#i lost my voice because i sang it so many times once

[cocolacola]

me posting only fandom stuff and reblogs for one day: my poor fans. they dont even know my lore

[angelsfat3]

ⓘㅤ 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄. ⠀⠀( 我爱上了一个童话。)

𝓢ummary “ ✉. A beautiful boy in love with something that he swore was just his dream or his imagination, ended up finding it many years later in the same place.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ Sci-fi, drama, love, au.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Mermaids, impossible love(?), destiny, accidental reunion.

The soft light from the lamp gently illuminated Jisung’s room.

In his bed, with the blankets all wrinkled and his little stuffed animal hugged tightly, the boy listened intently to the warm voice of his mother.

She, so beautiful and affectionate, sat beside him, stroking his hair as the words flowed from her mouth like a whisper full of tenderness.

“Once upon a time,” the mother began, “there was a deep and mysterious ocean where the mermaids lived. They were beings as ancient as the waves themselves, always protecting their home and their young with all their power. Each mermaid had a special melody that they sang to the sea, calling their little ones when they felt lost or sad. And always, always, they were ready to defend them, even with their own lives. No one could harm them.”

Jisung, with his little eyes shining but heavy with sleep, squeezed his stuffed animal with a smile on his lips, fascinated by his mother’s stories. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself be carried away by the peace her words brought him, imagining that world of blue waters and magical creatures.

“And so, my dear,” she continued, lowering her voice even more, “the mermaids took care of their little babies, always near the water, always watchful, hating to see humans with their children because they feared they could do awful things to them.”

“Like in the Little Mermaid movie, mommy?” Jisung asked, yawning a bit.

“Yes, my dear,” the mother replied, gently closing the book and stroking her son’s cheek. “No matter how big the storms were or how far they swam, they always found their way back because the love for their little ones never fades.”

Jisung, his voice soothed by tiredness, barely managed to whisper, “Like mommy...”

The mother smiled softly, kissing his forehead. “Yes, my love, like mommy. Now, it’s time to sleep.”

With a sweet sigh, she adjusted the blankets and caressed his cheek one last time. “Goodnight, my dear, sleep well. I love you.”

And with those words, the boy let himself be enveloped by sleep, feeling that, perhaps, in some faraway corner of the sea, mermaids really did exist and watched over those who needed them.

The sun shone with a soft, warm glow as the car made its way down the road toward the beach.

Jisung, sitting in his car seat in the back, swung his little legs excitedly, humming a made-up song while his favorite stuffed animal rested beside him.

The sky looked different that day; the clouds resembled cotton candy, fluffy and almost magical. In the distance, the sea sparkled as if someone had scattered diamonds across its surface, and the waves rolled in a mesmerizing rhythm, so perfect they seemed unreal.

“It’s such a beautiful day,” Jisung’s mother said from the front seat, admiring the view.

“Perfect for making memories,” his father replied with a smile.

When they finally arrived at the beach, Jisung darted out of the car with his bucket and shovel, but his mother quickly stopped him.

“Hold it right there, young man! You can’t go out without your sunscreen.”

The little boy pouted as she took out the bottle of sunscreen and began covering every inch of his skin. “Mommy, it’s too much...” he whined, but she paid no attention.

“I don’t want you getting sunburned, sweetheart.”

When she finished, Jisung looked like a little white cloud, his face covered in cream and his arms glistening. His father, who was wrestling with a large beach umbrella, couldn’t help but laugh. “Honey, I think you overdid it. Now our kid looks like Casper.”

She raised an amused eyebrow. “Oh, really? Well, I’d rather have him look like this than get burned.”

The father shrugged as he finally secured the umbrella in the sand. “At least, if he gets lost, I can just tell people I’m looking for Ju-on.”

She laughed but shot him a warning glance when she caught the double meaning in his words. “Watch what you say in front of the boy.”

Jisung, oblivious to the exchange, had already started running toward the water’s edge, laughing out loud as his little bucket wobbled in his hand. The sand felt soft beneath his feet, and the waves seemed to call to him with their constant murmur.

“Mommy, Daddy, look!” he shouted, turning around briefly to make sure they were watching before starting to dig with his shovel, determined to build the best sandcastle.

His parents watched from a distance, his mother smiling tenderly while his father settled under the newly planted umbrella. “Our little one has all your energy,” the father remarked.

“And all your curiosity,” she replied, intertwining her arm with his as they both watched their son, who was now laughing uncontrollably as the waves splashed around his tiny feet.

Jisung ran joyfully across the sand, leaving tiny footprints behind him. His bucket and shovel bounced in his hands as he ventured closer to the shoreline.

Suddenly, something caught his attention—a rocky area at the far end of the beach where the waves crashed harder, forming small crystal-clear pools among the stones.

Without a second thought, he began running toward it, his giggles filling the air. The waves played with his feet, making him jump with delight every time the cold water brushed against his ankles.

“Jisung!” His mother’s voice called out from a distance. He stopped for a moment, turning to look at her. “Don’t go too far, sweetheart!” she shouted, a mix of love and concern in her tone, waving her hand to warn him away from the rocks.

“Okay, Mommy!” he replied in his tiny voice, though he didn’t stop heading toward his destination.

When he reached the rocks, Jisung bent down to peer into the pools between them. The water was so clear he could see tiny fish swimming and snails clinging to the wet surfaces. His eyes lit up as he watched the little creatures move, fascinating and mysterious.

Then something else caught his attention—a glimmer beyond the waves past the rocks.

He frowned slightly, trying to focus his gaze. There was something moving in the water, something that seemed to appear and vanish as if it were playing hide-and-seek.

“What’s that?” he murmured to himself, taking a small step forward, ignoring the waves splashing against his feet and the droplets sprinkling his cheeks and forehead.

The glimmer appeared again, this time closer.

Jisung laughed with excitement, thinking it might be one of the magical fish his mother mentioned in her bedtime stories. Without fear, he sat down on a flat rock, letting his bucket and shovel drop beside him. His legs dangled over the water as he watched intently, waiting for the mysterious creature to resurface.

Jisung sat silently, his small hands resting on the rock and his feet barely skimming the water's surface. His little heart pounded with excitement as he waited for whatever he had seen to appear again.

And then, he saw it.

From within the waves, a figure began to emerge. First came a small hand, followed by a face peeking just above the crystal-clear water.

It was another child, about his age, but there was something different about him. His hair was sleek and shiny, as though made of wet silver threads, and his eyes were wide and curious, the color of the sea on a sunny day.

Jisung blinked, astonished. The other child didn’t move, watching him from the water as though deciding if it was safe to come closer.

“Hi!” Jisung called out, his cheerful voice accompanied by a toothy grin.

The water child didn’t respond but also didn’t retreat beneath the surface.

He seemed curious, though his hands gripped a nearby rock tightly, as if ready to disappear at any moment.

Jisung beamed, leaning forward a little more. “Do you want to play? I’ve got a bucket and a shovel,” he offered, pointing to his toys beside him.

The other child tilted his head, his sea-colored eyes sparkling with something Jisung couldn’t quite understand.

Finally, the boy seemed to relax, releasing the rock and swimming closer. As he reached the water’s edge, Jisung noticed something that left him speechless. A tail.

A long, beautiful, scaly tail shimmered beneath the water, its iridescent colors shifting between purple, green, blue, and silver with every movement.

Jisung froze for a moment, unsure what to say.

“Are you... a mermaid?” he whispered in awe, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the magic of the moment.

The water child hesitated but eventually nodded slightly, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“I knew they were real!” Jisung exclaimed, jumping up on the rock. His enthusiasm was so contagious that the water boy couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, a sound like the murmur of waves.

Without hesitation, Jisung grabbed his bucket and filled it with water. “Let’s build a sandcastle together! It’ll be the biggest one ever,” he declared, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

The water boy hesitated, but seeing the innocent, joyful look on Jisung’s face, he decided to come closer. He pulled himself onto the rocks, his shimmering tail glinting in the sunlight.

The two began to play, laughing as they built wobbly towers and water-filled moats. Jisung chattered non-stop, sharing stories about how his mom had told him about mermaids, while the water boy listened quietly, occasionally nodding or letting out a soft giggle.

It was a magical moment. The world around them faded, leaving just the two of them, the crooked sandcastle, the waves crashing against the rocks, and Jisung’s endless questions about mermaids.

For a brief moment, it felt like the world was made only for them: a human boy and a child of the sea, sharing a fleeting, magical connection beneath the perfect sky.

But in the distance, a voice began to call.

“Jisung! Where are you?”

Jisung looked up, recognizing his mother’s voice. “That’s my mommy!” he explained quickly to the water boy. “Wait here, don’t go, okay?”

But the water boy had already started to retreat. The distant voice had changed his calm expression to one of fear and alarm.

“No, wait!” Jisung tried to reach for him, but in the blink of an eye, the ethereal child slipped into the depths, disappearing beneath the waves.

“Jisung!” His mother’s figure appeared, running across the sand, her face full of worry.

Jisung stood by the water, tears welling in his eyes. “Mommy, Mommy, you scared my friend...”

“Friend?” she asked, kneeling to embrace him. “What friend, sweetheart?”

“My friend... he was a mermaid, like the ones in your stories.”

She looked at him with a tender smile, stroking his hair. “Oh, my little one, you know mermaids only exist in movies and fairy tales. Come now, don’t wander off like that again, alright?”

But as she carried him back, Jisung couldn’t take his eyes off the ocean. He knew it hadn’t been a dream. He had met a mermaid.

The journey back to where his parents were was silent. Although his mother continued talking to him, making sure he was okay and patting him on the back, Jisung could barely hear her. His mind was fixed on what had just happened.

Would he see his friend again? Why had he disappeared so quickly?

When they arrived, his father looked at them from the shade of the large umbrella, putting down the magazine he had been reading. “There’s my little Gasparín,” he said with a smile, though his tone showed he was a little concerned. “Where have you been, champ?”

“Playing…” Jisung answered quietly, hugging his bucket to his chest.

“Who were you playing with?” his father asked, while his mother sat him down on one of the towels.

Jisung hesitated before answering. He knew that if he told the truth, they might not believe him, just like his mother hadn’t. “With someone near the water,” he murmured finally.

His parents exchanged a quick glance, as if evaluating the situation. His mother smiled and stroked his cheek. “Well, sweetheart, next time make sure you don’t wander so far, okay? We don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Yes, mommy…” Jisung replied, though his mind was still elsewhere.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

The afternoon passed quietly, but Jisung didn’t stop looking at the waves, hoping to see that flash of shimmering scales in the water again. Even when his father tried to distract him by building a much larger sandcastle, his mind remained in the same place.

As the evening fell, the sky began to take on shades of orange and pink. The waves became softer, reflecting the colors of the sunset like a mirror.

While his parents packed up their things, Jisung stayed sitting by the shore, his empty bucket beside him.

“You’ll come back, right?” he whispered to the ocean, as if the water could hear him. “I want us to be friends forever…”

A small wave rolled up to his feet, as if responding. And even though there were no signs of the water child, Jisung smiled.

In the depths of his heart, he knew that someday they would meet again.

As he walked away with his family, glancing at the sea one last time, a barely perceptible figure peeked from the waves.

It was him, the boy with the iridescent tail, watching him from a distance. His eyes reflected curiosity and a touch of sadness.

When Jisung was out of sight, the water child submerged again, his figure fading beneath the waves.

The ocean held secrets no adult could understand, but Jisung, with his pure heart and infinite imagination, had managed to glimpse one of them.

When they got home, the afternoon had faded, giving way to night. The sound of the waves still echoed in Jisung’s mind, like a distant echo he couldn’t shake off.

Although his mother had tucked him in and put him to bed, he couldn’t stop thinking about that water child, with his iridescent tail and eyes as deep as the ocean.

He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his small fingers clutching his stuffed animal, but his mind was still traveling to the beach, to the water, to the child he had met for just a moment.

“Why did he disappear so quickly? Is he okay? ... uhm...” he murmured to himself, unable to stop the questions swirling in his head.

Suddenly, his soft, tender voice broke the silence of the room. “Mommy...”

Jisung’s mother was in the hallway, finishing putting away some things from the beach trip, but when she heard his call, she peeked into the room, smiling gently at seeing him awake. “Can’t sleep, my love?”

Jisung lifted his head from the pillow and looked at her with those big eyes, as if his soul were searching for deeper answers. “Mommy... can you tell me the mermaid story again?”

His mother paused for a moment, looking at her son with affection. She saw him hugging his stuffed animal tightly, as if he needed something to feel closer to the safety and comfort only she could provide.

“Of course, sweetheart, I’ll tell you the story again,” she replied softly, moving closer to the bed and sitting on the edge, her smile barely hiding her concern. “Do you want to hear the part about how they protect their babies? Or about what they’re like?”

Jisung nodded, moving his head up and down, almost eagerly. “Yes, that one... the one you told me last time... the one about... uh... their babies!”

His mother began, her gentle and calm words filling the room with a familiar melody.

“Mermaids, my dear, are very special creatures. They live deep in the sea, and just like human mothers, they always take care of their children with great love. They know the ocean is a dangerous place, but their babies are born strong and agile. Mermaids have a very deep connection with the water, and the sea always protects them. It’s like an invisible cloak that wraps around them. No one can separate them from their home, because the sea is their home. And even though the ocean can be vast and mysterious, the mermaids always take care of each other, protecting their little ones until they’re ready to swim on their own, just like whales protect their babies.”

Jisung curled up in the bed, hugging his stuffed animal tighter as his mother continued telling the story, her voice creating a bubble of calm around him. But as he listened, Jisung couldn’t help but imagine his water friend, his figure gliding in the depths of the ocean.

Would he be okay? Was he also being cared for by the sea and his mother?

“Mommy... do mermaids ever become friends with humans?” he asked, unable to resist the curiosity consuming him.

His mother fell silent for a moment, thoughtful.

“Mermaids are very careful, sweetheart. They’re very shy, and although sometimes they can interact with humans, they usually don’t because they’re afraid. That’s why the sea keeps them away from us, as a way to protect them. But in some stories, there are humans who have a special connection with them... a bond so strong that, even if the sea tries, it can’t separate them. They might even be more than friends, just like your daddy and I... according to some stories.”

Jisung furrowed his brow, trying to understand. Something in those words resonated deeply in his heart. Perhaps, without knowing it, he had made that connection.

“Do you think I could be friends with a mermaid, Mommy?” he asked in a quiet voice, almost as if afraid of the answer.

His mother smiled sweetly, stroking his hair tenderly. “You never know, my dear. Maybe one day the sea will bring you to your friend, if it’s meant to be.”

Jisung remained silent, his eyes beginning to close, but still with that strange feeling that something else was coming.

The sound of the ocean continued to vibrate in his mind, and the vision of the boy with the mermaid tail stayed alive in his thoughts.

“Good night, my dear,” his mother said, giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Sleep well, my love.”

“Good night, Mommy... will I ever see my friend again?” he murmured, his voice already sleepy.

“Maybe, sweetheart... maybe.”

And as Jisung closed his eyes, the real world seemed to fade away for a moment. In his mind, the sea whispered, and somewhere, beneath the waves, his friend waited for him.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

The art classroom was quiet, save for the soft sounds of other students working, though for Jisung, it was merely distant background noise, almost nonexistent.

Jisung, however, was completely absorbed in his world. His headphones were his refuge, blocking out all distractions as his music filled the silence and his hands moved instinctively across the canvas.

Before him, on the canvas, a figure was beginning to take shape: a young man emerging from the water, his bare torso glistening under a silvery light mimicking the moon. Dark, wet strands of hair framed a face with soft yet intense features, and eyes that seemed to pierce through whoever gazed upon them. His iridescent mermaid tail shimmered with vivid, luminous hues.

“Just as beautiful as 13 years ago...” Jisung murmured to himself, as if the painting could respond.

His fingers added the finishing touches, delicate strokes of light across the scales of the tail, trying to capture the iridescent brilliance that had fascinated him so much.

He was so focused that he didn’t notice the figure standing beside him, watching curiously.

Suddenly, a hand touched his shoulder, making him jump. Jisung turned quickly, seeing his friend Jaemin standing there. He turned his head again, but the music still resonated in his ears, isolating him from the world outside.

With a sigh, he took off his headphones, pausing the music just as Na finished speaking.

“What?” Jisung asked, still slightly disconnected from reality.

Jaemin looked at him, pointing at the canvas with a teasing smile. “I was saying, that painting is incredible. Who is it? Your secret new muse or something?”

Jisung blinked, glancing slightly at the painting. For a moment, he thought about lying, about coming up with something simple, but no words came out. Instead, he shrugged and tried to deflect the attention.

“Ah, just... an idea I had,” he replied vaguely, forcing an awkward smile as he picked up the brush again to correct a shadow on the young man’s arm. The figure of the merman seemed to gaze back at him, like a secret only he could understand.

Jaemin tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “An idea? Jisung, this looks like more than an idea. There’s so much detail; it’s like you know him.”

Jisung felt a faint blush creeping up his cheeks but kept his eyes fixed on the canvas. It wasn’t something he could easily explain, and sometimes, even he wasn’t entirely sure it had really happened. Still, the memory was so vivid he couldn’t deny it. “It’s just a character. Something I came up with while telling my lil brother a fairy tale.”

Jaemin tilted his head further, studying the painting closely. “Then why does it look so—”

Jisung let out a sigh and stepped away from the canvas, placing the brush on the table. “Don’t overthink it. It’s just a painting.”

Jaemin frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the response, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t press you, but it’s impressive, Jisung. Really. That level of detail… wow. I didn’t know you were this passionate about art.”

Jisung didn’t reply, but his eyes wandered back to the canvas.

He knew the figure he had been painting all too well. It was an image he had carried in his mind since childhood, a memory he had never been able to forget.

“Thanks, I guess. It’s just something I wanted to put on paper.”

Na nodded, though his gaze still reflected curiosity. “Well, keep at it, dreamer. Though, if you want my opinion, you should go for a darker background—something to make the moonlight really stand out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jisung replied, turning his attention back to the canvas.

As Jaemin walked away to let him continue working, Jisung lifted the brush again, adding the finishing touches to the painting. Though he tried to convince himself it was all just a product of his imagination, deep down, he knew there was more truth in that image than he was willing to admit.

“Where are you now?” he murmured softly, starting to work on the details of the light on the water, as if the answer lay hidden among the strokes of paint.

Jisung kept working on the canvas until the bell signaled the end of class.

His classmates began packing their things, chatting animatedly about their plans for after school, but he didn’t rush. Instead, he stayed in his seat, gazing at his painting with a mixture of pride and melancholy.

It had been years since that day on the beach, yet the memory remained alive in his mind, as vivid as the image he was now bringing to life on the canvas.

Each brushstroke felt like uncovering a fragment of his past, and though he’d never told anyone the story, painting made him feel closer to that person.

He silently packed up his materials and left the classroom, blending into the bustling hallways filled with students. Not in the mood to socialize, he opted for the longer route home, one that passed by a small park with a fountain at its center. Jisung often stopped there to think, and today was no exception.

He sat on a bench facing the fountain, his backpack at his feet and his mind crowded with thoughts. The sound of water cascading down relaxed him, but it also reminded him of the sea—the waves.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, trying to recall the details: the dark hair, the shy smile, the shimmering scales of a tail, and the laughter they shared while building a watery sandcastle.

What if it was never real? he thought, as he had so many times before. What if it was just a dream or something my mind invented?

But then, why did it feel so real?

“What are you doing here all alone?”

The voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and when he opened his eyes, Jeno stood before him, a water bottle in hand and curiosity written across his face.

His friend—the popular basketball player.

“Thinking,” Jisung replied with a shrug.

“About what? The mysterious painting Nana told me about?”

Jisung let out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

Jeno sat beside him, setting the water bottle on the bench. “You know, I always thought you were a bit weird, but this? This is next-level. You’re obsessed with something, and I think you don’t want to say what it is.”

“It’s not obsession,” Jisung murmured, his gaze fixed on the fountain. “It’s... a memory. Something I can’t forget.”

Jeno frowned. “A memory? What are you talking about?”

For a moment, Jisung considered telling him the truth.

He’d kept that story to himself for so long that the very thought of sharing it made him feel vulnerable. But something in Jeno’s expression made him feel that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry the secret alone anymore.

“When I was a kid, I met someone... at the beach,” he began, his voice quieter than usual. “He was a boy. He was... different. We were building a small sandcastle, but then my mom called me, and he just disappeared, like he was never there.”

Jeno stared at him, trying to process what he was hearing. “Different how?”

Jisung took a deep breath, his fingers nervously fiddling with the edge of his shirt. “He was a... merman,” he said softly.

The statement hung in the air, and for a moment, Jeno said nothing. Then he burst into laughter.

“Are you serious? A merman? Jisung, I thought you’d outgrown that story years ago, but clearly not.”

“I’m not joking!” Jisung protested, turning to face him. “I know how it sounds, but I swear it’s true. I saw him. He was right there, playing and laughing with me.”

Jeno stopped laughing when he saw the seriousness in his friend’s eyes. “You... you’re really serious?”

“I am.” Jisung turned back to the fountain, his expression hardening. “And I can’t stop thinking about him. I’ve never stopped dreaming about him. Every time I sleep... I see him in my dreams. I’ve always felt that, somehow, we’ll meet again.”

Jeno watched him in silence, unsure of what to say.

Finally, he stood, patting Jisung on the shoulder. “Well, if you believe it’s real, then I guess there’s no reason to doubt you. Maybe you should go back to that beach someday. Who knows? You might find something interesting.”

Jisung nodded but didn’t reply. As Jeno walked away, Jisung remained seated, staring at the fountain as if expecting it to reveal some hidden answer.

“We’ll meet again...” he thought, more determined than ever. “I’m sure of it.”

The walk home was a whirlwind of thoughts for Jisung. Each step echoed with Jeno's words.

"Maybe you should go back to that beach someday."

Easier said than done. What was the point of going back? The beach probably wasn’t the same, and surely, it had all been the product of a child’s overactive imagination.

So why couldn’t he let it go?

With his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, Jisung wandered through the streets, oblivious to the bustling city around him. The world moved at its usual frantic pace, but for him, everything felt like it was on pause.

He couldn’t stop thinking about him. About everything. About what he’d seen that day. The way he’d looked at him, as if their destinies were intertwined, as if their brief moment together had bound their souls forever.

Sometimes, secretly, Jisung cursed himself for asking his mother to tell him those fantasy stories as a child. His brow furrowed at the memories that played in his mind like a movie—one that was supposed to have a happy ending.

But this was real life. Maybe Jeno was right: maybe it was time to move on. Perhaps he was clinging to a dream to fill an inexplicable void. Maybe believing he had met a mythical creature made his life less mundane.

A soft breeze carried the faint scent of saltwater through the air.

Jisung looked up at the sky, now painted in warm hues of orange and pink by the setting sun. For a fleeting moment, he thought he could hear the sound of the waves.

When he arrived at his neighborhood, the sky was ablaze with colors. Dry leaves crunched under his feet as he walked slowly, savoring the natural melody of the trees rustling in the wind.

At home, he opened the door cautiously, trying to shake off his thoughts. The murmur of voices greeted him as he stepped inside.

Dropping his backpack near the entrance, he headed toward the living room, where his parents sat on the couch, going over some papers.

Renjun, his four-year-old younger brother, played on the floor with a toy truck, making engine noises with his mouth.

“I think the hotel should be closer to the coast,” his mom said with a soft smile, flipping through a brochure. “Renjun will want to be in the water all the time.”

“Exactly,” his dad replied, pointing at something on the page. “Besides, it’s been years since we’ve gone. It’ll be good for everyone.”

Jisung froze, his heart skipping a beat. Were they talking about the beach?

He stepped into the doorway of the living room, where his parents continued discussing activities, hotels, and plans for their stay near the ocean.

His mom looked up and smiled. “Oh, yes. We’re thinking about taking a vacation. Renjun’s never seen the sea, and we thought it’d be a great chance for some family time.”

Jisung swallowed hard, his pulse quickening.

“And,” his dad added, “it’s time to revive some family traditions. Remember when you were little? We’d take you to build sandcastles or bury you in the sand.”

“When... when are you thinking of going?” Jisung asked, trying to sound casual. “What beach?” The questions poured out as his heart raced.

His mom pointed to the brochure. “We haven’t decided yet, but I was considering the same beach we used to visit when you were little. It’s sentimental, don’t you think? Plus, now you can take a million photos with that camera your dad got you.”

Jisung’s heart leaped.

This was too much—a coincidence he couldn’t ignore.

The universe seemed to be aligning in a way he didn’t fully understand, but couldn’t deny.

His parents continued talking, but Jisung barely registered their words. His mind was already elsewhere, imagining the ocean, the sound of the waves, and the chance that, after all these years, he might find what he’d lost. Who he’d lost.

“Jisung!” Renjun’s voice jolted him back to reality. The little boy was looking up at him, eyes wide with excitement. “Are we going to the beach? Am I really going to see the ocean?”

Jisung forced a smile, reaching down to ruffle his brother’s hair. “Y-yeah, Renjun. Looks like we are.”

Inside, his heart and mind screamed a single word: Destiny.

“I’m... I’m heading to my room. I’m tired,” Jisung mumbled, his hands twitching at his sides. His body, mind, and gaze were all in a daze.

His parents exchanged curious glances, thinking he might be secretly planning to pack. His mother turned back as he walked away.

“Not staying for dinner, sweetheart? It’s almost ready,” she called gently.

He didn’t respond as he climbed the stairs, shutting his bedroom door behind him the moment he entered. He collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts raced.

“What the hell?” he thought, though the words felt inadequate to describe what was happening.

The beach he hadn’t visited in over a decade, the place where his strangest and most precious childhood memories were buried, was suddenly within reach again.

His eyes drifted to his desk, where a small crayon drawing of that boy hung on the edge of a worn lamp—a clumsy, unfinished sketch. The first drawing he’d made of him after returning from the beach that day.

The face he’d imagined for years stared back at him from the paper, as if daring him to seek answers.

Running a hand through his hair, Jisung let out a frustrated sigh. “This has to be some fucking joke...”

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening—something bigger than he could comprehend.

Finally, he got up and walked to the drawing, tracing its surface with his fingers. It was as if he were back in 2007, sketching his friend’s smile and whispering promises to the scribble that they’d meet again someday.

Hope stirred faintly in his chest. He wanted to believe—to prove to himself that it was all real.

Sighing heavily, his shoulders slumped as he wet his lips and gazed back at the drawing.

“If you’re out there... if you’re real,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, “please... give me a sign. I’m begging you...”

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

The weekend arrived faster than Jisung had anticipated. The days leading up to it were a swirl of excitement and anxiety, his mind racing with countless scenarios of what he might encounter upon returning to that beach.

Every time he tried to dismiss the idea that something extraordinary might happen, a small, persistent voice refused to let it go.

On the morning of the trip, the house buzzed with activity. His mother meticulously checked the luggage again and again, ensuring nothing was missing for Renjun, while his father loaded the car with umbrellas, towels, and a cooler packed with snacks.

“Jisung, hurry up!” his mother called from downstairs.

“I’m coming, Mom!” he replied, zipping up his backpack. Inside, he had packed his camera, a sketchbook, and his set of drawing pencils. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he had a feeling he’d need them.

The drive to the coast was calm, though the tightness in Jisung’s chest never eased. Renjun, seated beside him, couldn’t stop talking about how excited he was to see the ocean for the first time. His enthusiasm was infectious, but Jisung found it hard to focus.

The trip began with soft music his mother had chosen to keep Renjun settled.

Jisung stared out the window as the bustling cityscape gave way to open green landscapes. But his thoughts weren’t on the scenery. His mind was elsewhere, fixated on meeting him again—no matter what.

Little Renjun, brimming with excitement, bombarded their parents with questions.

“Is the water really cold, Mommy?” he asked, his wide eyes gleaming.

“It depends, sweetheart. But I’m sure you’ll love it. The ocean is beautiful,” she replied, stroking his hair fondly.

Jisung barely registered their conversation. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where the sky stretched endlessly in a vivid, dazzling blue.

The clouds, fluffy and white, floated as if carefully painted by hand. It was stunningly perfect—eerily reminiscent of that day.

When they finally arrived, the sound of the waves was the first thing Jisung noticed.

Though years had passed, the rhythmic murmur of the water was startlingly familiar. It was as if his body remembered something his mind had tried to bury.

Renjun leapt out of the car, dashing towards the sand, only to be stopped by their mother.

“Not so fast, little one! Sunscreen first.”

The scene was almost identical to his childhood memories. Would his brother see a mermaid, too?

Their mother insisted on slathering Renjun with sunscreen until he looked practically white, while their father struggled to anchor the umbrella in the sand.

“It’s always the same,” he chuckled, wrestling with the umbrella. “Why don’t they make these things easier to use?” he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Maybe because they’re not made for idiots,” his mother teased, earning a round of laughter.

Jisung watched all of this from a distance, holding Renjun’s bucket and shovel.

He felt detached, as if part of him was already elsewhere. His eyes instinctively wandered to the far end of the beach, where the rocks formed a secluded cove.

“Jisung?” His mother’s voice pulled him back. “Why don’t you take your brother to play near the water? But don’t go too far, okay?”

He nodded, taking Renjun’s hand and leading him to the shoreline.

“What do you want to build first?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the pull in his chest.

“A big castle, like the ones in your stories!” Renjun exclaimed, his face glowing with excitement.

Jisung helped him build, but his gaze kept drifting to the water—and beyond, to the rocks. Something was calling to him, as though the sea itself was whispering his name.

“Hyung... what are you looking at?” Renjun asked innocently, his tone curious.

“Huh? Oh, nothing... just thinking,” Jisung replied quickly, forcing a smile.

But it wasn’t nothing. He knew it. Something—or someone—was there, waiting for him.

Jisung continued with Renjun, helping him build sandcastles and fill his bucket with seawater. But he couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting back to the same place, the rocks.

The feeling that something—or someone—was watching him lingered in his mind, like a distant whisper he couldn’t quiet.

As his little brother laughed, Jisung’s focus slipped away, his mind trapped in the same loop as before, like an echo that never disappeared.

No matter how hard he tried to smile and enjoy the moment, the urge to return to that specific spot, to that place that had left such an impression on him, consumed him.

At one point, Renjun distracted him with a request to build a bigger tower, but Jisung’s response was mechanical, distracted.

“I’ll leave you to play here, okay? Mom and Dad are calling me.”

Renjun, as innocent as always, didn’t seem to notice the lack of enthusiasm in his older brother’s words. He quickly nodded, continuing to build his castle.

“Okay, Jiji. I’ll wait for you!” Renjun exclaimed, unaware of the urgency Jisung felt deep inside.

Jisung walked slowly toward his parents, making sure Renjun didn’t see him leave. When he was far enough, he took a deep breath and continued his path toward the rocks, his steps growing more determined, his heart pounding with a mix of hope and fear.

The waves gently crashed against the rocks, and the sun cast a golden glow over the surface of the water.

It was the same landscape he remembered, but something about it felt off. As if, somewhere in that sea and those stones, something was about to happen, as if the promise was finally going to be fulfilled.

He approached the edge, sitting on the rocks where the waves crashed.

He waited, his gaze fixed on the water. Each wave that came seemed bigger than the last, as though the ocean was inviting him to step deeper.

But there were no signs, no movements in the water suggesting that something else was there. Only the sound of the sea and the murmur of the wind.

Minutes passed that felt like hours, and Jisung could only feel a growing sense of disappointment in his chest.

He looked around, hoping to see something that would break the stillness. But nothing appeared. There were no figures rising from the water, no sounds betraying their presence. Just him, the rocks, and the sea, as vast and as silent as ever.

“What the hell am I doing?” he murmured to himself, more as a form of consolation than a truth. “It was all a stupid dream from the start.”

But deep down, something was still urging him to believe, to keep waiting.

That boy from the beach, the mermaid boy, was real... right? Somehow, Jisung felt like he couldn’t give up so easily.

With one last sigh, he rose from the rocks and took one final look at the sea. As he walked back toward his parents and Renjun, the doubts and uncertainty still circled in his mind.

Jisung walked with his mind foggy, repeating over and over in his head that maybe it had been foolish to think something would happen.

The sea, the rocks, everything seemed so distant now. “What was I expecting? That something would just appear out of nowhere? A miracle?” he told himself. Soft curses slipped from his lips as he kept walking along the beach, not paying attention to the path.

He was so trapped in his own thoughts, so immersed in frustration, that he didn’t notice the figure approaching.

Suddenly, he felt a dull thud, something against his chest that made him stumble backward. Jisung quickly lifted his gaze, confused, not understanding how he had ended up colliding with someone.

He found himself face to face with a boy slightly shorter than him, which was surprising since Jisung had always been the tallest among his friends; In his words, they're all dwarves.

But that wasn’t what caught his attention immediately. It was the intensity of his gaze, those eyes that reflected a deep calm, as if he knew the very secrets of the ocean. And his hair, so strange, so bright in the sunlight, in a shade so peculiar it reminded him of water beneath the sun.

But what really threw him off was his skin. It was pale, but something more... something unusual. A subtle glow, as if it were constantly changing, so different from any other human skin Jisung had touched.

There was something about his presence that made Jisung feel as if he were standing in front of a creation of the sea itself, something that didn’t entirely belong to this world.

Jisung stood there, speechless for a second, unable to react right away.

Memories of the boy flooded his mind in that instant.

Was it him? Was it the same boy from that time? The connection in his chest made him feel as if he had known him forever.

“I’m sorry...” Jisung murmured, finally reacting, but his voice trailed off, overwhelmed by the curiosity that consumed him. His gaze remained fixed on the boy, unable to look away. He was hypnotized, and to be honest, he didn’t want to break this moment.

The boy, who seemed equally surprised, didn’t say anything right away. Instead, his gaze shifted to the ground, taking a step back as if preparing to leave.

But something in his posture, in the way he seemed to hesitate before moving, made Jisung unable to resist stepping a little closer.

“Wait...” Jisung said, more by instinct than logic. “Do we.. know each other?”

The boy looked up again, and this time, Jisung realized that his eyes weren’t just beautiful; they were... deep. Like the ocean itself. He could almost feel the water on his skin as those eyes gazed at him.

But the disbelief hit him once more. “I feel like I know you from somewhere...”

For the first time, you stared at him, sinking into his dark brown eyes as if you were deciding something in your mind.

Your expression was calm, but there was a spark of something more, something Jisung couldn’t identify, and maybe it was better that way, fearing that he no longer remembered when you used to ask him a thousand questions on the beach shore.

You leaned slightly, as if about to say a deep secret, but stopped just before opening your mouth.

“Maybe...” you replied, your voice soft and slightly hoarse, as if you had been keeping silence your whole life. “Maybe we’ve met before.”

Jisung felt something twist inside of him, as if every word fit like lost pieces of a puzzle he had never finished putting together. However, before he could process it fully, you had already taken a step back, as if afraid he would get too close.

“I have to go,” you said quickly, with an urgency that seemed out of place in your calmness.

Jisung watched you, unable to move, unable to decide whether to let you go or follow you. But you were already moving away, slipping through the crowd of the beach as if you were part of the landscape, as if you were as unattainable as the sea itself.

It was your nature after all.

Jisung stayed there, motionless, feeling the weight of the disconnection he had just experienced. Were you him? Were you the same boy from the beach, or was he just confusing things?

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ I won't deny it anymore, I fw these kinds of stories. Especially since I got carried away by Ethel Cain halfway through the story.

+ 1/5 stories to finish.︐⠀📍

⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒

. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ

˖⠀⠀ ݁⠀©⠀،،⠀If you liked it you can like, follow me or reblog!!

[katuschka]

His Sugar-Dusted Skin – Part 1

Jake Kiszka x reader 5.639 words (Part 1)

So, After some consideration, I decided to split this one in two, because a) I promised to post it this weekend and it's not finished yet, and b) it might me too long. December's been a bit chaotic and as I said before, I've been struggling a bit with this one. So let me know what you think. Any feedback is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): alcohol consumption and heavy intoxication, mentions of the death of a close person (retrospective), allusions to a potentially promiscuous behaviour, some strong language, the twins being assholes (kind of... they're still cute), Jake's happy trail, I think that's it for now...

Oh, life…

How ordinary and boring it can get when you stick to thinking that there aren’t any other options. As far as I remember, conformity never made sense to me. And as far as I remember, I was being raised and forced to embrace it. My mind surrendered for a while, but my vagrant soul just kept resisting. I never wanted to fit in. I always wanted to fly.

When I left home three years ago, I didn’t take much with me. My parents didn’t approve of my choices and the only person who would’ve supported me in my decisions was already gone. My beloved grandma. She was the disruptive force that kept me on my toes, always challenging me in the most loving way, knowing too well that it was exactly what I needed. She gave me my first guitar, too. Even though sclerosis made her homeward-bound, her dreams and fantasies always kept her wandering. I loved that. She was always there to spark my imagination and in return, I wanted to be her legs and eyes one day. When I was little, my friends used to call her fairy godmother. “Keep your sails up sweetheart, the wind is whimsical.” That’s what she used to say. “All you need is that air in your lungs and love in your heart.” 

“You must never leave me, oma,” I said to her once. “I need that love in my heart forever.”

“Someone else will fill it, darling,” she replied. “I’m only here to make sure it is open. But one day, you won’t need me anymore.”

When she died, I lost my only reason to stay there. The world was slowly getting to its feet again and it was my turn to do the same. I had dreams that simply couldn’t be fulfilled at home. My heart was aching for adventure. So I packed my bags, just like they sing in old songs, slung my guitar over my shoulder and hit the road. A vagabond chick. 

As I came to Tennessee, all I owned could fit in my barely drivable car: literally just a few dresses, my phone, my modest savings, my old six string, my treasured voice and THE recipe. Aaaah, those were the days…

Who am I kidding? It was pretty rough at first. VERY rough, to be honest. I cried many nights. But the one thing my parents had taught me was to save money, and that helped me survive the first months, when I waited tables during the day and sang my ass off after dark. 

Many people never make it. Hell, even though I’m an optimist, I have to admit that most don’t. If you’re not strong willed and immune to shit, you’re most certainly destined to fail. I’ve seen way too many extra talented and broken people on my journey, just because they were too nice or too naive. Well, I’m not naive, but I’m definitely not a cold bitch either. I think I just got lucky, because I had my guardian angel with me the whole time. When she was still walking on earth, she absolutely loved the Beatles, With a Little Help from My Friends being her favorite song. My childhood memories are filled with those songs and how she sang along, and I believe that it was her doing that eventually turned this tune into the soundtrack of my life. I met a lot of fantastic people on my arduous journey towards my goals and dreams, and that’s how I got by. 

As a token of my gratitude, I baked cookies for them. My grandma’s famous linzer cookies. THE recipe. Fast forward a few years, I still keep doing that at Christmas. Apart from the fact that my friends simply demand it, it’s also my way of keeping her alive, to make myself feel like she’s still here with me… in a way. 

Back home, the whole neighborhood loved her art of baking. Me being her only granddaughter, she literally forced me to learn how to bake those linzer cookies – her own recipe, to be precise. Every time I rolled my eyes, while making annoyed noises, blowing raspberries and just being a little asshole about it in general, she simply smiled and said that one day I’ll thank her. Why – I asked – and she responded that one day it would bring me love. “Love goes through the stomach, my dear. Look at your grandpa. See how huge it is?” And then he smiled and kissed her hair and it always made me believe her.

Except it didn’t happen. At least not yet. It – however – gave me a semblance of home that I consciously chose not to have, but sometimes missed. 

Just last year, I decided to continue with the tradition my grandma  started back at home. “Love is a reciprocal game, my dear,” she said. “You get what you give, but do not lose yourself in giving.” 

They want my sweets? Fine! But let them show me how much. They have to “earn” it. At the beginning of December, I give my friends custom-made Christmas greetings, and if they want to receive their own little box of cookies, they have to send back a card of their own making. The first time was a success, and I ended up baking sweets for eleven people. And it didn’t stop there, as it earned me nine bottles of wine, a flacon of my favorite perfume and  a ukulele. All I really wanted was a thank you, but hey! I won’t say no to wine! So I decided to do it again, and this time I received seventeen cards, including three “masterpieces” from the members of the infamous Greta Van Fleet! Yeah, that’s right. While I still feel like I’m barely making it sometimes, I move in high-ish circles. El-oh-el. 

I met Daniel first, through a mutual friend, at one of the music clubs we frequented. He was actually one of the eleven buddies that helped me restart this Christmas tradition. Later I learned that he selflessly shared his portion with the rest of the group during a rehearsal he went to right after he dropped by at my place, and that’s how I got invited to one of their semi-private dinners. Dan kindly introduced me as “Joni”, which earned me two “woos” and one ironic smirk. To be fair, I didn’t like it either. It actually made me cringe, because the woman is an unattainable role model, but it was just Daniel being himself, aka the nice guy. Bless his soul. 

I went from an acquaintance with useful skills to a drinking buddy, because I’m good at that too. One of my less admirable strengths, but there are times when it comes in handy. Especially when a Johnny Depp wannabe from Middle-earth wants to outsmart you…

A year flew by and it was time to extend my offer to Sam and Josh, who made sure I wouldn’t forget them. Don’t ask me how. The video they sent me definitely had the potential to go viral. I wholeheartedly appreciate how much they trust me not to do that. 

They wouldn’t stop there, though. I had to laugh when I received their own precious hand drawn contributions. How sweet. They’re all so sweet actually… well, all except Jake. Aloof, taciturn and arrogant, that’s how he rolls. I’m pretty sure he just can’t stand me, because while he often laughs with others, he only ever laughs at me. His opinion on my baking goes hand in hand with what he thinks about my playing, preferring darker and more spicy shit, as he once put it. Well, whatever. He’s a colossal prick. 

It’s quite unfortunate that I’ve also had a colossal crush on him for quite some time now. As I said, I’m a vagabond chick, and he happens to possess all the right shit to lure me. Like a moth to a flame. And I got burned. 

See, oma? Not working. 

Well, I’m not the one to cry over guys, so I’m not going to lose my sleep over that. He can go fuck himself. (Someone else can do it. I swear he needs it.). 

Seventeen packages meant I was going to spend most of the Friday evening as well as the whole Saturday slaving in my kitchen. Thankfully, I really do enjoy doing this, so it’s simply an essential part of Christmas festivities. A good time spent with me, myself and Ella Fitzgerald. It’s still quite a lot of work though. 

Friday was just about making dough. It might seem easy, but you need to understand that in order to make enough cookies for 17 (!) people, I needed more than 5 lbs of flour, 3 lbs of butter, nearly 24 ounces of sugar, 23 egg yolks and zest from 6 lemons! I will say no more to protect the family secret, but you can see it takes a lot of effort just to put this all together. I take this very seriously. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. 

It had to be perfect. 

But alas! I couldn’t have known that one malicious and horny sprite who wanted me to spoil him with my art of baking was also going to sabotage my efforts in the most peculiar way. 

Once finished, I covered the dough with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to let it rest overnight before I hopped in the shower to wash off the sweaty sugar crust that seemed to stick to every inch of my exposed skin. It was almost midnight when I finally managed to climb in bed, pleasantly exhausted and happy, only to be woken up by a frantic doorbell noise at around two am. A normal person would just freak out in such a situation, but knowing who that might be, I was already pretty much used to it as I lived nearest to their favorite bar. Our favorite bar, to be precise. 

Over time, they came to an agreement that my tiny apartment was a perfect place for nightcaps, the only problem being that the Kiszkas were usually quite loud about it, completely ignoring the fact that I had neighbors. Thankfully, this part of town is a bit specific in a sense that the said neighbors simply didn’t give a shit, with their own lifestyle not being much different. 

This is what I wanted. Friends, late night laughs, my life filled with music and hugs and kisses and peculiar outcomes of unpredictable events that could only lead to more hugs and kisses. 

There was this one time when Josh fell asleep on my couch while the others simply sneaked away giggling and left him there, spread-eagled and snoring his uvula off. Several hours later, I was woken up by the delicious smell of buttermilk waffles, served with maple syrup and a guilty, puppy dog stare. 

Simply put, they were (almost) always welcome here. Almost…

Sober, sleepy and disoriented, I was definitely in no mood for a late night party (or an early morning one… seriously Josh, wtf!), with all the baking lying ahead of me. I didn’t even have to guess if it was really them; I could already hear them the moment my heart calmed down a bit and I stepped out of my bedroom. Determined to chase them away with a rolling pin, I answered the door angrily and was nearly knocked down by the falling Oliver Reed who obviously decided to lean against it the very moment I yanked it open. 

It’s always intrigued me how the brain works in these situations, working so fast that the time seems to slow down to an almost comical pace. I watched in slow motion how his back slid against the wood, his arms flapping in the air in a futile attempt to regain balance. I could tell at the first fleeting glance that he wasn’t fit to keep his balance standing, let alone falling, so no wonder it was a completely lost cause. Some voice at the back of my skull tried to tell me to jump aside, but I was too mesmerized by the sight. Just when his shoulder hit me clumsily in the chest and I stumbled backwards, Josh finally managed to grab Jake’s arms to keep him from knocking me down completely. My rolling pin fell on the wooden floor with a loud bang that made my neighbor’s dog bark. Jake, now aggressively pinned against the corridor wall by Josh, only added to the ear-piercing nocturnal cacophony with his loud howls: “Whoa whooooa!” 

“Shhh, shut the fuck up, Jake!” Josh hissed through his teeth before he turned his concerned stare back at me. “Y/N, sweetheart, terribly sorry hun! Didn’t mean too…” I could tell that he was tipsy as well, but it paled in comparison with the state Jake was in. I had seen him drunk many times before, with his glossy, beady eyes and unfocused stare that always made him look a bit like a teddy bear. This was new, though. He seemed absolutely plastered. 

Out of the imminent danger, but with my heart still wildly pumping adrenaline-enriched blood into my veins, I grabbed the doorframe first to support myself before I tried to make sense of what was just happening in front of me. 

They weren’t alone. Right behind Josh stood a guy whom I had seen a few times before, but I couldn’t recall his name. He looked slightly uncomfortable. “What the fuck, Josh!?!” I hissed. 

Josh immediately tried to win me over with the most sheepish smile he could muster, but his involuntarily cocked eyebrow betrayed him, which only made me more furious. “Dearest Y/N, we need your help, baby!” 

“With what? I asked incredulously. 

“I need you to take care of my asshole brother, pretty pleeeease.” 

“You what?” I goggled at him, completely taken aback by his impudent request. “Why can’t you just take him home?” Much to Jake’s annoyance, we kept discussing him and his imminent future as if he wasn’t even there, which only resulted in another outburst of his loud and incoherent babbling and our collective attempt to shush him before Josh answered.

“Because, I am not planning on going home, honey,” he whisper-shouted, hoping that I would just get it without him having to be too obvious. Yeah, I got it. It didn’t mean I was willing to help him. I looked at the guy again, who suddenly pretended to be very interested in the hallway lights. At that moment, the owner of the barking dog opened his own door to passionately inform us what we all were. I had no other choice than to hastily usher them all in.

“You can’t leave him here just like that? Are you out of your mind? Is this some kind of retribution for what he did the last time? Because it’s not funny. This is my home, and not a fucking sobering center! Just call him an uber,” I continued to protest once we were all safely inside my apartment, and that’s when Jake chimed in for the first time with something that made at least a bit of sense: “Yeah, ah-don’ wanna…,” he hiccupped before he could finish the sentence, making me even more incensed with the whole situation. He quickly tried to amend it, but it was too late. I was seething, my nostrils flaring. “...bother-er. Ah-don’ wanna bother-er! She’s…fierssshe!” he spat in Josh’s face, making him scrunch his face in disgust. 

“Well, you should have thought about not bothering people before you got so shitfaced,” Josh spat back, completely ignoring what I just said. “This is your doing.”

What? I shot a deadly stare at Josh. No, it was absolutely not Jake’s doing that they were now standing in my living room. And regardless of the fact that I had work to do – and he knew that – he also knew how I felt about Jake, and was now putting me in a very uncomfortable position. “Out! All of you!” 

I’m pretty sure I must have looked like Wrath personified, because Jake whoa’ed again and Josh seemed to finally acknowledge his misconduct. He grabbed my hands in his, suddenly looking like a meek puppy. “I’m sorry, babe. Don’t be mad, hun. I know this is too much to ask, but do this for a friend. I beg you…”

“No, I beg you Josh!” I tried to sound as calm and collected as possible through my gritted teeth, knowing that being just mad would get me nowhere. Josh was too stubborn to ever acknowledge someone else’s anger and boundaries meant nothing to him once you became his friend, which basically meant family. However, he was empathetic. “You know I have a lot of baking to do tomorrow. I’m tired. Just please, take him home.”

Josh bit his lip and he looked like he was trying to say something and NOT say it at the same time. It was late and I felt awfully tired, but the whole thing seemed a bit fishy to me. Just when Josh nodded and finally opened his mouth to respond, Jake grabbed his shoulder. “Ah need to pee, Jawshy boy,” he whined and swayed dangerously, pouting his lips at his twin brother. He was already in his teddy bear phase which meant that he indeed wasn’t fit to be sent home alone in an uber. He’d be knocked out in no time, and even if Josh went with him, he’d have a hard time just getting him out of the car. 

Josh glanced sideways at the guy, who had been pretending to be invisible the whole time, and then looked at me pleadingly again. I capitulated. “OK, take that big baby to the bathroom and I’ll fetch some blankets,” I sighed. 

Together, they helped Jake get comfy on the couch and he fell asleep before his head even touched the pillow. And me? I felt relieved when I finally closed the door behind them and everything became quiet again, disturbed only by Jake’s light snoring.

They were taking their time, so once I fixed the makeshift bed, it was just me and the guy standing in the middle of the room, waiting, and it was getting increasingly awkward with each passing second. “So, you’re Y/N,” he finally spoke.

“Yeah,” I answered curtly, confirming the obvious. “We’ve met.”

“But we weren’t properly introduced yet. I’m Martin.” I shook Martin’s hand politely without really wanting to, because I knew that if they were heading to his place instead of Josh’s, it probably meant that the chances I’d see Martin again were quite low. Yet another reason for me being annoyed. 

I poured him a large glass of water, squeezed some fresh lemon juice into it and placed it carefully on a small table right next to his head before I switched off the light, leaving just a small table lamp on, and went back to my bed, hoping to spend the rest of the night in peace and get some much needed rest. 

However, the fact that there was Jacob Kiszka, Sir, lying unconscious on my couch right outside my bedroom door, made it a bit difficult to fall back to sleep. I had never been in a situation like this and it made me feel unpleasantly agitated. I wasn’t afraid of him. I just didn’t trust my own feelings. 

I should have been angry. 

But I was not. Not exactly. Not anymore. My heart wasn’t beating wildly out of annoyance. Instead, I felt like a schoolgirl, trapped in an elevator with that annoying boy from music class who was also her crush. There were many conflicting feelings inside both my head and chest; and knowing that he probably wouldn’t remember how he ended up on my couch come morning only made it all worse. 

I finally dozed off, but morning came sooner than I wished it would, and with it a headache. It felt like just a brief moment, filled with restless dreams about me and Jake dancing on the rooftop to Golden Slumbers playing out of nowhere, with sugar snowing down at us and our hands sticky with jam. Then he smeared some on my cheek and peppered it with kisses…

When I opened my eyes, the feeling still lingered, like powdered sugar on the top of my tongue. Soft and weightless like snowflakes, yet it lay heavily on my chest. Together with the lack of rest, it made me feel almost hungover-ish. I lied unmoving for a while, listening to the silence that surrounded me and wondering whether he was still there. Maybe he already woke up earlier and quickly sneaked out after realizing where he was. 

It was unlikely, but I could hardly ever control these self-deprecating thoughts. Especially regarding men. I cursed Josh once again and decided to take a quick cold shower to wake up my senses.

It helped only just a bit. Refreshed, I opened my bedroom door carefully and peaked inside the living room. He was still there, and fast asleep. Slowly, I creeped up on him on my tiptoes, and then spent several long seconds just watching him sleep, before I started to feel like a complete lunatic. But… he looked so peaceful and almost angelic in the milky morning light, lying on his side with his hands folded under his chin, his lips parted and brows relaxed. The glass was empty, and I couldn’t help but smile involuntarily. Once there was a way to get back homeward…

Then I remembered that this was no domestic idyl. I just had a drunk rock guitarist on my couch, and – let’s be brutally honest here – once I got past that dreamy visual illusion, a strong olfactory reminder of this much more prosaic reality hit my nostrils. 

I also had several large chunks of dough in the fridge and a debilitating headache that almost made me question all my life choices.

No, it didn’t.

But all those things had to be taken care of and I had no idea how. I tried to be as quiet as a mouse at first, but after realizing that it could take at least a couple more hours before he’d wake up, maybe even half a day – the time that I couldn’t afford to waste – I took Josh’s previous advice and decided to just ignore him. 

I really needed coffee… to get the stupid dream, and the song, and all my delusions out of my head. Did I forget that he was also a big-headed asshole? Yeah, that’s the spirit. 

It turned out that my worries were groundless anyway. I could make as much noise as possible in my adjacent kitchenette and he wouldn’t even stir. The motherfucker really seemed to be losing his hearing from standing in front of those huge amplifiers and the malicious creature inside my chest chuckled at the thought. 

I took the dough out of the fridge and let it soften at room temperature while I made myself some coffee and started to get everything ready. Clanking of baking sheets, coffee grinder, squeaking cabinet doors…nothing seemed to disturb my sleeping beauty. I kept casting wary glances at him every now and then at first, but soon I got accustomed to the unusual situation and just immersed myself in my work. 

I had my very elaborate system. I could fit twenty cut pieces – meaning ten cookies – on one sheet, there was roughly enough dough for approximately thirty sheets, it takes ten minutes to bake AND I had only four sheets. You can see I had to be very systematic. Preparation is the key and every minor disturbance could be disastrous. Thankfully, I’m a master multitasker. Still, I prayed to all the known and yet to be made-up deities that nothing would happen. No more surprises, please and thank you. 

A few hours passed and the delicious aroma of lemon and vanilla started to fill the room. I was also sweating like a pig, rolling and cutting the dough in haste, always making sure I had enough sheets ready so that there would be no idle time. Focused on the task ahead, I didn’t hear him stir, and my heart jumped in my throat when I finally looked up and saw those beady eyes watching me intently. 

I tried to keep my cool, looking down again quickly. “Well, good morning,” I mumbled. It was almost midday. 

“Morning, Y/N…,” he choked out huskily and finally tried to stand up, which only resulted in him groaning in pain and slumping back immediately. Oh yeah, consequences…

“Do you remember how you got here?” I asked tentatively. 

“I wish I could say I do, but to be honest, I’ve no idea,” he breathed out with his eyes closed. “I was just hanging out with Josh and the next thing I know I’m lying on your couch at blue hour, feeling half dead.” He finally opened at least one eye, just enough to be able to see me.

I nodded and continued cutting the dough. I wasn’t going to make it any easier for him. The timer just chimed and I had to switch the sheets anyway. 

“So?” 

Did I just hear annoyance and impatience in his voice? Oh yeah, a hungover asshole is still an asshole. It shouldn’t have surprised me. “What?” I spat back over my shoulder.

“Care to explain what the fuck I’m doing here?” 

I don’t understand how he always managed to just smash all my buttons with one single blow, and once again he made me see red. I literally threw the next sheet in the oven and slammed the door shut with a loud bang before I turned around and lashed out at him. 

“Oh I wish I knew the answer. Be so kind and ask your precious brother who literally just pushed you through my door in the middle of the night, half-conscious and reeking of whisky, because he wanted to get laid. You’re welcome! Fucker…”

He blinked a few times, obviously taken aback. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” The tone of his voice changed and for a split second I almost regretted my curtness. Almost. “Just let me call an uber and I’ll be out of here in no time,” he mumbled, checking his pocket, while I watched him struggle with secret satisfaction. That headache must have been hellish. Good. At least I wasn’t the only one. 

He suddenly frowned and started rummaging in all his pockets frantically, including the jacket haphazardly thrown over the armrest. “Where the hell is my phone… and my valet… and my fucking keys. Y/N…did you take my stuff?” 

“What? No! The last thing I’d wanna do would be to prevent you from leaving.”

We were watching each other warily, both equally confused. Then it dawned on him. “I’m gonna kill that scrawny little bastard!” Straightening up, he closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath in a futile attempt to fight off his growing nausea as well as the rage that made his nostrils flare. 

My anger dissipated in an instant… or, to be more precise, it was instantly redirected towards his twin. “I don’t understand. Why would he do that? He knows how busy I am today,” I whined. 

Jake didn’t respond. Instead, he asked for my phone. I quickly dialed Josh’s number and handed it to Jake, because the timer chimed again. 

It went straight to voicemail. 

As I was stacking freshly baked pieces on a tray placed on the small kitchen island which also served as my dining table, Jake leaned against it right opposite to me, looking absolutely miserable. “What now?” 

Am I their mother or what? I couldn’t drive him, but even if I did, he still didn’t have his keys. I couldn’t even call him an uber to Josh’s, because I knew that scrawny little bastard wasn’t there. It became obvious that Jake was stuck with me for at least another couple hours. He kept watching, obviously still waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I just sighed and grabbed the rolling pin again, aggravated with both of them and feeling like their hostage, stuck in the middle of their infantile games. The time was ticking, with my perfectly planned schedule already disrupted.

“Let me at least help you,” he looked at me hopefully with those puppy eyes they both shared. Fuckers. Seriously. Quirks of the mischievous nature that at one point decided that one of them wasn’t enough. 

“I think you should take a shower first.”

It was a deliberate jab, and I expected him to retort back just like he always did. I did NOT expect him to widen his eyes in genuine horror. “Is it that bad?” 

I didn’t dare answer that question but my face betrayed me when I looked at him sideways and bit my lip. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and took one tentative whiff. “Oh my god, it is. I think I need more than a shower, actually. I smell as if I slept in a puddle of beer.” 

I immediately regretted that I let him sleep on my couch, but he looked completely bashful and embarrassed and my previous unwillingness to continue helping him was already in shambles.

“Ok,” I sighed and put down the cookie cutter. “Come with me. I have some spare sweatpants. Thankfully, my ass is just as big as yours, but it might be a bit too tight around the waist…”

“Excuse me?” he protested, but otherwise obediently followed me into my bedroom. 

“You’re right. My mistake. Yours is bigger,” I chuckled at my own joke while rummaging in my drawer, before throwing him a pair of my favorite grey sweatpants, an old, oversize flannel shirt and a clean towel. “Everything else you might need is in the bathroom. The washing machine’s down in the basement.” 

“Thank you. Uummm…do you, perhaps, have a spare toothbrush? For friends... and such?” He smiled cheekily, testing my patience once again. But to be fair, he couldn’t have known that there was a shortage of “and such” people ever since I met him, because I just wasn’t interested in anyone else for a while now. 

“Yeah, there’s a couple of them in the purple cabi… oh fuck!” I quickly excused myself, alarmed by the smell of something burning, because I forgot to set the timer…

Too busy trying to stave off the impending disaster in my kitchen, I barely noticed him sneaking around me on his way down to the basement. So, when he knocked on the door a moment later and I answered it, the sight in front of me threw me completely off-guard. Being no stranger to Jake’s exposed chest, there was a strange sense of novelty in seeing him in my own unbuttoned shirt. Paul started singing inside my head again, but only until my eyes involuntarily slid further down, putting the song to an abrupt stop, just like a torn magnetic tape.

I was right about the waist being too tight, which meant he had it pulled down well below his navel, and seeing his happy trail made me scream internally. 

And to top it all off, he still had the towel wrapped around his head. 

I was not prepared for the feral reaction he suddenly elicited deep inside my body, and I’m sure he noticed, judging by the cocky half-smile that followed. I quickly turned away before I would compromise myself further. 

“I made you some coffee,” I nodded towards the steaming cup waiting for him on the counter, while still not daring to look directly at him again. “... and there are some popsicles in the freezer.”

“Thank yo… popsicles?!?” I might as well have suggested cotton candy, judging by the look he gave me, making me feel like an idiot,  so I quickly explained: “Yeah, they’re perfect when you wanna get rid of a hangover. Orange’s my favorite.” I still felt like an idiot. 

“I’m feeling better now.” His tone was kind and friendly, for which I was grateful, and I could hear him smiling, with my eyes still fixed on the small yellow circles in front of me. “I think I’m getting a bit hungry, though.”

“I’m not cooking anything now, Jake!” I placed the last little yellow circle on the sheet with care, before I started kneading another chunk of dough frantically.

“No, I didn’t mea…”

“There’s instant ramen on the top shelf.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah, whatever.”

“What are YOU going to eat, Y/N?”

“I don’t have time for such luxuries right now…”

“Y/N!” He was leaning against the counter desk right in front of me again. I hadn’t even noticed him sneaking so close again, so his sudden exclamation made me jump. “You have to eat something. Look, your hands are shaking.” 

Yeah, no shit. But I’m not exactly hungry. There was a huge lump in my stomach, making it quite full. I was getting lost in the sea of my conflicting feelings again when all of the sudden, he put an abrupt stop to it like a fierce wave that sent me crashing on the shore, as he lifted my chin up gently with his index and middle finger. “Look at me, Y/N. I am going to fix us a quick lunch, ok?” 

“Ok…,” I peeped meekly. 

Jake just nodded, bound his damp, uncombed hair in a makeshift low bun with the band he always wore on one his fingers just in case, and started rummaging in my fridge. “Allrighty then! What do we have here…,” he crooned cheerfully.

And just like that, Paul was back… lalalalala.

To be continued...

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep   @takenbythemadness   @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickittty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @hearts-hunger

[mikobeautifulheart]

How JJK men react when the find you secretly singing

INCLUDUNG: Megumi and Yuji

There already established relationships

Tw: none, just fluff.

Also unedited so don't come for me okay

~Megumi~

It's raining slightly outside but it's not a big deal, it just means no training today. You text Megumi asking if he can come over because the bordem started to get to you. He didn't respond.

Heck maybe he was on a mission. Megumi was like that some times, a bit secretive, but he always tries to not intentionally hide things from you. But you can't exactly say you dont hide anything from him either. You maybe dating but you were still trying to hide your singing voice at all costs. You were worried he would hear it and it would be the most embarrassing moment of your life because of how soft your voice is, many times people have missed what you say in conversations because because speak softly.

But when you started talking to Megumi you realised that every time you said something he would always respond, even if you mutted slightly he would catch every word.

Giving up on staring at your phone waiting for a response from him, you got up and began to hum as you walked to the book shelf in your dorm. It was like a shared shelf that you and megumi would put your books on for eachother to read, while you were picking out a book you saw your missing head phones right next to the very last book. You grabbed them and plugged them into your phone putting on your play list while you got a book and read the blurb. You mustn't have realised but you humming turned into soft whispers to singing the song you were listening to. You got so lost in the music that you jumped violently when you felt arms wrap around your waist and take one ear phone out.

"M...Megumi?! Dont scare me like That! I was going to punch you!" You said flustered at his sudden arrival.

He put the single earphone and put it into his ear humming along to the song to. His hair was wet and dripped onto the back of your book.

"You have...a nice voice." He mumbled hesitating as he felt your body warm up.

"You should sing more often, I like your voice over the singers."

"No, don't say that" you blushed putting your hands over your face to spread your blush.

"But it's true"

He humms again in you ear before he speaks again and finds your hands to pull away from your face.

"Say it; in other words hold my hand" He sang waiting for you to finish the lyric.

"In other words darling kiss me-" you sang making him smile as he takes the book out of your hands and down on your desk. Maybe you will sing around him more often.

▪︎Yuji▪︎

You guys we're going to go with Megumi and Nobora for Yujis birthday. It had to be good, that's why Nobora suggested going to a karaoke place, belive it or not Yuji was actually really good at singing and he enjoyed it to. He would always sing little songs when he was busy doing something like baking or just walking around jujitsu high. People would catch him in the middle of his song before they got his attention causing him to do his signature bright smile.

You on the other hand were not keen to sing in public at all. Not to be confised with the favt rhat you a a beautiful angelic voice, it was just the idea of singing where other people could hear that was terrifying, what of you had a voice crack? Or you sang the wrong words? You would never recover. But you were only ever caught singing twice, once by Toge, who swore he wouldn't tell anyone after your continuous begging, and the second time by Gojo, which you had to bribe him with cake. After those two incidents you were more cautious about where and when you sang. But at a karaoke party? It's hard to not avoid singing. Megumi said he won't sing but you know by the end of the night he would. So I must be inescapable for you to.

"LETS GO!" Nobora shouted down the hallway. That's right you two were going to pick up Yujis cake and met Megumi and Yuji there.

Oy after 15 minutes of panicking you and Nobora had the cake secured.

You thought of so many ways to get out of singing until you settled on the perfect excuse.

You went inside the place and saw megumi and Yuji standing at the enterance waiting for you.

"Happy birthday Yuji" you said giving him a soft smile that made him blush ightly as every one started to walk inside.

You all sat down in the room before Nobora picked up two microphones and handed one to Yuji before offering it to you.

"Ah sorry I can't sing" you told her but she persisted.

"Actually my throat is really sore right now"

Yuji looked at you before getting an idea of what your trying to do before he interjected by putting in a song and hitting play. He stood up and cheerful yelled into the microphone beofre saying

"THIS ONES FOR YOU Y/N"

he started singing...horribly. you knew he could sing better, so did everyone else. But he sounded terrible so you wouldn't be afraid. You really didn't want to sing but because of Yuji you were going to sing now. So you stood up to and sang along...not as bad...with him.

"No, noooo, you are always gonna be my loveeeee"

He looked over at you in admiration, you turned your head to him, face slightly red of embarrassment.

The song finished and Yuji blew out the candles on his cake.

"What did you wish for?" Nobora asked

"Well I wished that Y/N would sing more around me." He said hand rubbing that back of his neck nervously.

Let's just say you sang your heart out for him that night.

Authors note: I quoted "fly me to the moon" for Megumi and "first love" by Hikaru Utada for Yuji

Lemme know if you want a part 2 and who, or if you have any requests that are similar or different. Thanks for reading! ♡

[rainstops]

fading remembrence

4nemo x reader

TW: reader dies (the cause of the death is a little detailed in ventis part), hinting at suicide in kazuhas part

info: for scaramouche, both wanderer and scaramouche is used

summary: you die right in front of the anemo boys, and they cannot seem to accept your death, because with your death it also felt like they lost their own life. you were their light.

a/n: wrote this in the middle of the night, while putting down my switch for two hours. also i will start to write for zelda totk/botw soon!!

whenever xiao ordered almond tofu at any restaurant, it always tasted the same. even when he cooked it himself. it always had the same taste. the tofu being as bland as tofu usually is, and the dish tasting sweet and like almonds. just what you would expect almond tofu to be. nothing more and nothing less.

but when you appeared in his life, xiao found out you liked cooking. and when you found out that almond tofu was his favorite dish, you immediately went out of your way to learn how to make almond tofu. knowing that xiao ate it a lot, you asked him if he could taste it. xiao did what you asked him to. but what he didnt expect was that the almond tofu tasted different. not in a bad way, but whenever you cooked it, it tasted like you had put your emotions onto a plate. like a little piece of joy, you served xiao. it was the first time, xiao could for sure say that he enjoyed something. but the word 'enjoy' did not feel like it was enough to describe the way he felt. he loved the dish, he loved how skilled you were at cooking it, but most of all, he loved you. and you loved him too. you loved him as long as you could. you loved him, before the passing of time took your life. xiao loved you a lot longer than just that. he loved everything about you. he loved the way you would smile at him, because you gave him a different smile you gave your friends, your family or strangers. when his immortality kept him right where he was, he realized how frozen in time he felt. for you everything moved on so quickly, and soon it was over. xiaos days remained the same old and blank routine before you showed up, and it returned to being the same when you left. but after your death, everything seemed to be so heavy. his eyelids, his arms, his legs, his head, but especially his heart. he searched all across teyvat, for a person, a restaurant or anyone, who could cook almond tofu the exacty way you did. he wanted to taste it again, even if it was just once more. he despaired when he couldnt find a way to make his favorite dish taste the way you made it taste, but his whole world crumbled only then, when he realized he couldnt remember how it tasted. he stopped counting the days and the nights he spend living, because why would it matter if he was slowly forgetting you?

he used to do it, so he could remember your birthday, or your anniversary, or any day that was special to you. but now you were gone, and xiaos memories were leaving as well.

☂

venti wrote many songs in his life. many of them telling stories, but just as many of them just there to sound pretty. but then when you showed up, he had someone to write songs for. he wrote them about you, and for you. and you sang the songs together. venti loved your voice. your voice was the best part of his songs. to him, it sounded like an angels voice.

not only your singing voice, but your voice in general. it made his heart beat so fast, it nearly sprang out of his chest. whenever you greeted him with a smile on your face, it was like all his worries and problems disappeared into thin air.

maybe he took it for granted. maybe he expected to be able to wake up everyday and sing in the kitchen with you while preparing breakfast together. maybe he just thought you could sing him to sleep every night.

well it so happened that that was not the case.

a member of the fatui took your life, and your angelic voice right with it. venti was there. venti was there, when the knife of the fatui found your back. the next moments were a mere blur to venti. he remembers getting rid of the fatui, and in the following moments, he held you in his arms, pleading to be able to hear your voice again.

he mumbled something along the lines of healing you, but you told him that it was too late. it was you who spoke those words, with the voice he loved so much. you lifted a hand to his cheek, and said the three words he loved hearing from you so much. a tear left his eye and fell right under your eye, on your cheek, making it look like it was a tear of your own. he held you in his arms tightly, like it could prevent you from leaving the world.

that was when you spoke your last words. 'thank you' they were. thank you? what were you thanking him for?

your eyes closed, and the smile you had on your face the last moments before your death left. your hand slowly sank from his face, and he held your hand. your hands were usually cold, but this time it bothered him. this time it felt like it was only pointing towards your death.

☂

the wanderer never held much appreciation for the people around him. that was until you came around. it was like you could see right through him, and his facade. like you could see the way he crumbled on the inside, not knowing how to handle his own emotions.

he loved the way you held his hand. your warm hand felt very relaxing against his usual cold one. often you would play with them as well. whenever he was having an especially hard day, because some people kept annoying him, you'd sit down with him. his head in your lap while you were massaging one of his hands. you'd listen carefully as he talks about the people that would annoy him throughout the day. at the end, you would give him a kiss on the forehead. although often enough he'd already been asleep by then.

but you seemed to know him better than he knew himself. you knew what he needed and when he needed it. whenever he was about to explode from anger, you hugged him, since you seem to very well know, that all the anger is build up from all the things that happened to him.

a tear fell as you held scaramouche close to you. one hand around his body, and the other on the back of his head, as his head was resting on your shoulder. the tears were wetting your shoulder but you didnt mind. you would do anything to make scaramouche happy again.

another tear fell, another one, and another one. but this time it was the day you died.

with widened eyes you dropped to the floor on your knees, scaramouche caught you before you could drop to the floor. a singular tear fell from your eye as well.

scaramouche held your body tightly against his, as if you would disappear if he would let go. in this scenario, this was the case, but no matter how close he'd hold you, there was nothing he could do.

he held you the way you did it, everytime he was upset. with an arm around your body, and a hand on the back of your head, while your head was laying against his shoulder.

'i cant breathe scaramouche. im scared'

were the last words you spoke, before your eyes slowly closed.

scaramouche had never cried that much in his life. not when he was betrayed so often, not when his mother threw him out like he was nothing, and not whenever you would comfort him.

scaramouches chest filled with regret. he wishes he would have been there for you at least as much as he was there for you. he wishes he bought you more presents for even just putting up with him. he wishes he wouldve just gotten over his ego and thanked you. he would do all those things and so much more, just so he could repay you.

☂

you remember the day so cleary, when kazuha confessed his love to you. his usually so casual demeanor was all gone, as his hands were shaking while holding a piece of paper. his face was bright red and his voice was shaking and cracking up, as he recited his self written poem for you. when he was done he wished for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

when you started giggling he thought you were laughing at him. he didnt dare to look up at you, his gaze was only burning holes into the floor.

but when he really tensed up was when you jumped at him and threw your arms over his shoulders.

ever since then, kazuha had written so many poems for you, and you had stored them all very carefully. one after another.

one time for his birthday, you tried writing him one, and although it wasnt the best, he treasured it like nothing else.

but also he treasured you.

for your one year anniversary you gifted him an old gramophone. you werent sure if he was really going to like it, but he adored it.

ever since that day, most evenings were spend dancing to music, time passing so much faster than it seemed. your hands were locked and one of kazuhas hands was resting on your waist. one of his hands went through your hair.

on the first day you danced with him, he realized how much he needed you. you were his light, his hope, his everything. its why he calls you 'his star'

unfortunately, every star dies one day.

if you would ask him, his star died way to early.

on the night your light faded, a shooting star crossed the sky. kazuha knows youre only supposed to make one wish, but all of them crossed his mind at once. he wished he could dance with you again, he wish his fingers could make his way through your soft hair once more, he wished he could gift you more poems he wrote, and watch your eyes light up like the night sky does when the stars start glowing.

his breath hitched when he felt your hand touch his cheek once more. you gave him a last smile, and a tear rolled down your cheek. your hand fell from his cheek, but kazuha caught it mid air, and he held it to his chest.

later, a poem could be found on your grave.

in a moment of sorrow, please let me borrow, your healing light once more, before i am found at our seashore.

it was the last poem he ever wrote.

[quicktosimp]

Run

Romancing Pandora Day 04 - Predator/Prey

So'lek/Human!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Primal Play, Hunting, CNC, Bondage, Spanking, Humiliation, Degradation, Rough, Biting, Blood, Nipple Play, Fingering, P in V Sex, Cervix Play, Alien Genitalia, Use of Safeword, Aftercare

Words: 2564

Dividers by @cafekitsune

I had done it this time; I finally pushed his last nerve, and now my life is on the line. I have been running through the forest for hours now. I know that So’lek is playing with me; there’s no way a human could outrun a Na’vi, especially on his own turf. I had angered him so much that he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me away; he took us far into the wilderness. My legs aching as I pounded my fists on his arm. Once I was well and truly lost, did he let go, throwing me to the ground.

So’lek eyes were almost completely black as he turned to me, his posture ridged and angry, “Run,” He growled.

I stood on trembling legs and ran. The forest was dark, and I could barely see where my feet landed. I tripped over roots, twigs, and vines. As I scrambled through the woods, I fell so many times, covering myself in mud and bruising my body as I hit the ground hard. I could always hear him behind me, growling or chuckling at my plight. Whenever I did, I would try to hide in small nooks, waiting until he was gone. But I know he’s still there. I could feel his eyes on me. I continued to run, my heart beating out of my chest. I could barely hear anything over the sounds of my breathing. I was covered in sweat, and everything ached, but I couldn’t stop because who knows what he’d do to me. 

I screamed as a large hand reached out for me. So’lek missed me by a hair as I ducked under some low branches he couldn’t fit through. I could hear his growls behind me as I sprinted forward, trying to keep to the underbrush well outside of So’lek’s reach. But as I ran, I could hear him above me; even his steps were noticeable under here.  

“Come out, vrrtep,” He sang above me, reaching down, his large hands barely able to pass through the thicket, waving around erratically.

I fell to the floor, busting my knees open, as I crawled under his hands, making my way past him. As soon as I passed, I dashed off again. Following the path of the underbrush, I managed to get some distance, but all good things must come to an end. I did my best to slow to a stop, nearly tripping over my legs so I didn’t fall off the edge. In front of me was the ledge to a cliff over 100 feet down into shallow water. 

I heard him chuckle behind me. I couldn’t even turn to look as fingers laced themselves in my hair, pulling me off the ground.

“Look at you, vrrtep, always acting all high and mighty, but you are nothing but prey, meant to be hunted into extinction,” His voice was dark and condescending.

The pain from my hair being pulled was immense, pin pricks all over my scalp as So’lek held me in the air. I reached up, trying to grab onto his wrist and alleviate the pain, but I couldn’t reach him. I tried to complain, but only a small whimper came out.

“See? Such a small little vrrtep, but don’t worry. I’ll finally give you something useful to do,” His voice was smug as he removed his tewng, dropping it to the forest floor. 

My eyes widened in fear, “So’lek, what are you doing?” I started thrashing, needing to get out of his grasp.

So’lek threw me to the ground, stunning me in place, as he picked up his tewng again, looping it over a branch. He left it there, instead turning back to me. He grabbed my wrists, brought them together, and easily lifted me off the ground. So’lek then used the straps of his tewng to tie me there. The straps wrap around my wrists thickly many times until he knots it off, out of reach for my fingers. 

“No, So’lek! This is crazy. Let me go, and we can forget this all happened,” I begged him as tears started to fall.

“No vrrtep. I have been far too patient with you. It is time you learned your lesson,” So’lek explained disgustedly, his nose nearly pressed to mine.

So’lek reached for my shirt, which was already in tatters from running around Pandora, and grabbed fistfuls of it before ripping it apart. I squealed as I looked at the tatters in his hands, trying to distract myself from being exposed. So’lek dropped the broken clothes onto the ground, bringing his hands up and cupping at my clothed breasts.

“So’lek-”

“Shut it, vrrtep,” So’lek squeezed them in his grasp, well past the point of comfortable. 

I bit my lip while whining from the pain; my sensitive tits had never been treated like this before. Instead of breaking my bra, he pushed it down and forced my tits outside the fabric, exposing my nipples to cool air. My nipple pebbled from the air, forming stiff peaks, which So’lek decided to play with. Using his fingers, So’lek pinched both my nipples.

“Vrrtep, you are so fleshy… Txavä’” He sneered at me before pulling.

“Stop! It hurts!” I screamed as he pulled at my chest, my nipples and tits stretched taunt painfully, dragging me forward.

“It hurts!” So’lok mocked with a grin, “Good, maybe you’ll finally learn something.” He then let go, and I swang back into place.

Looking at So’lek, I realized that he genuinely meant it. He seemed livelier than I had ever seen him before, and his central slit, the home to his sexual organs, was relaxed, ready to mate. So’lek followed my gaze, realizing where I was looking. 

So’lek laughed darkly, “I have to say, vrrtep, your pretty little screams seem to be doing it for me,” His large hand grabbed at my clothed cunt, his hand covering the entire of my cunt and ass, “You keep telling to go ‘fuck off,’ and that I needed to ‘work through my tension,’ and I think this pussy will work perfectly,” So’lek smirked, as he started to rub at his slit. 

“It can’t fit,” I whispered fearfully. 

“You don’t have to worry about it fitting; I’ll make it,” So’lek reached for his knife, pulling it out; the blade shone in the moonlight as So’lek brought it to rest on my chest, “Such fragile skin, worthless to Pandora,” So’lek tapped the blades tip down my chest, over my stomach, and rested it above my pants, “Remember vrrtep your safety is in my hands,” Before ripping it clean through my pants. 

“Please! Stop!” I cried, tears falling faster as my heart started to beat out of my chest.

“Now, why would I do that?” He said before ripping my panties off.

I cried harder as the gentle breeze brushed against my cunt, watching as So’lek took in sight. He grabbed my thighs, spreading them wide apart. I tried to get out of his grasp but to no avail, as he lifted my leg so my cunt was level with his face. 

“It’s so tiny… I’m going to destroy it,” So’lek mentioned gladly. Then licking a stripe up my cunt, from my hole to my clit, sending sparks of pleasure. My head falls back as I stifle a moan, unable to believe I was enjoying this.  

“I did not believe that a vrrtep could taste so sweet,” So’lek’s voice was surprised before he delved back in.

His large tongue swiped over my pussy again before he latched on. His mouth encased my cunt as he sucked on it, his tongue focusing on my hole, slurping my juices. So’lek’s tongue keeps bullying my cunt, the large muscle barely making any headway into such a small place. He did it over and over again, bruising my entrance. So’lek gripped my hips even tighter, and I knew that marks would be left in my wake. He growled before picking up the speed, desperately trying to get inside. There’s only so much abuse my cunt could take before his tongue slipped in. So’lek groaned as he licked inside, fully tasting me. 

“No, So’lek, you’re too big!” I whined, unable to squirm away, my pussy leaking from being fucked.

I could feel his chuckle vibrate through me as he continued his efforts, sucking on my clit, while my hole was further abused. The thick muscle forces my walls to accommodate and stretch as he pleases. Each move was erratic; I couldn’t adjust to his pace. So’lek simply took what he wanted.

He pulled off with a pop licking his lips, “I thought a vrrtep only became wet when aroused?” So’lek grinned, “NO matter how much you beg me to stop, your dirty little cunt tells me the truth,” So’lek shifted me so he held me with one arm before sliding a finger inside my pussy and setting a rough pace.

I couldn’t think over the sounds of his hand hitting my ass and the quelching of my pussy, as So’lek finger fucked me. 

“NOooooo,” I moaned from the stimulation, my head fuzzy, but knowing deep down I wasn’t supposed to want this. 

So’lek stopped for a moment; I became hopeful that he was listening, only to be met with a second finger inside me. The stretch burned as he continued where he had left off, all the while wiggling and spreading his fingers.

“Listen to that, that’s the sound of your fuck wet pussy. I’m going to take what I want, and your filthy cunt is telling me it wants it too,” So’lek growled, then sinking his teeth into my thigh.

The sharp pain of his teeth, the curling of his fingers, and the filthy humiliation of it all, I came undone. It was like a dame breaking; pleasure flooded every inch of my body, my vision darkened, my thighs trembled, and my feet curled. I couldn’t stop moaning, even as drool slipped past my lips and trailed down my chin.

So’lek dropped me as if disgusted, pulling forcefully on my aching shoulders, “Screaming and begging me to stop, yet you just came from my fingers,” He shoved his fingers into my mouth, making me taste myself, as I gagged around his long appendages. 

His fingers weren't in my mouth for long, now trailing to his central slit, swiftly parting his slit and finding his cock. Bring it outside. His cock is enormous; at the base, it starts off as the same color as his skin, slowly lightening to the tapered tip, which is a pretty lavender color. The spines terrified me; all over the shaft of his cock were large spines that reminded me of his kuru. I could see them flexing in the darkness of the night. 

I could only whine at the sight; there was no way it could fit inside me. So’lek lifted me by the hips again, his fingers sliding over the forming bruises, bringing my cunt to his face, and promptly spat on my clit, before it slid down to my hole. So’lek lowered my hips, lining me up with his cock. I whined and weakly tried to wiggle away. Pain erupted through my pussy, as a loud smack rang through the air. So’lek’s large hand was once again wet from my cunt.

“I don’t care if you don’t want this, I don’t care how much you scream and cry, this pussy is all you’re good for, and now it’s mine,” So’lek growled, slowly pushing in.

I screamed as he pushed in. The tapered tip popped past my entrance and was followed by each spine on his cock. All of them wiggling once inside me, wanting to lock into place to breed. They raked my insides as he continued to push in, never giving me a break.

So’lek groaned with his head tilted back, “So fucking tight vrrtep, you trying to make me cum?” He ground his hips into my ass, trying to adjust himself inside me.

As he ground his hips, each spine inside me shifted, rolling and raking against the sensitive flesh. Many of the spines are still wiggling around, trying to find the perfect stop to lock. Those that had, were hard and unyielding, refusing to move from their spot, pulling on my flesh whenever So’lek moved. 

“OH! N-fu-aH!” I cried out uselessly, unable to even speak.

So’lek’s hips stuttered as more of his spines lined up, but he needed something more, “Look at you, my fucking slut. You’ve finally shut up, my cock fuck you stupid? Well, stupider,” His free hand threaded his fingers into my hair, pulling my head back and biting into the side of my neck. 

“NnnA-fu-A!” I couldn't stop my scream as his teeth broke my skin, my blood trailing down my neck and dripping to the ground.

So’lek pulled back his lips dripping crimson, “Now everyone will know you’re my slut,” His hips twitched more, and his cock started hitting my cervix.

The tapered tip begged for entrance, bruising my cervix in its demands. Each of his spines had locked into place, and all So’lek could do was grind his hips, none of his spines willing to budge, pulling and pushing on my walls. 

“Maybe they won't see you? I’ll lock you away, far from where another vrrtep could find you, and I’ll use you day and night. You’ll be nothing more than my obedient cocksleeve,” So’lek threw his head back as his cock breached my cervix.

It was like nothing I had felt before. A deep bruising while burning, yet it felt so good. Stretched wide in my most intimate place. More tendrils started to more, these ones near his cock head. They wiggled around my cervix, creating a tight seal, refusing to let a drop of cum leak out. 

“Brase yourself vrrtep, because this will be your life now,” So’lek grunted as I was filled with his seed. 

Each rope of cum hit my womb, filling me to the brim, marking me as his. Not a drop escaped due to his cock locking inside me. Each spine pulsating in tandem. My moans and whines were choked off as I fought to breathe. I was bent, and my ribs felt crushed; my arms were above my head, and I couldn’t move; I couldn’t breathe.

“Kelku,” I muttered weakly, and So’lek’s demenar changed.

His punishing grip turned soft, and he shifted me so I was upright, cuddled against his chest.

“Yawntutsyìp, what do you need? Are you okay?” He asked concernedly, checking for any missing injuries as he untied my wrists. 

So’lek didn’t let my arms fall limply like I wanted; instead, he eased them down, rubbing at my sore joints.

I took a deep breath; this position was much easier to breathe in, “M’okay, too squishy, and I couldn’t breathe,” I explained, resting my head on his chest. 

So’lek frowned as he cursed himself, “I’m so sorry, Yawntutsyìp. I should have known better. I will make sure that never happens again. Is there anything I can do for you now?” He asked again.

I lay there comfortably, thinking for a moment, “Just cuddles right now; maybe we can continue in a bit?” I asked him, peering through my lashes.

So’lek’s eyes were soft as he carefully walked over to the base of the tree, settling us down, “I think that sounds perfect.”

Taglist: @eywaite, @loakstahni, @justcaptiannoodles, @xylianasblog

[sleepingdayaway]

And you never knew, how much I really liked you.

To my Legend lovers. And to my friends on discord, I did the thing :)

Characters: Legend, Reader, mentions of Ravio, Time, Wind, Sky, Warriors, Twilight, Wild, Four, Hyrule and Marin.

Warnings: Idk Legend crying at the end bc why not??

Legend knew that treating you like this won't really solve anything. The snappy remarks, piercing glares, and the absolute harsh accusations that spill from his mouth.

The arguments with the rest of the chain about how they trusted your words way too easily for his liking. Come on now! They're heros who's been doing this for awhile, they should understand about enemies disguising themselves to attack until they're vulnerable!

Yet deep down, he too fully trusted your words as well.

Underneath all his actions?

He remembers.

Legend doesn't really know why he was the only one that remembered you straight away. Perhaps it's because of how many adventures he's been on, and the way that you willingly stuck by his side through out all of it.

He remembers your soothing voice of comfort after his journey on Wind Fish Island. The way you comforted him and reassured him on what happened, but that feeling didn't last.

You disappeared.

You left him.

And again when the world called for him only then did you return. Once more did you guide him through his adventure, but you weren't just a companion. No, you were someone he cherished deeply. You were his friend, the only person that knew of his troubles and you knew him like the back of your hand.

Those nights of hushed whispers when Legend had time for solitude. Those nights of you guiding him through his injuries, and those touches of warmth that he felt after patching himself. You called them 'feel better kisses.'

Legend remembers the time you welcome Ravio with open arms. He didn't miss the way how Ravio would speak so softly towards him, whenever he asked about you or asked if you wanted any item in particular. In return, Legend would voice out your response.

He recalls the time you encouraged him to jump into the lake for him to cool off, after he lost his temper at a merchant. The way your giggles echoed in his ears, a bit muffled, since he refused to appear in the surface since he felt his face burn a bit.

The way you spoke adamantly about wanting stay and listen to Marin whenever she sang the ballad. It was honestly both of your favorite tune.

Until one day did you finally left him for good. The night before your disappearance you were even more affectionate than ever. Hogging his attention and all around his body was this warm feeling as if someone placed a blanket over him. Legend felt giddy since you've never acted this way before. He relished in your affection as he returned home to lay in bed.

As he prepared for bed, it was the only time he was able to relax. To feel like he didnt need to worry about his next adventure nor worry what who or whag to save next. Legend heard that familiar ballad again, but this time it wasn't Marin's voice, it was yours.

Legend, surpisingly allowed himself to be vulnerable tonight as he laid in bed. He mourned the people of Koholint Island, and his heart ached for a certain purple merchant that can no longer visits.

Underneath the covers did he enjoy the soft singing of your voice. Eventually, he bid you a good night, and he could've sworn you whispered a 'Sweet dreams.'

"I'm sorry-"

Now here you are standing in front of him physically. And sweet Hylia were you even more magnificent than he could imagine. Finally being able to see your expression, the way you stood, and being able to put a face to your voice. Legend greedily took in all the details of who you were until he realized what you did.

You gave him false hope of being together, and being at his side. Now you pretend that the past years of wondering and solving dangerous dungeons together didn't exist?

That his hardships were nothing but entertainment for you? Was Zelda nothing to you? Was Ravio's affection to you also nothing?

Legend hates you.

He hates you and your stupid [color] hair.

He hates the way your voice reach his ears whenever you spoke with the Champion.

He hates your laugh whenever he catches you with the sailor.

He hates the way you unashamedly gave your affection too the Traveler.

He hates how you and the Old Man can speak so softly to each other during those quiet moments.

He hates the way you flirt back to the Captain whenever you wanted to tease back.

He hates the look on your face whenever the Smith shows you his variety of artifacts and tools he's created.

He hates the way you rest with the Knight. The look of ease and the full trust of being in each other's company.

But he especially hates the way you sing with the Rancher. Familiar melodies that you sang before with him.

Yet Legend still loves you. He loves you so much that he would give up everything he has just to be with you.

Legend has traveled between worlds, and he would do so again just to have you once more.Except he felt that sickening feeling of envy. He wanted you to hurt the way he did after all those years.

Although the nagging thoughts that appear, saying that it won't fix anything that has happened. He's just too stubborn to acknowledge the longing that's still there.

And now as he stands in his home. His cluttered home with artifacts that he has collected during his time adventuring.

None of them held any value to him except for you.

His adventure is over, and so is yours.

They took you home.

Legend, finally alone, collapses onto the ground. Gripping his hair as hot tears fall down his face, the world around him gone as he loses himself in thoughts.

Because I never even told you, Oh, and I meant to

[the-library-of-theories]

Phantom of Hexcore theory

(Want to see the TikTok version with photos? Here’s the link:)

Before the last episodes, I wanted to put my guess for this show as I’ve began listening to the Phantom of the Opera album and found some relevance to the show. Especially with the intro with Viktor’s parts being parallels to this musical.

To make this short (as possible), let’s put the characters and who they would parallel who. And this may either surprise you or not.

Christine = Viktor

Erik (Phantom) = Hextech/Viktor

Raoul = Jayce

Christine is Viktor not because of the ship (let’s be serious for now, as much as I ship them as well lol), but rather because of the narrative. Both had ambitions regardless when one of them is literally dying that both want to fulfill. And while goals are different, both get a taste of what they want. So close.

This may attract the other two important characters. Erik and Raoul (Hextech and Jayce). Jayce became very close to Viktor, someone who literally saved him from his despair and wants to return the favor in any way possible. But this is where the “phantom” comes in.

Hextech, the duo’s dream of helping their people. It was at first, the dream come true… until it was lost. When Viktor began feeding it his blood, we can see a connection began between Viktor and Hexcore. In reflection to this, this is where Erik and Christine meet. The song “Phantom of the Opera” is a great comparison to Hextech and Viktor’s relationship. Here’s two examples:

“In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me and speaks my name. And do I dream again for now I find, The Phantom of the Opera is there… Inside my mind.”

“Those who have seen your face draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear.” “It’s me they hear.”

“Your (my) spirit and my (your) voice in one combined.”

This basically is a parallel to Viktor’s arc as he slowly and will eventually become the Phantom… the Herald Machine.

So what will that mean for the rest of the show?

Well right before we get to the predictions, give me a page or couple of slides to put the spotlight on Jayce and Viktor’s relationship.

We know both are very close, to the point Jayce was willing to do almost anything to save Viktor, even fusing Viktor with the Hexcore which ironically enough is the beginning of the transition from Viktor to the Herald Machine. Even many pointed out that in the intro sequence, that Viktor isn’t the one to put the mask one.

Jayce is.

The best song to help explain their relationship is “All I ask of you” which parallels to Viktor making Jayce promise to destroy Hextech.

“Let me be your freedom. Let daylight dry your tears. I’m here, with you, beside you. To guard you and to guide you.”

“Say you need me with you now and always. Promise me that all you say is true. That’s all I ask of you.”

Skip to after Jayce “kills” Viktor, I don’t believe Viktor’s arc is over and I know almost everyone will agree. We know he’ll come back as we think he’ll be. Which is why the song “Masquerade” is perfect to reveal he’s back.

It parallels when the Phantom crashes the party and gives one last warning.

And while most of Viktor is gone, I think a small part of him wonders back to the “simpler” times. Hence parallels to “Wishing you were somehow here again.” Thinking of his relationship with Jayce. His last bit of humanity.

“You were my one companion. You were all that mattered. You were once a friend and father. Then my world was shattered.”

“No more memories, no more silent tears. No more gazing across the wasted years. Help me say goodbye.”

I then think that we’ll have one last stand off between Jayce and Viktor. “The point of no return” will perfectly fit this as they may fight.

“Past the point of no return. The final threshold. What warm unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return.”

The conclusion of this fight is what confuses me a bit, but this will be going off of the ending of the Phantom of the Opera and my ideas.

Perhaps Jayce and Viktor have a heart to heart, should Jayce recognize or break through to what is left of Viktor. Leaving a choice to Viktor to chose. (Down once more…/ Track down this murder). Depending on the results of this, one of these two theories may happen.

Viktor and Jayce will once more team up once last time. Choosing to leave as Christine and Roaul have.

“Say you’ll share with me. One love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you.”

Viktor will escape or die as the Machine Herald in parallels to Erik (Phantom).

“You alone can make my song take flight - It’s over now, the Music of the Night.”

Remember, this is just a theory (a movie theory).

And if none of this happens, well, it was fun.

And if it does…

I am no writer for this series and was just thinking of the nods towards the musical.

[arkivsantorina]

I am my mother's savage daughter (r. stark)

I am my mother's savage daughter r. stark oneshot

Pairings - Robb Stark x witch!Reader

Word Count - 1,500 words

Warnings - Morally grey characters, mentioned non-descriptive murder, mentioned non-descriptive self-harm for the sake of magic

A/N - Here is my first request from a lovely anon. If that was you, I hope I did your request justice.

Request: Hello I was hoping if you could write a Robb stark and witch reader, she is his closest advisor and with the help of her powers she helped him get revenge for his father,he announces he is to marry her after he wins the war and thanks her for her support "I wouldn't have done it without you type of thing?

Born as the daughter of Lord Roose Bolton and a noblewoman whose name has been lost to history, there have always been shadows that leak from your very soul. As a young girl, you were sent to be a ward of Lady Catelyn Stark in Winterfell. Perhaps it was a plan of your father’s to make you the future Lady of Winterfell, yet no betrothal to Robb came from your time there. Perhaps it was to keep you away from your bastard half-brother and his inclination to harm play with small defenseless things. Or perhaps it was because your father was afraid of you. Afraid of your potential. Afraid of what you would become if you were raised in a home that could provide no love to serve as a buffer to your whims. Many would try to claim that magic has long since disappeared in the kingdoms south of the wall but your father knew better. It was the power of your mother that drew him to her. A woman of a minor noble house that would not have drawn the attention of the ambitious Roose Bolton if it weren’t for the whispers that surrounded your late mother. With his own eyes, Roose saw how your mother controlled those around her. How the branches of trees and the flames of candles instinctively bent towards her as she walked past. A flick of her dainty wrist was able to send a man to his knees. An insult by a maid resulted in a fall down the stairs ending the maid’s life. After their marriage and your birth, your mother became disenchanted with your father and his control of her so he had her killed before he could become one of her puppets. It had also helped to quell the rumors slowly spreading from Dreadfort of his wife’s powers. She was just another woman weakened and eventually stuck down but the battle of the birthing bed.

So it was you who was raised amongst the Stark children. Receiving the love of the family had helped to tamper the power swirling underneath your skin but the execution of Lord Eddard Stark, a man who had raised you to be good in a way that your own father would have never been able to, ignited a burning sensation in your veins that you were unable to quell. You would wake up with scratches all over your body and blood underneath your fingernails. The voices that had once occasionally whispered to you now roared in your ears. They sang stories of the great battles yet to come. They warned you of betrayals when trust was placed in the wrong hands. In the course of a few weeks, you became a jaded shell of yourself, wholly devoted to the Old Gods and scarcely left the sanctity of the Godswood. 

Robb took you south with him, against the advice of his advisors. He could not leave you behind, just as he could not leave Theon behind. You were his friend and he knew you would prove to be an invaluable resource. He, of course, was proven correct. Roose, as one of Robb’s generals, watched as you cared for the wounded. Your remedies healed injuries and sickness far better than those concocted by others, despite using the exact same materials. Everyone praised your healing abilities as a blessing from the Gods. You treated Robb’s men and Lannister soldiers alike. Those who weren’t against the idea lauded you for your kind heart, Robb included. Roose watched as shadows slipped from underneath your tent when night fell and darkness cloaked the camp. The shadows, darker than the darkness around them, moved like snakes until they reached the beds of Lannister soldiers. The shadows would slither onto the cots and bedrolls of the enemy and smother them until the life left their eyes. There was no struggle. Healers would report the deaths in the morning as the soldiers merely having succumbed to their battlefield injuries. Roose watched as you were able to fake sympathy as you helped other healers carefully dispose of the bodies but he could see the shimmer in your eye, the same that once gleamed in his wife’s. 

If others had noticed, nothing was said. You had shown how valuable you were to Robb on the night when you shared your dreams with him. Not revealing that they were dreams, you made suggestions of what you thought the Lannisters may do. Most of the time you were proven to be correct and Robb gained the respect of his men due to the brilliance of his strategies. Robb kept you beside him in all of the war council meetings, allowing you to provide input when you deemed it necessary. In the eyes of his men, you were an oddity among women; one who had a brain and was useful for things other than running a household. You were given more freedom and would use it to sneak away. Running barefoot through the forests that often surrounded the placement of the war camp. Listening to whispers of the trees as you fed your blood back to the dirt. You did not question your abilities. You did what you instinctively knew to do. Coming back to the camp, your eyes would be brighter and your steps would be lighter. All the inhabitants of the camp wrote it off as you needing a break from the pressures. You were still a woman no matter the respect you received and thus were weaker and needed more breaks than the men. 

When the battles grew fiercer as Robb moved his army closer to the capital, whispers erupted of shadows helping the Northern army in their fight. Whispers spread even farther, to the Lannisters and beyond, of their men being taken down without the bite of steel even connecting with their bodies. Once again, this was brushed outside. Soldiers grow tired and delirious. Gossip grows crazier the more it is spread. King Robb is not King Stannis. He does not have a Melissandre by his side, filling his head with nonsense prophecies. He is a king fighting to avenge his father, rescue his sisters, and return to rule an independent North. You did not mind. You encouraged the rumors to grow more obscure. It kept you safe. It kept your actions from being examined too closely.

It was not until the night before Robb was to storm the Red Keep that you revealed your true nature to him. You revealed everything. Your healing, your killing, how you knew the movements of Lannister troops and what they would do in battle. Robb was shocked. He initially wanted to punish you for not telling him earlier but cooler heads prevailed and he realized that everything you had done was to aid him in his revenge, in your revenge as Ned was as much your father as he was Robb’s. So Robb listened. He listened as he did when you warned him not to agree to a Frey betrothal, to offer his uncle instead. He listened as he did when you warned him away from the pretty foreign healer. He listened as he did when you warned him to not allow Theon to sail for the support of his father’s ships and when you warned him not to accept your father’s request of sending your bastard brother to protect Winterfell. Now Robb listened even more closely as you explained what your shadows brought back to you from where you had sent them into King’s Landing, fully appreciating the weapon that the Gods had gifted him with.

You were by his side for the entirety of the siege. Riding just behind him and watching as he commanded his men to act in the way you had suggested the night before. You were standing in front of him when the Lannisters’ men shockingly turned against the royal family and its bastard king. He was beside you as he and his men watched the same Lannister soldiers then turn their swords against themselves. What was supposed to be a battle that would stain the throne room with the blood of both Lannister and Stark men ended with only lions left dead. 

After his coronation as King of the Seven Kingdoms, in which you placed the crown on Robb’s head and whispers a blessing of prosperity, protection, and power from the Old Gods, Robb announced that you would be his wife and queen. No one had provided more support to him than you did and he could see no other person than you by his side for the rest of his life. You were married in the ways of the Old Gods and the magic in your veins calmed for the first time since you had marched south. The Gods were pleased. They had one of their own blessed children on the throne and they kept the realm steady as long as your blood remained on the throne. 

[fanby-fckry]

Saw you are fan of both The Amazing Devil and Hazbin Hotel, so, combining those two, what TAD songs would you assign each Hazbin Hotel character?

Ooh, this is a good ask!

Ok, not a character, but I once was someone say that Farewell Wanderlust is Lucilith coded, and they’re so right.

"Come, devil, come, " she sang, "Call out my name" Let's take this outside, 'cause we're one and the same Our gods have abandoned us, left us instead Take up arms, take my hand, let us waltz for the dead

Especially if we’re including the Lucilith divorce, tbh.

He said, "Hey, darling, hey, hey, darling, hey I'm the hardest goodbye that you'll ever have to say"

…

Because farewell wanderlust, you've been, oh, so kind You brought me to this party, but you left me here behind So long to the person you begged me to be She's down, she's dead Instead what is left but this old satin dress And the mess that you left When you told me that I wasn't right in the head

…

Because farewell wanderlust, you've been ever so kind You brought me through this darkness, but you left me here behind And so long to the person you begged me to be He's down, he's dead Now take a good long look at what you've done to me

He's down, he's dead He's gone, oh, he's lost He's flown, he's fled Now take a good long look at what you've all done to me

But, you didn’t ask for ships, you asked for characters!

Charlie as The Horror and the Wild

I will admit, I cannot fully explain this one. It’s just. Vibes.

You were raised by wolves and voices Every night I hear them howling deep beneath your bed They said it all comes down to you You're the daughter of silent watching stones You watch the stars hurl all their fundaments In wonderment, at you and yours, forever asking more

…

Fret not, dear heart, let not them hear The mutterings of all your fears The fluttering of all your wings Welcome to the storm, I am thunder Welcome to my table, bring your hunger

Think of all the horrors that I promised you I'd bring I promise you, they'll sing of every time You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child Witness me, old man, I am the wild

Something, something, her parents’ legacies; something something fighting against the establishment and sniffling and repressive traditions.

Vaggie as King

Just change up the pronouns a bit, and it’s surprising how well it works. Very similar to her part in Whatever It Takes.

Every moon in the sky, every promise and lie (All that matters) All hell and its fire Waits for us

I’ll keep the king (all hell, all hell) I’ll keep the king (all hell, all hell) I’ll keep [her] safe from the dark things that wait In that house at the top of the In that house at the top of the I’ll keep the king (all hell, all hell) I’ll keep the king (all hell, all hell) I’ll keep [her] safe from the dark things that wait In that house (all hell) at the top (all hell) (All hell, all hell, all hell, all hell, all hell, all hell) Of the rock

“Every promise and lie,” you say? “All hell and its fire,” you say? “I’ll keep [her] safe from the dark things that wait”? Is that not Vaggie’s arc?

Angel Dust as The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace

I waffled on this a little bit, but in the end I always kept coming back to The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace for Angel.

This part in particular stands out to me:

'Cause I've been here so many times before Don't you think I look pretty Curled up on this bathroom floor? But where you see weakness, I see wit Sometimes I fall to pieces Just to see what bits of me don't fit

Romanticizing his own breakdowns, self destructing because it’s the only way he knows how to cope.

There’s also something to be said for the way that the glass metaphor mirrors Poison:

Somehow now I'm drinking, and I'm lifting my glass To that last good man grace Who has left me, he's left me at last

…

Then the hollow folk pour me another shard full of glass And I toast to their talents and I forgive them at last

Mmm yummy broken glass, yummy poison. This is fine. He’s fine, guys, don’t even worry about it!

Narrator Voice: He was not fine.

Angel using humor (often sexual humor, but still) as a shield comes up here, as well.

And I laugh, and I laugh 'Cause laughing right now, it's all, all that I have

And the conflicting forces throughout the song, the Old Witch Sleep and Good Man Grace, themselves, can be fitted over the conflicting forces on Angel’s Afterlife.

I could see an argument in either direction for which force matches up with which, but personally, I’m for the Old Witch Sleep as Angel’s addiction and the people with a vested interest in keeping him from being sober vs Good Man Grace as redemption and the pressure to get there.

There's a fire burning, and I'm learning to be So much more than my tiredness So much more than that old witch sleep wishes She kisses my eyelids And I breathe

The Old Witch Sleep represents the comfort in familiar, yet ultimately unhealthy coping mechanisms.

In the song, alone, I would say she sounds a lot like depression and the symptoms and coping mechanisms that come with it – telling the singer to rest, to give in to his tiredness.

And isn’t it easier to sleep? To lay in bed for hours, wasting away because you’re so, so tired, and everything is too much, and it’ll all be there when you get up (if you get up), so sleep, just sleep.

When applied to Angel Dust, specifically, she sounds like addiction.

Return to the comfort of your vices, break yourself so that it hurts less when he breaks you, escape through drugs and sex and dissociation. Isn’t it nicer here, where your thoughts and your feelings and your memories and your pain are blurred and distant and forgotten as you rewrite the narrative from trauma to indulgence? Isn’t it easier than trying to face it all sober?

She’s well intentioned, the Old Witch Sleep. After all, sleep is a necessity. The problem comes in excess, and even then, it can be seen as a kindness – as shelter from the inherent cruelty of being awake.

It kind of reminds me of Cherri, trying to comfort Angel by bringing him back to his vices. Her intentions were good, but ultimately she wound up putting him under even more stress.

So, what about Good Man Grace?

"You're better than this" He says as a hand slaps my face and I stand And say, "No good man grace" I can't do this (you can) I can't do this (you can) I can't do this (you can) I can't do this, you don't understand

Yeahh, remember Charlie and Vaggie’s whole thing in the first half of Masquerade? And to a lesser extent, Video Killed the Radio Star?

Good Man Grace is expectation. Being told that you can do better, trying to do better, wanting to do better, and oh fuck, they don’t understand, because there are forces here beyond your control and it’s harder than it looks, damn it!

And (through Angel’s slightly skewed lens of things) when you don’t make progress fast enough for his liking, Good Man Grace turns his attention to some fucking snake and you wonder if you were ever worth anything to begin with.

Ultimately, neither extreme is helping him.

(Luckily, though, I think Charlie and Vaggie are willing to give him a bit more leeway now that they understand the circumstances behind his resistance to change and his clinging to the mask of his persona/the comfort of his old coping mechanisms. And Cherri may become more of a neutral party, now that she’s stopped viewing the hotel as the problem.)

Alastor as That Unwanted Animal

LISTEN. I know this song is about sex. But can we pretend for a moment, that it isn’t?

Can we take its metaphors about violence and animalistic hunger literally, and transfer the themes of vulnerability in sex to vulnerability in human contact of any kind?

Honestly, as an aroace, I find myself doing this to a lot of songs about sex.

Actually, as I’m writing this, I’m realizing that it is very fitting for @prince-liest’s 666 Live On Air! Alastor, specifically. Which allows us to add the sex back in, but in a uniquely aroace way.

I’m not going to go into a full analysis, here, but I will drop one very relevant, already somewhat aro-coded line:

You try so loud to love me I cannot seem to hear

Lucifer as Welly Boots

Is it cliché to choose the dad-est song for Lucifer? Perhaps. But come on.

I get to watch you grow up now and make me proud Make all of the mistakes that make me laugh Oh, darling, Lord, how you make me laugh Get drunk for me, sing louder than you've sung for me Grow young each time that thunder in your lungs Begins to rumble at the world

Cause you were always strong When you were young, you'd kick things just to see if they would fall They said, "That girl, she's wrong" But I'll stick up for you, even though you haven't got a clue You haven't got a fucking clue

And I'm so proud of you And when they laugh at us You'll feel my fingers down your back And when you scream, "I'm not alright" And throw my picture at the wall You were supposed to be my light And keep me safe against them all

Bonus Round: UH!Lilith as Pray

I’m not going to attempt to get into canon!Lilith outside of her relationship with Lucifer until after we see more of her onscreen, but oh the things I could say about Lilith and Pray if we use the version of her from my pre-season 1 fanfiction.

If you knew all that I'd done The words that shone are all but gone, oh whoa The hearts I've broken, the minds I've woken Sweet nothings are screamed, not spoken, oh whoa

God made all man in his image (God made all men) Honey, I'm, I'm no man I'm what's left when children go to war Run from you, I'll run until I begin to understand (run from you, understand) What holy men really mean When they speak of sand and sons and seams And symphonies and sweat and sex and sin

Pray is undoubtedly her song. The first woman, the first feminist, who dared to disobey her husband and was forever branded a temptress and a whore, who redefined her womanhood, and who wears her sexuality and her femininity proudly.

She is a wife and a mother, but she is not subservient to her husband or to God, himself. She saw Eve take her place, endure the burden of the role she broke free from, and rather than acting superior, putting Eve down, or drowning her in pity and condescension, Lilith met her with kindness, open arms and listening ears.

Also, can you tell my favorite TAD album by looking at this post? I um. I think I mayy have a The Horror and the Wild bias, lol.

[justanotherlonelywritersblog]

My Everlasting Muse pt.1

Harry styles x OC

Warnings: 18+ Drugs, smoking, alcohol, mature content, swearing

Meeting someone who is irrevocably, unapologetically themselves is near impossible these days. 

There was a point in my life where I was stuck in a tsunami of grief, with waves of hidden agendas and vendettas constantly crashing against me. Never knowing which friend would be the next to betray me, or which camera would snap a picture of my walking corpse, or which news outlet would pay the prettiest dime for a glimpse of my remains. Hollywood breeds trust issues and kills the most beautiful minds. All because they had a dream, they once thought was worth pursuing. 

Growing up the idea of music and having a career in it sounded magical. So unbelievably naive, I studied every vinyl, witnessed as many concerts as I could, and sang until my vocal cords went raw. And when the opportunity planted itself in front of me, I leaped across the ocean with hopes and dreams and ended up landing in the viper's den. And as the tickets sold, and my voice was heard across the world I learned to hate what I once used to adore. And as the stadiums roared, and the music played, my interest in cocaine and booze increased every day. 

The family and friends I used to hang out with every Sunday, no longer heard from me. Getting their updates on my life with the rest of the world, through tabloids and news stations. The claws of Hollywood were digging into me, indulging every night, waking up to a groupie every morning, and feeling lost in the process of creation. I sang words of love and ambition but was experiencing none of those feelings. On the outside, I was the epitome of coming from nothing and making a real name for yourself. But was it worth sacrificing everything and everyone I've ever known? Well, I don't know. 

I was drowning and quickly sinking further down a whole of scandals and self-destruction, not knowing who to ask or how to ask for help, when everyone around me is in the same sinking boat as I am. I wrote a song when I was younger, it's the reason I have the fortune I do now, it was about how love can save you from the darkest of things. But I didn't know at the time, that even love couldn't save you from yourself. 

Or at least I thought so. 

A girl with eyes of salt, and an annoyingly positive personality somehow swam onto my sinking ship and rescued me from the wreck that was myself. I didn't think it was possible. A girl I once detested and hated everything she stood for, who was irrevocably and unapologetically herself, became my everlasting muse.

And honestly, I wouldn't want it any other way. 

..............

Love is ironic.

It's magnetizing because it can elicit happiness, but it can also elicit pain. For it is the pain that reminds you of how truly connected you are to the person you fell in love with. 

I wasn't always so unapologetically me. 

There was a time in my life when I would sit under the stars and pray to anything, anyone up there, to give me a sign that I wasn't broken, that I wasn't unlovable, and that there was someone out there who would reassure me that I wasn't a freak of nature. Growing up in a home where shouting was the courtesy, and broken bottles were normal, it made sense I clang to the first person who showed me a sliver of love. So entrapped in the appeal of being in love, I naively went from one traumatic home to another. 

A voice that used to be gentle, now reflected my father's. Deep and intoxicated, staggering around our home with shoves and the occasional fist to my face. Isolated and a million miles away from everything I've ever known, I became trapped in this cycle of intoxication and abuse that I so badly wanted to escape.

 I was repeating my mother's mistakes.

 And the day I realized that I left in a raggedy zeppelin t-shirt, with blood-soaked hands and never looked back.

Starting over in a new city, with a new name and a new goal in life. 

Just be me. 

I wanted to determine my own fate, my own decisions, my own passions. I was over letting people walk over me and being confined to their ideas of what I should be. 

However, I never expected this new chapter in my life to end up unraveling like it did. 

Booze, regrets, parties, and cigarettes. 

I guess the trauma was resurfacing through self-deprecating behavior. But I'm not shaming my past mistakes, for it ended up leading to my savior. He was older, and his aura pulsed trouble. He didn't have to carry himself; his name did all the work for him. His brooding nature, and downright miserable attitude made me want to be the positive one for once. 

I knew the logical thing was to ignore him. I knew who he was, I knew the danger that surrounded him, and the spotlight that followed him. I should've left him and never looked back, as I had done in my past life. However, there was something magnetic pulling me towards him. Maybe it was the universe, maybe it was just luck how we always ended up in the same place and the same time. 

I became his anchor; he became my life. 

I never thought I'd be known as Harry Style's everlasting muse. 

But honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. 

............

pt. 2 here

A/N: ahhhhhh i'm so excited!! Let me know what you think so far! This is my first fan fic so please be nice lol

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy reading this! Updates will come as soon as I can! I'm so excited about this story, let me know what you think so far! 

[musicalobsessed-spacialanomaly]

My Hatchetfield OCs

A quick foreword: Only one is canon to my little AU. The other three were more inspired by a what-if rather than any actual interest in creating a story with them as the character. But all four of them end up blending together anyways.

I figure that, considering the infinite possibilities of timelines, who's to say these aren't possibilities?

This will go in chronological order (as chronological as it can get with as many timelines as there are):

Pokotho's Anomaly

Type: Non-canon

The first version of my character (named Remy, after myself, because these are all shameless self-insert characters) is one entirely unaffected by the Lords in Black. Born and raised in Hatchetfield, your average teenager.

And then the events of TGWDLM happens, with the meteor crashing down in the Starlight Theater. Remy had arrived early to see the show, as they have "Early is on time, on time is late" engraved into their mind as a mantra. So, with this in mind, they were one of the first infected by Pokotho's world takeover.

But it was odd, because they were still somewhat conscious in their own mind. They could control their physical actions, somehow.

Their entire molecular structure had been rewritten and for all intents and purposes they were very much deceased. But their mind and soul were still bound to their infected body, and still a part of the Hive. They still sang and danced, of course - They're a theater kid, in case it wasn't obvious - but they forcefully stopped their body from the more... violent acts.

It scared them, seeing their own hands tear innocent people - friends and family and aquaintences and strangers - limb from limb. To dig into their torso and rip out their organs. They'd vomit if they weren't just the mind, at that point.

And of course, The Singular Voice noticed the discrepancy. The error. And he threatened them to follow along or he would ensure that they would face far worse horrors than what they'd already seen.

So they shut up. They still pulled their own body away from any gore, but... they didn't let that influence the Hive as they'd been doing before. A spectator who waited for all of it to end.

T'noy Karaxis' Plaything

Type: Non-canon

This one also finds its roots in TGWDLM. And somewhat influences the prior instance.

They die, of course. A bit more brutally than before, but still. It happens. They're dead.

But for some odd reason, they end up in The Black (and White). Yet another anomaly (you can probably tell I like this word).

And T'noy Karaxis is the one to find their wandering soul. Well, not really wandering. After all, they wound up as a sort of nothing that happened to have the capability of sight and hearing, but they weren't corporeal or visible in any way. Except, of course, to the permanent residents of the place they were stuck in.

And sure, Tinky has this obsession with the Spankoffski family for some unknown reason- but a kid can like dolls and still play with cars sometimes.

He finds them, lost, and he's curious. He knows the timeline they came from, of course, and he knows that his brother would never bring anyone into The Black (for reasons of everyone besides himself being unbelievably annoying). So how did this one end up here?

Well, that doesn't matter. Finder's Keepers, after all.

He decides: What fun it would be to send a random person, with no power or ability - outside of entering the Black and White post-mortem - through each and every timeline, and see how long it would take for them to go insane? Sure, he knows the results of someone seeing everything all at once- but what a fun experiment this could be!

Though, despite being quite confused initially, Remy Rosario is not Theodore Spankoffski. Their sanity slips, sure, but not into amnesia and homelessness. More... Mad scientist.

But existing in the Black and White, even for moments at a time, affects every version of themself in various different ways.

Nibblenephim's Favored

Type: Canon

Nibbly caught word of his brother's new toy and decided he wanted one for himself. He knows better than to steal, though - sharing is not caring, at least with Tinky - so he finds an unaffected timeline and decided to enter at it's very start.

And what do you know, the beginning of the Timeline Split happens to be when Remy's at an amazing age for an Imaginary Friend to name an appearance! Not to mention just how fun they seem to be!

Sure, maybe Nibbly got a little attached, but how often does an Eldritch God find such a kindred spirit? Okay, maybe it was his own influence that gave them such a bottomless stomach and the yearning to eat just about everything put in front of them- But that just means he's a good influence on this kid, right? He was disappointed, however, to hear about the illegality of cannibalism. Maybe he could work something out with this timeline's Church of the Starry Children...

And yes, maybe a lot of other humans looked at Remy a bit weirdly. Most kids sucked their thumb, they bit at their cuticles until they bled (the doctor said it was early signs of anxiety, and while they did have anxiety, that wasn't the reason). Most kids didn't talk to themselves so loudly, even if it was to an imaginary friend. And most kids didn't eat batteries like popcorn with no negative consequences-

But dammit that just meant Remy had the best imaginary friend ever. Who cares if they don't usually last into the double digits and having aphantasia should mean that visible imaginary friends weren't exactly a possibility! It really goes to show how good of an imaginary friend he is when he stayed even after Remy decided they were too old for an imaginary friend. Who needs their own individual subconscious, anyways, when a literal god can fill the role for you?

Bliklotep's Experiment

Type: Non-Canon

This one is more of a literal shameless self-insert. I mean, we've already decided that Blinky was the "Watcher with One-Thousand Eyes" mentioned in Trail to Oregon. Which implies that our own universe is one he can see and interact with, even if his brothers seem to have no knowledge of it.

And he sees his brothers having fun, but decides that taking a version of this random teen/young adult from a preexisting timeline is boring. Why not take one from a higher universe - in which Hatchetfield is naught but fiction - and see how they interact with the world around them?

(An exerpt from my OC brainstorming document:

Then they had an odd dream. A shifting purple form that couldn’t seem to make up its mind before it settled on some kind of indescribable creature. But the violet fur and the yellow eye(s?) were unmistakable. They first chalked it up to them watching Nightmare Time and Nerdy Prudes Must Die on repeat too many times, but the conversation was fun. The idea that there were multiple versions of them in different timelines across the Hatchetverse? They considered it plausible. As the entire multiverse theory suggests that for each change, minuscule or gargantuan, there is a corresponding timeline. Who’s to say that there isn’t a version of Hatchetfield with a person identical to them, or to their best friend, or even their teacher? Makes the idea of fanfiction in their universe a plausible story in theirs.

And then they were asked a question. If they could live in Hatchetfield, with all of the knowledge they currently had, would they?

They thought, and figured, as a normal person? Absolutely not. With everything they know, they’d like to have some sort of ability. Like access to the Black Book, or some sort of power like the kids at the roller-rama have.

Bliklotep assured them that, with the influence of a Lord in Black being the reason for their presence there, they could be on the same level as Hannah Foster. So they laughed and affirmed that, Hell yeah, living in Hatchetfield would be cool.

Then they woke up.)

So basically... an Isekai without the prerequisite of dying.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Five Little Ducks

Fandom: DC Comics, Batman

Summary: Bruce finds a magically de-aged Jason.

Chapters: 3/13

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Zatanna Zatara

Additional Tags: De-Aged Jason Todd, Magic, Babysitting, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, POV Third Person, Bruce Wayne is Not Okay, Bruce Wayne Tries, Jason Todd Has Issues, Childhood Trauma

Chapter Three: Rubber Duckie

Once the late afternoon rolled around, word got out that Jason had been turned into a child, and soon the manor was filled with life. Bruce sulked in the corner while everyone doted on his little boy. Duke stuck around most of the day, and he finally headed home. Still, the manor was filled with people. Dick came and did a few acro yoga tricks and made noodles for lunch, Steph came and did finger painting with him, and even Tim came around with puzzles. Bruce couldn't help but feel jealous, but he did his best to conceal it. At best, it was nice to see people running around the manor again. Jason made them all young again.

"Mr. Wayne," Jason whispered, tugging on Bruce's sleeve. "Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce snapped back to the present. "What's wrong?" Bruce asked.

Bruce picked Jason up. Jason threw his arms around Bruce's neck and hid his face. "Jason, didn't you have fun today?"

"Yeah... But... I still want you," Jason whispered.

"What's the matter?" Bruce questioned.

"Did something happen to my mommy and daddy?" Jason asked. Bruce didn't answer. "Usually, mommy would be awake by now. Did she get sick again?"

Bruce sat on the couch, holding Jason tight, and he took a deep breath. "Jason, would you like to stay with me for a while?" Bruce questioned. Jason started to cry. "Oh, Jason... I'm so sorry."

Dick came downstairs, looking at Bruce. "What's wrong?" Dick asked. Bruce shook his head.

"Not now, okay?" Bruce whispered as he rubbed Jason's back.

"Jason, I-. I used to think when people died, they were lost... But that's not true. You can always find someone who's died. Once you make someone real, they never stop being real. Your mommy will always exist, even if you can't see her. You can find her in your tears and in your memories and in your heart," Bruce whispered. He bounced Jason on his knee. "These tears are good... Because it means you loved her." Jason looked at Bruce and wiped his tears away.

"Do you think she knew?" Jason asked. Bruce nodded and kissed Jason's forehead without thinking.

"Oh, Jason, I didn't-."

"You're a nice man, Mr. Wayne," Jason whispered. Jason yawned, and Bruce looked at his watch. "I wish I wasn't so sad... I'm sorry."

"It's okay to be sad, Jason," Bruce whispered. Jason closed his eyes and lay his head on Bruce's chest. "It's almost time for bed... How about we call it a night?" Jason nodded. Dick gave Bruce a thumb's up and went upstairs. Bruce waited a few minutes and ran Jason a bath upstairs, still holding his hand. Jason stumbled backward and squeezed Bruce's hand.

"Jason?" Bruce asked as he hurriedly scooped Jason up.

"I'm okay, Mr. Wayne. I tripped," Jason reassured him, "Did I scare you?"

Bruce chuckled and nodded. "Only a little bit," Bruce laughed.

Jason looked up at Bruce. "I'm sorry," Jason giggled. Bruce stood on the opposite side of the stone partition while Jason bathed.

Jason sang the Rubber Duckie song to himself. Bruce held back his laugh. Jason never sang around him before. And he had a lovely voice. Bruce hummed along as Jason sang. He didn't want Jason to feel self-conscious about singing, so he didn't comment.

When he finished his song, he drained the tub and got dressed in his pajamas, and Bruce dried his hair. "Mr. Wayne?" Jason asked.

"Yes, Jason?" Bruce asked.

"Did you tell a fib when you went to my apartment?" Jason questioned. Bruce frowned and nodded.

"I didn't know how to tell you... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you," Bruce apologized, "Adults make so many mistakes, and that was a big one... But you were already frightened last night, and I didn't want to frighten you any more than I already did."

"Thank you for telling the truth," Jason whispered. Bruce nodded.

"Thank you for being so forgiving," Bruce replied while carrying Jason to bed. He started to pull up a chair, and Jason started to cry. He wiped his tears away as they came, trying not to seem fussy, but it broke Bruce's heart. "Jason?"

"Please don't go away," Jason pleaded, "Can you sleep in here?" Bruce kissed the top of Jason's head and climbed in next to him.

"I'm going to tell you a very special story tonight... It's about a man and his little bird," Bruce whispered, "Okay? I'm not leaving you. I'm right here... And I'm gonna tell you a story." Jason breathed as Bruce gestured for him to inhale and exhale until he calmed down. "Ready?"

Jason nodded and closed his eyes. "I'm not asleep. I want to imagine your story in my head," Jason whispered. He hiccupped and apologized. Dick poked his head in the door, and Bruce invited him in.

"There once lived a man who was very sad. He was so sad that most people thought he was angry," Bruce paused, "Until he met a little bird. This little bird had bright colors. Its feathers were brightly colored and chirped louder than all the other birds. He thought that the bird was just angry when he first heard it, but when the man got closer, he saw this bird had an injured wing.

"So, he took the bird home and nursed it back to health... And that bird did a beautiful dance. The dance was so beautiful that some people came far and wide to see this bird dance... And it made the man happy. So happy, he decided to cage the bird and keep it hidden. This was wrong because this type of bird wasn't meant to be locked away. It stopped dancing, and it started chirping louder than all the others.

"So, the man got angry and sent the bird away. He thought he'd be alone forever after that... And so, he became sad all over again.

"That was until he found a second bird. It wasn't as brightly colored or loud as the other bird was, but it got caught in his fence. When he tried to help the bird, it bit him. It didn't make the man angry. It made him laugh. The bird chirped and cried, but it stopped fighting once it was free.

"This bird didn't do a special dance or chirp loudly. No. This bird followed the man everywhere faithfully. It didn't mind being caged. But the man was careless. He left the bird out, and it fell prey to a cat-."

"No," Jason mumbled. Dick looked at Bruce and shook his head.

"But the bird lived. Instead of waiting for the man to return or chirping for help, the bird ran away. The man searched for the bird for many years, hoping to find his beloved friend... But every time he got close, the bird would bite him and fly away, ashamed of its scars.

"In the man's life, he had many birds. All of them were unique, but none were ever like the one he lost. All the other birds came back to see the man and make him smile, but he never forgot his second bird. His second bird was so frightened and ashamed, feeling like it'd never be like all the other birds... But that's what the man loved most. The bird didn't want anything. It only wanted to be loved. He wasn't angry or brightly colored or crafty like the others... He was something so inexplicably beautiful," Bruce whispered. Jason sank down into his pillow, and Dick smiled. They waited to ensure Jason was asleep before Dick stepped toward the bed.

"I'll go out tonight with some of the others... But I hope we can talk about our miniaturized friend here," Dick whispered.

"I don't know what happened to him. All I know is it was a magic spell, and I don't feel like un-shrinking him any time soon," Bruce confessed.

"At least you're being honest with yourself... And you know what? I agree with you. I spent some time with him today and learned so much about him... Did you know his mom used to be a vocal coach before she got sick?" Dick asked. "There are so many things I didn't know about his life before-. He desperately wants someone to love him."

"And I let him down," Bruce whispered.

"We all did... It's not only on you. It's on all of us," Dick replied.

[berestweys]

just finished watching jaesu's JX Identity 20th Anniversary concert (day 3), and am deeply in my feels as we used to say.

i got almost all the things i was hoping for with this show:

full versions of old db5k standards: AND HOW. i did not anticipate that the bulk of the concert would be old songs! what a gift. they killed it. (jae stomping around with all the choreography is simply the delight of my year. my little dance machine, he didn't fall down once!!! thank you junsu for making him do it!)

they sang so many of the old songs it was really stunning actually. opening with rising sun? hug AND balloons??? is purple line a noisy monstrosity of a song? yes. do i love it with every fiber of my being? also yes. did i get emotional watching jaejoong and junsu sing it as a duet in 2024??? GUESS.

and don't even get me started on the ballads. they were many and i was overwhelmed. proud, stand by u, and i believe. begin, why did i fall in love with you, & whatever they say. love in the ice of course. the list goes on.

no, it is not the same as listening to the original db5k versions. but i tell you what. jj & su take their versions just as far as two voices possibly could, and if i hadn't already been unwell for years about the five-part ballads i would not have noticed anything missing. they're that good at their craft. they are SINGERS.

i know it's become a tired refrain, but with my whole chest: fuck sm for silencing them for so many years. we should have had this all along.

jyj songs reworked as duets: only got one? but it's not nothing. empty sure was a choice though. i was hoping for in heaven, so so, or creation, but i'll take what i can get. (for real jx should re-record the entirety of Just Us (minus back seat, thirty, and dad you there) for my happiness and well being.)

tarantallegra or oeo: junsu did not leave me hanging and i got tarantallegra! probably in my top 5 kpop choreos, though i have not sat down and really thought about it to rank them.

both of them showcasing their solo work: they haven't gotten to sing their own songs at the same concert in so long. it was wonderful. wish junsu had sung some of his more recent songs like hana, and wish jae had given us at least one of his older rock songs instead of keeping to the most recent album. but these are quibbles and i loved all the songs they did choose.

crybabies: mixed results. ok this one came as a bit of a shock because jae lost it but junsu didn't? i would have predicted the opposite. jae is not actually much of a crier, but when he cries he CRIES. this was one of those times and honestly thank goodness su kept himself together because jaejoong needed to be shuffled around the stage with someone else's steady hand in support. he was just gone. bless.

things i wanted but did not get:

a new single prepared for the concert: i just want so much more duo music from them after the treat that was 六等星 in 2022. i want an album!!!

intoxication as a slutty duet: i knew it was a long shot. but i wanted it very badly, on behalf of 2012 jamie who was about 75% more unhinged than 2024 jamie pretends not to be.

incredible as a goofy happy good time duet: what can i say, i really want to see jaejoong blundering his awkward baby horse limbs through that choreo. i really thought i might get this one! alas.

any of either of their solo power ballads as a duet: this is the only thing i'm kinda disappointed about. imagine if they'd sung flower or breathing in love or all that glitters or, god, life support together??? i guess it's best they didn't because i would be dead right now.

it was a great concert, 3 hours well spent. feeling like my old school fangirl self right now, very nostalgic. i do love them.

*

[everlastingdream]

The band au

(Song - Hard to say goodbye by Ronde)

"Annabel, she won't come."

Prospero has been saying it the whole time Annabel Lee was peeking through the curtain nervously twirling little flower ring on her finger.

"You told the thugs where her best friend is when you were only reconciled for a week. It's not like Lenore will forgive and forget. Stop it and try to concentrate on the song".

He doesn't understand. She and Lenore are inseparable. This little thing won't come between them, right? Surely, Lenore will realize that Annabel was trying to protect her. Surely. Su-re-ly.

If not for the makeup Annabel would cry her eyes out already. Yes, she messed up. She didn't take into the account that Lenore would be upset because of her new 'friends'.

And now everything is ruined once again. She really thought that Lenore would come by even after their fight. Annabel spent many nights polishing the lyrics and music, trying to pour all her feelings into this chance.

She lost Lenore once again. Like all those years ago, when she threw hurtful words right at the Lenore's pale face.

"You are right, dearest", she answered after just a second too long. Prospero nodded, going past Montressor and Ada who were having their tongues inside each other throats.

They heard crowd cheering and there was just a couple of seconds to return to their positions. Annabel put alluring smile on her face, not feeling it in the slightest.

She didn't even register words she was saying, laughing and winking at the crowd. And when the first notes of the song played, she found herself reminiscing her past with Lenore, trying to overlook dull pain in her chest.

Here we are six years later

I don't know what we're trying to find, to find

We've been dancing with strangers

Could it be we've been wasting our time, our time?

When they met after six years Lenore was cold and reluctant, not even knowing that Annabel hasn't stopped following her every move not even for a moment.

Even when much younger Annabel thought that Lenore was being stupid and arogant and stupid by asking Annabel to stand up to her father and run away without a plan because of love and freedom and everything else.

Even when Lenore looked so happy on the scene with her 'new friends' which left Annabel hurting and betrayed and "you promised I'm the only one whose side you want to stand by".

And definitely not when she finally understood that her sweet naive Lenore thought that Annabel's status of 'princess' was more important than love. And not that Annabel just didn't want to wander without a plan and goal and starve to death in the small van.

Every night I lay in bed

Wish I was with you instead

I can hear you in my sleep

If only we had one more day

Wake up and we'd be okay

I still see you in my dreams

They went to bed at opposite sides of bed after their fight. They locked the door of Annabel's room as usual, so that her father won't catch them in the morning.

And then Annabel woke up alone, cold and shivering without Lenore by her side. Without even a chance to explain that she didn't undermined the suffering Lenore was going through everyday at home. She just needed a little bit more time.

It's hard to say goodbye

Oh, I tried couple million times

Missed a million signs

Oh, yeah, yeah

In these early days, Annabel did try to forget about Lenore. Tried to convince yourself that she's a traitor, that the one who abandoned her didn't deserve forgiveness. That she didn't love her.

But perhaps she should've understand that it's not going to work, when she lovingly traced Lenore's face in their photos.

Something about you made me try

And I don't know why

Oh I don't know why

It's hard to say goodbye

Annabel really tried to become a better person, as to deserve Lenore, who was only real thing in her life. But her 'better person' and Lenore's just wasn't a same thing.

When we talk, days are fading

Annabel gasped in the microphone without any restraint when behind her familiar raspy voice sang the first line. She clung on the stand feeling light-headed.

I don't know what you're saying

My love, my love

Annabel felt like crying despite all the makeup. Hearing her favorite voice in the world calling her 'love' once again, was so right but still so painful.

These words Lenore said to her when she learned that it was Annabel who told collectors where the Duke is. Even if they planned to ambush Lenore to find out.

Yeah, I know times are changing

When I leave, I'm still staying

Two hearts, so lost

Annabel heard Lenore coming closer, but still couldn't find it in herself to look at her. It was her words, the ones she wanted to say to her love, but hearing it from Lenore made her think of many possibilities.

Does she mean she forgave her? Does it mean she still loved her?

Every night I lay in bed

Wish I was with you instead

I can hear you in my sleep

Hand carefully lowered on her waist and Annabel found herself instinctively leaning into the body behind. Really, even if she wanted to pull away (which is absurd) she would still be drawn to that warmth.

It's hard to say goodbye

Oh, I tried couple million times

Missed a million signs

Oh, yeah, yeah

Annabel heard a little laugh in her voice, which sounded a little sad and helpless. Annabel finally turned her head, looking at her life's only love. Lenore was softly smiling, even if her eyes was still filled with pain.

Something about you made me try

And I don't know why

Oh I don't know why

It's hard to say goodbye

There was Duke and Pluto behind the curtain, shaking their heads with smirks, ignoring Montressor's scowl. Prospero looked a bit surprised, but in the end he just shrugged with small nod.

But it was nothing when she and Lenore started the last bridge and chorus side by side, looking deep into each other's eyes.

It's hard to say goodbye

Oh I tried couple million times

Missed a million signs

Oh, yeah, yeah

But something about you made me try

And I don't know why

Oh, I don't know why

It's hard to say goodbye

Their fans went wild. Their theories about two leading singers finally confirmed.

And Annabel and Lenore didn't even moved an inch, still just a little too close, air between them just a little too hot, breath just a little too hard.

"I am still mad at you", Lenore said lowering her head just a bit.

"Of course", Annabel answered, draging her all the way down by the lapels of her jacket to kiss her right on the scene, surrounded by the flickering light and thunderous applause.

[searchingforserendipity25]

@finweanladiesweek. day 4. finduilas & idril

1.

finduilas was never going to get out of this story alive.

it is a hard lesson for a young maiden to learn, but on the burning shores of the sirion she learned it all through the long retreat. the smoke moved like a living creature, and the fire was nothing so much as garthour's will extended. the air smoked of blood, bone-ash, dying grass, groaning stones.

orodreth held the tower as long as he could, but his daughter was sent away with the first refugees. because the way to nargothrond was long and winding, and the pursuit relentless, finduilas' guards took many days to find shelter.

she looked backwards many times, over hill and crag, riding through the aspen country, ever-fearful. it was because she looked back that she saw them. fair and golden, vaster than even the songs had told, the great eagles of manwë crossed the very edge of the horizon.

finduilas' heart leapt, for a moment, high enough that she could taste her own hope. had improbable rescue not come before already to the noldor, at the time of greatest despair? had not the princes of her people been brought to salvation unlooked for? orodreth might live; her people might leave, the tower might be retaken, the crops sown once again, the rot sang out of the land --

the eagles crossed the very edge of the horizon. they took the high roads of the sky, where the wind was fiercest. their great wings cut the sick yellow of the smoke clouds like knifes. they flew past it, and did not look back.

this, then, was the doom of the noldor, as much as the great battlefields, the poisoning cold, the impossibly crowded barracks of melkor's thralls.

this: the rider clad in grey linens and black soot, the lady all lonesome on the crest of the hill. finduilas was never going to get out of this story alive; maidens who look back never do.

2.

they waited as long as they could. the tower faced the sea, was built to enlarge its echoes. tuor could not sleep, now, without that song to lull him, and even his dreams were dark, damp, blue-lit.

silver found its way to his beard, the fur of his chest, the back of his clever hands; then his temples. some days he woke coughing, spitting out mouthfuls of salt.

they waited as long as they could: until idril said, enough. said: we with our backs to the sea are as the hare against the fence. said: i will have you dead of ancient age or a bad plague or morgoth's spears, but not this.

'no hope have we here; westwards i shall go, and make the speeches my father lent his mariners,' idril said.

she stood in the fullness of her height, hair braided for ruling, her bare hands upon the maps laid out on her great table. all the rings she owned were the ones she had worn on the feast that became gondolin's wake; all of them she had passed, one after another, to her son and her son's wife; to her vassals.

they stood also, the last lords of the white city. legolas pressed his palms together in prayer, rog was very still, dangerous contention barely at bay.

her husband looked at her, and the relief in his eyes was dearer to her than all the feasting and treasures lost to the balrogs and the dragons.

her son alone of all the gathered wept. but her son always wept a great deal. at times ulmondil's son seemed to his mother made up of water as much as flesh. for him too idril built the ship, and for the sake of young elwing's fledgling queenship.

tuor embraced all his friends; idril blessed all her servants. their son sang over the tiller, and elwing raised high the farewell pennants.

they went west. the west would not have them.

adrift, their vessel wandered from strange island to strange island. foul fogs trapped them; ossë's whims overtook them, his queer jealousy of ulmo's friends won over only over many a swell and many a quest. becalming days kept them trapped for fortnights with no wind to stir the sails.

and none of it mattered, none of it - for tuor's voice sang salt out of the water, tuor's webs caught fish often, tuor slept well on the berth under the stars, tuor's cough grew even and faded.

tuor's silver hairs shone under the pitiless sun, marvelous to idril's eyes, wondrous under her hands; petulant ossë dragged their ship away from the doldrums whenever they started to enjoy each other's closeness too much, spraying them for their laughter.

longing wounded sharply, fear clogged the hours of uncertain charting. the sea was their friend; but the sea was not an easy friend to have, not constant in its mood or reliable in its boons.

they traded stories, sang together, crafted little things to gift each other, engraved the walls of their cabins and the pantry and the mast, too: chased each other like trapped cats, at times, imprisoned together without relief. old griefs rose; harsh words caught the edge of the wind and cut close to the skin.

it was never long, before they reconciled; but it was never simple to sit down, hold a hand, weep for the pain they shared and the children left behind, their maddening odyssey and its mad estel.

all the same. tuor grew old, not ill. away from shore, caught between worlds, idril did laugh: at night, when the rigging was set, and there were new sun-spots to count on tuor's cheeks, idril did not think of gondolin.

westwards, always. their course was set to hope most necessary, hope most dire, hope unanswered. in urgency they had sought to evade grief and disaster from their kin, and grief and disaster came, on swords raised by their own kin.

idril and tuor know this not. none can say where they sail still; but ëarendil in his far journeys to give guidance to lost sailors peers often downwards into the wide sea, seeking for a glimmer of fair braids, an old man's silver head.