#i. writings / undecided.

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

Star AU (inspired by fanart)

Roksu blankly stares into the sky.

He has nothing left. His parents were dead, his uncle sold him, and even the slavers and slaves have passed away beneath the cliff, leaving Roksu at the top, alone. There was nothing to do but stare at the rising sun. It looked beautiful, he knew.

The leftover stars still linger in the sky brightly. He could begin to walk back to civilization at any moment. The stolen cloak sits heavy on his small shoulders, the weight of living pressing down on every inch of him, making every breath struggle to reach the air beyond his lungs. The cold air dried out his throat and made him want to hold his breath but he kept inhaling, in order to exhale again. All to keep living.

He did not ask, 'why me?'

It was a stupid question.

Things happened. Even the slaves in the carriage that went over the cliff knew that. It was simply bad luck. He didn't get dealt a good hand, but that didn't mean he would give up. Frustration burns his heart yet it fuels it all the same, like how the constant combustion of a stars core keeps it from collapsing in on itself. He lived through that frustration, and for that he was grateful.

He's seen many on his same position fall and succumb, sooner or later than himself. Like watching alternate versions of his life, some more and less prosperous. Hes one of many that have tried and failed, but since he is still alive, he must keep trying. Until he fails and dies, or until the day he succeeds.

The stars retreat from the warm glow on the horizon, subdued in that light. He wonders, how do they do it? They get hidden every day, but every night they come to rise again, bright as ever. They'll never reach the brightness of the sun, but in their combined effort, they shine in such a beautiful and unique way.

He reaches up towards those retreating stars and looks at them from in between his fingers. If he could hold on, would they keep shining? Let it shine in his palm, safe in a cage of small pale fingers, allowed to shine whenever and wherever.

Closing his fingers into a fist, he lets himself imagine that he caught one of those stars. Pulled it from the sky and held it gently. Would it be warm? Or hot, too hot for him to hold and burning his flesh in his arrogance? He lingers on that thought and looks at his closed fist, skeletal bones poking through his skin to reveal knuckles and his skinny wrist.

His hand is about to retreat when a light flashes behind his fist. He quickly pulls it back to see a bright and colorful light streaking across the sky. It screams in its decent and he can hear violent pops with flashes of purple and red overtop a luminous white.

A shooting star.

A star?... no way, he didn't make it fall— could he?

He pulls his cloak to himself and runs in the direction as it's falling. His bare feet pad quietly and quickly against the unforgiving dirt road until it gives way to grass and rocks. He holds the cloak to himself with one hand and his breathing grows heavier with each step, a pain twinging in his side and making him wince, but he pushes his feet forward still.

The star shines brightly above him, like a guiding light, and the star is loud in the way that everything around him grows quiet in comparison.

He nearly trips when he steps into a hole in the ground and his ankle twists, but he just touches the grass with his palms and pushes himself forward, running faster when adrenaline pumps into his veins at the striking pain.

He has questions but his eyes trail the star and its long tail. He has no mind outside of the shooting star which he follows. It screeches and he wonders if it will be a monster, ready to close its jaws around his neck. The bright star and its tail dips closer yet to the ground and he holds his breath as it soars downward suddenly.

He hides behind the lone oak tree on the hill as the star crashes into the valley.

He holds his breath. Inching closer to the tree, he presses himself against the bark and grips the cloak with an impassioned hand. In the crater is a white lump.

There's no room for regret. Not now.

The white lump is as bright as the star, making it difficult to see properly, but he doesn't need to worry long as it stars to dim rapidly.

The white turns to grey turns to black, and the colorful lights disappear in the wind. The morning glow reflects off the dull black lump and makes it colorful in a different way, with oranges and a rising pink.

Roksu's eyes widen at the sight. His heart beats heavily in his chest, burning from running so quickly. It pounds at the questions running through his mind.

Did he make it fall?

Will it ever glow again?

Is this his fault?

How did this happen?

What should he do?

That last one makes itself particularly known at the front of his mind, but he comes up with no answer.

The lump shifts in its spot in the crater. Roksu clamps his hands around his mouth to smother his sharp inhale.

Is it... alive?

Every fiber in his body understands that he should be running away, hiding, anything to get him away and out of sight from this strange thing that emerged in their world. Except that isn't what he does.

He watches the rising back of the lump.

It's breathing.

The back falls.

He leans further into the oak of the tree and looks closer at the weird thing.

It inhales. The back falls.

... is it hurt?

He bites his lip and digs the fingers he has pressed against the tree into that stiff bark, waking up to the sting of his flesh being bitten and scratched.

When the black lump- about the size of a crouching man- doesn't move outside of the small movement of inhaling and exhaling, Roksu gathers his courage and leaves the safety behind the tree.

He makes sure not to trip as he steps carefully down the steep hill. His ankle throbs painfully.

The sun is over the horizon now, baring its light down against the star in the crater.

Managing not to trip on a dislodged rock, he skips the rest of the way using gravity and winces when his foot gives out at the last second.

He exhales, breathing heavy. Pulling the cloak against his collar, he stands up and continues moving toward the star in the crater.

The star's back rises and falls steadily. It seems to be sleeping. That may be for the best, Roksu thinks to himself.

He reaches the edge of the crater, more wide than it is deep, and steps lightly into the exposed dirt. It digs into his feet painfully, still holding a residual warmth. Even if it's a little hot, it isn't enough to be burn him, so he keeps going.

The star, the creature, rouses slightly as he approaches. His mind wants to stop but his heart encourages his continued approach.

He steps up to the star, creature, about a few feet away. It's bigger than he thought it was and smaller than he assumed it'd be.

... Should he kick it?

Thankfully he doesn't need to do that, as the star inhales deeply and shifts upward, small bits of dirt falling off its back as it rises.

Black eyes bear down on Roksu.

The star looks like a man. No, a teenager approaching manhood, with short black hair and eyes that reflect the night star, devoid of stars.

The lump was actually the teenager's own cloak, curled around his black attire and black boots.

Roksu looks up at that young face and blinks. This... is a star?

It didn't fit his expectations, but the appearance also oddly fit the name, 'star.' He knew that he wouldn't be able to think of a star without thinking of this teenager again after this.

Roksu's reddish brown eyes meet the onyx eyes. They burrow into each other, trying to dig up answers, yet both finding none.

The onyx eyes blink first and look away from the intense gaze of the kid. It, he, begins to observe his surroundings instead.

Roksu quietly stares at this strange being who emerged from a blistering star.

The star looks back at him.

"안녕하세요?"

Roksu listens to the strange words of the star and finds it extremely funny.

"I don't speak Star, sorry." Still, he puts effort into his response. Even if it was extremely likely that the star wouldn't understand him.

"... 무엇? 나는 당신을 이해할 수 없습니다."

Roksu nods. Yes, there is a language barrier. That means the star won't know he is the one who pulled him, it, from the sky.

He points at himself to get introductions started.

"Roksu." The star blinks at him, then slowly points at himself, unsure.

"... 최한."

"Choi Han," Roksu repeats. The star nods. Roksu points at the star and says it again. "Choi Han," then points at himself. "Roksu."

The star licks his lips and repeats it. "Roksu."

He nods, accepting the attempt. Now they have been introduced. That's a good start. Who knows, maybe 'Choi Han' means 'star.'

Roksu's head falls and he notices his bare feet, one swollen and still throbbing immensely. Hopefully it wasn't a serious injury and he could still walk on it.

Wiggling his toes and finding them painfully functional, he decides not to worry about it.

Choi Han is too busy looking at Roksu's long red hair to notice. He looks awestruck at its color, which made a little sense. It wasn't a terribly common color, and his shade of red was actual red, not closer to orange or pink. The dirty and scrappy nature of it wasn't flattering but neither were his equally scrappy clothes. The only thing saving his appearance was the slaver's cloak that he stole.

Though, maybe the star would be awestruck by any shade of hair. Who knows what a star is used to seeing, anyway.

Roksu takes advantage of Choi Han's dazed state to grab his hand and pull. He doesn't budge from his spot- weighing more than the thin Roksu- but it gets the message through.

"Follow."

The star is pulled.

Roksu climbs out of the crater and struggles to not think about how much his foot hurts. He had already ran on the injury and now he was going to walk all the way back to civilization on it, too. He might as well be asking to get his entire foot amputated.

Still, he hides the pain, hiding the way he favors one side as he walks, thinking instead about how to teach someone how to talk and read their language. Could Roksu learn how to speak star? It seemed that there would be a lot of work to do in order to communicate.

As he's pondering that, he tugs on Choi Han's hand, intending to face the hill he had come from.

An arm slips under his legs and the hand in his grasp falls away without any effort to hold onto his shoulders.

Roksu stiffens like a log.

Choi Han smiles at him.

"내가 널 안아도 괜찮았으면 좋겠어."

He frowns but swings his feet in the hold. Now he doesn't have to risk making his injury worse, but he has to be carried by a star. It felt shameful to make such a being do manual labor.

Even if it's shameful, Roksu slowly relaxes into the sturdy chest, wrapping an arm around the star's neck. His other arm points up the hill.

Choi Han gleams, resembling a twinkling star, and Roksu turns away from that happy expression. What a weird guy-star.

-----------

"The prophecy! Your majesty, the prophecy for the next decade has been delivered!" A priest runs into the throne room and all but collapses to his knees, bowing his head to the red carpet.

King Zed grips his armrest. It was good and bad news to receive a prophecy. A prophecy meant that a significant event would be occurring. Since the priest said it was estimated to predict the next decade, that meant that the event would spell out the fate of the next ten years.

It did not predict anything past that.

However, most 'significant events' regarded wars and famines. The length of time would be how long the war would last, or how long the famine would stretch before it broke. So, whatever the prophecy said, it would definitely be a big deal.

"Speak."

The priest shivers at the cold tone of the king. He lifts his head and bangs it against the floor to gather his wits and remember the words of the prophecy. It wasn't hard- it was incredibly profound, both alike to other prophecies and nothing like any prophecy they've received before.

"I will now repeat the prophecy, your majesty. It reads,

"The boy which falls a star

holds many burdens,

Speaks many lies,

And possesses a great truth.

A war, six stars that wish to take the sky,

The red crown which fights to subdue.

Ten years of darkness, nigh.

Bleed, oh boy of red, to lay the earth with

Crimson Tides, save the pitiful ones and give rise to the star of Night."

The priests low voice slowly rolls over the prophecy's words. The king listens and taps his finger on his armrest.

"... Call the Crown Prince."

The attendant waiting by the door hears this and promptly leaves the room. A brief silence is broken by the low timber of the old man sitting on his regal throne.

"Priest," The king says. "What are your thoughts?"

"My thoughts... Your majesty, I believe we must find the boy who felled a star. He will play a key role in the future, I'm sure of it."

"Then how should we go about it?"

The priest hesitates.

"Do we summon all boys to the palace and ask them if they've felled a star? What age range should we expect a boy to fit in?" The king mildly pokes holes in the priests answer. "A seven year old is as much of a boy as a fifteen year old."

The priest bites his tongue, and the king continues.

"When does a boy become a man? Should we exclude mature children and include lousy adults?"

The king tsks. This is why he called for his son to come here. Speaking with the priest is no good.

"Royal Father," a teenager roughly the age of seventeen enters the throne room and bows politely according to his status. "You called for me?"

"Yes. Alberu, listen to the prophecy for the next ten years and tell me what you believe our next action should be."

A prophecy is a huge deal, but the king comments on it as if it is no more than a small squabble that occurred in the town square. The crown prince also doesn't blink at the news.

He approaches his father and stands off to his side, looking down at the priest, who still has his head in the red carpet.

"You may speak," Alberu prompts the priest.

The priest repeats the prophecy again word for word, willing himself not to stutter in the presence of the two most influential figures in the kingdom.

"Mm." Alberu hums. "That is a unique prophecy."

"Why do you say that?" The king inquires. Alberu speaks minimally, as if answering on paper rather than to his father.

"The prophecy mentions a specific individual. It even goes as far as to list traits and achievements of the boy, as if asking us to find and accompany him in his path. Within seven centuries and hundreds of prophecies, none have spoken about a single person."

"What do you suppose we should do?"

"Find him. We should look from twelve to seventeen year old boys, particularly twelve year olds whose birthdays are near to pass. We don't know if the boy has felled a star yet, so we should leave a few months to give him that opportunity."

"We should look through the entire kingdom? That would take years."

Alberu smiles at the king, as if calmly correcting his father's words. "We have a few years at best to find the boy before the worst of the war is upon us, so we should do our best, Royal Father."

"That's right." The king nods. He stares down at the priest, who sweats cold. "Then, son. What if we don't ever find the boy?"

Alberu's smile remains on his lips, undisturbed. "Then we should do our best to support him, even if we don't know who he is."

"Correct."

Alberu lets his eyes fall on the sweating priest. Even if the priest is trembling, Alberu doesn't feel pity. It wouldn't make a difference.

The king waves a hand and the priest, as if sensing it, stands up and exits quickly with a rushed bow to pay his respects to both the current and future rulers.

With him gone, Alberu elaborates. "You'll be focusing on boys with red hair, won't you Royal Father?"

"That is obvious."

At that, the crown prince closes his eyes. He can't help but think, 'would it be so easy to find such a boy?' The description was both sorely lacking and extremely specific. He didn't know what to think about the prophecy's intention.

"Do you think we'll find him?"

Alberu smiles at that, opening his eyes and staring at the large door which shut behind the priest.

"We will. Definitely."

Somewhere, a fifteen year old boy with a red crown of hair and a newly fallen star begin to make their acquaintance.

----

I posted this to ao3! It's got 7 chapters now <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64101292

Fanart this fic idea was inspired by vvvvv also while I couldn't find the artist I did find that this isn't Cale! It's Diluc fanart from Genshin Impact-- which makes the shooting star in the sky make more sense..............

COUGH I'm still sending this out even though I did a fanart inspired fic from a different fandom than mine-

@fictionalcreator ~

[itsgoldleaf]

All primed and ready to go for @codywanfirstkissbingo!!

(Honestly I’m the most impressed that I thought of 3 titles without having a breakdown 😎👍)

[ghostlysoaps]

Creature/monster AU

Soft warning for mature language and themes

Soap is staring at him. This, in and of itself, isn't unusual. It's like their very own game of cat-and-mouse. Watching and waiting to get caught in the act, diverting their attention only after the other catches their gaze to keep. The switch occurs, and then it's up to each of them to decide how much blatant attention is enough.

Ghost grits his teeth under the relative safety of his mask but doesn't take his eyes off the road. He can't afford to with the headlights off even if he sees better in the dark than most – not with the loops and curves and potential threat hunting them.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Soap eventually asks, an hour and some into their mad dash to safety.

Ghost wishes he could parrot the question back at him while replacing the last word with "what.” It wouldn't work, he knows that. Playing the fool isn't Ghost’s strong suit and Soap wouldn't care to indulge him anyway. Not with the way his leg is bouncing, ears flicking, gaze as piercing as a knife between the ribs. A bloodhound who's caught a whiff of wounded prey. 

"No," is what he says instead, short, concise and brokering no room for argument.

"I think we should."

But then, Soap would argue with a brick wall on the off-chance he could win.

"Drop it, Sergeant."

Soap's face twists, canines flashing as he gives himself to irritation, eyes flashing gold.

"It was wearing my face while trying to coax ye into dicking it down, Ah'd say there's plenty to discuss."

"It was trying to get me close enough to wring my neck."

"Och, aye. Strange way t'go about it." The glower he levels Ghost with burns against the side of his face. "Sure there's nothing you wanna tell me? Might've helped dislodge that stick up yer arse if you'd let it–"

Ghost swerves abruptly, takes them off the main road to rest beneath a canopy of trees, on a path too overgrown to count as one, cutting Soap's questioning in half as the man yelps and slams a hand against the window to steady himself. The car slows to a stop and then one of Ghost's claw-tipped hands are on Johnny’s face, digging deep divots into the fat and muscle around his chin and jaw. He uses it to shake Soap's head from side-to-side. Not scruffing, but a show of displeasure nonetheless. One familiar to wolves. 

When Soap opens his mouth to protest, Ghost gives in to the urge to slot his thumb inside the warm cavern and draws a shallow line across it that quickly wells with blood.

"One more word," he snarls, "and I'll cut your tongue right out of your fucking mouth."

Soap stares at him, all wide-eyed and stricken, for a moment, just the one, before his lips stretch into a smirk around the digit in his mouth. He seals his lips over it, hollows his cheeks on a mean suckle, and then nips it with too-sharp teeth the moment Ghost pulls it out as if burnt, causing that lopsided smirk to broaden. 

"Shouldn't threaten me with a good time, sir."

"You're off your head." 

"I can smell arousal, y'know," Soap says, redirecting the conversation with all the gracefulness Ghost shows in his driving. "But not on you, can't ever smell anything on you. Drives me up the fuckin' wall." Soap shakes his head with a laugh, glances at Ghost from under his lashes. He's still smiling. "Sirens... now they don't need pheromones to get in yer head and root out yer darkest desires, an' they don't resort to shape-shifting into a specific guise unless there's a chance it'll work on their target."

"It didn't."

"I could tell by the bullet ye put through its heid. Dinnae even hesitate for a second."

Ghost's fingers flex at the reminder and Soap's eyes flit to them momentarily.

"You've a cold heart, Lt."

"Told you that already," Ghost rasps.

"Why me?"

And it sounds like begging, those two words, spoken in a beckoning call of their own, pleading for a truth Ghost is refusing to admit to anyone, least of all himself.

"You're attractive, Soap, that's all there is to it."

Soap deflates, sinking back into his seat with his face turning towards the window. Shoulders slumped, ears pinned back, as if he were a puppy expecting praise and finding a boot hurtling towards his side instead. It's jarring. Not wholly unexpected, but hell if it doesn't drive a blade straight through Ghost's aforementioned heart – something serrated and hooked sawing through his sternum to tear at raw nerves.

He should leave them there, within the rapidly growing chasm of distance he'd longed to create since Soap first bumped a fist against his shoulder.

"I knew it wasn't you."

It's the thinnest sliver of an olive branch, incapable of flowering with how slight and insignificant it is.

Soap takes it nonetheless.

"How's that?"

"Because your attempts at flirting are as bad as your jokes."

Johnny, incandescent with rage, comes back alive as if electrocuted and with slew of profanity to boot. He rants at Ghost for a solid half-hour, all ire and with no regard for propriety or rank, dressing him down as thoroughly as any drill sergeant back at basic. Anger is a good look on him. Joy is too. Emotions of any kind as long as they're far from the empty vessel Ghost had glimpsed before.

He lets out a breath he can't remember holding as Johnny’s voice steadily washes away the memory of blood in the sand and dimmed, unseeing eyes, blue as the summer's sky, staring unblinking ahead.

[dragon-susceptible]

Which of the elves should be absolutely terrified of spiders. It's obviously not Rayla, I mean she reacts with fear to the giant magical spider in canon but she reacts with that fear to anything capable of murdering them like that.

I'm gonna make a poll but put your answers in the notes too, I wanna keep writing tonight and I'll have to make a decision to keep going.

Also be sure to put in a note if you think Corvus should be arachnophobic too lmao.

Edit to add: Rayla was not at all surprised by the existence of a giant magical spider stalking them. She had a whole saying prepared. What if Moonshadow Forest, with all the implications it's like Mirkwood, also has Mirkwood's spider problem? It's infested with giant people-eating spiders, from the size of a dog up to the size of a horse, or even Lujanne's illusion spider

Puts a different spin on their fears, yk.

[sunfloweraro]

Sky’s still got it

Sky plays a certain soothing tune on his harp to help Bunny get some rest. It works a little too well.

Tags: @thatonecrazysidekick and @tiredgaytheatrekid

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Sky began to pluck the strings for one last song, his eyes slipping shut as he thought of his beloved back home, often troubled by nightmares after her journey, similar to the ones that plagued him. He would sit by their bed after a bad dream of hers, once he had comforted her and wiped her tears away with his thumb, and he would play her this song. Zelda would never fall asleep in the first play-through, rarely the second, but by the third, soft snores would always escape her despite her insistence that she wouldn’t be able to sleep again that night.

As Sky played the final note, letting it linger on the air sweetly, he opened his eyes, slow and calm. All around him, the Zora had fallen asleep, either leaning against each other or curled up on the floor. Four had drifted off against the railing, his relaxed features making him look much younger than he normally did. Time leaned back against the wall of the Domain, arms crossed and chin lowered to his chest, fast asleep.

And next to Sky, Bunny had slumped, his breathing deep and even as Sky had hoped it would be.

“Still got it,” Sky murmured to himself, pride glowing within his chest at having knocked out both their normally serious Smithy and the Old Man, and at having helped Bunny get some rest after such an eventful day.

“That ye do.” Sky jumped, raising a hand to his chest when he realised it was only Twilight, leaning against the railing of the stairs, staring down at him with a fanged smile. “Sorry, we didn’ mean tah scare ye.”

It was then Sky realised Wild stood across from Twilight, his slate out as he attempted to capture an image of Time, conked out against the wall. He snapped a couple before Twilight grabbed him by the back of the shirt and dragged him away.

“That’s enough. We need tuh wake ‘em up”—Twilight jerked a thumb back at the sleeping Zora—“and get this lot in bed. We’ve a busy day ahead of us tomorrow and the last thing I wan’ is to listen to the Old Man bitch about ‘is sore back.”

Sky couldn’t help but snort, raising a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound. Wild had no qualms with bursting into laughter, quickly achieving their task of waking the Zora with their sensitive hearing. Grumbles were sent his way, and they received a half-apologetic wave before they dispersed.

“Ah’ve got this one,” Twilight said, already crouching by Time. Rather than shaking him by the shoulder to wake him, Twilight carefully picked up Time, carrying him effortlessly in his arms like Time was a toddler who had fallen asleep at a family gathering. Sky couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the thought, turning back to Bunny and Four.

“How strong are you feeling today, my dear Champion?”

“We both know these two will weigh about the same,” Wild shot back. “Your choice.”

Rolling his eyes, Sky pushed himself to his feet, dusting off the front of his pants, a force of habit from the many times he had been knocked down on his quest that he couldn’t quite shake. He passed his harp to Wild to be stored in his slate for the moment. “We both know while our Smithy is small, he’s all muscle. I’ll ask again, how strong are you feeling?”

“In that case, I’m taking Bunny.”

“Ye jus’ wanna cuddle ‘im.”

“Perhaps,” Wild said as he scooped Bunny up into his arms, cradling him close like Hyrule and Twilight always did. “Oh. Oh, I see why you two want to carry him all the time. He’s so soft.”

Twilight grinned a fanged grin. “That ‘e is. Be careful with ‘im, yeah?”

Where he might normally take the words as offensive, Wild merely nodded, as if the weight and warmth of a real, breathing creature on his shoulder gave something to Twilight’s words he never heard when he was handling an item. “I will,” he promised.

“In the case,” Sky said, not at all upset he missed out on carrying Bunny when it meant he got to ensure his close friend slept somewhere comfortable and warm. He gathered Four in his arms, grateful he had thought to consider Four’s strength rather than assuming their Smithy would weigh next to nothing with his height. “Shall we?” Sky asked, holding Four closer, smiling when Four leaned his head against Sky’s chest in his sleep, hands reaching out to grasp at the front of his shirt.

“Let’s.”

[ogcalesgf]

windbreaker | suonire, vampire au!

a silly little au with the idea that vampires can’t enter human’s homes unless they’re verbally invited.

but it’s human! nirei who often forgets that he has to always ALWAYS invite vampire! suo in his house to get him to come in.

it was the xx century, and nobody really is scared of non-humans anymore, so they now happily coexist with everyone without having to hide their races.

co-workers turned lovers suo and nirei has been dating for a while now, with their friends rooting for them after painstakingly witnessing the unbearable years of pining.

but there’s just one thing that nirei couldn’t get the hang of.

he always ALWAYS forgets to invite his boyfriend in his house.

other races, and not just vampires, have their own certain rules they abide by. being non-humans, the laws of nature decided that they have to have some sort of restrictions on them unlike people who only has the law and justice system to follow through.

now, to the matter at hand; nirei, not really being used at the thought of suo being a vampire, often forgets to invite him in his house. they’ve not been dating for long, while friends for almost five years— it’s only been six months since they started dating.

the thing is, in those six months, heck— in those six years, they’ve never really went to each other’s house until suo proposed that they live together at nirei’s convenience.

nirei, elated at the idea of seeing suo in his normal days and not just at work, agreed to live together. but, it was suo’s idea for them to live in nirei’s apartment, since the blonde would be a lot more comfortable in his own space.

for whatever reason, the rules that a vampire must be invited in someone else’s house for them to be able to enter is only invalid once they’ve both have ownership of the house. and since they’ve only started dating, nirei doesn’t have the heart to share the ownership with suo, since his grandmother has strictly given it to him as some sort of emergency home.

“aki-kun, i want you to keep this place as your home. the one where you rest in, when you’re tired of it all, or if you wanted space and a room to breathe after a very stressful phase in your life. don’t sell, nor share the ownership with just anyone.”

it was understandable for suo, so he didn’t ask for anything like that. if anything, the topic only came up when sakura asked him about it, then suo and nirei had a conversation about it.

“akihiko, i asked to live with you, because i wanted to. and i did say it was on your own convenience, so i don’t want you to feel that you need to be forced to do something, okay? we can just postpone the plan if you want to.” suo said with a rare genuine smile as he pats nirei’s head.

well, needless to say they still went along with it. so now, nirei has this problem of—

scenario 1:

“— and then, sakura-san jumped like a cat! kiryu-san was filming the whole thing and tsugeura-san was so confused—“ nirei stopped halfway in the living room as he turned to see a chuckling suo right outside the doorway.

“aH! come in, suo-san! i’m so sorry!!!”

scenario 2:

while nirei’s tiredly sitting in front of his dressing table, doing his night-time skin care routine, his phone pings.

his eyes widened at the message.

leo 🧛🏻💝

aki-kun, i hope you haven’t forgotten about me. though, i did say i was going to take a while parking the car.

he scrambled on his feet to back to the apartment’s entrance.

“please come in, hayato! waaah, i’m so so sorry!!” nirei whined, hugging him tightly.

“no harm done, my aki. let’s go?” suo laughed as he entered the apartment while holding nirei.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

a lot of similar cases has happened, and if anything, their friends have now anticipated the stories that suo tells them at lunch. of how nirei often forgets to tell suo to come in, and how it happened.

it baffles them how each week, there’s a new way that nirei forgets to let suo in on their shared apartment. and they started betting on it after a month, courtesy of kiryu, of course.

“are they really betting on how i would forget, instead of being good friends to remind me of letting you in?!” nirei groaned as he pouted, while suo laughs at him, ruffling his hair. then he grumpily turned to his boyfriend.

“and you always enable them, hayato-kun! why don’t you remind me before i go in, anyways!?” he said, frustrated.

suo just chuckles before brushing it off. “we should get our lunch before it’s time to clock in, aki.”

it frankly doesn’t bother suo. he’s of course, initially shocked. he first thought, maybe nirei was just testing him or something along those lines, but then, he realized that his lover has nothing but trust on him.

it was the first time that a creature, much less, a human, has trusted him to be able to follow them into their home. after all, one of the prideful traits showed by humanity after co-existing, was to remind the non-humans of their restrictions. and so, it was a first for suo to encounter a human who doesn’t “let him in”.

his aki is really something.

and it was quite cute, really. nirei was always so apologetic about it, in a way where suo always feels pampered with his aki’s affections. he always is pampered by nirei in his own way, but nothing beats the attention that nirei gives when he’s fussing over suo because of his worries. nirei can be quite shy on a daily basis after all, and in these moments, suo could see that he can be quite bold.

his friends also doesn’t take those moments badly, as they see how nirei loves and trusts them all. because similarly to suo, kiryu who is a fae, also gets forgotten by nirei every time they have to work together in his apartment.

or how sakura, an oni, is always invited to a sleepover way before the suo and nirei started dating (which may or may not have caused a snappy suo). or how nire trusts tsugeura, and sugishita with his life— one time that the company trip they had was a literal disaster and they were in charge of saving nirei.

and nirei himself, admitted it that he kind of just expects everyone, especially his dear friends, and lover, to just share his space with him.

and so, everyone in the office, really adores the tiny little human nirei who just trusts his non-human friends so much!

it actually started as a short prompt of nirei just forgetting vampire! suo by the door whenever he yaps on their way home, and everyone gets a good laugh about it. but now we have this 🥹

[that1notetaker]

@jundsthoughts I have a friend who I can absolutely rant the hell out of my stories and concept ideas and we basically gave the supposedly simple fic, a whole life with kids and a job. Now it has to pay taxes and shit. This means it might take longer to prepare for and write...but on the other hand, I decided I'll post the second chapter anyway, and If I need to rearrange things, I can just do that. Have this in the meantime plus a snippet :)) How does it sound to you so far?

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

me looking at suguru’s tattoos going this, too, is a subtle sign of masochism —

[bunnakit]

"I'm glad you're alright." Tharn said as if he hadn't just had a knife buried in his stomach.

Fear and dread pooled in Phaya's stomach, a subtle tremor rolling through his body at the gentle touch to his cheek. Only a few hours ago he'd struck Tharn, accidentally sure, but he'd still done it and now here he was cradling Tharn's tired, bleeding body to his own after being rescued by him once again. How many more times would the cycle repeat itself? Why couldn't Tharn understand he wanted to keep him safe too?

As Tharn's thumb stroked further over his cheek a swell of emotion in his chest threatened to break down the barriers of his ribs. His touch was impossibly gentle and Phaya could almost feel the concern in the soft glide of his fingertips.

Phaya lingered in the moment just slightly, grounding himself as he took in the gentle pressure of Tharn's hand against his hip, traced his eyes over the droplets of sweat clinging to Tharn's brow, tried to ignore the scent of iron in the air. The adrenaline still thrummed in his veins but he no longer felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin from it.

Instead of speaking he hugged Tharn closer, keeping the pressure off his side but gently grasping the back of his neck and pulling him to his shoulder. He just wanted to feel Tharn against him for a moment, feel the rise and fall of his chest against his own and know that he still drew breath. He closed his eyes tight once he was sure Tharn could no longer see him, swallowing down the choking lump in his throat. The idea of Tharn dying to protect him brought a physical pain to his body, a sharp sensation that ran from fingertip to fingertip and head to toe.

Phaya felt him return the embrace, his fingers curling into the back of his shirt, and he felt himself force down a soft sound that threatened to crawl forth. He knew they were dancing around things, knew Tharn was holding back for some reason, but relationship or no he loved Tharn. He'd suspected for some time, but this drove the final nail home like a jagged stake through his heart. He only hoped his embrace comforted Tharn half as much as the reverse did for him.

"Phaya! Tharn!"

Phaya glanced up, curling his fingers tight in Tharn's shirt before they each pulled back slightly, never severing the connection between them. He felt Tharn's fingers against his elbow, curled his own fingers around Tharn's shoulder, and found comfort that neither of them seemed inclined to separate anytime soon. He felt like his entire being was tethered to Tharn in the moment, like if he let go for just a second either Tharn or he would cease to exist. He wasn't sure which he was more afraid of.

His eyes finally focused enough to identify the new arrivals.

Yai.

Yai was safe, Yai loved Tharn, Yai would protect them. They were safe now; he should let go of Tharn, explain the situation, and help Yai and the others. Instead, he offered the smallest nod to assure Yai they were both alright before he pulled Tharn closer and buried his face against his neck. He took solace in the moment of relative peace, in the sound of Tharn's gentle breaths and the warmth of his body molded against his front.

Phaya couldn't let this happen again, couldn't let this feeling of holding his entire world between his palms slip from his grasp.

(disclaimer: none of this is from the novel, i haven't read the novel, i just like doing character studies of them and rotating them in my head like a skyrim loading screen)

[yellowmagicalgirl]

What if Victim was also studying Minecraft, and accidentally brought a version Gold back? And what if the Color Gang + TSC and TCO found Gold when trying to bust out of Rocket Corp, and Gold takes them back to their dad's house so everyone can lay low, only to find out that King adopted Purple?

What if Purple is scared that now that King has his bio kid back, he won't want Purple anymore?

And what if Gold thinks they've been replaced, but as upset as they are about this, they suspect that they've come back wrong?

(Meanwhile King can't quite remember a time he was happier because even though he's harboring a bunch of fugitive sticks he now has both his kids and he never thought he'd ever get to have this.)

[banana-pancake5]

Haven’t posted art in a tad bit so here’s some doodles from that comic I was working on (Sadly, I have yet to continue working on it ;-;)

[goldeneyedgirl]

Hello Lexie! I don't know why you've been off, but I really hope you are okay. I was thinking about StL the other day and how much this story gets me. It's been years since I first read it and I still remember how I thought that could actually be a book. You are, without a doubt, one of my favorite writers and I hope you come back to us soon <3

Anon!

I have honestly been off writing fic! I tend to go into a hyperfocus when I'm working on fics - especially STL - and go quiet on tumblr. I have a pile of asks to finish off, but I'm so excited about the new chapters I've got - Variable Stars is effectively being rewritten from scratch for a third time; Jar of Hearts only needs 4k left to finish it off; and STL has about 6k left to write - I've been intensely overthinking the new chapter, and that's what has slowed me down entirely.

And what you've said about STL makes me so happy, Anon. The idea that anyone could compare STL to a book just makes me wiggle. I never set out to write it this way, and I never expected so much love for it. It still catches me unaware how much people care about this story and love it, and I am so humbled by that reaction.

I promise you that I'm here, I'm just in my little writing cave getting these chapters finished before I show my face on tumblr again.

...but have a snippet of the new chapter for your lovely message <3

“I saw you might want to speak to me.” She sits on the cliff face with her legs swinging casually, doesn’t get up or offer for Edward Cullen to take a seat beside her because she knows he won’t. “I do.” Edward looks down, his hands in his pockets to appear casual but she can see the tension in his shoulders and jaw. “I’m surprised Jasper let me get this close to you.” The flashbacks, he worries I’ll hurt someone. Edward lets out a puff of laughter. “I don’t think that’s the reason, myself,” he says. She cocks her head in confusion. “I think it’s an even split between being viciously overprotective of the one person who could kill us all before we even realised what was happening, and wanting your full attention all to himself.”

[keepswingin]

"Cover your eyes--cover them."

Minho shakes him awake with something wild hiding in his eyes, fingernails pinching against his skin. He's up in an instant, panic thrumming in his chest as Minho helps him up from the threadbare sheets bundled together to make something close to a bed.

"Come on," he whispers, hard lines to a soft tone. "Hurry."

He does as he's told, allowing Minho to lead him over to the spot in the floor he's come to know better than the rest of the house. The wood creaks as Minho removes two boards from being slotted among the rest, and he is rehearsed in this, doesn't make a sound as they knock on the front door, three hard rasps that shake the very foundation of the house.

"Hurry," Minho whispers again, a tremble to his fingers, eyes flickering to the front door.

He's quick in the way he sucks in his stomach and slides between the floor, tucking himself as small as possible in order to fit. It doesn't take much effort when he's already far smaller than he should be at his age, hunger gnawing at his bones, lack of nutrition clawing at his skin. Minho waits until he's settled, and by the time he looks back up, he's already put one board back, the other hovering midair.

He looks at him for what feels like far too long, biting at his bottom lip. Torn. "Jeongin-yah," he says, almost in a rush with the way the words escape, "I'm - "

Another bang against the front door shuts Minho up as he hurries to close Jeongin in, sparing him one last glance as he walks over to the door.

There's a small hole in the wood that Jeongin always uses to spy out of, watching as Minho stands in front of the door for a moment, stiff as a board, hands squeezed into fists, before he exhales and reaches for the handle.

The door pulls open, and someone steps very clearly into Minho's space before he has a chance to say anything, eyeing him in distain. "Failure to allow us into the premises can turn into some very bad luck for you," the man spits, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"I was getting dressed," Minho replies evenly, unfazed as he crosses his arms. "And I was just searched yesterday. I wasn't expecting another visit from our valiant protectors so soon."

Something bubbles in Jeongin's chest at Minho's clear sarcasm. He doesn't know if it's laughter or fear. It was terrifying to witness, either way, and Jeongin shudders, struggling to keep his breathing steady. The man huffs, unamused and attempting to be threatening in the way he rests a hand on his belt.

"A new order passed. We're allowed to search as many times as we deem necessary if we suspect something, and it just so happens that a report was filed against you."

Jeongin's heart stops. Had someone seen him? Or witnessed the scraps Minho's been picking out of the city garbage? Was he too loud when he should've whispered? Was this his fault?

"Against me?" Minho questions, deadpan. Unflinching.

The man shoves his way past, heading towards the kitchen. He doesn't bother to answer as him and another officer begin their search, opening cabinets and rasping knuckles against the walls in search of hollow areas. The third man orders Minho against the wall without much preamble, starting his own search while the fourth and final officer stands in the doorway, common protocol to make sure it's not easy for anyone to run if they try.

Minho is rendered silent as he lifts his hands against the wall and allows the man to search him, listening carefully as the other officers make their way through his tiny apartment.

Jeongin's heartbeat picks up as they approach the living room, heavy boots shaking the wood that rests above him. Sometimes Minho will move the couch over him for good measure, but not often for worry that marks will appear across the floor. Jeongin wonders if the extra step would've helped today as the men walk about the room, slamming against the walls and tapping their boots against different spots in the floor.

"New search procedures?" Minho calls out, catching the attention of the two officers inches from where Jeongin hides away. "Someone piss the big man off?"

"Shut up," the officer beside him drones, busy taking down his information. "It was announced alongside the new order."

"Maybe you should keep up with the news," the other man quips, taking a step towards the couch. The commanding officer who had been so quick to push his way into Minho's space, however, pauses and takes a long look around the living room.

He hums and glances down at the floor beneath him, scuffing one boot against the wooden planks that had been shoddily put together long before Minho was born.

"Are you afraid we're going to find something we shouldn't?" he asks Minho, not bothering to look up as he takes a step closer to the corner of the room. Closer to Jeongin.

"I have nothing to hide," Minho grouses, far too good at playing the unknowing citizen. "Whoever filed the report, they just have a bone to pick with me. Obviously."

"Is that so?" the officer replies, quietly. He's standing above Jeongin now, two heavy boots perched on a single piece of board. "You sound nervous."

"I sound pissed off because you're wasting my goddamn time," Minho growls in response, pushing himself off the wall. The man closest to him reaches out and grabs at his elbow, keeping him from moving any further.

Jeongin holds his breath, pushing himself further down, as far as he can get from the top of the plank. His heart feels as though it will beat straight out of his chest, and he hates how Minho's next words have a tremble to them that only Jeongin would know, hates that he's so terrified, hates that Minho can only protect him so far.

What would happen next, if he was discovered?

(Bones snapped from limbs, blood seeping from open skin, his brother's angry scream as he had reached for Jeongin one last time - )

The commanding officer lifts a foot and taps it against the wood beneath him. Then he does it again, and grins.

"Something sounds hollow to me," he singsongs, crouching down. He looks over to Minho, smiling growing wider. "Is this what has you nervous?" he prods, as Minho grunts, restrained by the other officer and cuffed before he can do much else. "Something down here? Weapons?"

"Fuck you," Minho seethes, already pulling at the cuffs. "You're nothing more than a goddamn pawn for a someone who never fights his own battles."

The commanding officer gestures to the other man and together they tug at the offending plank, panic truly setting in. Jeongin can do nothing but watch as the board is pulled from the rest and the officers peer down at him in bewilderment.

They're stunned silent, expecting weapons or plans or a secret location filled with rebel secrets, but instead facing a living, breathing, human being who was supposed to be dead a long time ago.

"Holy shit," the officer whispers, looking to his commander. "We haven't - there hasn't been a hidden one in years..."

"I'm well aware," the commanding officer grits, looking over to Minho. "You're someone important, aren't you, Lee Minho?"

He turns back to Jeongin, a new fire blazing in his eyes. They both reach for him, and Jeongin tries to fight back, but it's of no use when they're so much stronger than him, cold fingers pressing hard at whatever skin they're able to reach.

They pull him from the secret compartment with barely any effort, and don't even bother with cuffing him. They know he isn't a threat once they have him in their grasp, and both Jeongin and Minho know it all too well. 

"A hidden one," the commander says, still half in disbelief as he pulls Jeongin toward where Minho stands by the front door, still fighting against his cuffs and the other two officers, "They'll give me a medal, and retirement," he mumbles, sounding all too pleased with himself. "Holy shit." 

"Let him - get the fuck off of me!" Minho yells, a rabbit trapped between the jaws of a trap. "Let him go!"

Jeongin's fearful eyes meet Minho's as the commander slows to a stop right beside the thrashing man, one hand wrapped painfully around Jeongin's forearm. The man smirks as he leans in close to Minho, eyes shining with mirth. 

"Just how important are you," he wonders aloud, "for them to trust you with a hidden one?" 

"Let him go," Minho hisses, eyes flicking over to the commander. "He has nothing to do with this." 

The commander laughs heartily and pulls Jeongin closer to him. "He has everything to do with this, doesn't he?"

Jeongin cries out as the man's nails draw blood from his skin, fear paralyzing him. They'll kill him without a second glance, take joy in it, prolong it. All the stories he's been told since he was a child, finally coming to life. 

He isn't thinking clearly when he calls for him, desperate, petrified, hurting. He isn't thinking clearly when he reaches for him, fingers just out of reach, and Minho's eyes alight. He isn't thinking as Minho reacts in tandem, screaming and shoving the officers from him so hard that they fall to the ground, his power no longer kept at bay. 

The commander drops Jeongin and reaches for his gun, but it's already too late, words dying in his throat. "Are you a - ?" 

Minho's eyes meet Jeongin's, simmering colors against the evening light. "Cover your eyes, Innie," he whispers, begs, but this voice is not his own, and his movements are that of a word no one's dared to say for centuries. "Cover them." 

Jeongin falls as the commander is torn away from him, scrambling backwards. He stares at Minho, speechless, and Minho looks back at him, but it's not his Minho, and Jeongin knows it from the moment he sees him, and that alone scares him more than anything else. 

"I'll kill you," the commander sneers, brazen as he tries to lift himself up. "Every last one of you, I'll kill you all!" 

"No," Minho says with certainty, stepping forward. "You won't."

Minho lifts his arm toward the commander, and Jeongin squeezes his eyes shut.

He wonders how he never knew the truth, if Minho knew all his secrets from the very start. 

[saturnniidae]

Modern au with a strong theme of Hiccup coping with his leg better than all the people around him and it's low key pissing him off

[brackenferns]

looking like that, you’ll open some wounds

Taryn’s traitorous heart is still quite fond of fairytales. She thinks, fleetingly, of a hero rescuing a maiden from a tower. Of a maiden rescuing a hero from a tyrant. Fairytale protagonists are always so pure of heart. She exhales a frustrated breath through her nose and shifts her feet. The Ghost shifts, too, and his cunning eyes glint up at her through the gloom. Her heart turns over. They are neither maiden nor hero, and what they had was no love story.

the promised taryn/ghost get-worse oneshot is up - read here 🖤

[flow2024]

the color green + joenicky

N. The color green.

Joe doesn't notice him right away, too caught up in fiddling with the buttons on his shirt sleeves, which means for a few moments Nicky can just lean against the doorframe and watch him for a while. It doesn't matter that it's been nine hundred years: he's still so beautiful Nicky can't find the words for it.

He's in green because Nile's in green, and they're posing as the kind of people who would coordinate their outfits. It fits him perfectly, which Nicky had known because he'd taken the measurements for it, then he and Joe had adjusted it together, but knowing it in the abstract isn't the same as seeing how well it fits him. He's wearing black trousers and a white shirt with it, tie abandoned on the dresser.

Nicky is in a black t-shirt and black jeans, because his job is security and backup tonight. It was Joe's turn, anyway: Nicky wore the fancy suit last time.

Nicky clears his throat, just to make Joe turn around and smile at him, lighting up.

Nicky's not nearly as flowery with his words as Joe is; all he says is, “You look good.”

Joe raises an eyebrow, teasing, with just the hint of a smile. Is that the best you can do? “Oh, yeah?”

Nicky pushes off the doorframe and crosses the room towards him, picking up the tie as he goes. “Yeah,” he says. “Green suits you.”

The first time Nicolò ever saw him in something this fine was in Alexandria, after everything, because Yusuf was a merchant's son and had wanted something for himself, something that fit him properly, rather than whatever they could find when the clothes they were wearing became too bloody and full of holes to be recognisably garments anymore. He'd come back from the tailor in a deep green tunic that had caused Nicolò to forget his words in any language for a good while.

When Joe catches his eye now Nicky knows he's thinking about the exact same thing. Instead of saying anything, he loops the tie around Joe's neck and fastens the knot.

“Nile was asking for you,” Nicky says matter-of-factly, like he doesn't know exactly what the look Joe's giving him right now means. He keeps his expression neutral. “I think she wanted a second opinion. We have to leave soon, anyway.”

“Nicky,” Joe says.

“What?” Nicky asks, feigning obliviousness. He can't help laughing at the betrayed look on Joe's face.

“After,” he says. “Go do your job, habibi.”