugs crawled up and out of the sand. they crept across her fingers and the back of her hand. the water was strong enough to wash most of them away and she watched as they burrowed back into the sand.

kiri returned to her family’s mauri pod with a handful of shells and a smile that could’ve knocked jake off his feet if he had been standing.

“having a good day, baby girl?” jake asked as she sat beside him by the fire. he was preparing food for dinner.

kiri never answered that question. instead, she laid out the shells beside her dad and looked up at him with those always-wide yellow eyes. “do you like these? do you think they would make good necklaces?”

jake placed down the stick he used to poke and prod at the frying fish and leaned over to inspect the shells. he picked up one of the pink ones. “this one is nice. look at how pointy it is.”

“yeah, i like this one, too.” kiri said, taking it from his hand. “it’s eye-catching. i think it’ll have to make it the centerpiece.”

kiri had a habit of keeping what was hers to herself. she did not like when other people touched what was hers without asking— and, of course, her dad had a habit of forgetting to ask before touching.

“will you make me one?” jake asked as he flipped over the fish. it sizzled over the flame. the noise tickled her ears. he glanced at his daughter. “i’d wear one.”

“yes, of course.” kiri picked up a dark blue shell and held it out for him to see. “i like this one for you.”

jake had to lean back to see it clearly, looking down his nose. he nodded. “i like it a lot. it’ll look nice with my other ones.”

kiri smiled.

around jake’s neck sat three layers of necklaces that kiri had made him over the years. forest-inspired necklaces. an ikran tooth that she had carved ‘dad’ into as a small girl. the handwriting was awful but jake hadn’t taken it off once since she’d handed it to him. the others were various beads that she had carved and charms she’d made. a T for toruk makto. it sat closest to his throat like a choker.

“it’ll be your first ocean one.” kiri said as she picked away the chipped edges and cleaned away the sand from the crevasses.

“it will.” jake watched her without her knowing, a soft smile on his lips.

he always admired his children when they weren’t paying attention. he would look away when they looked up at him only to look back when something else caught their eye. he didn’t know why he did that. he’d never been the awkward type— but fatherhood had pulled deep emotions to the forefront and he sometimes had a hard time expressing them.

he loved his children. more than anything— and they all knew it despite how hard he could be on them.

kiri had not been spared from one of jake’s many lectures. less so than her brothers, but still enough to instill in her a bad habit to roll her eyes. even then, as angry as he could get and as strict as he could be— he still wore his baby’s necklaces around his neck and tucked each of them in each night.

“do you think mum will be kept safe?” kiri asked in a whisper. she couldn’t look up at him. she focused intently on the shell even when it was clean.

“no one back home would ever let anything happen to her, baby girl.” jake said softly. he reached a hand out and stroked the back of her head. “i promise.”

kiri leaned into his touch for just a moment before she stood up. she gathered her shells. “i am going to make your necklace now.”

“thank you, sweetheart,” jake said loud enough for her to hear as she hurried off. she hid behind her privacy curtain and he could hear her sniffle.

no matter how much jake wanted to comfort her, she was too much like him. she’d never accept it. from anyone. not him. not her mother. not her brothers or her sisters. not even her grandmother.

jake sighed to himself and poked at the smoking fish.

— 🪐 —

kiri got up the next morning without having to be asked. before she left the mauri pod, she gifted not only jake the necklace she promised him, but neytiri one, too. it was blue like jake’s. she had made them similar and carved a little heart into the center of each shell that hung as the focal point.

jake and neytiri each pressed a kiss to her cheek at the same time before she exited out the door. despite the fact that she rolled her eyes at the affection, she smiled as she walked with a bounce in her step down the woven walkway. behind her, her brothers bickered.

“i’m going to hold my breath for five minutes today.”lo’ak said.

neteyam laughed aloud and clapped the younger on his back. “oh, bro, you are a comedian.”

kiri turned as she heard the splash.

neteyam surfaced and nearly roared louder than the crashing waves. “you are dead, lo’ak! dead! i’m going to kill you!”

“fuck you, bitch!” lo’ak said before he turned tail and ran.

neyetam clicked his tongue and his ilu swooped right underneath him. he would cut lo’ak off where ever he decided to dive and get his revenge.

jake came storming out of the mauri. “where the hell is that boy? does he realize how loud he just was?”

“don’t worry, dad. neyetam is going to beat his butt for it.” tuk said as she bounced around kiri to stand by jake’s side. the whole of her little hand grabbed one of his fingers and she tugged at him. “come swim with me.”

“don’t you have lessons with tsireya?” jake asked as he looked down at his youngest.

“daddd,” tuk whined, shaking his hand. “please? you never swim with us!”

jake didn’t even try to resist. he patted her head. “alright, munchkin. give me a second to clean up and then we’ll go together.”

“kiri, are you going to come?” tuk asked with a beaming smile.

“i will join later. for now, i’m going to try my luck with an ilu.” kiri said with a small wave.

“be careful,” jake called after her.

she gave him a thumbs up before she continued down the woven walkway. she walked along the edge, watching the way hundreds of fish and marine life swam just below the surface. an ilu glided down below, seeming to watch her every step.

it followed kiri all the way down to the beach. the water was warm as she walked her way into it little by little. holding her hand out, she waited, eyes wide and posture tense. almost instantly, an ilu bumped its head against her hand.

kiri laughed as it pushed its head up out from the water and clicked at her. she gave it a gentle pat, dipping her head as a small hello.

“look how pretty you are,” kiri whispered as the ilu swam around her. she spun as it swam in circles, keeping her eyes on it.

ilu were not like ikran.

it would not try to kill you if you formed tsaheylu.

she was still cautious and gentle regardless.

“she’s looking to see if you have any snacks to give her.”

kiri turned. on the beach stood koa. he had his fishing bow over his back today. no net in sight. perhaps he was hunting something bigger.

“i don’t have anything to give her.” kiri said as she watched him walk into the water.

“here,” koa reached down into the pouch by his waist and pulled out a piece of fish. he handed it to her.

“thanks,” kiri said.

kiri smiled as the ilu clicked at her. she turned her head from side to side to survey the snack in kiri’s hand. extending out her palm, she let the ilu take from it. koa bit back a laugh as the ilu stole it and swam off.

“that is eli’sae,” koa said with a smile down at kiri. “she’s young. mischievous. she’ll come back to you if you keep bringing snacks. sometimes, ilu are picky with riders when they are young.”

“do ilu bond like ikran do?” kiri asked as she watched eli’sae jump from the water and dive back in.

“no but they have favorite people.” koa said. he let out a loaded sigh, “now a tsurak is like an ikran but they have no bond for life. you must form a deep connection by trail and error. my tsurak did not like me at first. sometimes, i think she still does not.”

“i have no interest in riding one of those. i saw my dad fly off his and i think i’ll pass.” kiri said with a small wave of her hands.

“not a warrior, forest girl?” koa asked with a curious tilt of his head.

“no,” kiri laughed and wrapped her arms around herself. she shook her head and said, “i leave fighting to my brothers. i like medicines. healing is what i enjoy.”

“i’ll come to you when i bleed then, little tsahik.” koa said, pulling off his fishing bow. he cupped his mouth and let out a series of loud, rapid clicks.

kiri’s eyes widened and she stepped back as a skimwing leapt from the water and spread its massive wings. sea water sprayed lightly across the both of them, koa extending out an arm to keep it from splashing in her face.

“sorry about that. she’s too fast for her own good.” koa said with an awkward smile. he ran his hand along the skimwing’slengthy snout and mounted her. “good luck with eli’sae. she’s going to pester you since you fed her. try to bond.”

“do you have anymore of those snacks?” kiri asked.

koa reached down and pulled his pouch off his belt. he tossed it to her and she caught it. “if you have no luck by the time i am back, i will help you.”

“are you saying i won’t be able to do it myself?” kiri asked with a curious raise of her brow.

“i never said that, forest girl, i’m simply offering help if you need it.” koa said. he grinned at her and grabbed ahold of the saddle, lowering down on his skimwing’s back. “we shall ride together when i return if you wish. if you’ve managed to tame her, that is.”

kiri stuck her tongue out at him.

the gesture was so human. too human.

and yet he stuck his tongue out right back at her without missing a beat.

hey ^-^ thanks for reading. lowkey nervous to write a na’vi oc but i am feeling inspired :3 hopefully you enjoyed. i love kiri and resonate with her character so much. update when i can but in the meantime, check out my masterlist for other works. see ya when i see ya <3 —moony

[aerodaltonimperial]

"I want to fall asleep wrapped in your arms" prompt with sweet soft looking Jack. Pleae don't let it end sad, my soul can't take that rn.

(i got you, girl 💚🧡 cause i know you like it)

Hook is... not an expert in this. He is probably, in fact, the worst person that could be here for this. And yet here he is, staring up at the ceiling in the shared hotel room, listening to Jack straight up have a panic attack in the opposite bed. What the fuck is he supposed to be doing here? They just teamed up, like three weeks ago, and he doesn't have a handle on this, and he's starting to realize now, listening to Jack's breathing get thin and wheezing but muffled, because Jack's trying his best to disguise it, that all those times Jack sort of went silent halfway through a text conversation were probably this. Like, exactly this.

Shit. Hook can't lie here and listen to the guy have a complete breakdown, but he also doesn't know what he should do. He freezes, because he's shit in emergency situations, and after a few moments, he manages to get out a choked sort of, "Jack."

Jack, on the other bed, makes a noise that's caught somewhere between a sob and a terrified whine, and holy fuck, this is bad. This is, like, Christopher's ankle bone just snapped mid-way across the lacrosse pitch bad. Finally, Hook's limbs obey his commands as he climbs out of the bed and crosses the space separating them.

"Jack," he tries again. Jack's curled up, miserable and shaking, and Hook's pretty sure his breathing is coming so fast he's gonna hyperventilate and pass out in about five seconds. Hook reaches forward, fingers against Jack's bicep. "Jack, it's just me."

Is that the right thing to say? The wrong thing? Fuck, Hook doesn't know, but it seems not to really do anything, and he just can't listen to this. He pulls the blankets up and slides in next to Jack's rattling form, and when he loops his arms around Jack, he gets a startled inhale for his efforts.

"Hey, it's just me," Hook whispers. He's close enough to press his cheek against Jack's ear, feel the wisps of the man's curls against his skin. "It's okay, it's just me."

"I'm sorry," Jack says, warped. It sounds like a battle on the way out, and you know what, Hook's more pissed than upset now. He's fucking pissed that Jack's been put alone in hotel rooms for weeks and weeks after being betrayed by the very people he'd once believed in. He's absolutely furious that so many people allowed Jack to simply... slip out of focus, out of mind.

His arms tighten. God, he's mad. He hauls Jack in closer to his chest and curls his knees behind Jack's, and they lay there like twin commas as Jack struggles to get his breathing back to normal. And when Jack's chest is rising and falling beneath Hook's arms at a more measured pace, when he's no longer wheezing in frantic chestfuls of air, Hook shifts so that he's got his fingers wrapped around Jack's wrist.

"I'm sorry," Jack says again. He's more collected now, and yet the repetition is even worse, filled with self-loathing.

"Don't be. You don't have to be."

"I'm not..." Jack trails off. Hook thinks maybe he'll bolt right outta the bed or something, but he doesn't. He turns over until they're face to face, and there isn't much light in the room, but Hook catches moisture glistening on his cheeks. Fuck. Hook's gonna fucking kill somebody for this. "I'm not like this, usually."

"What, human?" Hook returns. And he doesn't really think about, probably should think about it, when he lifts a hand and swipes his thumb across Jack's face.

"Everyone has left me," Jack says, hushed, almost like he doesn't want the words to escape and can't bite them back. "Everyone leaves."

"I won't," Hook promises. "I won't leave."

"You didn't want this when you came out to help me. You don't need this."

"Bullshit," Hook snorts. "We're a team now, Jack. We're friends."

Jack goes quiet. And then, "We're friends?"

Maybe they aren't. Hook's not really an expert in that, either; all his past friendships seem to have imploded at his feet. But he chose this one, didn't he? He didn't have to do anything, and he had anyway, because he'd wanted to. Jack had needed help, and Hook had wanted to help him.

The same thing is true for tonight.

"We can be," he says, almost a whisper. His hand is still on Jack's face, and he thinks that's probably something he should change. Because this... isn't what friends do, he doesn't think. He'd jumped in without really thinking about it, and now he's having to level with himself as to why.

Jack's eyes are big and bright and reflecting the bit of the street lamp that's filtering in through the curtains. He's impossibly soft here, against the hotel pillow, exhaling against Hook's chin. "Do you want to be?"

"I don't know," Hook says, and it's more honest than he meant it to be.

It's not the answer Jack wanted, it seems, because he wilts a little bit, nodding. "Okay."

"No," Hook says, instinctive. The last thing he wants is for Jack to turn inwards and disappear. "I don't..." Jack's chin falls, and Hook pulls it back up, thumb dipping beneath Jack's jaw. "Jack."

He gets a single moment of wide, startled eyes before he moves. He doesn't really think about it, he just does. He pushes forward to get their mouths aligned, and Jack gasps. And yeah, this is probably why Hook went out that night, offered his hand. But Jack's kissing him back, so they have to be on the same page. Jack's fingers are threading through Hook's hair and he's parting his lips, and at least this time, when he loses his breath, it's for a much better reason than having a panic attack.

"Hook," Jack exhales, light and hot, and he's still grasping at Hook's head, still angling their mouths together.

"I won't leave," Hook says again. Jack fits here, somehow. They fit together on this hotel bed. They fit together in the ring, and they fit together as Hook swallows back all of Jack's aborted little gasps as they end up thoroughly dizzied, kissed dumb.

It isn't until they've broken apart, as their chests are flush together and heaving, that Jack whispers, "Stay here? Please?" His hands slide to the back of Hook's head. "I just. I want to fall asleep like this. With you."

"Okay," Hook says, like that's not exactly what he wanted, too.

Jack turns over again, so they're spooning. God, he's warm. He's warm, and he's soft, and Hook presses one last kiss against Jack's shoulder, into the cotton.

"I'll be here when you wake up." It comes out softer than he anticipated, but Jack must hear it anyway, because he tangles their fingers together, and his palm is warm, too.

"Okay," Jack says.

When they wake up the next morning, they're still entwined. The sunlight streams in onto the pillow and illuminates Jack's errant curls that escaped during the night, and Hook just thinks not friends. They're not friends.

Jack opens his eyes, finds Hook, and smiles, soft and wide.

[intertexts]

GOODMORNING ITS TRIVA TIIIIME

EPISODE 29 TRIVIA:

- they actually rerecorded this episode. bizly wanted dakotas lesson to be strategy so ORIGINALLY they were fucking. playing chess. for two hours. according to charlie "they had chess dot com open. I don't know where condi was but I was physically prone on the other side of my room like hiding behind something" SO THEY HATED IT. AND THEN RERECORDED IT AND ENDED UP WITH THIS.

- DAKOTA IS OFFICIALLY 18. HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY. really funny that this happens in the hyperbolic time chamber where time in the real world doesn't actually move.

- THERES ART FOR THE BOULDER THING !!!! ITS AWESOME I LOVE THEM

- grizzly: "in the beginning were you guys told to tell me that you were quitting the Prime defenders?"

condi: "no, not at all. that just came out naturally I think"

charlie: "I was so sad to see how heartbroken dakota got at that"

EXPLANATIONS:

condi: "I mean vyncent doesn't really... get it. a lot of hardship has come from being the prime defenders I don't think he sees it as worth all that. dont worry i dont think this is a permanent state of mind for vyncent, hes a malleable little boy, but its where hes at right now. itll change with time but right now hes a little jaded"

charlie: "williams whole plan was, now that he's basically wisp-free and given a new lease on life (< side note. phrase that causes me harm specifically) his plan was to find a way to return this smoke soul and help save ashe and then after that.. who knows"

- dakota ended that scene with "I never wanted to do it alone" and that's what gave him the idea to have them help him with the boulder. he didn't want to do it alone

- the only reason william is still here at all is because of dakota and vyncent. if they weren't here he would've been gone ages ago

- YIPPEE. YOU GET TO SEE JASON ORIGAMI FINALLY. 3/3 OF THE PRIME FORCE COLLECTED. HI JASON <3

- THEY KEEP QUOTING ANGEL WITH A SHOTGUN IN REFERRNCE TO WILLIAM. DO THEY WANT ME DEAD.

- chaos beano :]

- cue anime talk for like 10 minutes. prime defenders the weeb podcast ever <3

- OK AWESOME. BIZLY TALKING ABOUT THE CHAOS DEMON: "the way it kinda works is like... the chaos demon lost all sense of personality. yknow it was a soul at one point, but the longer you're in a place like where he was, you just lose what makes you you. imagine you're in a place where people are screaming all the time and you don't even know if the screams are coming out of your own mouth and it's just eternal nothing and everything (< horrifying!). and then when he latched onto you, dakota, it became like feeding off of your negative emotions"

- "What is dakotas worst fear personified? Who is dakota afraid of the most?"

grizzly DOES NOT ANSWER THIS >:| however he does say "it was a really good choice to show him the fall right away. had he not turned into le frog I think I would've played dakota a lot more serious. but because it went from the fall to doug to le frog *then* to ashe, I think it just pissed him off more than it scared him"

- "people try to scare us by looking like ashe a lot"

"okay, no, its only been TWO people and one of them IS ASHE."

- charlie: "yeah I was nervous about that encounter considering I looked at my sheet and all I have is a chainsaw and a shotgun in the middle of an active volcano"

- charlie slime has put together a william playlist it's it's my life mission to find it now. I found the ashe playlist I can do this. I need to judge his music taste.

- theyre talking about jason dying in one of the big darkstar battles and everything and grizzly goes "wow it's crazy how dakota was there and saw all of that"

HELP THAT'S SO FUNNY. frankly i would love to see the two hour chess hell session that's so funny to me oh my god. ALSO DAKOTA 18 WHOOOO he can get shot now!!! great!!

literally took so much psychic damage over the quitting the prime defenders talk. head in hands. im so ill over them... oh boy can't wait to see william stay wisp free and enjoy his new lease on life and be a normal uneventful teenager again !! im sure thats what the next few episodes are about!! ^__^;;

but mac he's literally an angel with a shotgun fighting til the wars done!! he wants to live not just survive!!!

prime defenders weeb podcast of all time... were they talking about one piece. thats my guess. one piece & dragon ball. also the more they talk about chaos demons the worse it is!!! fucked up!!! especially with the new knowledge from the oneshot etc! can't wait for someone to get tossed in there!!

all he has is a chainsaw and a shotgun in the middle of an active volcano.... i love u william wisp. god. also PLAYLIST... good luck finding it....

[sternentreue]

if your rook were to fail in their mission against the gods, but their love interest survived, how would their love interest grieve?

Hey anon, are you aware that you made me cry thinking about this and writing it out??? ily for the question though

For Firion/Lucanis:

Oh poor Lucanis... He would take it the hardest. Rook was his family, more than that. A new category that he made a place for in his heart. He was the only person who saw him, not the First Talon, not the Demon of Vyrantium, only Lucanis, all of him. And Rook loved him despite, no, exactly for that. Rook was so bright. His lifeline for when he was drowning in darkness. He misses his laugh, his kindness, the small touches that said “you are safe with me”. Rook was his only constant, no matter how much he had lost, Rook was always there. Until he wasn’t anymore. Lucanis would sit in Rook's room, maybe holding a piece of Rook’s clothing to his chest, and all the tears that he had never allowed himself to cry for his whole life would spill at once. And after a few days of not eating, not sleeping, he would emerge, hardened and with a new deal between himself and Spite. They would have revenge.

For Gwendolyn/Davrin:

As a Grey Warden Davrin was very aware of the finitude of their relationship. He knew that one day he would either die killing an Archdemon or the Calling would take him, but it never occurred to him that Rook might leave this world before him. When he and Rook started flirting it was casual, playful and an occasional distraction from their duties. Only after the events of Weisshaupt changed the whole paradigm, when he started to see a different future for himself, he let her in and allowed himself to love her. He should have seen it coming, it was too good to be true. His life in exchange for hers. His grief would manifest in anger, he would lash out at everyone, kill things, charge into a horde of darkspawn and maul them all in blind rage. And at night the tears would come with nothing to kill to hold them back. It should have been him.

For Enzo/Neve:

From the outside, Neve would appear to be composed. Not that she wouldn't be sad or shaken but this woman has pre-made exit plans for every situation in her life and she has also made an exit plan for that. There has always been that little part of her that knew that there is no happy ending for them. Good things never happen to her. Her way of dealing with her grief - or more like stifling it -  would be to throw herself into work. She would be the one to fall into the role of leading the Veilguard in Rook's stead, pushing herself even harder, keeping herself occupied day in and out on a dubious combination of caffeine and soporifics just to not feel anything for even a second. One day she would wake up to find a skipping stone next to her pillow, courtesy of the wisps, and she would finally cry.

[lumilasi]

I decided he deserves his own ref post. Currently his ref is included together with my birb siblings, when he kinda has nothing to do with them lol

He has that swirly pattern on his knees as well, where the two skin colors meet. I was too lazy to showcase it in this ref tho, given usually his outfit covers his knees anyway.

Bio below:

Name: Konjou Nakano (first name means willpower)

Nicknames: Kon/Kon-chan (his bf) Thorn boy/thorn demon (people when they don't know his name) Forest spirit/forest god (Jinchou & Homura, before they knew who/what he was exactly)

Age: 31, but his human body is stuck in the state it was when he was 19, mainly meaning he's shorter than he should/has no facial hair, and is generally somewhat immature for someone that age.

Height: 164 cm (human) roughly 50 cm as Bikou

Son of the witch Belladonna with chimeric, unstable magic powers

Role: Initially Belladonna's familiar (as Bikou) later a wild card character, once he returns into human form and runs away. Mostly he attempts to fight his half-brother.

Family: Mother Belladonna/Saori Nakano, unknown father, cousin Kiyoi, half brother Yaguro/Asahi Hino. Nephew Kousai & niece Chiyuri (in the future), Foster father figure Angus, Grandfather figure Hanzoku/Ryoushi

Love Interest: Amnesiac Soul eater Jinchou & his bodysharing Soul-born-spirit Homura. (Long story short; Homura was born from a piece of Jin's soul, and is his own person, acting as sort of a familiar for Jinchou)

Friends: Yume, Chouma, Murasaki siblings & their bathhouse staff (post-main story)

Powers:

Konjou has 3 types of powers, none of which are technically natural to him, and only one that could've been:

Forest witch magic - specifically his vines. He can summon vines from his body and form them into any shape, size and length he wants, use them as offensive weapon, form them into defensive shield, and even use them as transportation for climbing/swinging himself around. He can also grow flowers on them, mostly roses whose color indicates his mood. (black - angry, blue - sad, red - in love, white - happy/content, gray - scared). Konjou can also inject his vine seeds inside things and damage them from within - including living things.

Shadow elemental magic - Allows him to shapeshift between human and a shadow wisp, though mainly this is done against his will by Belladonna. Can traverse through shadows, and even form vines from shadows instead of using his forest witch magic. These vines are weaker though. They are more useful for the internal attacks as they can slip into things easier than the more solid vines.

Reverence - The primary power of the antagonists and main villain of this oc group. Konjou can spread decaying/rotting energy of "Reverence" from his vines.

WEAKNESSES:

Due to the unstable nature of Konjou's powers, using them tends to cause him pain, especially since the vines come from within his own body and are attached to him. Tearing them doesn't harm him per say, but it really hurts. Sometimes he even starts bleeding from the seams of his two skin colors. (which is where the vines are emitted)

He's very mentally and emotionally volatile due to his abusive/neglectful parenting, and might lash out and hurt people even when he doesn't mean to. He's also socially awkward, and even after his life and condition improves, he tends to struggle forming connections with new people.

PERSONALITY:

Konjou is very temperamental and easily angered person, who has very conflicted and bitter feelings towards most people in his life due to his neglectful and traumatizing childhood. This causes him to often be at odds with them, whether warranted (Belladonna) or not (Kiyoi).

Despite his easily flaring temper and aggressive nature, Konjou does crave genuine connections with people, and is extremely protective and easily scared over the well being of those he does love.(Jinchou/Homura)

He is very curious about the world due to being confined for most of his childhood, and very eager to try new things, even take stupid risks because he is somewhat naive/has a poor sense of self-preservation.

Overall, he is bit of an angry, anxious mess who's somewhat mentally immature due to his past, but deep down has a good heart and really just wants people to care about him.

FUN FACTS:

Konjou tends to feel envious over his cousin Kiyoi, feeling his mother is using him to replace him. This causes him to lash out at his cousin, even when he knows none of this is Kiyoi's fault. (He tends to feel bad afterwards)

Konjou LOVES spicy food. The spicier the better.

Despite supposedly being the older brother, Yaguro often acts like the mature older sibling between the two, understandably so.

Konjou's slightly weird, malnourished looking waist is a birth defect.

Out of all the adults in his life that essentially failed him (his mum, Hanzoku, Angus), the only one whose death made him genuinely sad was Angus. (it was still complicated, because Konjou knows how much of a bad person he was/he did play a part in his awful childhood, namely for not doing more to help him when he could have)

Once freed from his mother's control, Konjou's eyes turn into more normal looking human eyes (still yellow) and he loses the ashy skin patches. The vine pattern stays.

Between the two, Konjou is closer with his niece as he feels awkward around shy Kousai.

He does start aging properly eventually, though mainly he just grows facial hair and calms down a bit; he's still stuck being short

BG STORY:

Konjou was born as sickly and weak child with no powers, pretty much opposite of what his mother had wanted. She chooses to keep him still, working to improve his health and give him the magic powers she wanted. The issue is, she never asked him if he wanted them & the process has been very painful and long.

Most of his childhood was spent in pain, his body slowly trying to adapt to the changes the magic infusion was doing. She had some medicinal help for his pains from a man working with his mother, a foreigner called Angus Belmont. Konjou developed a parental bond of sorts with the man, often even preferring to stay near him rather than his mother.

The infusion and experiments eventually became too much to him, causing Konjou to lash out at his mother more and more, until one day he almost killed her, "forcing" Belladonna to transform into a shadow wisp spirit, to protect herself. Instead of bringing him back like she'd initially meant to, Belladonna chooses to keep him in this friendlier form for years, making him forget who he was. '

Konjou lived most of his following years as the shadow wisp familiar "Bikou," until the talk about the other son of his father trying to hunt Belladonna down triggered his memories, causing her spell to reverse. Before he could be subdued, Konjou escapes, his initial intention being to go and kill this other child for threatening his mother, given his life did depend on her (and some complicated psychological stuff).

After his escape, he meets an amnesiac artifical soul eater Jinchou (and his Soul-born spirit companion Homura) who nurtures him back to health as he'd passed out due to exhaustion and not having eaten for days. The trio become close, and the pair help Konjou to locate this dangerous moth spirit he was after. Howeever, during the fight against him, Konjou is taken aback by the genuine concern Yaguro shows him upon hearing him ramble out pieces about his past, causing him distress.

Homura & Jinchou step in to help with the fight, but it gets fully interrupted by Angus, who was sent to ho and find him. After subtly threatening Konjou about Jin, the boy begrudgingly agrees to go back, as long as Angus promises not to tell Belladonna about Jinchou and Homura, and she wouldn't turn him back into a spirit. Angus agrees to the former, but is unable to really promise the latter, as it depended on how he behaved towards her.

Jinchou & Homura are left heartbroken by him leaving, and also determined to get him back. Yaguro and his witch companion Yume suggest to the pair that they could join them in trying to find the headquarters of the group Konjou was staying with. They refuse however, wanting to find him on their own, not trusting the pair after their fight.

Konjou begrudgingly chooses to behave, no longer lashing out to his mother while still plotting on running again as soon as he can, to go find Jinchou. In the end though, Jinchou and Homura find him, never having forgotten Konjou despite their tendency for memory loss due to their condition.

[tchaikovskym]

Wangxian fic recs pt3

(Part 1 here, part 2 here)

Was the Alcohol Sweet, or Was it Your Mouth? by weiyus

Wei Ying believes Lan Zhan should get to experience alcohol, but sadly Lan Zhan has a low alcohol tolerance. His solution to the problem? Simply have Lan Zhan kiss Wei Ying after Wei Ying drinks alcohol. It's fool proof! What could go wrong?

Honestly a bit silly concept, but you know, it's still good

your love is sunlight by doodlebutt

So we gave Wei Wuxian a new golden core. We got Wangxian together over a decade earlier than canon. We rescued the Wens without causing a political nightmare.

Job done, right?

Nope :D

No quote excerpt on this one -- we don't reach the problems until after quite a few chapters of fluff, so I'm not going to give them away just yet!

This diverges from MDZS canon rather than CQL (so no yin iron, etc)

This is a part of larger series, but overall, just cute fluff

Far Away You Are by cqlorphan

Suddenly, it snaps into place. The weary way Lan Zhan has been holding himself is suddenly cast in a new, much more distressing light. Somebody is responsible for it, a real live, horrible, blind, stupid person. The combination of guilt, sadness, and anger that sets in all at once is hard to contain. Lingering wisps of resentment that remain from the night-hunt flock to him, like calling to like.

All four boys stare at him with wide eyes.

“Wei-qianbei,” Sizhui says. “You look...um…”

“Scary,” Zizhen breathes, beaming.

“Who has rejected Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Or; during one of his visits to the Cloud Recesses, the juniors strike a blow to Wei Wuxian's certainty that his feelings for Lan Wangji are one-sided.

Oh the oblivious guys mhhhmmm yeah that's the thing.

Imbalance by blueingaround

In hindsight, Wei Wuxian should probably have known something like this would happen. But he was the first person to really invest so much in demonic cultivation and the only way to find out more about how things worked was to simply try them out. The thing about having to deal with ghosts and often harvesting their anger for power is that you can’t really choose which ones are the best fit, especially when you’re desperate and need all the help you can get.

aka Wei Wuxian has an imbalance of yin energy and can't deal with it on his own bc he doesn't have a golden core anymore, he needs to dual cultivate with someone, but in the middle of a war, he has no time and trusts no one, things escalate from there

I usually do not enjoy fuck or die tropes, but when I'm desperate I get to places I get and I am glad I ended up here! It was a really engaging read

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl

"Betrothed," Wei Ying says indignantly.

Lan Wangji can't stop his gaze from darting up to him. Wei Ying understands. Wei Ying is looking at him, wide-eyed and upset on his behalf.

"And you don't even like her," Wei Ying says.

"I don't even know her," Lan Wangji says quietly.

"But even if you did—" Wei Ying starts.

"I wouldn't want this," Lan Wangji finishes.

You know when you're traumatized enough you volunteer to marry your crush so he wouldn't have to go through with potential arranged marriage and you think that's like a completely sane thing to do? Yeah. Me too. The good stuff.

it's always open by ScarlettStorm

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I dunno,” Wei Ying says, offering up a smile that’s small but genuine. “Can you rewire my brain so I don’t panic when people want to kiss me?”

“I do not believe so,” Lan Zhan says with exaggerated mournfulness. (Most people would not be able to tell he was doing so, but most people are not Wei Ying.) It would normally get him a laugh, or a snort, or his favorite, a snort laugh, but Wei Ying doesn’t respond. He just sits there and stares at Lan Zhan like he’s doing extremely complicated math in his head and choreographing a nine-person dance number at the same time.

“Lan Zhan,” he starts, a light sparking in his eyes and his voice coming out rushed, “Lan Zhan, could you—would you be okay with—”

“Breathe,” Lan Zhan orders gently, squeezing Wei Ying’s hand again.

Wei Ying rolls his eyes but obeys, inhaling deeply and re-centering himself before he looks Lan Zhan full in the face, shoulders square and chin up. “Will you kiss me?” he asks, like that’s a reasonable thing to ask and not the culmination of over a decade of Lan Zhan’s specific, secret, fervent dreams.

Or: A journey of self discovery… and the inevitable emotional fallout.

Man I loved this because demisexual Wei Ying yeehaw!!!! I was so excited to read this! And it was good!!!!

solstice: 那夏天的我们 by auberjing

Lan Zhan, have you, ah… have you ever…”

Lan Wangji blinks up at him, bewildered. “Have I ever…?”

“You know,” Wei Ying says, waggling his eyebrows. He makes a vague gesture around his own crotch. It’s halfhearted, but there’s no mistaking its vulgarity.

Lan Wangji flushes, suddenly and violently. “Of course not!"

See also: Wei Ying takes it upon himself to teach his good friend Lan Wangji how to masturbate.

Them boys are little stupid, but what can you do about it ya' know

30 Days of Secret Marriage at Cloud Recesses by starandrea

Lan Zhan literally ties their wrists together in Lan Yi’s cave and then says they’re not married. Because it’s true, or because he doesn’t want to be? Wei Ying doesn’t want to ask until he knows everything being a secret family member will let him do.

(Eventually he'll realize he got distracted from his mission of mischief by falling in love. Worth it.)

This!! Was!!! So cute!!!!! Ahhhh. A part of bigger series though!

The Way of the Golden Lotus by DizziDreams

Wei Ying would never forget the day he first met Wheatgrass Guy. He had been rotating the stock of bananas, cleaning out the over-ripe ones to move to the bargain bin, when it had happened. “Excuse me. Where can I find the wheatgrass?” “End cap, row four -- ” Wei Ying started to answer. And then he saw him. Standing there in his flowy white tunic and his pale blue linen pants, as if that was a thing that people did. Who did that? Was it legal to do that? Wei Ying thought not.  “Thank you,” Wheatgrass Guy had said, his startlingly light eyes boring into him. “No problem,” Wei Ying had managed. “Let me know if you need help with bananas.” Wei Ying should not be allowed to speak. Who had entrusted him with words? “I will let you know if I need any help,” Wheatgrass Guy had said graciously, and Wei Ying thought that this guy was too good, too amazing, too kind, letting it slide like that -- “with bananas.” Oh. Oh no, that was worse. Wheatgrass Guy was kind of a bitch.

OR:

The Martial Arts AU, wherein JC/WWX co-parent, Jin Ling suffers through being raised by his uncles, and WWX/LWJ fight their way through some mutual attraction toward a happy ending.

Oh man oh dudes I loved this fic!!! Kudos to author for actually writing children as children!!!! Did I already say I loved it?

[1hoblet]

Thieving this thing from @wisp-of-chaos

I will do both Tagor and Twixandur because I can

Tagor first, because he is a good boy and deserves it.

Tagor does not sleep with stuffed animals but he has two old ones. They are the two holy animals of his father; a lion and a bearded vulture. They sit on the high shelf of his room safe from his wings

Tagor could easily take care of an animal or plant, but he probably lacks the emotional depth necessary to raise a child. He would still do his best though and would be a rather good parent.

„Twixandur is a very cute, little creature and a deeply troubled soul. His intellect is only surpassed by his lack of self control. A pity, as someone with his capabilities could be a great asset to the hobgoblin cause. But I can fix him.“

Yes, he can wear most colours

Yes, religion, duty, honour, taxes, there are many possibilities

He will always do as his god says and never do what any enemy (or slight critic) of his cause says

I: Demigod, fanatic, patient; He himself: religious, dutiful, honourable

Tagor doesn’t find puzzles fun,at the same time he is the most patient person to ever existed, he would be fine

He is physically unable to feel empathy

Tagor is perfectly content with his age

As a responsible adult, Tagor will save half, invest the other

He likes the Idea of love and romance and is very fascinated by descriptions how it feels like

Nothing in person, he doesn’t really know his parents. He was taught fighting in the name of his father though

He has no opinions on the term. Musicals fit the definition in his mind. He hates having fun

Anything but work is a waste of time. Except spending time with Twix, that’s chaos prevention care.

More priest robes, or not, not shredding them is more a respect thing

He likes older children a lot and sees them as the future of the cause, he is scarred he will accidentally hurt small ones.

Strictly no tongue

He will learn all of the books word for word. He as no need fora different job and wouldn’t practice.

The smell of gore and bloodshed, it gets something in him going

Heavy crimes against his religion, dragging down his reputation too much or hurting him seriously

He does not like being called pet names and doesn’t call anyone by anything other than their full names. (Twix is the absolute exception)

Stability

Honesty

Safety

Effort

Justice (by the standard of his religion, that is most of the time pretty close to vengeance)

He already does

Dreams where he communicates with his father

He already does all things he sees as necessary

Twixandur:

1. If Tagors lion half doesn’t count, then no. It would probably help his nightmares though

2. Twix can take care of things as long as they interest him. His interest is ever changing. So sooner of later he would starting to ignore all three

3. „Tagor is not very fun, but he is warm and safe. I do really love him, that’s why I will eventually have to kill him.“

4. Yes, but he doesn’t like the colour

5. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. In any case the speech will be totally of topic

6. Twix doesn’t like following advice from anyone, he may think about it as he does the exact opposite

7. I: small, chaotic, Muppet; He himself: Free, fun, survivor

8. Twixandur loves puzzles, especially complex ones

9. He tries not to

10. He wants to be younger and less broken

11. He will spend it on very irresponsible things

12. Twixandur does not believe in romance or love. He thinks the romance genre is a crime against all beings and not the fun kind

13. He is a sad little orphan, but his grandmother taught him to be a backstabbing, manipulative problem child

14. There is no guilt in pleasure

15. Anything that isn’t fun

16. He would still mostly wear simple clothes most of the time

17. He doesn’t like most children at first, but could warm up

18. Any kiss is good, the man is a freak, he will do a lot more than kiss with tongue

19. Twix never studies of practices when it’s not things he enjoys, still aces the tests and interviews though

20. Napalm

21. He can do abuse, he can do hate relationships, he can do any kind of toxicity. He can’t do a real emotional connection.

22. Twixandur gives everyone and everything pet names and doesn’t like to be called his full names

23. novelty

24. neither

25. possibly

26. both are important

27. vengeance; he never forgives and never forgets

28. He would get bored fast

29. Nightmares where he’s drowning

30. Twixandur doesn’t give a single fuck what others are willing to forgive

oc asks that reveal more than you think

Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite?

Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?

Ask them to describe their love interest.

Do they look good in red?

Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about?

Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words.

Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them?

Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?

What age do they most want to be right now?

They’ve won the lottery. Spend, or save?

Do they like romance in the books they read (or in the book they’re in)?

Name one thing their parents taught them.

Would they agree with the term ‘guilty pleasure’? Do they have any?

What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?

If money wasn’t a limit, what would they wear?

Do they like children?

Kissing: tongue or no tongue?

Do they study before tests? Practice before job interviews?

What do they like that nobody else does?

What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?

Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

Stability or novelty?

Honesty or charity?

Safety or possibility?

Talent or effort?

Forgiveness or vengeance (or…)?

Would they date a fixer-upper?

What recurring dreams do they have?

What would they do if they knew it would be forgiven?

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[thebonerpit]

Name: Tara Lavellan Nicknames: Tara is a nickname, her full name is Tarasylanin (“child of the storm”) but no one calls her that except her Keeper Age (at the start of DAI): 30 Age (current in 9:54 Dragon): 43 Gender: Female Pronouns: She/her/they Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Race/Background: Dalish elf Class: Rogue, twin blades Specialization(s): Tempest Alignment: True neutral MBTI: ISTP – The Virtuoso Strengths: Quick wit, curious, insightful, playful, inventive, creative Weaknesses: Has little interest in leadership, can be judgemental, private to a fault, often doesn’t take things seriously Body Type: Very slim, average height, long willowy limbs Eyes: Green and gold Hair color/texture: Strawberry blonde, wavy, shaved on one side Complexion: Olive and very freckled Lookalike (if any): A mix of Cara Delevingne and Dichen Lachmann (I could only do so much to recreate this in cc)

Romance: Solas, was curious about Bull but it didn’t go further than flirting Usual Party: Solas, Dorian, Bull Friends: Dorian, Sera, Cole Neutral: Cullen, Josephine, Cassandra, Varric, Bull Distrust/Dislike: Vivienne, Blackwall

Mages vs. Templars: Allied with mages Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts: Celene and Briala reconcile and rule together, Gaspard executed Here Lies the Abyss: Grey Wardens exiled, Stroud stayed in the Fade What Pride Had Wrought: Morrigan drank from the Well Divine: Leliana (hardened) Trespasser: Disbanded Inquisition, attempt to redeem Solas

More about Tara's companions below...

Solas: Tara was intrigued by him from the beginning but also found him a bit stuffy. Once they got to know each other more and his flirtatious/cheeky side came out she fell for him pretty quickly. She had always loved to draw and paint when she was with her clan, so she often went to sit with him while he painted the frescoes in the Rotunda. My headcanon is that she even helped him paint sometimes. She allowed him to remove her vallaslin and she was absolutely crushed when he broke things off, but she could never bring herself to be angry with him. It's foolish, and she knows it, but she wants to save him from himself. Cassandra: She can’t deny that she thought Cass was super attractive right from the beginning but all her Maker talk and serious demeanour kind of turned her off. In the end, she does have a good amount of respect for her even if they don’t agree on everything. Varric: She found his lack of conviction a bit annoying, but he does have a good heart, and she loved listening to his stories. Dorian: Immediate BFFs. His personality just enchanted her and they flirted constantly. As someone who is really interested in magic she was very impressed with Dorian’s skills. He sometimes created little wisps in the form of forest animals for her, to help her feel less homesick. Bull: A very reasonable mix of fear and arousal tbh. She liked Bull, especially after meeting the Chargers and side mission, but knew it would be hard to ever fully trust him. Dorian and Bull do flirt and maybe hook up but she worried about Dorian with him. She knew he needed someone who is completely dedicated to him and didn’t think Bull could provide that. Sera: Her second BFF. She liked Sera instantly, how fun and silly she was, even if she didn’t understand her dislike of the Dalish at first. After she got to know her more, she started to understand why Sera felt the way she did. They argued about it sometimes but came to an understanding eventually. Sera kept her grounded, and was a welcome relief from nobles and responsibilities. Cole: Whenever Tara was overwhelmed she’d go up to the attic of the tavern and just sit in silence with Cole. He was comforting, if a little strange. She followed Solas’s advice and made him more spirit and while it was a bit sad to see him drift away, she knew he was at peace doing what is in his nature: helping people. Cullen: Cute, but too serious for Tara. She appreciated his military and tactical knowledge since she barely had any herself. Secretly wants him to pull his head out of his ass and realize he’s got feelings for Dorian. Leliana: Kind of unintentionally hardened her. Tara very much felt like she didn't have the authority to interfere with how Leliana did things, so she let her be more cold and calculating. She supported Leliana as Divine because she agreed that the whole lot needed to be thrown out and changed and she knew Leliana was capable of doing something good with it. Josephine: As someone who is really not into human politics and court intrigue and nonsense, Tara and Josie don’t have a lot of common ground. But Josie was so sweet and helped the Inquisition immeasurably, so Tara really respected her. Vivienne: Similar to Josephine but magnified x10 plus her support of circles means she did not get along with Tara whatsoever. They maintained an icy distance as Tara knew she needed Vivienne’s skills and connections. Blackwall: He was almost a father figure to her at first, and she loved to hear stories about the famous Wardens, but after his reveal she couldn’t look at him the same way. She couldn't leave him in prison but she felt it was only right to turn him over to the Wardens, even if that potentially meant his death. Luckily he survived his Joining and Tara is glad he'll have a chance to make up for his lies, but their relationship was never the same.

[poupeesdecirque]

Another OC batch here. This time truly only OCs/Doll Characters.

We have Odelios, Samu, Juniper, Willow, Eisblume, Keks, Oisín (Clown and real form), Trauma and Maniquí.

Some are easy to draw for me and some are not I really notice the ones I haven't been drawing much/who are more doll than they were character before the doll.

Just like before if you would like to know more, read further:

Odelios - Was created from another creature Pierre had found and turned into something new as they were destroyed. He only (kinda) kept the Name, the former creature was Odelia, now it's Odelios. He's a fortune teller, but mainly tells the bitter harsh truth.

Samu - Samu is my "what if Samuel's Step Mother cared about him"-AU variant of Samuel. Aka Katheryne decided to raise him herself and made him her vice ringleader but as he gets more popular than she is she gets furious and attacks him, which leaves parts of his face with ugly marks. He becomes quite cruel after that but rumors say he's plotting things...

Juniper - Juniper grew from a seed of the original Jack O' Lantern and is one of the oldest from the Pumpkin crew. She's my OG Pumpkin doll, the one that started the whole patch.

Willow - Willow is a will o wisp, their queen. She was once a lost soul who drowned in a swamp, her husband tried to revive her by searching for her, he eventually got a part of her flame and created a new human. But that human turned out very different than intended. That's how Muse was created. Willow gathered consciousness again and traveled to find her 'child'. She picked up a lot of different (lost) beings during her travel and created a whole family.

Eisblume - Little Winter spirit. I got the doll back in the day as I was super sad about missing Anson/Moment from DollZone. They got rereleased not too long ago but I have to say I was not very tempted by them now. Tastes change.

Oisín (Clown) - Oisín as a character disguises himself als little clown who just tries to help, he has other intentions though.

Trauma - A very personal doll and character. He's based on a LP from my favorite band's side project (LP is called "Trauma 7" that's where the name cames from), therefore his fate is based on songs. He drowned while running away, as he was blamed of murdering his former GF. He woke up and got offered a contract by Pierre, he did not remember much and agreed. He later on meets Keith and wishes to be free again but... a contract is a contract.

Oisín (Real Form) - Oisín's true form as Ringmaster who pulls all the strings. He is full of hate but for power he sold his soul to Pierre, he's bound to the contract to gather souls for him. Some of his former plans were ruined by Delilah and he plans on a revenge that will finally make her fall...