#its not dark enough to look good but its not light enough to dye it and its not a nice shade of brown either

[iidsch]

local woman with no hairdressing skills tries to make double high ponytails, a million dead a gazillion injured

[fluffylino]

Strawberry Cow ! Chan 🌸🍓🌸

he's not just any kind of hybrid...he's the first ever 'male' cow you've ever met. chan's a sweetheart, even more so when he's milked...

(i was suppozed to write this a year ago and finally here it is, enjoy lovelies <333)

reblogging > liking

part two

-contains mildly suggestive themes

Hybrids were pretty much accepted into this world of ours. they were treated like humans, with respect (most of the time) and accepted into society quite easily.

And somehow you found yourself accidently conversing with one particular male hybrid.

he was handsome.

so incredibly beautiful, it made you question if he was even real.

two horns on either side of his head and a pair of fluffy white ears twitched beneath them. it wasn't a white that hits the eye, it was a white that looked like freshly whipped cream. with soft fur that was slightly longer than usual.

you weren't quite sure what species he was. it was difficult to make out and honestly nervewracking to ask a hybrid that kind of question.

it was almost the same as asking a human if they were a person of colour, as if they were of ethnic descent.

he could be a gazelle? maybe a buck?

but his horns weren't so sleek and thin. they were neither black in colour.

instead his thicker horns were a complete contrast to his dark hair.

a bull, maybe? or did he dye his hair?

you were about to lose your mind.

"I'm actually a cow hybrid..." he let out so quietly, with a nervous smile. Damn, he was too beautiful for his own good.

"I've never seen a cow hybrid" you mutter without much thought.

instantly regretting your statement upon seeing his awkward stance.

"no no i meant i've never seen a cow hybrid as handsome as you" waving your hands dramatically to clear the tense air.

"as...handsome as..me?" he mumbles and you were sure your heart stopped beating.

"oh god it was wrong of me to assume what you are and how you'd prefer to be addressed-"

your voice dying down as you hear him laugh.

its such a soft laugh, it goes straight to your heart. neither mocking nor a loud one. soothing to the ears.

"i'm sorry if i'm so shaky...its been a long time since anyone has ever..complimented me..."

you sighed in relief, letting a smile creep up on your face. his cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink and you knew you looked as shy as him.

The small coffee joint was beginning to crowd and it seemed that neither of y'all liked crowded spaces.

the cow hybrid slowly stood up, straightening his posture and your eyes widened.

he was well built, a good height compared to yours and his muscles were defined enough to leave an imprint on the shirt he was wearing. loosely buttoned up and hanging low on his collar. Black really was his colour...

you mentioned his build, complimenting him to the point his ears were redder than ever. shy little giggles escaping his plush lips. gosh...

his lips made you want to kiss him senseless.

"could we..uhm...be friends or uh more...i mean-" he mumbles, stuttering so sweetly.

"of course, darling. but you never quite told me your name?" you coo.

"I'm chan or...you can..call me chris"

he smiled continously as you told him your name and how you come by here often.

his ear twitching excitedly when the two of y'all share phone numbers. promising to keep in touch in the days to come.

.

🌸

.

Chan was a lot different from your first meeting. considering the fact that nearly a month or more than a month had passed.

you happened to find out how much a hybrid like him had to go through. to you, he was an ordinary cow hybrid. but chan explained how the term 'ordinary' never existed in his vocabulary.

of course you knew he was a male but what did not strike you was the fact that he shouldve been called a bull.

Instead he was classified under cow, making him a proper cow hybrid.

Taking into consideration that he was also a male, made it difficult for him to lead his life as usual. bodily changes and phenomenon occurring during certain periods made the poor hybrid's life tougher.

Cases like him were rare, not exactly non existent.

.

.

His room was unimaginably aesthetic. changing colours that faded to pink and purple, sometimes gold.

one thing you realised was his love for the colour black. laughing when he opens his cupboard. it was a black hole in there with numerous clothes lined up.

making yourself comfortable on his bed, you noticed how on-edge he was. his behaviour much different, extra shy as he sheepishly sat beside you. your backs resting against the wooden headboard.

"why'd you call me here, channie?" you asked, smiling at the way his thin sleek tail swished around.

his eyes gaze at you with such pureness, you blurt out another statement.

"I mean, i'd spend my entire day or even week with you if you wanted! but i just got a bit worried because you called me here oit of the blue, baby"

reassuring him while patting his knee lovingly.

"I..I wanted to come c-clear about myself"

you nodded, urging him to go on. he pauses, looking at you for a few seconds. theres this nervousness in his energy and you scooch closer to him.

"I lactate...almost every four days, sometimes every two days depending on tge weather..." gazing at you sweetly.

"yes, im aware channie"

"you know about-" his eyes widen, surprise in his tone.

"of course I do, did you really think I wouldn't find ways to help you after you told me how hard your day to day life is"

you joked lightly.

"if i don't...milk myself every now and then, I feel full. like heavy.."

you squeeze his hand fondly, interlocking your fingers.

"do you do it manually? or do you use some kind of device?"

from his expression and body language, you could see him grow comfortable.

"manually...pumps are quite the price"

you gasp, wondering if you pried a little too deep. chan takes it as you being weirded out but you stop him before he starts overthinking.

"no no no sweerheart, i was just surprised that you did it manually for so many years"

"i've tried a pump once or twice...but i don't like the feeling...it made me feel like an object..." he pauses, cheeks turning pink as ever before he continues.

"whenever i...uhm my chest swells and gets really sensitive..."

well that was new info to you.

"like mine?" you let out, laughing as his ears twitch and he blinks furiously.

"w-what do you mean-"

"I meant like does your chest get to like my size? i'm pretty average but does yours get bigger?"

the strawberry cow hybrid blushed.

"it depends! on m-my mood and..uhm everything"

.

🍬

.

"Chris?! what's wrong?"

worry filling your mind. the hybrid looked distressed and out of his senses. sweating profusely.

"its n-nothing, I don't feel so good" he tried to reassure although it wasn't quite reassuring to you.

his fluffy ears were lopsided and his tail swished around desperately

you cupped his face gently. his reaction waw everything. nuzzling into your palm. it was obvious. it was happening.

"channie. baby look at me"

you urged, making him focus on you. and only you.

"do you want me to help you?"

"help...help with milking me? p-please?" his tone gentle and he uttered a small plea.

"just place your hand h-here and massage slowly"

his bigger hand held onto yours as he pressed your palm flat on his chest. he was right. his chest was swell and warmer than ever.

"do you mind, baby.."

obediently he held his shirt between his teeth. gnawing on the material. you let your hand run over his toned abdomen. feeling up his tense muscles.

"y-you're so fit, channie" he grunted softly.

his milk running down your fingers slowly. with every massage, more seeped out of his pretty nubs.

unconciously you stuck your tongue out, licking up the droplets that rolled down the expanse of his chest.

"ah don't let it g-go to waste p-please please"

begging you to drink more. his hands squeezing yours. whining so sweetly as you sucked his pumped up chest. his breathing quick and shaky.

god, you wanted to corrupt him...

.

.

.

.

.

.

fuck...part 2?

should i?!

this concept to me, is so hot!!!!!

i wrote a part two-

[synthetickitsune]

To Save The World ✧ h.js

Pairing: Joshua Hong x gn!reader Genre: angst Summary: Joshua made his choice. Now he has to commit to it. The world must go on. And for that, he has to make you go. Word count: 1.6k Warnings: blood, knives, reader dies A/N: inspired by @chugging-antiseptic-dye's post here bcs you can't say "joshua slitting your throat" and expect me to be normal, and also it's highly recommended to read this as well

The night falls. The stars twinkle above, yet the light seems dimmed. The world must be asleep. Perhaps it might be as kind as to close its eyes to what he’s about to do. If there’s one thing the world’s always been good at, afterall, it’s turning away from those who need its help the most. There's a duty to them that he always carried on his shoulders. He’s always tried to make up for what the universe couldn’t do. Now that he’s in need of help, however, who will save him? 

He never thought that burden would eventually end up being his own demise.

Joshua’s breath comes out as thin clouds that soon evaporate into nothingness. Just the same as him. Every breath is a thought, a memory, a part of him. He wills them to be. He needs to send them all off, so that he can at least hope to be saved one day. He hopes the wind can carry all of him far enough that he won’t be tainted. 

He spent what felt like hours standing under scalding water. As if filth can be washed ahead of time. 

Anyway. 

Washed as best as he could make it and free of all scent, he feels naked. A blank sheet. Now all that’s left is to cleanse himself of himself. Not a man, but a hero. A fragile puppet dancing however fate and duty pull its strings. Empty. To be filled again with a different substance. Transformed. A copy of himself only on the outside.

The cold makes him feel frozen in time. If it doesn’t start ticking again soon, he will surely lose his mind. But perhaps that’s an option he’d gladly take. There is little chance of that happening soon enough, though. No, it’s not going to happen until it’s too late.

He hears lone footsteps slowly approaching. Bile rises up his throat. He closes his eyes and takes a couple of long, deep breaths. He tries to keep them even. To keep the tremors out of his breathing at least. He can’t be heard. He has to keep standing but his knees can barely support him. If only the darkness of the alley could swallow him. If only the wall behind his back could turn into goo. Trap him like an insect in tree sap. Keep him trapped in amber so that everyone could witness his cowardice that even outweighs the sin he’s about to commit.

‘Hero’ is a funny world. A joke.

In the end, he couldn’t save everyone. Forget everyone. Just one person.

The sound gets closer. Have you always walked with a skip in your step when you were rushing home to him? The bile again. His stomach twists. He has to force himself to swallow. The street remains empty. Everything else aside, Joshua can’t let anyone see his face ever again. He won’t ever look at his face again. His hands feel clammy. He can’t breathe. He can’t—

The knife almost slips from his hand. He only sees your side profile for a split second. He can’t double over. Not now. He’s already a coward hiding in the shadows. So it feels like a cruel joke, the sight that his eyes let him see. It’s like the clouds part and you’re suddenly bathed in moonlight. Are the stars taking you before he can? He only has fractions of a second to pray it is so. To hope his hands will pass right through you. That the moon saves you and cradles you in its cold silver arms.

It’s with practiced ease that he reaches from his hiding spot. It’s with hard-earned skill and speed that he grabs you and pulls you back into the shadows, away from the light that exposes his weakness. He ensnares you in the darkness with him before you can make a sound or register what’s happening.

With tender strength he holds you against his chest. His arm wraps around your waist perfectly, pinning your arms to your sides. It should be like this. You belong with him. He should always hold you. What does heaven have that lying with you, your head above his heart and his arms around you doesn’t provide? Your body fits against his like you were made for him. And lately he believes you were, just to make your fate that much crueler. To start his punishment long before he knew he’s going to be punished.

You can’t make a sound with his hand covering your mouth. He wishes you could. Blame him. Hate him. (Love him.) Your struggling is useless. He’s always been stronger than you. Could always easily pin you down. Why can’t you pout about it now? (Please hit his chest. Please call him mean. Please laugh and pull him down for a kiss.)

Your efforts double when the glint of the blade catches your eye. He has already messed up. He shouldn’t have held you one last time. It comes so naturally to him, though. Instincts can’t be overridden. He had to. He tries to make his voice deeper, unrecognizable. To his own ears he doesn’t sound like himself when he shushes you. You sound every bit like yourself when you whimper. (Can’t he hold you tighter? Can’t he pull the blanket over you like he’s always done and shield you from the rest of the world?)

In his memories, it’s always your hair, your cheeks that he caresses. Your lip under his thumb. As he moves his hand lower though, he discovers that the skin on the vulnerable column of your throat is surprisingly soft too. (Did he not explore your body enough? Will this be one more regret to haunt him day and night?) Your breathing, your heartbeat, he can feel it all with his touch. It’s so fast. Like the little bunny’s that you promised to adopt with him. The one you won’t make a half-orphan because you never brought it home. Your eyes look like prey animal’s caught in a trap too.

His thumb strokes over your windpipe. You deserve that. You deserve something more intimate. You deserve something warmer than the cold steel of the knife. You deserve him. Not a stranger.

But he can’t. He’s a coward. His strength isn’t as tender now. It’s desperate. He doesn’t want to let go. You don’t make a sound.

(Please whine. Please tell him to let go. Please call him clingy. Please tell him to let you hug him too.)

His hand stops before it can dip under your shirt. His fingertips barely brush against your collarbone. How selfish he can be. You must be so scared - a stranger holding you, a stranger touching you. Joshua knows if it was him you saw holding a knife so close to your face, you wouldn’t be scared at all. 

(Smile at him. See him.)

As if sensing his hesitation, you move. Just one lone, weak attempt to break free. Just a jolt of an animal that doesn’t wish to be pet.

He leans his head against yours. (Hurt him. Do it. Please.) You stay still. For a blink of an eye that lasts an eternity, you settle and relax. Like he’s holding you while you cook dinner. Like he’s comforting you after a long day. Like you’re watching the storm outside from the warmth of your home. Like he’s saying goodbye.

Like you know what’s coming.

It’s with an order, an impulse to his nerves that doesn’t, that can’t have, come from his own brain and free will that the knife in his sweaty palm turns. Your breathing picks up more. The blade presses against the side of your throat and he—

Joshua!

The shriek pierces the silence of the night.

It rains. Crimson splatters on the ground.

But all he hears is your voice.

Did you recognize him and called his name in shock? Betrayal? Understanding?

Were you calling him for help?

Did you want his name to be your last word?

The knife clatters on the ground with echoes of his name, of your voice. Nothing else is real.

His hand clutches your throat and presses against it with force. He’s trying to pull the split tissue together but it won’t listen and the blood keeps pouring.

The warmth encompassing his hands must be your hands grabbing his. Slipping your fingers between his.

You’re just standing in the shower. It’s hot water rolling down your bodies. You’ll laugh. You’ll scold him for simply holding you instead of washing up.

What’s the point if his hands are forever dyed red.

No shower will ever be enough.

And your life keeps trickling down his fingers and pooling under his feet.

He collapses with you.

His head falls, forehead resting against yours.

(Look at him.)

He holds you like you’re dancing. Your silly wish to look at him after he twirls you. To lean back into his arms and look up at him.

So look at him. 

There’s nothing interesting to see at the back of your skull.

He sobs, but he only hears your voice. Only feels the claws of guilt and pain tearing at his throat from the inside.

Did you know? Could you tell he held you? Did you know you’re not alone? That you don’t have to be scared? 

Look at him. 

Tell him.

The world did not end with a bang. Nor with a whimper. The world did not end at all that night.

But there, in a dark alley where blood pools on the cobblestone, a life and a soul were crushed to save it. 

[slimearchon]

Pretending to flirt in gamer chat with gamer boyfriend Xiao x GN reader

(Not edited)

You had your headset on, and you fiddled with the mic a bit, nervous about the prank you were about to pull.

You were sitting on your couch, Xiao in the corner of the living room at his gamer desk playing a PC game. You had always been more of a console person, a black controller in your hand since elementary school.

You rarely talking in-game both a mixture of too shy and the fact that you game to relive stress not to elevate it.

You joined a Minecraft server and put down a good bad and had your friend Aether join the world under a fake gamer tag. He was using a voice changer so Xiao didn’t catch on too quick.

It made his voice lower and cool toned, not his regular high pitched bright tone.

“Hey how’s it going? Wanna build with me?” You asked into the mic, tilting your head away from Xiao because a smile was inching its way on your face.

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Kade. What do you like doing more? Collecting materials or stacking the blocks? Cool, me know if you want to switch and I’ll start collecting too.”

This raised your boyfriend brow but other than that he didn’t look over or turn in his seat. You nodded your head to your self.

You planned to ease into this prank. You played for another thirty minutes, laughing at some of the jokes Aether attempted to make.

The third time you burst out laughing Xiao turned his head at you, you noticed his screen light up on a recently killed background.

He mouthed, “Who are you talking to?” He tilted his head, the lamp light making his real eyes sparkle in the otherwise dark room.

You made it like you muted your mic but kept Aether aware that your prank was working. “No one just a rando I met today. He has the best jokes.” You repeated some of the ones he has told to see Xiao’s reaction.

All the jokes were Minecraft related and the only reaction your boyfriend gave was a slight narrow of his eyes and deadpan stare. Clearly not liking the jokes.

“I’m about done with my game. You want me to join?” He asked, his eyes looking at the boxy male character that showered you in building building blocks.

Usually he was your collector and you were the decorator.

“No, it’s fine babe! Play your game.”

“Okay.” He nodded his head slightly and returned back to his PC.

The final nail in the coffin was when your house was complete. “All right looks like all we need are the beds and some chests to fill the space. Let’s go hunt some sheep.”

A few minutes past, “I’m changing the bed color do you want me to do your too? Yeah, I have yellow dye. Okay cool. Here you go let me drop it for you.”

Xiao tilted his chair away from the pc and and eyes you with a piercing glare on his face. He saw you drop the yellow bed and then the rando put it right next to yours and laid down.

You didn’t bat an eye, simply laying down right beside him as your screen dimmed some.

“Babe I think you have had enough Minecraft for tonight.” Xiao said, turning off the Tv and leading you to the room. “Come on, bedtime.”

You giggled a bit as you were led of the bed and snuggled down against Xiao. “Only I get to lay in bed with you.”

You didn’t have to see his face, his pout was prevalent in his voice.

“Is someone jealous? It’s just a game.” You reassured him, smiling into the dark room and his adorable expression.

“Yes, you should only lay beside me in bed, in real life and virtual reality.”

You yawned, “I’ll be sure to remember that. Wouldn’t want my cute boyfriend upset.”

You planned to tell him about Aether’s role in the prank but snuggling up to your warm and soft boyfriend drifted you off to sleep.

He wasn’t pleased to find out about the prank when Lumine spilled the beans while y’all were out getting coffee before college classes.

[ckret2]

Chapter 18 of Mabel has made the questionable decision to befriend human Bill (real title TBD), and the first chapter with an actual title!

After the emotional rollercoaster of the last chapter, this one's pretty lighthearted. Featuring: food poisoning, anti-intellectualist propaganda, ritual sacrifice, arson, burns, injury, cannibalism, and children almost dying. And friendship!

####

One of the things that came with immortality—mature, cosmic-scale immortality, not baby immortality like you found in vampires with a few measly centuries under their belts—was an expertise at meditation.

And it had nothing to do with being particularly wise, or serene, or enlightened (although Bill would argue he himself happened to be all those things). Even the most rambunctious, cantankerous, petty, spiteful, impatient, silly immortal in the multiverse could drop into a thoughtless trance deeper than the Mariana Trench with nothing but five seconds' notice that he had some time to kill and there was nothing interesting on TV. 

Most mortals struggled with this idea, the same way fish struggled to understand how it was so easy for land mammals to hold their breath underwater. They didn't understand that it was a necessary survival skill.

Some millennia were boring. "You've had every conversation you can imagine with every person you know, you won't see a fresh planet for an eon, you're floating in the void of space, and your only company is the glitter thrown off of dead stars" boring. So boring the only way to get through them was by holding your breath until they were over. And in those times, the only way to endure the soul-crushing mind-shredding suicide-inducing boredom of those long, slow, dull millennia was knowing how to productively dissociate for the next five thousand years without so much as needing a snack break.

Bill was very old. Bill was very good at meditating.

It wasn't doing him a bit of good.

He'd lost count of how many hours he'd spent meditating since his capture: sitting in the dark, legs crossed, hands on his knees, eyes shut, trying—trying—trying to do anything. Trying to astral project out of this prison. Trying to see into the mindscape. Trying to connect to the countless windows through which he could see all over Earth. 

Trying to feel the vast stores of pure energy that made up the core of his being.

He couldn't feel it.

And he was not terrified, he wasn't he wasn't he wasn't.

Surely the Axolotl hadn't taken that energy away—that would be infinitely cruel—but he'd done an amazing job of sealing it away. Bill was psychically dead when he was awake, helpless prisoner when he was dreaming. Here he'd thought the Ax was gonna help him avoid punishment.

Well, what do you do when you're in a cage and you aren't strong enough to break the bars? You pick the lock. Where could Bill find a psychic lock pick?

Someone knocked on the bathroom's doorframe. "Hey Bill?"

He snapped out of his futile meditative state. "Yeah?"

"Are you using the toilet or just lurking creepily?"

"Lurking creepily!"

Mabel pulled aside the curtain and turned on the light. "Do you wanna help me make a video on—"

"More than anything." Bill got to his feet and—ow—cracked his sore back. Meditating could keep you sane when you were in the deepest depths of sensory-deprivation boredom, but it didn't actually offer you any entertainment. Mabel, on the other hand, did.

He'd find a lock pick later. Something would come up. It always did.

####

The weaving camera only revealed a blurry patch of carpet and upholstery back before it managed to focus on its target: half a hot dog lying between the back of the sofa and the living room wall. "There it is!" Mabel said. "I knew I smelled something in here."

"Wow, look at the colors on this thing! The green splotches kinda look like tie-dye," Bill said. "Hey, nobody's had hot dogs since you locked me up, have they?" There was a moment of silence as they tried to figure out how long that hot dog had lain, cold and forgotten, behind the couch.

Then the camera jostled as Mabel tried to reach past it to the food. "I'm gonna eat it."

"I'm gonna eat it."

"Hey!"

Bill's arm stretched past Mabel's, snatched up the hot dog, and disappeared. 

"Biiill! I wanted to try it!"

"No way, it's mine now! You snooze, you lose, kid!"

Mabel whipped the camera around to focus on Bill's grinning face as he inspected his prize. "Hey, this thing's growing mushrooms! It's provided its own condiments!" He held Mabel back at arm's length as he shoved the hotdog in his mouth, chewed quickly, and swallowed.

"Jerk," Mabel said. "How did it taste?"

Bill looked thoughtful. "Kinda sour and vinegary," he said. "Probably from the mold."

"Gross! Do you think it was safe to eat?"

Cheerfully, Bill said, "We'll know in a few hours, won't we?"

####

Mabel sat outside the downstairs bathroom with the camera turned toward the curtained doorway. A radio on the floor playing a Sev'ral Timez song unsuccessfully drowned out the sound of Bill heaving into the toilet.

One trembling arm reached out of the bathroom toward the radio. Bill croaked, "You're my only proof that time is still passing." He feebly patted the radio. "Tell me the universe keeps moving forward. Songs play. Moments end. I'll be free again." He made a choking noise and the arm quickly withdrew.

Mabel turned the camera toward herself. "And that concludes Mabel's Guide to Indoor Foraging! Tune in next time for... I don't know, how about animals?"

Bill replied with a deathly wheeze as he inverted his stomach.

"Animals it is!"

####

Mabel's Guide to Animals

####

The camera opened on a shot of the living room sofa, where Bill sat cross-legged and grinning next to a large easel pad. The first page of the pad was covered in drawings of cute animal faces, birds, fish, and (closer to Bill's side) skulls, lightning, and triangles.

From behind the camera, Mabel said, "Welcome to Mabel's Guide to Local Animals—"

"I'm helping," Bill said.

"—featuring Bill Cipher as my cohost!"

"That's me!"

"Yes it is. Lots of different systems have been proposed to help categorize animals—"

"These are called 'taxonomies,'" Bill said.

"—but together, we've picked out some of the best, most useful ways to categorize the animals of Gravity Falls. Such as: size!"

Bill flipped the first page of the easel pad, revealing a page covered in drawings of a couple dozen creatures ranked in size from mosquito up to lake whale.

"Color!"

Bill revealed a page with animals arranged in rainbow order. (Several of the overwhelmingly brown population had been circled in various hues of blue, purple, green, and pink, as Bill made mental notes to himself on how he'd recolor some of Gravity Fall's more visually boring creatures. Mabel had stuck star stickers beside the ideas she liked the best.)

"Friendliness!"

Another flip, and four columns capped by faces ranging in emotion from smiley to angry. The angry column was very long, but several creatures had been scratched out and hopefully moved to the sorta-smiley column.

"How good they taste!"

Bill turned another page to reveal a list of animals ranked by flavor, and said, "And a very important follow-up..." He turned another page to reveal one titled "How Many Times You Can Survive Eating It." There was a lot of overlap between the previous page's "Delicious!" column and this one's "Only Once" column.

"Super important," Mabel agreed.

Bill said, "You can also sort animals by..." Flip. "Quantity of bones!" Bill's handwriting utterly filled the page. It was unnervingly thorough. He'd listed "humans," "human babies," and "toothless humans" as three separate species.

Flip. "Planet of origin!" There were twelve different headings, only one of which was in English. One heading titled "?????" simply had a doodle of Bill underneath.

Flip, revealing a pie chart. "Percentage of known timelines in which a species has conquered the Earth!" Bill pointed at a slice that took up almost a quarter of the chart. "Humans are in the lead!"

"Yes!" The camera jiggled as Mabel pumped her fist in the air. "USA! USA!" Her chanting petered out. "Hey—what's that bit next to it—?"

"Don't worry about it." Bill smacked his hand over the pie sliver labeled "Bill" and quickly turned the page.

Mabel said, "Anyway, after several rounds of rigorous scientific debate, we've determined the most efficient and useful way to categorize the various creatures in Gravity Falls: the Fuzziness Scale!"

Bill gestured proudly at the heading on the final page, and then pointed at each category as Mabel listed them off.

"Starting with hard animals—"

Bill said, "Such as turtles and rocks."

"—then crunchy ones—"

"Roly-polies, ants, and baby turtles."

"—then smooth and firm—"

"Snakes and fish."

"—smooth and squishy—"

"Slugs, pigs, and Soos."

"—part fluffy, part bald—"

"Humans and winged snakes."

"—regular fluffy—

"Cats, dogs, and bears."

"—extra fluffy—"

"Alpacas and baby chicks."

"—and super deluxe MAXIMUM fluffy!"

"Tarantulas!"

Mabel said, "Our primary goal is to offer the scientific community a new, more accessible taxonomy that everybody can enjoy!"

Bill said, "And our secondary goal is to remind humanity of the inherent futility and cruelty of categorization! Reject boxes, embrace irregularity, and destroy the tenuous connections between concepts and synapses that you call 'knowledge'!" He pointed directly at the camera. "Return to the times of Icarus when humans could fly because no one had taught them they couldn't! Raze your universities, turn your libraries into origami, and execute your teachers as witches! Burn it all down!"

"Burn it down!" Mabel cheered. "Burn it DOWN, burn it DOWN—"

####

From atop the kitchen table, the camera recorded the stove, upon which the easel pad lay engulfed in flames. Mabel and Bill watched the mini-inferno silently.

Mabel turned to Bill. "I'm gonna get some sticks so we can roast marshmallows."

"Good idea. I'll watch the fire and not make it worse."

Mabel shot him a skeptical look.

"I promise."

"I'm holding you to that!" Mabel jogged from the room.

Bill glanced out the kitchen doorway to make sure she was gone, turned toward the stove, and slowly, ever so slowly, stuck one finger into the flames. "A—"

####

Mabel smiled at the camera. "Welcome back! My co-host has been banned from the rest of this episode so he can reflect on his behavior."

Behind her, Bill, one hand bandaged and face covered by a paper bag that read "PLAYED WITH FIRE," said, "It was worth it!" He'd persuaded Mabel to draw his triangle face over the text.

"So, now that you know several ways to categorize the creatures of Gravity Falls, you can go meet them! And hopefully befriend them!" Mabel said. "Now, meeting animals is difficult, but there's several ways you can make it easier! Such as fishing, going to a petting zoo, sneaking into your friends' homes to talk to their pets, disguising yourself as an animal—"

Bill threw in, "Using a spell to summon them."

"Using a spell to su— Doing what?" Mabel stared at him. "Do you know a spell to summon animals?"

"Oh yeah, it's easy!"

"What kinds of animals."

"Any animals in hearing range," he said.

Mabel gasped. "Can you teach me?!"

"Sure! It's easy. You've gotta be a girl, put on the fanciest dress you own, stand somewhere in the open, sing a song—"

"What song?"

"You make it up on the spot. It's one of those 'sing from your heart' deals."

"Oooh, Mabel likey."

"The most important part is keeping your mind focused as you sacrifice a..." Bill hesitated, glancing toward the camera, and said, "Well, the whole world doesn't need to know this trick, do they?" He covered the camera lens with his hand, and the screen went black.

####

Bill shot from the attic window as Mabel stood on the picnic table in a frilly lime green dress and a dozen multicolor bead necklaces and held up a cardboard sign for the camera that read, "Summoning animals with magic: ATTEMPT ONE!" She gave Bill a thumbs up. Visible from the edge of the camera's shot, Bill gave one back.

She tossed the sign aside, turned toward the trees around the shack, and started singing into a megaphone loudly enough that the camera faintly picked it up: "My name is Mabel, queen of the animals! I want all creatures to be my pals! La-la-la—um—la-la, la—be my best friends foreveeer!"

"Hey, she's not bad at this," Bill muttered. "Even got a rhyme in." He panned the camera around the scene as squirrels, rabbits, gnomes, and other small critters curiously emerged from the tree line. A couple of deer watched thoughtfully.

"To animals everywhere, small and huge—come to me and I'll give you a hug—aaAAAH!" Mabel jerked up the hem of her skirt and hopped from foot to foot. "Bugs, that's so many bugs! Ack!" She shakily resumed singing, "Um—The queen of the animals is friends with bugs too... but it'd be cool if you didn't... climb on my shoe...?" She started. "YEEK!"

The camera wiggled as Bill flinched. "Oh, uh-oh, M—Mabel, watch out—!" He banged on the window. Mabel evidently didn't hear. Under his breath, he muttered a word not designed for human tongues but that probably should have warranted washing his mouth out with soap. And then a giant hand with fingers like tree trunks reached from the woods and snatched up Mabel.

The world blurred and bounced past the camera as Bill tore across the attic, screaming, "WHATCHERNAME-MABEL'S-BROTHER YOUR SISTER'S GETTING STOLEN IT'S NOT MY FAULT—"

####

Bill aimed the camera through the tiny window in the front door to watch as Dipper and Mabel limped back to the shack—weary, dirty, clothing torn, sticks and leaves in their hair, arms slung over each other for support. Bill stepped back as they opened the door. Brightly, he said, "Hi, kids! Have fun?"

Dipper gave him a murderous look. Exhausted, Mabel looked at the camera and said, "This has been Mabel's guide to... how not to befriend the local animals." She slithered out of Dipper's grip and lay on the floor. "I'm gonna take a nap here."

Dipper looked tiredly at Mabel, then glared again at Bill, then just sighed and muttered, "Bill, take that stupid bag off." He trudge up the stairs. "This is all your fault."

"Is not!" Bill called; but the camera picked up his quiet chuckle.

The view dropped to the floor as Bill decided his amateur cameraman duties had been completed, recording his feet as he walked into the kitchen to leave the camera on a counter. He didn't turn it off.

It caught the scene through the kitchen doorway as Bill tossed his paper bag mask aside and surveyed Mabel on the floor, hands on his hips. He crouched in front of her and loudly whispered, "Hey. Shooting Star. Can you hear me?"

She didn't respond.

"Out like a light," Bill murmured. He studied her face; and then gently placed a fingertip on her forehead. The camera recorded his lips moving as he murmured, too quietly to pick up: videntis omnium, magister mentium...

He finished his chant. Nothing of any note happened. Bill frowned, stood, and sighed.

And then, after a moment of shifting his weight as though debating what to do next, he knelt back down, awkwardly picked Mabel up, and carried her upstairs. He paused cautiously on each stair step to ensure he didn't trip. A few minutes later, the camera watched him stumble back downstairs, trudge into the living room, and turn on the TV.

Half an hour later, Waddles wandered into the entryway and Bill went into the kitchen, came back with a stick of dry chorizo, ripped off chunks with his fingernails, and tossed them to Waddles while singing a song he'd made up about cannibalism. And then he returned to the living room and Waddles wandered upstairs.

Nothing else of interest happened. The camera kept on recording, forgotten, until the battery died.

####

[laswells-ashtray]

What does Sarah look like? You’ve mentioned tidbits, but do you have a full description?

Well, I think she's maybe two years older than Kate which has nothing to do with anything but she teases Kate for being younger and Kate is so close to throwing something at her.

I think she's maybe three inches taller than Kate, a barely noticeable height difference that she enjoys just a little too much. She's a brunette who's just starting to find a few greys but she doesn't care to dye them. She has really dark brown eyes that almost look black in certain lighting. Her shoulders look tanned but if you get close enough then you'll see its just countless freckles that go all down her arms and back. She's got some meat on her bones, if she sits down on the couch then her thighs are big enough for a cat to perch on comfortably. Hips are shoulders are damn near the same width, she's an immovable force whenever she decides to torment Kate by blocking a doorway she's trying to walk through.

She has a good few tattoos, from silly ones like a ghost with a cowboy hat to gorgeous pieces like a cathedral on her thigh. She also has Kate's initials on her wrist, Kate hates it [a lie].

She's generally a pair of jeans and t-shirt person but she can dress up real fucking fancy when the day requires it.

But most days Kate will come home to find her with her hair thrown up in a messy bun, glasses halfway down her nose as she leans on the kitchen counter to sketch something in a vintage Jurassic Park t-shirt and Batman underwear.

[enemylv1]

Ok firts note goal reached here are some kirby headcanons

- gooey and coo have a father-child bond, while gooey really adores all the animal frends coo is the one that took more care of them, thats also the reason coo does no have any mission related to a love one on dreamland 3

-kirby's copy ability over the years have become more complex, that been showed by using burning and fire

- adeline is trans, ado was a temporal name

-ribbon and bandana dee bond over their parental figures rulers talking of silly missions and events they helped organize

-shadow kirby's new mischief was aleays there, they where just too scared to show it

- chilly likes spicy food

-magolor dye and fixes his clothes with magic thats why they became grey and broke on the magolor epilogue

-dark matter's do no have a name unless they are consider elite and/or have an special role, dark rimuru,rimuro and rimura had scout and gain a lot for zero so they earn a name, while blade and miracle are in higher positions of power

-gooey is sensible to light

-waddle dees have almost no differences bettew male and females

-dark matters actually start invading a planet way before what it looks like, having multiple weaker scouts who only work is to gather information, they are almost undetectable, yet they usually lost their vessel when the actual invasion start as they lack more control

-Nz and other creatures of the like are the result of organic beings who had been assimilated, mere puppets with vague idea of their previous lifes

-the reason why so many characters hide their feautures is out a supersticion ,the idea is that both being like void and kabamon do no reconoze you enough for them to imitate you

-mekai was a testing ground for many of the tecnology used in the rest of the galaxy

-kabula is gnc

-magolor has a vtuber model on the main canon too

-bandee is learning to cook, he is trying its best

-kirby is no that interested on tecnology but learned a lot thanks to dedede and sussie

-susie and taranza are on a queer platonic relationship

-almost all planets on gamble galaxy where being observe by dark matters but they started firts with the hardest (the most positive)

-king dedede (game) knows all waddle dees by name, the anime dedede does not know any of them

-pink and mine are best friends

-Gim was joking about wanting a robot invation, yet it really wanted to meet more robots

-the difference bettew spark and plasma is just the illumination, kirby does no realize they are the same ability

-kirby is a good boy and would no jaywalk or stay awake past bedtime (unless somethinh important is happening)

-bandee has a really strict scheshulde tough it always ends broken in these adventures

-bandana greatest fear is that their friends really just think of him as another waddle dee, yes he is glad to be a waddle dee but they are also an individual

-king dedede is scared of bees and wasps

-taranza is scared of mirrors

-magolor eats apples with spite

-gooey still calls dark matter (and dark matter-like beings) its family

-"star" in the name of planets is actually a lost in transladation word from the ancients

-landia has mixed feeling over their tittle is guardian angel, afterall the crown's origin is quite closely related to a god

-dark matters (mainly defective ones) can get stuck in a body usually because of it having already strong negative emptions, still having control and the easier way to get unstuck is killing it

-kracko is quite good with no kirby kids

-popstar gravity is wonky and has a bit of magic, thats why most things in there had varing sizes

-the whole body horror dark matters can do depends on the vessel, if it is too weak it may barely be able to do something without destroyint it, king dedede is quite resistant so he is a prime target

-after zero two's death, most dark mattet of its hive where leaved without any contact with the hive or guide , only more independant (defective) ones like gooey survived, maybe in some place there is another

-gooey eats glue , kirby only does so if needed and bandee does no

Ask for more if you want! I can made of other media too just ask :D

[xxcocothekillerxx]

Behind Locked Doors

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x FemReader

Summary: Y/N recently moved into a somewhat small town, Newt, In Texas with her father. Y/N's father thought this would be a good opportunity for them, since things got rough back in California. Little do they know the trouble that awaited them..

!THIS CHAPTER DOESN'T CONTAIN NSFW!

Warning: This series will contain 18+ content & material! NSFW situations and possibly TRIGGERING topics such as- Depression, stalking, blood & gore, manipulation, mention of kidnapping and small amounts of self-harm, such as scars/cuts.

{{ Please proceed with care if you're sensitive to ANY of these topics }}

Author's Note: This is my first time really writing NSFW stories / stories in general. Tips and tricks on how to improve my writing and overall layout are welcome, though keep it respectful please. Other than that please enjoy! 💋

💋Chapter 1: A new town💋

It's been over a week now since you and your father have moved to this small town. The feeling of warm, hot and heavy, air and slight stench of garbage filled your nose as you were cleaning and fixing up your room.

The house you and your father picked was interesting, to say the least. Its dull, gray and moldy wallpaper lined most of the walls around the house. Holes and cracks littered the corners of the old building, the windows barely holding up against the breeze that hit them from the outside. The rusty door knobs, simply waiting to give a poor unexpecting victim a staph infection, and the doors themselves are ready to fall off their hinges.

Although your father had fixed up the downstairs area pretty well, painting the walls in a faded out, pastel yellow. Re-painting the door to their original bright white, and fixing up the hinges so they wouldn't fall off. He also bought new kitchenWare, the stove and fridge were nearly brand new and he insisted they were 'fresh out of the factory'. A beautiful dark brown wood table, with matching chairs, sat in between the kitchen and the living room. A pot of lavender and pink poppies in a little white vase, with a sage green cloth underneath it, laid in the middle of the table. Family pictures hanging on parts of the walls, leading over to the living room where a shag carpet and old leather couch sat with those old style TVs.

Your room had (color) wallpaper, with old CDs and photos hung on the walls. You had a nice window and strung a spider plant about it, pinning some of its vines to the side with some books and some toys sitting on the window sill. Your bed was a decent size, enough to hold two people comfortably, and had soft and cozy (color) sheets. The wooden floor was covered with a shag rug, and large plants sat by your doorway and against your bookshelf. You were just finishing up cleaning up and lighting a candle when your father knocked on your door, slightly catching you off guard because you had music playing on your old radio, you quickly turned your music off and opened the bedroom door.

Your father stood there, he slightly adjusted his almost cartoonishly large glasses and then gave a gentle smile. "Hey sweetie.. sorry I don't mean to bother ya' , I just wanted to know if you wanted to come shopping with me real quick?" He joyfully explained, his goofy smile nearly going ear to ear as he looked at you.

"Uh…sure why not" a small smile appears on your face and you gently put down your headphones onto your desk, brushing your (color), hair back behind your ears. You really haven't been out much this week, and it could do you some good to get out for awhile. Your father gives an almost triumphant look as he quickly turns to walk down the hallway, his footsteps getting quieter as he gets further away.

You walked over to your dresser picking out a simple outfit, a teal color tie dye T-shirt, tied at the waist to give a crop top feel and bell-bottom jeans with little colorful flowers near the bottom of the legs and on the back pockets. You then put your white shoes on and headed downstairs to meet up with your father, grabbing some hair ties on the way out and putting them on your wrist before shutting the door behind you. Your father was waiting at the table while looking at a newspaper, his large glasses slightly tilted downwards as he read. His gaze lifted as he heard your footsteps, a gentle and warm smile appearing on his face as he got up from the table.

"Ready?" He says, keys in hand as he tilts his head slightly towards the door. You nod in response, walking towards the door as your father opened it for you. Walking down the steps of the porch, a warm and comforting breeze hits your face. The fresh air quickly running up your nose, a sense of relief from being so cooped up all week makes you feel good and refreshed. The bright blue sky and the sun, only covered lightly with scattered puffy clouds and chirping birds. You take in your surroundings for a brief moment. The sounds of the wind and birds filling your ears as your father walks past you towards the car, his bright striped shirt regaining your attention as you walk to catch up to him, making your way to the passenger side door and opening it. Your father started up the old, Cherry red, 1973 Pontiac Astre. The engine rumbles to life as your father rolls his window down to place his arm on the door, he adjusts the radio to his favorite channel and some new station comes on.

A man starts to speak through the light static “The search continues in Muerto County for a missing University of Texas student. The Sheriff’s department says that Maria Flores, a native of Uvalde, was last seen near the town of Newt more than two months ago. Her vehicle was recently discovered abandoned along Country Road 172, with officials reporting no signs of foul play. Authorities are hopeful that the expanded search into the nearby communities of Harlow and Chinatown will unearth new leads. Family and friends are urging anyone with information regarding her disappearance to please come forward.” The man then proceeded to introduce the forecast of the week and then quickly cut to a popular music station playing 'Can't get enough - Bad company'. You and your father give a concerned glance towards each other before your father starts to drive out onto the road. The wind blowing through your hair, the comforting breeze making you close your eyes and enjoy the ride. Aside from a few random roadkill on the road, the music played loudly in your ears as you slightly danced to yourself as your father jammed to the song and you enjoyed the car ride into town.

Soon you and your father enter the town. Your eyes couldn't help but look around, an old gas station and mechanic shop sat on the right side with some small buildings and stores littered behind them, a few apartment buildings and roller rink sat on the left side with a large school and church sat behind them. You took in the view, not many people were walking around except for a group of teenagers and some adults, some with their little ones, you then noticed the missing person posters scattered on the telephone poles. 'Must be that poor girl from the news station they mentioned' you thought, a sense of sadness slightly washed over you as you felt bad for her family and friends. Your eyes soon wandered over to an older gentleman, he was smiling as a few older lady's. He wore a yellow button up with a blue and red plaid coat, a yellow hat covered his brown hair that clearly was receding and was graying. He had a cane in his hand that he was slightly leaning against as he was, somewhat in a creepy way, talking to the two old ladies. His smile reminds you of a beaver as he talks, however you notice his gaze quickly rising to your car as you drive by, his smile quickly disappears as his locked eyes with you. You quickly felt yourself look away and down at your lap, you felt embarrassed for staring and quickly looked over to your father who was simply paying attention to the road while trying to find a parking spot.

As your father parked the car, he looked over and noticed your uneasiness. "Y/N? You alright?.." he opened the card or on his side, yet waited for your response and sat there. "Y-yea.. sorry" you chuckled, trying to push off the fact you stared at a random old man and got creeped out. Your father nodded and got out of the car, quickly meeting you on the other side as you got out yourself. "Well, I need to grab a few things from the general store and then the post office. Why don'tcha you go take a good look around town… I might be while so." Your father explained, and a big smile on his face and he gently patted your shoulder. You simply nodded as your father walked away to the general store, your eyes quickly wandered over to a clothing store and its bright luring colors. You started to walk down the sidewalk, humming to yourself when you take notice of the same old man you saw before, now sitting on a bench reading a newspaper, except you can't help but notice him side eyeing you from behind the newspaper. You felt a knot in your throat as you started to get close to him, he was sitting next to the store you wanted to go in. You have no clue why he was giving you the creeps, however you swallow your fear and give a warm smile towards the old man.

This seemed to slightly catch him off guard however and nearly made him shove his face into the newspaper, starting to grumble things underneath his breath.

"H-hello sir!" You slightly felt your heart race as the man raised an eyebrow and slowly looked towards you, his dark eyes giving a questionable look as if he was wondering why you're trying to talk to him. However he quickly snaps a smile at you and puts his newspaper down on the bench as he reaches his hand out for a shake. "Nice to meetcha lil' lady.. new around here?" His voice semi cracked as he spoke, you could hear a slight lisp too. "Yes I am.. My name is Y/N!, my father is also here with me.. he's just grabbing a few things" you nervously stated, you quickly shake his hand before politely cupping them together in front of you. The old man nodded as if he understood and or cared before standing up and giving that creepy beaver smile towards you. "Names Drayton, Drayton Sawyer.. My family lives in this town. Though most em ain't the social type…except that boy Johnny." He gave an annoyed look as he rambled, quickly stopping before giving an almost serious look towards you. "Welcome to the town.." he said, his eyes almost dark as he spoke. He then tipped his hat before walking away, you watched as he almost waddled away and then disappeared behind some buildings.

You calmed yourself down slightly before walking into the clothing store, a nice old lady behind the counter gave you a warm and welcoming smile. "Hello dear! Welcome.." she said, her gray hair in a bun behind her head, her sun kissed skin covered with wrinkles. She wore a pretty blue blouse with a blue floral skirt that hit her ankles and her dark blue flats, she adjusted her glasses to better see you as you walked in. You nodded as you looked around the shop at all the cute and somewhat old fashioned clothes, soon you hear three girls walk into the store. A red head wearing a pink plaid button that was tied up slightly above the waist and jean shorts, a dark Brunette with tanner skin wearing and baby blue blouse with a white floral pattern on the chest and tan bell-bottoms, and a dark Brunette wearing a red tank-top with a deep v-neck and yellow sunflower on it and blue jean bell-bottoms. The girls were talking and somewhat giggling to themselves as they walked around the store, although they looked like they were also seriously discussing something as well. They kept quietly chatting to each other before they took notice of you, giving small waves and warm smiles as they began to walk over towards you. The ginger girl quickly speaks up and puts out her hand "hello! My name's Connie! Are you new here??" Her smile warmly grew as you took and shook her hand, you gave her a warm smile back. "Yea.. me and my father live slightly out of town but we're practically on the edge." You said nervously, not knowing if they knew what you were talking about. Quickly the girl in the red v-neck tank top spoke up and said, "oh that old house!? I remember when a lil' old couple used to live there! Gosh! They were so sweet..my name's Julie by the way!" She giggled, and she gave a girly wave at you. You couldn't help but look at the middle girl, your brows slightly furrowed in worry at her quietness before Connie spoke up, "oh.. that's Ana, her sister went missing.. I'm sure you've already seen the posters around town by now." Her smile quickly faded while she spoke, Ana gave a quick half smile before turning around to look at the clothes on the wall. Julie gave a slightly worried look back at Ana before looking at Connie then back at you, "yea.. she's been in rough shape ever since. But she's been determined to find her…" Julie explained, before giving a big smile, "you should meet up with us at the roller rink tonight! It's always Nice to have new friends!" She yelled excitedly, jumping excitedly. Connie also seemed to get excited by this and nodded in agreement, her smile nearly blinding you with excitement. You smiled joyfully at the idea and soon nodded and agreed to join them later at the roller rink. You wanted to explore a little bit more before meeting up with your father again to tell him the news.

A few minutes pass and the three girls soon leave the building with you before they split off into a different direction than you, leaving you alone. You look around and decide to walk down towards the post office to meet up with your father, however as you were walking you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Your eyes darted around and yet you couldn't see anything, you looked behind you and still nothing. You started to walk slightly faster down the street, pushing the feeling off as just being in a new town. Soon enough you make it to the post office as your father is walking out the doors, mail and other papers in his name. He walks slowly as he's ready the envelopes and other pieces of paper, his glasses at the end of his nose and his eyebrows slightly raised as he reads and mumbles to himself. He quickly takes notice of you and fixes his glasses as he opens the car door and puts the mail in the glove compartment, a large smile on his face as you walk over towards the car. "Soooo?!... Anything exciting happens sweetie?" He smiled, his hand on the top of the car door as he leaned against it slightly. You nod and smile, opening your door on the passenger side and getting in. Your father soon follows and sits in the car, closing the door behind him. "Made some new friends!.. they want me to meet up with them later tonight at the roller rink.." you smiled, your father giving you a big hug before laughing triumphantly. "OH! I knew you could do it! Making me so proud.." he smiled before starting up the car and started to drive, you leaned up against the car door and let the wind start to blow through your hair, the feeling of being watched still stayed as you were starting to leave town. Your eyes widened and noticed a figure watching you pass by, an almost sinking feeling as you drove by filled your stomach. Soon the feeling leaves as you drive out of town, the radio blaring music and your father embarrassingly dancing to you. You chuckled to yourself bringing your attention to the sun as it slowly went down, the sky starting to turn pink and shades of purple, A smile slowly appearing on your face as you drove home.

Today was a good day, yet you couldn't shake a weird feeling about that town.

END OF CHAPTER 1

If you got his far, I sincerely hope you enjoyed chapter 1! I know nothing "exciting" happened in this one, however I promise it'll get more interesting as we continue! 💋💋💋

Special Thanks and inspiration - @lil-spider 💋❤️

//CHAPTER 2//

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #2: Horizon

She watched as the sun began to peek over the farthest edge of the sky; as light began to dye each tree that hazy morning purple and burnished red. It was a familiar sight. Something she made time to watch every morning. It was her routine. So much for the dusk in her namesake. So much for her routine.

Rakaso gathered herself up as she pushed out of the unfamiliar-turned-familiar bed she’d retired herself to the night before. Not her own, no, and something that spoke to her in the back of her mind as distinctly off-kilter of her. For the second time in recent memory she’d willingly laid her head somewhere other than her own home… Or her favorite spot to collapse in her clinic. She ran her thumbs under her eyes at that thought. The remnants of sleep fell away. The thought of her last time here crossed her mind. Showing up in her performance attire. More than slightly drunk. In the middle of the night. Declarations of apology. A long, quiet talk into the night… and a morning after spent in clothes not-hers and not-quite-fitting in a way that she was distinctly aware of. It drew dark blush to her cheeks that she attempted to work away with her fingertips. She couldn’t help but remember the way her eyes skipped across her- Undue thoughts- rather rude thoughts as well towards her circumstances. None of that, Rakaso, she couldn’t help but chastise herself. Frankly she’d committed an error that she felt had no way of being repaid. She hadn’t earned any of these errant thoughts. That she’d been forgiven- well, she assumed she’d been forgiven in any case even if she didn’t at all feel as if she’d earned it- didn’t mean she suddenly got to think of the entire night and morning after with some wistful blushing and a raised heart rate. She’d made those mistakes before. She rubbed at her face again to ease the scowl that snuck its way onto her features.

Her dress was folded and set to rest on a chair nearby. The desk it was paired to haphazardly crammed into this small guest room. It was if it was an invitation- an expectation. In that earnest and honest way she’d somehow become accustomed to. Reliant on? Another scowl was quietly done away with. A change of clothes was within a bag near the bed. If she’d decided not to put her entire ensemble on for the morning. If she’d decided to stay for a time. Accept the implicit invitation of morning tea. Conversation. A start to the day that involved one more person in her usual routine. She made another effort to discard the bubbling, aching thought at that.

Why was it that acknowledging something made it all the more difficult? In the constant denial she was at least suffering an old, knowable ache. She could look at Nathalie and see the troublemaker she’d been assigned to keep in line. The woman who, for whatever reason, had crossed a few lines and earned enough ire to be forced into working under the most frigid and uncaring caretaker the conjurers had. She never did ask how it had come to be. She’d never wanted to ask before. Rakaso shook her head. Should she ask now? Was that something you could do as morning conversation? “Oh, good morning. What did you do to piss off the guild and get stuck with me?” Yes, that would certainly go over well. In fact it might go so well that she’d crawl under a rock and find a new way to succumb to the wonderful embrace of the earth and decay on the spot. She looked at herself in the window’s reflection. Tinted with the dawn. She definitely looked like the overdramatic sort to have that kind of thought. You’d think getting dumped in one marriage would cause one’s self to mellow out. Instead here she was contemplating the sunrise and having thoughts that made her feel as if she’d been caught indulging the girl she could’ve been when she was seventeen summers and not one day older… had her life not had an entirely different trajectory. Here she was. Here she was. She rubbed at her face again. She set down her folded dress.

In the bag was a change of clothes. An answer to a request that Nathalie hadn’t quite made. Rakaso supposed she’d stay for a while, this morning. They could talk. At least this time she’d be wearing her own shirt.

[houserosaire]

Prompt #2: Horizon

It was so cold on the battlements that Silvaineaux’s breath burned on its way into his lungs. He drew his cloak tight around his shoulders for all the good it did at keeping the chill from penetrating his armor. He shivered as he stepped closer to the stone. The cold radiated from the very walls. He stopped just short of touching them and lifted his eyes to the horizon.

The silver threads of dawn were spinning out over the distant peaks, slowly pushing the darkness from the sky, and blotting out the brightest and most persistent stars. He stood and watched it come. The dragons had struck two days before and  though they had driven that small foray back, Silvaineaux had no doubt they would soon return. 

The clouds overhead slowly brightened into day and he stood shivering to watch the distant peaks for the shadows of incoming wings. 

A footfall sounded on the stone beside him. “Tea?” Silvaineaux turned from his vigil long enough to take the offered cup. “Thank you, Riviere.” A few frail wisps of steam rose from it and he gulped it down for what little warmth had survived its journey up the stairs. 

“There’s food if you’ll have it too, Captain. And a man on the tower.” 

Silvaineaux glanced up at the tower in question, and then once more at the distant peaks. “Good. Because I don’t want to know what’s over that horizon, but I do want to know before it gets here.”

***

The sand was warm enough he could feel it even through the soles of his boots. The sun was sinking slowly down into the sea, dyeing the water crimson and copper and gold. Somewhere behind him was the distant sound of voices as the rest of the company filtered out of the headquarters to make their own ways home. Silvaineaux could not make out the words or voices, only that far off sound, almost lost under the steady rush of the waves.

Further out he could see islands and the occasional distant shape of a passing ship. He watched them as the color crept out across the waves and the light dipped lower. 

A soft chirp sounded behind him and he reached up without looking to ruffle the feathers under Joyeux’s chin. After a moment the bird’s great beak came to gently nibble at his hair,  setting the strands to order. Silvaineaux sighed. “I suppose we should go home.” He said, still looking out at the sea.

Joyeux whistled at him, a rising note and stepped forward until the shadow of him filled the edge of Silvaineaux’s sight. 

“I was just thinking that someday, I would rather like to know what is over that horizon.” He said quietly, as if Joyeux had asked.

[waterparksdrama]

waterparks blurbs from their fbr press release pack (2022)

BIO

For as much as Waterparks is a genre-busting collective of three friends who play music, hang out, and constantly flip the script, Waterparks really represents a bigger, dare we say, movement. The Houston trio— Awsten Knight, Otto Wood, and Geoff Wigington—have unassumingly brought vibrancy back to rock. (The only thing bolder than their melodies is whatever hair dye Awsten opted for this week!) Their strange magnetic pull has attracted a growing cohort of fans who pack sold out shows, stream their songs like crazy, and have even elevated them to multiple Billboard charts. 

However, the next era begins with the band��s fifth full-length and debut album for Fueled By Ramen, headlining the Sad Summer Festival, an arena tour with My Chemical Romance, and even more adventures…

“Waterparks is so much fucking bigger than Otto, Geoff, and me,” muses Awsten. “However, it wouldn’t be Waterparks without the fans at the shows. It wouldn’t be Waterparks without the presence online. It wouldn’t be Waterparks without this awesome community. There are so many people who are a big part of this. It has completely evolved from where it started, and it feels massive to me. I’m lucky enough to guide it.”

Waterparks might just be the biggest band of tomorrow. They reached unprecedented heights with 2021’s Greatest Hits. Don’t let that title fool you—it didn’t collect their best-performing songs at a discounted price, but it did showcase their best material to date. As such, it moved 15K units first-week, cracked the Billboard Top 200 and landed in the Top 10 of the Top Alternative Albums Chart and Top Rock Albums Chart. In the wake of its release, they impressively eclipsed half-a-billion streams thus far. Beyond acclaim from Rolling Stone, MTV, Kerrang!, and Alternative Press, they graced the cover of V Magazine and Upset Magazine (who also awarded the record a “five-out-of-five star” perfect score!). Perhaps, NME summed it up best though, “Instead of celebrating the past, ‘Greatest Hits’ is opening the door to what comes next.” Along the way, they sold out various headline tours. 2022 saw the band sign to Fueled By Ramen and turn the page on a new chapter.

“Whereas I saw Greatest Hits as a dark indoor album, I see this next body of work as a light outdoor album,” he reveals. “There’s a bright vibe with very high energy to it. So much of what we do is about how it’s going to be experienced by the community. We did a lot of programming on the last record. I wanted to get more tactile and touch shit now,” he laughs. “I needed to hold a guitar and have the strings vibrating on my fingers.”

That brings us to the first single “FUNERAL GREY.” Powered by four different guitars (including a toy guitar for the main riff), the track swings like a wrecking ball from a buoyant verse into a distortion-lifted hyper-hypnotic hook, “She wore a sweater in summer weather. She wore a sweater. It was FUNERAL GREY!”

“This is—and I fucking hate the term—more love-driven,” he confesses. “It’s a reintroduction, and it’s more about other people than just me. When I wrote the song, I was walking around my friend’s neighborhood. I was laughing, because it looked so haunted—like something out of an M. Night Shyamalan movie. I thought, ‘If this was an Instagram filter, it would be ‘Funeral Grey’.’ It’s got a dark title, but I love how bright it sounds. To me, that’s Waterparks.”

In the end, the new music is meant for the people comprising this greater movement—like everything Waterparks do.

“When you listen to us, I just want you to feel good,” Awsten leaves off. “It’s bouncy shit. Even if it’s aggressive, it’s enthusiastic. There’s a lot of energy behind this. I try to make music that tingles people’s fucking brains, which is what my favorite music does for me.”

BOILER

For as much as Waterparks is a genre-busting collective of three friends who play music, hang out, and constantly flip the script, Waterparks really represents a bigger, dare we say, movement. The Houston trio— Awsten Knight, Otto Wood, and Geoff Wigington—have unassumingly brought vibrancy back to rock. (The only thing bolder than their melodies is whatever hair dye Awsten opted for this week!)  Waterparks might just be the biggest band of tomorrow. They reached unprecedented heights with 2021’s Greatest Hits. Don’t let that title fool you—it didn’t collect their best-performing songs at a discounted price, but it did showcase their best material to date. As such, it moved 15K units first-week, cracked the Billboard Top 200 and landed in the Top 10 of the Top Alternative Albums Chart and Top Rock Albums Chart. In its wake, they impressively eclipsed half-a-billion streams thus far. Beyond acclaim from Rolling Stone, MTV, Kerrang!, and Alternative Press, they graced the cover of V Magazine and Upset Magazine (who also awarded the record a “five-out-of-five star” perfect score!). Perhaps, NME summed it up best though, “Instead of celebrating the past, ‘Greatest Hits’ is opening the door to what comes next.” Along the way, they sold out various headline tours. 2022 saw the band sign to Fueled By Ramen and turn the page on this next chapter kickstarted by the single “FUNERAL GREY.”

[clonemando]

Hi hi :D your A Kiss A Day in May fics are so GOOD! If you have anything soft, could I please ask for Fives/Tup?

Thank you :)

You most certainly can! They deserve many good soft moments.

Fives was nearly bouncing as he waited for Tup to finish getting ready and pull on his jacket. "Hurry up! We're going to be late!" He whined and Tup just smiled.

"Fine, fine. I'm ready. Will you tell me where we're going that needs such special arrangements anyway?" He asked sliding his hand into Fives' to let his partner tug him out the door of their apartment. Coruscant's weather was in its winter phase so there was a bite to the air but it never actually got that cold on a planet with that many people.

"Nope! You'll just have to wait and see!" He said tugging him past a few other clones that were milling about outside the apartment building most of them now lived in. The fact the rent was matched to the stipend they were now all receiving with back pay made it a good choice and there was an old shopping tower nearby that had also been renovated to allow some clones to set up shops and businesses of their own also was a nice perk. Not to mention it was close enough to the new Coruscant Guard offices that those who worked there could easily commute together or even just walk.

Fives dragged them towards that shopping tower and Tup tried to remember what new shops might require reservations to get in. He knew a few new food places had opened but none of them seemed Fives' type. Once they got inside Fives immediately punched in the floor number and moved his hand from Tup's so he could wrap his arm around his waist instead.

"I promise you'll like it. Trust me?" His partner pleaded batting his lashes at him and Tup pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Always, completely, with almost everything. But even I know you do have a habit of pranking people." He pointed out. Fives pouted.

"Other people! I've never pranked you!" He said then amended the statement at Tup's dry look. "On purpose. The hair dye had been meant for Thorn. Thankfully your hair is dark so you couldn't even really see the green." He added sheepishly.

"You're lucky I love you." Tup sighed but smiled at the way that statement made Fives light up.

"I love you too." He murmured back then they were off again once the elevator dinged and released them to the new floor.

They finally stopped in front of a building calling itself 'Caff and Cuddles' which had a large smiling tooka as its mascot. There was a line to get in the door on one side and separate lane with a Guard Trooper at the front which Fives dragged them to.

"Fives and Tup? I made a reservation." Fives said abd the Guard looked up.

"Oh yeah, you have the tower room, enjoy your stay." The trooper told them and let them in. Tup immediately understood as they started passing other rooms and he started to grin more and more widely.

"Fives? Is this a tooka cafe?" He asked excitedly and Fives grinned back.

"Not just tookas but yeah. Stray domesticated animals that need homes are brought here to be socialized and even possibly get adopted. Plus Fox said their caff was really good and you know how picky he is about his caff." He said and Tup took a moment to press him against a wall and kiss him.

"You really are the best. Okay take me to the tookas. I need to pet as many as possible." He said eagerly.

[sapphicslaylist]

[STP] On Borrowed Paths Chapter 4: Death's Echo

Prev Next

From unfinished homes and memories of the past, sometimes the lingering thread of death is hard to shake.

There was a soft whirring of static as the outlets came into view on the far side of the kitchen counters. This phantasmic woman - Spectre - seemed to be making it worse with her presence. Thorn didn’t need confirmation to tell the gaze behind her was one of approval, however, even as she tentatively approached to sniff for any stray sparks in the air. So this must be the right place.

Why?

Electrical sockets were generally a no-go location when it came to Borrowing; at normal size, humans could be electrocuted by them by directing the currents too close. A Borrower could die from a singular touch. Nay, even too close proximity. But if this was the location of the Borrower’s old haunt when living, then clearly she’d gotten it to work for her well enough to stay alive. Her death hadn’t been that kind of biological shock.

“Below that.”

Okay, good. So that meant she didn’t need to worry about charging directly into any of it. The corporeal hand drew Thorn’s wrist forward, wincing from the sharp icy flow that followed as it trailed to a small incision in the wall. Most likely, she’d never get used to the ghost’s strange on-off tangibility.

Peeling back a small bit of wallpaper was easy enough with clawed fingertips. While not as pronounced as Witch, they got the job done easily enough to reveal the small door that had been carved out and applied with a small thumbtack handle. Twisting it carefully, Thorn stepped into the small shelter, making sure to smooth back the decorations behind her. Even if Quiet was aware of their presence, these passages had been kept secret for long enough - Thorn didn’t expect to break that specific code today.

Rule one: don’t get seen. That one had already failed a dozen times over. Rule two: don’t lead them to your homes. Run away and divert as needed. That, she could always do if necessary.

“I wouldn't,” the eerie voice replied as it brushed along her fingertips. “Remember why you’re here.”

There it was again; that same bristling unease she’d felt watching this woman embracing Witch in that calm trance. It wasn’t possession exactly - telepathy? It seemed more like telepathy. It wasn’t fun being read like that. It made them targets.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Thorn lied, keeping the distrust from her voice the best she could.

“You’re thinking it,” Spectre murmured softly, giving an understanding shake of the head. “Everyone does once they get here.”

There was a touch of sadness in her voice as she hovered in the darkness over a small tin cabinet, a coil of twine dancing along its dented figure. Thorn opened her mouth to speak; nothing came out.

“I don’t need to read your thoughts to know that. You’re picking up the pieces right where they were left off - it’s a bit intimidating, isn’t it?”

Thorn blinked, lowering her hackles. Even without the light, she could tell well enough what Spectre meant. Cloaked in death, it was clear that this place had not seen anyone for ages; a fine filament had made its home along cozy shelves of borrowed goods, tinkerings, and half-finished projects. 

Thimbles of paint left dried in place unemptied on the corner of a cardboard desk. Feather tips languished beside hardened inks and smaller journals in the corners. Paintings and works left unfinished; diagrams of hearts and vibrant nerves which sprawled across the walls of the little storage facility in deep permanent dyes and charcoals. Now this certainly had Thorn standing still a moment, looking over them with a sense of newfound wonder.

“What is all of this?”

“This is where I kept all my records,” Spectre replied, giving a breath of amusement. “Some records just happened to be… Deeper than others.”

“I don’t think I’ve known anyone else who had anatomy charts this detailed.”

“You get to see a lot if you live with a huntsman and his chimera.” 

Interesting information. So Quiet was a huntsman? That would explain the knife in the front, and all the frozen meat in the midst of -

A queasy step seemed to have Thorn nearly skyrocketing backwards. The fact a being who should not have physical presence was the one to catch her almost made it worse.

“From a distance, of course. The chimera is trained to avoid us unless approached. Likely rescued from a similar situation as all of you.”

Well, that was good news. Beast’s kind was known to be rather ravenous when it came to Borrowers, and as far as the sisters knew she was the only exception. But their often doglike nature did present the possibility for alternative training; perhaps this one had previously been one of the “retrievers” humans used to capture their kind opposed to slaying them. 

“Mmh” was about all that Thorn could manage. Pausing for a moment, she turned towards the small hollow paths in the drywall which lead down in winding configurations; some illuminated by lights, others left in the dark.

“You’re one of the few I’ve seen to have a storeroom right at the front like this. You didn’t worry about it getting found?”

“It’s more convenient that way. Besides, if I ever borrowed something by mistake, I could always toss it back.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” There was a small drift coming from one of the currents. “So, which way would you recommend?”

There was that mischievous head tilt, watching as Spectre raised a brow.

“I think I’ll leave that up to you to figure out. After all, I can’t be giving away all my secrets right away.”

Thorn furrowed her brow. “So long as it’s not actual skeletons in the closet, I think I’ll manage.”

There was a chuckle. “Didn’t your sister say something about teeth?”

“We use them for weapons. That’s different.” Thorn brushed past the ghost, her tail whipping the small wisps of ectoplasm aside in her descent. This time, she decided to take the path to the left; it looked the easiest to navigate, and by all indications it was most likely the kitchen space.

Sure enough, the warm glow of a few hearth lights seemed to flicker as Spectre entered. Dim bulbs from small contraptions which had long since past their prime whirred mechanically in the harshly paved space, crudely wired to a makeshift stove. The air was choked with iron and burnished copper, oxidizing from its age and lack of use. Rusting pans and kettles seemed to have kept their stasis by the small hearth in the corner, which judging by the state of the twigs beneath had thankfully been unlit on Spectre’s last night alive.

There was no stench of rot and decay, either; that meant likely no molding food in the stocks. Just a few sprouting acorns in the corner and almonds in the corner -

“Witch is going to be thrilled you still have some of these,” Thorn commented, straining to pick one of them up.

“Glad something here could be of use then. Even if most of the food stores are depleted due to, well, the obvious.”

“Of course. I don’t know if she’ll be able to leach much cyanide out of them if they’ve been here this long, though-“

The look in Spectre’s eyes shifted from amusement to concern. Thorn sighed.

“Oh, right. The cyanide. She, um - I would say it’s a Fae thing, but-“

“Is that safe?”

Thorn hesitated. “… Complicated. Technically speaking? Yes, if she heals faster than the toxins accumulate. It’s a learned immunity we picked up from humanity. Difference is, our survival rate is higher than theirs.” There was an uncomfortable silence that followed, as if this was not the first time she’d been cornered with the subject. “Poisonings were a lot more common on the Market. The less you were vulnerable to, the better.” 

Thankfully, Spectre got the memo on it being a touchy subject. The teen was alive, after all; while perhaps not the healthiest method of gaining immunity, there were indeed records of Mithridatic Fae throughout history. But perhaps not to the extent at which Thorn was implying.

“Perhaps I should show you to the next one,” Spectre offered this time, hoping to present a distraction. This indeed was welcomed, watching as her living counterpart placed the almond back down and followed straight across.

This room was much more rugged in its digging; a small store room, perhaps, with a dull, makeshift couple of cork chairs. In one corner was the tin “frame” of what could've been either a bed or a sofa, but was sparse of any additional borrowings which would’ve indicated its purpose aside from that. Frankly, it seemed a little hollow.

“This was initially the plan for a guest room, but I suppose it didn't pan out before the clock ran out.” 

Oh. That was actually rather sad. And given the way in which Spectre indicated how potential guests reacted to her current state -

“I think Witch mentioned wanting to have her own space,” Thorn offered, hopefully bettering the situation. “Perhaps this would work?”

The look on Spectre’s face brightened. So it seemed this did indeed please the ghost.

“Perfect. I’ll let her know once she gets here.”

The lingering sight of the ghost beside her was still somewhat unsettling, but it was more so as she’d said - the nerves of occupying the space after knowing the fate of its prior occupant. Not to mention, getting the tour from said occupant was just a touch chilling, even if this guide was staunchly steeled in her benevolence. There was something about Spectre that felt off, or at least hauntingly familiar - echoes of a past she couldn’t shake. Not the poor woman’s fault, of course.

“I tried not to take up too much space in case he did find the tunnels,” Spectre murmured, snapping Thorn from her internal dialogue. “This last one should be yours.” 

This time, Spectre offered her hand. Trancelike, Thorn took it without hesitation. There was a soft, reassuring smile despite the palpable sting of frigidity spreading over formerly lacerated palms. It seemed to make sense in that moment how Witch had taken to her so quickly despite it all; a single, phantasmic ally in the clamoring sea of enemies. Step by step, the tunnel led down further still…

The soft rushing of pipes rang softly in Thorn’s sensitive ears. So this must’ve been closer to the heart of the plumbing; a bold move if something went wrong or the drywall had to be stripped. Another tunnel seemed to point downward, leading down under the floorboards, if the shift in altitude gave any indication; the most secure place in the entire vicinity.

“Down there is the emergency shelter. Turn left for the bedroom.”

This was impressively intricate.

“How long were you here?”

“About seven years. Long enough to know the lay of the land; which parts of the walls were stable and which led to vital wiring.”

“You really did know this would be where things came to pass, then.”

“Or if not, I would leave something behind for the next visitor. I could tell well enough just by watching from a distance he meant no harm; this house was safe. That was something I always intended to take to my grave - restless as that may be in this state.”

The soft warmth of cloth napkin scraps was the first thing that seemed to cushion this particular environment, serving as a vibrant rug. The soft padding of a nicely draped sponge bed and handkerchief blankets the next, cotton and bits of feathers from the host himself stitched up into the pillows. At the side of the bed was a small desk made from a cork, carefully cleaned of its alcoholic residue. And on the way up from the path untread, several staples provided a proper ladder…

“I can see you’re impressed.” There was that mischievous, skeletal grin. Clearly compliments did quite a bit for her ego. “Better to be over prepared, just in case. But that’s not even the best part.”

The icy hand eagerly wrapped around Thorn’s own, jolting her momentarily; despite her nerves, seeing this side to the ghost was honestly endearing. Perhaps her fears about Spectre were all wrong; she seemed alright in the end - just a lost, lonely soul who’d been waiting probably as long as they’d been captive for empathetic company and guests of her own. Something about that alone permitted the pull to lead all on its own as a soft ticking began to fill the space around them…

“It’s a little dusty. Feel free to brush it away.”

The soft debris of a mirrored door led directly towards the sound. Cogs clicked and gears whirred, stepping out to gaze inward by the mechanisms of a grandfather clock down the other hall.

“I wouldn’t recommend going in,” Spectre noted, “ but sometimes it is nice to watch. I used to be able to sit there for hours and listen to it tick…”

Already, it seemed that the mechanical rhythm was droning its own pulse into the living. If this house had a heartbeat, then this was truly it. Hidden behind the walls but with enough space to work, the small banisters on the sides leading down to permit access in and out…

“Wouldn’t there be notice if there was a hole back here?”

“That’s always been there. Piece snapped off eons ago; makes maintenance easier,” Spectre explained. “Even before us, Quiet’s had his guests. He might’ve left it open that way on purpose, just in case.”

The wildlife. That one didn’t need to be questioned - his familiarity with the motley crew of unusual Cryptids and overfamiliar others told Thorn well enough who those were. So perhaps, then, this was just another extension of the woods in some respects - so long as it remained closer off and well maintained from the outer threats. A microcosm for what laid beyond.

“I do hope all of this has been helpful,” Spectre chuckled, circling Thorn with that strange ethereal grace. “I look forward to seeing what you do with the place. It hasn’t seen much use in a matter of years… About time someone brought some life back into it.”

“Immensely,” Thorn replied, giving a thankful nod towards the hovering phantom. “We’ll certainly do our best to do it some justice.”

Down below, there was the padding of two massive creatures and the fiercely excited voice which could’ve only belonged to one particular borrower. The clink of bags deposited themselves on the counter one by one, as Thorn scurried back towards her sister’s eager helpers to notice the familiar faces - and one new in the mix.

Right as expected, Beast had padded in beside Witch, helping the young teen offload their luggage from the saddlebags draped over her side. But next to her was a chimera of even larger stature; a grayhound’s length, definitively feline in facial features, with six skittering legs instead of four.

“Oh - there you are!” Witch grabbed a bag by her teeth, dragging it over before continuing. “Just getting started with the bags - and got an extra pair of paws involved while we were at it.”

So this must be the one that Spectre had mentioned. The other chimera perked up, steely gray eyes fixated on Thorn. Tentatively, she approached the curious creature leaning beside the countertops. When she dipped her head to indicate passivity, only then did Thorn take her cue to steady a hand against shedding velvet antlers and run a hand against the bristling furs of her ragged mane.

“This is Den,” Beast continued for her, giving a dip of her own. “She was a pack member of mine prior to our capture. Human tongues are rather hard for her to formulate, so she may not be able to speak to you directly. But she is indeed listening.”

Den nodded, taking a bag from her own back and depositing it by Thorn’s side with a silent huff. The scars along her face and sides seemed to reek of humanity’s abuse, exchanging knowing glances.

“I presume that the pair of you will be wanting to set things up yourselves,” Beast murmured, depositing her youngest charge onto the table. “As for us, I believe we have a lot to catch up on.” With a soft brush of her neck, Beast nuzzled against her pack mate’s pelt; this was met with an almost inaudible growl of surprise. Nevertheless, the larger feline reciprocated, giving one look back as the chimeras retired to the main living space of the cabin.

That left Witch and Thorn to the luggage. Exploratively, Witch picked up a bag in her teeth, then another across her back.

“We should be able to get settled before the morning,” Witch purred, her voice a little muffled. “Just show me which one I should take, and once we’re there I can do the rest.”

————-

Unpacking the bags didn’t take long at all; the majority of what the sisters carried with them was the necessities for survival, and scarcely anything this elaborate. Witch had long since managed to make herself at home by the time that Thorn had even settled her own bags; the pouch of shrew’s teeth laid beside her bed, with a few fur blankets and covers thrown haphazardly into the tin “bedframe” Spectre had been working on. Even without a mattress at present, Witch had always been more than happy to sleep in a nest, and now was no different. She was comfortably asleep in the thicket of fur in no time, tail curled in like a sleeping mouse within her fuzzy fortress.

Thorn, however, was a bit more restless. Her own blade had been placed beside the nightside table, along with the spare vial of adder’s venom Witch had let her use. The pair of boots she typically wore settled in the corner of the room next to the mirror, alongside the few vials of non-lethal poisons kept for emergency usage. A couple of sedatives and tonics lingered close to the desk, wondering if it would be worth taking one of them.

Or, rather, was it safe to? The vibe of the house hadn’t been fully established yet. Staying alert may still have been the best idea, so for now, perhaps resting opposed to sleeping would be in her best interest. But it wasn’t long until even that attempt was dismissed, catching her in a brief whirlwind.

The hovering figure always came in the same way; gold tiara glinting, blonde and overshadowed by the fire, blue dress torn by her chest with that deadly raven’s scar. And right in front of her down below was Witch’s trembling, stricken form, struggling for words.

“You wretch! You brought them here, didn’t you?!”

“No, I-“

“After all this time, I thought I finally found a friend. But you were just another monster, weren’t you?” 

Both young, both stupid. Helpless against the fray each and every time. The chimeras knew precisely when and how to strike as they brushed past the quarrel, and no words would keep them from that. The thicket of yet another Borrower encampment found and destroyed by mutual foolishness, and only one person to blame.

It wasn’t them. It never was them. The teary eyes of a maddened, anguished thirteen year old girl Thorn was scarcely able to drag back. In the end, this would be where they took their last stand in the wild. It all came down to this.

So then why did the horror always feel the same when Beast descended upon them like some harbinger of death?

Something hovered on the other side of the bed. Thorn didn’t need to open her eyes to know what it was.

“I can feel your presence,” Thorn growled, tail twitching like an angry cat. Being disrupted from sleep by the same unhappy dreams wasn’t unusual practice, but being disrupted by their strangely nosy host was just another stab wound in the midst of all of this. “You’re getting awfully close this time of night. What do you want?”

“Your companion asked me to check up on you.”

Oh, of course she did. Beast was prone to these little “survival check” wake-ups in the middle of the night to make sure that both sisters’ senses were sharp; well intentioned, maybe, but exhausting. Thorn gave a more deliberate flop on the bed.

“Tell her I passed the check.”

There was a small sigh of amusement. The side of the bed beside Thorn grew colder.

“That’s not quite what I meant.”

The fur along Thorn’s tail stiffened.

“What do you want?”

“You mutter in your sleep - you know that?”

The cold almost felt welcoming as it came closer, forming fractals along the sore spots on the Borrower’s back. Unintentionally, she leaned into it.

“What is it to you?”

The words were more defeated than anything, knowing well their ghastly host wouldn’t wind up leaving without whatever it was. “Don’t you have somewhere to be at this hour? It’s the middle of the night. Don’t you -“

“Ghosts don’t need sleep,” Spectre replied gently, pulling back ever so slightly. “Most of the time I just wander the house at this time.” Then, with the slightest bite: “I generally do check my older haunts, but it would seem that’s less of an option now that they’re occupied.”

She did have a point. They were guests here, even if this particular phantom’s overfamiliarity was getting on her nerves. How did she manage to trust people she just met so easily? Did the bridge between life and death mean it no longer mattered? Thorn liked it even less with what that meant for how easily Witch had taken to her for someone who’d bite anyone else. Some kind of trickery was afoot.

“You seemed like you could use some company.”

“I don’t, but thank you.”

Although this was partially a lie. The memories of the woodland paths weren’t necessarily pleasant, and it would’ve been nice to have someone to unload to - that is, if there was anyone who she trusted. But this cheeky little ghost wasn’t exactly someone she could call ‘trustworthy’ when every word out of her mouth seemed to be a riddle, or a slight delivered with coy undertone.

Why Witch actually seemed to want them to be sharing the room together was beyond her. Did her little sister actually think she was that lonely?

“If you want me to, I can leave,” Spectre offered, hovering beside the bed now opposed to on it. “I’m sure that the adjustment can make things seem… Heavy. This wasn’t the first house I lived in; I do know how challenging the woods can be.”

Now that caught Thorn’s attention. Tentatively, she sat up, still avoiding eye contact.

“You didn’t strike me as the outdoorsy type,” Thorn admitted, looking Spectre over. From up close, she actually wasn’t all that intimidating; while her features still remained skeletal and hollow, the same mischief from earlier had decreased substantially. No, she seemed sincere enough.

“I wasn’t. But I’m sure you don’t need a refresher at how hard it is to coexist with humanity.”

“Yeah, no kidding…”

The vines around her chest had softened for the night, although even now Thorn could feel the prickle of the brambles beginning to poke their way back up and claw back towards the surface. House Borrowers - the “traditional” kind that took scraps and lost objects from human homes - were a scrappy bunch, and no less respected than any intelligent Wild cousin. It took a lot to remain unseen, and intelligence or similarities aside, they were generally treated about the same as any common pest upon discovery. Trappings, fumes, and ruthless pets were common ways of “dealing” with these unwanted visitors.

“I had to vacate my first residence. And my second. So that meant turning further into the woods and finding somewhere a bit more remote to avoid being caught.”

Depending on the house, some were determined to keep the family “pest” as a pet; others wanted them gone, and would chase the Borrower some lengths to make sure. Others were just interested in the turnout they could get on the Black Markets if the given individual had any special gifts to entertain with - like a dragon keeping a Princess locked up for entertainment’s sake as it decided whether or not to devour them. These tricks were all very familiar in Thorn’s book, relocations included.

“I’m taking it you found the same woods, then?“

“Or they found me. One can’t exactly say.” There was that same wry smile with closed eyes; leaving it up to interpretation, perhaps, or else unsure. “A bat saw me out walking one night and swooped down on me. And then the rest lead me onto the path here.”

She was always so matter-of-fact. Was the event so far away that it no longer bothered her, or did it never?

“What matters is that I’m here, and that you’re able to get the answers you need. I try not to look too far in the past; the people there were cruel, and the pickings were sparse. Even if my time here was short-lived, it was much better than any of that. At least this time I knew it was an accident.”

“I suppose that is better, all things considered.” It was an unnerving thought, but if a choice of fate came down to being torn apart by the Raven or haphazardly shut into a fridge, it was pretty clear what was the answer. “Even if it’s grim.”

“Life is grim,” Spectre replied. “But I think we both know that.”

Thorn jolted back as Spectre leaned closer, now hovering directly above her on the bed. The phantom’s gaze drifted curiously towards her chest, giving a raised brow of interest. Instinctively, Thorn wrapped both hands around her bosom with a look of offended incredulity. Spectre’s reach, however, went over them to settle a little bit above before pulling back.

“I am curious how you managed to survive a mark like that. Especially considering how much of the talon is still in there…”

…Oh. That made a lot more sense. Embarrassed, Thorn removed her hands.

“With help,” Thorn answered carefully, giving a glance back over at Spectre. Thankfully, it seemed that she got the gist and circled back to her haunt on the bed, looking back with those chillingly curious eyes. “But I presume you figured that.”

“I did.” A small nod, and then the ghostly echo as Spectre’s presence shifted again. For heaven’s sake, did this phantom ever sit still? “Although I’m rather impressed that someone as young as your sister had the capability to heal it.”

Okay that had crossed a line. Without even realizing what she was doing, Thorn sat bolt upright, hissing. A swift rake of clawed fingertips swiped upon Spectre’s general direction; she merely dodged them, wide-eyed and unblinking.

“So it seems that’s a common thread between the two of you…”

“What do you want? I’ll ask again.” Growling from her spot hunched over the bedpost, Thorn had now entered the attack position of a cornered predator; snarling, hunched over, dead-set on an all too eager host. “ What were you trying to do taking information from my sister?”

“We merely swapped details on the places our Echoes formed,” Spectre replied, holding one hand to the side palm up nonchalantly. “One source of information for another - simple as that. But no need to worry; it isn’t like anyone else would ever see them. I can’t transfer any of that through without an exchange of personal details, and knowing the truth behind what happened here was more important to her.” There was a lilt in her voice as she inquired further:

“So how did it feel to come back?”

There was a bolt upright fear which filled Thorn’s eyes, processing the question which had been placed before her.

“… Come back?”

“From the dead,” Spectre answered, as if she was talking about weekend plans. “Judging by the formation, it seems like it faded momentarily, only to spring back once you-“

“- No, no, that’s not right.”

There was a deep pounding of blood in Thorn’s ears now. Claws dug into silken handkerchief sheets. “But I watched Witch slay the damn bird right as-“

“- Everything went dark, and you died. And then you came back, with a scar to mark the occasion. That’s how it works; a Time Capsule of every time you cheat death.” 

Her fingertip circled the formation of the claw. “If I’m reading it correctly, you rendered Him mortal. At least, partially.” Spectre looked over the startled Borrower tentatively, scrunching her nose in concern. “What you have is a rare mark of victory.”

“Is it? Or is that just what I’m supposed to think now that I have to live with it?” An angry hiss returned as the claws jutted against old scars, tracing the paths where talons scathed in reckless abandon. 

A demise. So that was what this was all about. No wonder this phantom was so insistent on haunting her every move.

“You’re alive now. You’re safe. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”

There was a softer sigh as Spectre retreated slightly, uncertain if it was better just to give Thorn her space.

“I know it can be hard to adjust after all you’ve been through -“

“You wouldn’t, though. You were never in the Ring.” The stink of adrenaline was permeating the air by now as Thorn gravitated to the side of the bed, feet dangling off the end as she contemplated, hands clasped. “You didn’t have to watch dozens of drunken humans cheer on your demise - and it sounds like they won . And you certainly didn’t have to risk everything just to secure a few more days for -“

“She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”

The paranoid tail twitching stopped. Oh; that wasn’t mockery in the tone. The ghost was serious.

“She’s the last bit of family I have. Sounds cliche, I’m sure - the whole ‘orphan’ situation.” Turning just the slightest bit back towards Spectre, Thorn placed her hands behind her back until it arched comfortably inward. “But we don’t really know much after capture if the ones that humans take live or die. Survival is unlikely, and captive at best. Not exactly a life.”

“And ‘gifted’ Borrowers tend to be even more valuable to them. I can imagine that it had challenges of its own.”

“The nearby village was on the hunt for Fae. Our enclave managed to stay mostly protected until mother went missing. Witch found one of the humans - I guess domestic Borrowers still call them “beans?” - bleeding out and revived them. And, well, I suppose you know what happened from there.”

Spectre nodded solemnly. “The child revealed her?”

“Not on purpose, no. But she kept coming back to meet up. We had no way of knowing at the time we were dealing with nobility - she didn’t need to say anything for one of the guards to figure out where she was sneaking out to and identify the mark on her chest as one of ours.” There was a sharp inhale. “I don’t blame either of them. They’re kids; they didn’t know better…”

There was a stiffness to the air as that familiar brush of cold seemed to settle against one shoulder. This time, Thorn leaned into it as it materialized.

“We were all at the Markets first before being separated; Witch is the last of that community I managed to salvage. Saw a lot of things I’d like to forget; learned many of our tricks. But we’ve still managed to stay together despite it, and I don’t intend for that to stop now.”

“Well, that’s the good news,” chuckled Spectre. “You don't have to worry about that anymore. Just be sure to go easy on yourself as you get settled. I’ve made sure that Quiet knows not to expect much of you for some time; these arrangements can be much harder for him to understand than us.”

“That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

There was the lingering chill in the air as Spectre trailed the air; a hand drifted towards Thorn’s face, tracing a gentle hand against her cheek. This time, she offered no resistance.

“It’ll be okay. I know it’s a lot, but you’re not alone. Just remember you can ask if you need anything, alright?”

The adrenaline was fading. The soft wisps caressed the faded scars along Thorn’s cheek, leaning into the effervescent grasp until it was gone.

“I’m taking it you would like to sleep now?”

“Mmh.”

“Figured as much. Good night.”

There wasn’t much that Thorn could really muster except for a timid, thankful glance as she managed to cross eyes with the figure. This she got back in turn, watching the curt nod as her peculiar visitor vanished from sight.

 Maybe Witch was right. She was peculiar, that one, but it didn’t seem like she meant any actual harm. That didn’t mean Thorn exactly liked being interrupted unannounced.

Whatever; that conversation could be dealt with in the morning. For right now, she flopped haphazardly back onto the bed, tucking the sheet back onto the sponge that served as the mattress. Maybe now she could try and go back to sleep -

“Geez - and I thought I stank in the dead of night. What - did you think you could kill her again if you tried hard enough?”

Well, speak of the devil.

There was that familiar trill on the other side of the corridor; a flicking tail, and that small purr of amusement. Thorn gave a groan, deciding whether or not to humor Witch’s prattling.

“You were supposed to be asleep hours ago,” she replied bluntly. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Oh, I didn’t need to be anywhere near to hear every word,” Witch snickered, lips curling into a smirk of amusement. This was just a game to the little teen; of course she was playing it up. “You were growling up the paths as if your life depended on it. Honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t leave sooner.”

“And I’m surprised you have any stance on this that isn’t trying to bite the hand that feeds.”

“I can cooperate when it’s in our favor,” Witch replied, giving a flick of a stray hair. Then, somewhat softer: “But I’m confused why you’re not. Isn’t it your job to be scouting out the safe paths and all that? You’re supposed to be the ‘bleeding heart’ between the two of us, not me.”

Without waiting for an invitation, Witch bounded over towards her sister on all fours, scrambling up onto the bed and into her lap. The visible relaxation was striking as the scent of tension faded.

“I just don’t want to get stuck here with hosts we don’t know,” Thorn admitted with a sigh. “And I don’t want you getting attached again to people we can’t know for sure are genuine.”

Witch squinted. “This is about the whole ‘mind read, memory swap’ thing, isn’t it? That’s standard custom; it’s like a greeting. I didn’t tell anything more than I needed to, or wanted to,” Witch scoffed, waving a hand. “They’re like us; to get information, you have to give. And be sparing about it. It isn’t like she knows all about the Markets - just the Ring. And if she wants to earn more, she’ll have to show we can trust her.” There was a flicker of amusement in Witch’s eye.

“The living still hold the cards with ghosts; we just entertain them. You actually told her more than I did.”

The smirk broadened as Witch pulled her sister’s tail in towards her.

“They can’t enter without our permission, anyways - ghosts are like vampires,” Witch added nonchalantly. “At least, the nicer ones are. Wraiths I guess are a little more hostile, but definitely not what we’re dealing with here. I remember a good bit back from the forest community.”

“I just don’t want this to become like that. You know how that ended -“

“Oh, do I ever.”

The fur on the teen’s limbs bristled, every hair raised on nimble hackles. “If I ever see her again-“

“Hey, hey.”

A gentle hand patted down along her spine, forcing Witch to relax. With a reluctant grumble, the sullen teen acquiesced.

“But this doesn’t feel like that,” Witch admitted, tugging at a few strands of dangling hair to Thorn’s chagrin. “There’s only two of them, for starters - it isn’t like an entire pack waiting to pounce.”

“‘Feels like it’ and ‘is it’ are two different things,” Thorn reminded, trying to pull Witch’s hands away. When she started the catlike batting, there usually wasn’t a way to stop her.

“I know what I’m doing, Thorn; I’m not a baby anymore,” Witch huffed, crossing the strands of her sister’s hair over into a small braid. “I know you’re just trying to look out for us, but don’t you think that maybe once we could just watch from a distance? We have spaces to hide, and plenty of room for weapons. And it doesn’t even seem like this one has the gall to take issue with it. And if he does? We stab him. Plain and simple.”

The close-eyed tilt of arrogance was a common move from this feline Borrower, but never before had it seemed so calm and genuine. “Besides, this place is run by the ghost of one of us; so long as we follow her rules, we’ll be fine.”

This amount of sensibility from Witch was, well… Startling. There had been a time when she was indeed this even-toned and calculated, but it’d been years since.

“What’s your deal with her, anyways? You seem less worried about the bird man than Spectre.”

“He’s keeping his distance. She’s not.”

“We kind of are in her old haunts. Literally.” A tongue click of annoyance followed Witch’s words, as if that was obvious. “Are you sure there isn’t a more personal reason here?”

That purr in Witch’s voice was never a good indicator. Reclining slightly in her lap, it seemed that Thorn’s suspicions were confirmed as a clawed hand reached up; warmth and a numbing ache stifled the pain against the frigid residue along her chest. Then it returned, placing Witch’s hand over hers.

“You didn’t tell me that I died.”

“Didn’t have to,” Witch managed, although it seemed the same aching grief stung in her voice. “I brought you back.”

“The ghost -“

“Spectre.”

“She really just goes by ‘Spectre?’”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Anyways - Spectre said it had to do with why the raven’s been after us. Like it locked in a piece of him within us that he didn’t get back because him and I both died.” 

“Yeah, that’d be correct.” Witch shifted her weight, leaning so that she toppled Thorn over onto the bed. “Sounds like we made a blood pact with him without meaning to.” A cackle echoed from her upon the realization.

“What?”

“Oh, is that why he's still missing that chunk of flesh? I devoured every piece of that I could get ahold of! Shows him.”

“Witch! Great… So you’re stuck in it, too.”

“Duh. We knew that already. But now he has to live with looking hideous for crossing us. Worth it.” Witch shrugged. “Besides, didn’t we kinda render him half-mortal? That means we must be-!”

“No less careful than we have been.” A strong grip took hold of Witch’s arms. Grumbling, the teen relaxed in her sister’s arms. “Even if that was the case, we’d likely have to find that out by almost dying again. It’s not worth the risk.”

Despite the twitch of reluctance, Witch pondered it for only a moment and nodded.

“I guess. We can’t rough him up if we’re dead - at least not dead dead. The whole ‘ghost’ thing seems like it gets kinda boring after a while. Soo… Staying here and playing it safe?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Then you need to stop fighting with your girlfriend. We need her on our side, nothing less.”

There was a splutter of confusion that followed. That coy feline smirk returned to Witch’s face, sticking out her tongue.

“Y… You little shit! Oh, I’m getting you for that one!”

With a playful growl, Thorn advanced on the bed to topple over Witch, nipping at her ears. Giggling, Witch reciprocated with a few painless pawing gestures back as the amicable fracas continued. Tails flicking and softly butting heads, the play fight continued with a roar of laughter and a chorus of feral vocalizations from within the walls of the small cabin. Once all was said and done, however, it seemed that Witch attempted to slink away, giving a little trill of victory.

“Well, seeing as you’re doing better now-“

This, of course, was met by the immediate flop of Thorn’s full weight on top of her.

“Oof! Okay, fine. You win. One more night before I get the room to myself? But you’re going to have to move over.”

Giving a few gloating purrs of her own, Thorn made herself amenable to this request - albeit never fully let go of the grip around Witch’s wriggling form. Shifting to the side, she finally let one arm droop, curling around the smaller borrower like a sleeping cat.

“You are such a sore loser,” Witch grumbled, kneading down one of the pillows as she leaned in to sleep. “Don’t get into the habit of any of this.”

Nearby the fridge, Spectre waited until the noise of the two borrowers died down and drifted off into peace. Once her duties as hostess had been fulfilled to her satisfaction, she gave a soft smile as she retired to Quiet’s side for the night to get some “rest” of her own.

“They’re getting used to things,” Spectre mused, shifting to settle along his palm. “It’s a process, but this will come to pass.”

“I certainly hope so,” Quiet mumbled sleepily, shifting the placement of his hand so that it allowed her easier access. There was a stiffening cold as she circled, lingering a moment to rest. “I know how frightening this must be-“

“You don’t. But you can imagine it, yes.” The gentle, firm correction left her lips, sinking down into taloned flesh. “Remember to give them a wide berth as they get settled; so far, I believe things will work out. You recovered things well with them, despite everything.” 

The teasing note left her lips as she traced over leathery skin, leaving icy pinpricks at her touch.

“Now they just have to get used to both of us.” 

The conversation elapsed as her form vanished into the flesh of his hand. The soft talons curled inward, twitching softly in sleep. Carefully, Quiet petted it with his other hand before placing a smaller blanket and pillow beneath, finally situating to sleep himself.

Hopefully tomorrow would be a better day.

[wordsvomit101]

11. Lilac

(1 year after the death of Mr and Mrs Lee)

In the cozy confines of their home, Minhyeok busied himself in the kitchen, preparing gilgeori toasts for himself and Raon as the light from the outside windows slowly darkened. The warm glow of the stovetop illuminated his face as his hands danced across the bowl, deftly combining the vibrant hues of cabbage, carrot, and green onion with a symphony of seasonings

The air fills with the tantalizing aroma of sizzling butter as he transforms slices of bread into golden brown, their crisp edges whispering a promise of delight. With practiced hands, he makes the cabbage mixture, coaxing it into a firm rectangle from his spatula's touch, and dividing it into two perfect squares. As they sizzle and turn an enticing golden, their edges sing a chorus of readiness.

Meanwhile, Raon, who was sitting at the kitchen counter doing her homework, looked up and noticed the growing darkness. She quickly got up and walked over to the right wall, where she flicked on the light switch. The kitchen was suddenly bathed in a warm, inviting light, casting a golden glow on everything in its path. The smell of freshly toasted bread filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of mugunghwa from the windowsill. The wind rustled through the leaves of the trees outside, creating a soft, soothing sound that seemed to harmonize with the gentle hum of the refrigerator.

"Geez, you sure worked hard in that cultural workshop last summer", Raon said as she walked over beside him, her face now brightened with the promise of good food.

She wasn't wrong, Minhyeok fondly recalls his lively experience at the cultural workshop during summer camp, where he immersed himself in the vibrant traditional cooking of different countries. His skills improved and he also got to take home some of his and other people's creations. One of his favorites is the mango gelatin salad from a dessert enthusiast, the girl, and most others, was very kind to let him have a bite in each of her dishes, thankfully she seems to also take a liking to his meals like their peers.

"I'm stoked you're so eager for this quick snack that you totally spaced on your homework. But, hey, heads up, it's due tomorrow in the second period, you know?", with a teasing chuckle, he glanced back at Raon noting her annoyed and tired frown at him, daring him to remind her of her procrastination.

"Ugh, seriously? Let me relax my brain for a bit, won't you? Don't worry, I'll get it done. Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Killjoy."

He let out a short laugh at her and with a flourish, he stacks these patties upon a slice of toast, sprinkling a bit of sugar upon them without much thought. The skillet beckons once more, its heat embracing slices of ham, their sizzle a welcome addition to the symphony of flavors. He thought about her recent late-night research again when he saw it on her laptop while helping her clean her bedroom again, which surprisingly was not about fiction novels or comics, but hair dye and eye lenses.

"While I was being your personal room cleaner, I noticed your laptop was all about hair dye and eye lenses. You're not plotting a secret identity change, are you? Or are you planning to join a punk rock band?", this got him a slap to the back, not enough to hurt due to the lighthearted nature but enough to sting a bit.

"Can't I have a little privacy around here? Seriously, you're worse than a NIS agent!", she walked back to her seat and answered his questions with a huffy voice as he placed a crown of melted cheddar cheese glistens with an irresistible glow atop the ham. He then placed it upon the cabbage patties, overtop with a drizzle of ketchup and mayonnaise, and the final slice of toast as a final touch.

"Okay, okay, sorry for snooping around. I also didn't mean to tease you about it. So what's the story behind the hair dye and eye lenses then?", as he sliced two toasts in half, he could feel the reluctant from the girl behind him. She signed out a bit before admitting.

"You know how it is at school, right? Everyone's always staring and whispering about my hair and eyes, if it wasn't for Ahjussi and Ahjumma, the principal would still think I'm looking for trouble. I'm on a mission now to get some black hair dye and brown lenses to blend in and stop all the fuss", she explained and took a half toast from the plate he put on the counter, a glint of shock from her eyes as she looks at the toast before taking a bigger bite. He better snatched at least one before she took it all.

"But why the sudden urge to change things up now? I mean, we've been in middle school for months, and you've been fine all this time. What's changed?", this got a flinch out of her and he narrowed his eyes at the movement. He doesn't have a good feeling about it.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she finally spoke up, her voice tinged with unease, "Yeah, um... It's because of my new friends at the book club. They, uh, they don't really into the whole pink-purple combo I've got going on, you know?"

Minhyeok couldn't help but feel that those people had pretty bad taste, though he wisely kept that thought to himself. He knew that saying it out loud might put the girl on the defensive, especially since these were her first experiences with friends outside of their circle. After a moment of contemplation, he carefully chose his words.

"You're my friend, and I'll help you talk about it with my parents if that's your choice, Eomma does know a lot of good hair salons", this got Raon perked up but deflates at his next words, "However, if you started to dye your hair for a long time, it might mess it up, and eye lenses? Isn't that a bit much if your eyes are fine?"

She munched slowly on her second toast before sheepishly asking him, "Then... what do I do then?", he really doesn't like how she look lost and sad like this trying to please people who probably wouldn't care less about this topic a month later.

"You already look good without having to change. Not just me, a lot of people will think that", he's not lying, Raon never looks bad, her unique traits make it easy to find her even in the crowd of people, and the pink-purple of her hair and eyes have a calming feel about them. Like the lilacs he once admired from Mr Lee's garden.

"Thanks, you're too nice... But, let's be real. My hair's all over the place, and these eyes? They're just... odd. I don't get why you think they're anything special... they're never as beautiful as my Eomma's", she said in a somber tone, with a hint of wetness in her voice, and she averted her eyes from his.

Not willing to handle the silence in the closed space, she takes the third toast before standing up to walk out to the house's backyard to sit on the patio chair to watch the sunset.

He also followed along and sat down beside her, letting the quiet between them ease her heart, and observed her as the sun cast an ethereal glow on her. The warm, golden light enveloped her in a halo of luminosity. Her delicate features, bathed in the soft glow, seemed to come alive, the curves of her face and the vibrant hues of her pink-purple hair and eyes taking on a new dimension.

He could almost see the aureole around her, bathed in the golden embrace of the setting sun, her beauty was beyond lovely and there was yet a time his breath was not stolen from looking at her.

"You know", he started, his heart beating loudly in his ribcage, his words catching her attention, "Believe me this time, you stand out in the best way possible. Like a lilac in a field of wildflowers"

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

End notes:

Gilgeori toasts are a popular street food in South Korea. The term "gilgeori" translates to "street corner," indicating that these toasts are often sold at street food stalls or food trucks. Gilgeori toasts consist of toasted sandwich bread filled with various ingredients such as scrambled eggs, ham or bacon, cheese, vegetables like cabbage or lettuce, and sometimes sauces like ketchup or mayonnaise. They are typically grilled or toasted until the bread is crispy and the fillings are warm and melty. Gilgeori toasts are enjoyed as a quick and satisfying snack or meal on the go.

"Eomma" is a Korean term that translates to "mom" or "mother" in English. It's a loving and affectionate term used to address one's own mother or to refer to someone else's mother respectfully.

An NIS agent typically refers to an agent of the National Intelligence Service (NIS), the primary intelligence agency of South Korea. The NIS is responsible for gathering and analyzing intelligence relevant to national security, counterterrorism, and foreign affairs. NIS agents undergo rigorous training and may be involved in various operations, including espionage, counterintelligence, and protecting the country's interests both domestically and abroad. They play a crucial role in safeguarding South Korea's security and interests in an increasingly complex global landscape.

[duckielover151]

Some Ep 3 Live Action One Piece Thoughts

I have to say... I'm not in love with this episode. But to be honest, I didn't love the whole Syrup Village/Kuro adventure in the anime either so...

I'm just gonna break it down like I've been doing. Negatives/Meh reactions first, save the good stuff for last.

To start... I'm still holding out hope for Coby and Helmeppo becoming friends. I feel like it's pretty central to both their characters and surely that's one thing Oda would have fought for, right? They're both still getting plenty of screen time, but Garp almost seems to be pitting them against each other. And I'm not feeling that right now. I feel like that friendship breakthrough could still be coming... I do want to see Helmeppo redeemed, show that there's more to him at heart than just the spoiled brat we've gotten to know... and I'm hoping to see it soon.

Episode 3 is really visually dark. Most scenes were kind of muted. I'm not a fan of that kind of style in general, but I especially wasn't feeling it during the scenes where they're inside the mansion, having a party. What we saw of Kaya's mansion in the anime was so big and light and airy... The live action's take on it feels like some kind of evil funhouse.

But the big reason I may not feel totally satisfied by this episode may just be because it's the first one that doesn't resolve its conflict in one episode. This episode ends with everyone in a pretty dire place. Kuro won't be properly confronted and defeated until the next one. (I assume. But with the pace this series has been keeping, I can't imagine it stretching out to episode 5.)

A couple of the good points feel a little marred by 'meh' feelings.

Okay. Listen. I know this is a tiny, tiny detail. But it's bothering me that they didn't also dye Celeste Loots's eyebrows blonde. It's not bothering me on the other characters who have crazier hair colors but... Don't get me wrong! She's really killing it as Kaya in every other aspect. I think she's perfectly captured that inner spark and strength Kaya has while definitely coming across as frail and sickly... But something about her doesn't look wispy enough. Kaya practically looked like a ghost. Someone who had all the life-- and thus, color-- sucked out of her. I would have liked to see something more to that effect in her live action appearance.

I know I've already talked about the way they've portrayed her mansion. But it's not just that the lighting's been lackluster. Some of the colors are also weirdly garish in places. Especially the scene where they first all meet in the garden, I got the weirdest... Alice in Wonderland vibes. I don't think that's a bad thing. It just feels a little strange. Also. Kuro's lackeys. The Meowban Brothers. Something about the way they've been brought to life... I can't be the only one getting 2003 Cat in the Hat vibes, right????? That's so weirdly fitting. I have a hard time believing it's a coincidence. It's another thing that, like, I don't think I hate it... but I don't know if I like it.

Finally, I really liked seeing Nami and Kaya bond. Nami gets this particular look when it's revealed that Kaya's parents are dead that was a really great little detail. Their talk really gave the audience a chance to see that there was some depth to Kaya, which was also great. I'm just not sure how I feel about how it came about. It feels like a pretty important detail that Nami's not just a thief... she steals from pirates specifically. Up until the point she officially becomes one herself, that is. There's an integrity to that that the live action hasn't preserved. While I'm totally fine with a lot of the other changes they've made, I don't think I'm on board with that one. It just doesn't feel necessary.

But despite my overall meh feelings towards this episode, there are a lot of entirely unblemished good points in episode 3.

I do still think the way it's coming together is really great. That they all meet on the day of Kaya's 18th birthday, accidentally walking right into the climax of Kuro's schemes to take over her fortune. Perfect.

That her fortune is the fact that Syrup Village is known for its shipbuilding in this version... also really great. Gives our characters more of a reason to be there, for one. Also just gives the place a little more flavor.

It hasn't really come up yet that Usopp's got kind of a blemish on his life. A father who ran off to be a pirate. But his running through the village, crying wolf about pirates day after day really hits different in a live action. A villager literally pulls him aside, tells him he's pathetic and that he's wasting his life and... ouch. That was surprisingly brutal.

But I feel like Usopp is very much a cartoon character. There's a lot about him that would struggle to fly in a more realistic live-action. So I'm really pleased to say that Jacob Romero Gibson is also really killing it in his role. We are 4 for 4 on great casting for the Straw Hats. Something about the way he delivers his lies... They're still outrageous claims, but there's something so casual and sincere about the way he tells them... And I really love that this episode ends with Usopp running into Coby and Helmeppo when no one else will believe him about there being real pirates this time. Goes back to this tweaked version of the story all coming together really nicely. I'm really interested to see what role they'll end up playing in that conflict.

And I like that Arlong's being established as a more overarching villain of this arc, and pulling Buggy along with him. I could spend another 12 paragraphs speculating on all the places that could go, but I'll spare you.

I have high hopes for episode four!

[erabundus]

@cryoexorcist &&. said... it's raining. it's always raining these days (it's the first time it's rained in over a week, it's LIYUE). the air is thick and heavy, and chongyun is soaked. he's been without food for hours. in reality it's been only an hour but it'd been more of a snack than a meal. so what decides to happen on today of all days? he slips down a small hill. it's not enough to actually hurt him, but enough to damage his pride. so when chongyun stands up, covered in mud, he stands there, staring up at the sky with a mournful expression. he doesn't know anyone is watching. (liyue harbor is literally a five minute walk from where chongyun is standing. he could realistically just walk home. but-) this is agony. oh the HORROR.

the  sky  is  a  dark,  angry  swill  —  as  if  the  CLOUDS  themselves  have  been  doused  with  ink.  they  cover  the  world  in  a  suffocating  blanket,  creating  night  from  afternoon.  drenching  everything  beneath  their  dominion  in  downpour  and  shadow  alike.  lightning  flashes  —  a  searing  light,  cracking  across  the  sky  like  the  strike  of  a  mighty  blade.  in  that  ephemeral  burst  of  violent  luminescence,  there  stands  a  LONELY FIGURE  at  the  top  of  that  hill.  slender.  motionless.  one  would  think  him  a  statue  were  it  not  for  the  too-steady  rise  and  fall  of  his  chest  and  the  delicate sway  of  ornate  fabric  in  the  breeze.  another  flash  sees  him  backlit  by  the  electric  sky,  casting  seraphic  features  in  a  light  that  makes  them  seem  more  eerie  than  beautiful.  one  might  be  forgiven  for  assuming  they  find  themselves  pinned  beneath  the  gaze  of  a  reclusive  god  —  particularly  as  his  eyes  continue  to  glow  long  after  the  world  returns  to  its  usual  gloom.

a  hand  raises,  finger  extended  in  a  point  —  does  this  WRATHFUL  DEITY  mean  to  cast  judgement  upon  the  mud-caked  exorcist  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill?  lips  part.  a  soft  inhale,  inaudible  over  the  roaring  rain.  then ...

he promptly shatters the illusion by bursting into laughter.

❝  CHONGYUN?  ❞  his  cackling  is  grating  in  a  peculiar  way  only  ren  can  ever  truly  hope  to  be. endearing only in very small doses, yet rarely administered as such.  ❝  is  that  you?  with  all  of  that  FILTH  in  the  way,  i  can  hardly  tell.  ❞  more  laughter.  the  wanderer  doubles  over  a  bit,  and  nearly  slips  down  the  literal  slippery  slope  in  the  process.  he  didn't  take  chongyun  for  such  a  trendsetter  —  and  what  a  fashion  statement  it  is!  how  nice  to  see  the  worms  crawling  around  in  the  DIRT  where  they  belong.  ❝  did  you  do  something  different  with  your  hair?  cut it? dye it? that's  a  good  look  for  you!  ❞   he's  thankful  he  doesn't  actually  need  to  breathe; he might die otherwise. oh ... he is so HAPPY he saw that.

it  takes  a  good  few  minutes  before  the  wanderer  manages  to  scrape  together  the  dregs  of  his  COMPOSURE.  he  draws  himself  back  up  to  his  full  (  unimpressive  )  height  and  fakes  a  cough.  ❝  aha ...  hmm.  ❞   right. right. with  the  flick  of  a  wrist,  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  smacks  into  the  human  —  not  to  harm,  but  rather  fling  the  mud  in  the  opposite  direction.  (  though  ren's  relative  inexperience  with  anemo  makes  it  a  bit  more  VIOLENT  than  intended,  regardless.  )  is  it  an  improvement?  he  can't  really  tell.  he's  going  to  pretend  he's  doing  him  some  great  favor,  regardless  —  because  it  wouldn't  be  ren  if  he  didn't  endeavor  to  make  even  the  most  mundane  acts  just  a  bit  more  needlessly  grating  than  they  have  any  right  to  be.

❝ thanks for the laugh.  ❞ and suddenly, he's walking away. he's leaving them there ... in the rain.