#metal wall decor tree of life

[up-designs-metal-art]

Tree Of Life Metal Wall Art

https://shopatup.com/products/tree-of-life

Embrace the timeless beauty and profound symbolism with our Tree of Life. This creation is meticulously cut from 14 gauge steel, showcasing the enduring strength and intricate branches that represent the interconnectedness of all life. The sprawling canopy and robust roots embody growth, heritage, and the eternal cycle.

Offered in various sizes and finishes, it is a versatile adornment to create the perfect focal point for any room. Whether displayed in a living room, bedroom, or as an inspiring addition to an office, the Tree of Life stands as a captivating centerpiece that will infuse it’s surroundings with peace, balance, and enduring elegance.

https://shopatup.com/

https://updesignsmetalart.etsy.com

[a-list-of-9]

View A List of 9's choice of a tree of life metal wall art item featured in tree of life product list v.1.

Durable metal wall art.

Grab one now!

[redtsundere-writes]

Runaway | Uzui Tengen & Wives

I decided to finally post this fic. Hope you guys like it as much I do! Woohoo!

Uzui Tengen & Wives x f!Reader

Summary: You have never owned anything in your life. You had no money, no properties nor a healthy partner even. Your time and body were the only things you had, so the idea of marrying a man who only wants to control you terrifies you. Until, a ridiculously big and strong man decides he will marry you no matter what.

PICK YOUR FAVORITE!

AO3 or Wattpad?

CHAPTER 1 PREVIEW ↆ

It was another summer night. Warm winds brushed against your arms. The violet trees swayed gracefully against the currents. You infiltrated the strange dwelling among the violet leafy trees until you reached the armor of the land. You had arrived at a traditional wooden house where the lights were still on despite the hour. The place was huge and spacious, surely it had many things of high value inside. According to the information Mr. Matsuda had given you, the retired leader of the demon slayer corps lived here. That detail made you feel insecure to enter the place.

“He is blind and dying. Also, his guards are common women. If you infiltrate as I taught you, you'll be fine,” the old drunk assured. 

What you hadn't anticipated was that the blind and dying man would have visitors that night. “Looks like I'll have to wait until the visitor leaves and goes to sleep” you planned in your mind before sitting comfortably in the tree you just climbed. Your hands arranged the scarf over your hair to cover it completely so that your eyes were the only ones uncovered. Hours passed, and the visitor never left, but the lights went out. All you could pick up was that there were two adults in the area and several who appeared to be children. “A family?” you thought, not quite sure of your hypothesis. 

You waited another hour going deeper into the night and decided to strike. The entire house was free of locks or fences, it was an open place. The only thing there were paper doors everywhere. You crept into the place and to your impression, the living room had no furniture, that was already a bad sign. There was only a table with a tea set on top and comfortable cushions, but the walls were bare, nothing decorative in sight and there was no hint of luxuries. “Did that old man set me up?” you thought annoyed, but you couldn't give up so easily, you had to dig deeper. 

With the gait of a cat, you went through the other rooms and there was nothing at all. You passed by the guest room and saw the visitor who hadn't left. A ridiculously strong man, with long white hair, large in height, and yet he slept like a baby. You had never seen a man with such proportions. Mr. Matsuda was tall, but he was not an albino beast like the one in front of you. His back was to you as he slept, so you couldn't see if he was wearing anything of value. 

You refocused on your task and moved on, you passed into another room where the owner of the compound was sleeping peacefully. There wasn't much there, except for a magnificently displayed katana. “That screams money” you thought happily at the discovery. You crept up to grab it from both ends, the second the metal squeaked you felt a draft rush towards it at tremendous speed. You didn't think twice and unsheathed the katana. The metals clashed in a duel. 

When you blinked you saw that the burly guest in pajamas was in front of you with a sword two centimeters from your face and the only thing stopping him from slashing your face was the katana you had drawn. Your arms began to tremble from the force he was applying. You looked at the deep fuchsia eye he had uncovered to try to decipher his next move, his other eye was covered with a diamond-studded patch. How did you get into this situation? Everything all happened too fast for your liking. Finally, the man decided to push his katana against “yours”, causing you to fall sitting down and drop your blade. The white-haired man pointed his sword at your unfamiliar face.

“Human or demon?” He asked directly. Then a candlelight flickered behind you and a couple of girls entered the room, panicking. 

“What's going on?” The boss said as he got up tiredly from his bed. 

That's when you realized that the old man was not only blind, but seriously ill. He had a rather grotesque mark covering his eyes. The chillingly similar girls quickly arrived to assist him. The hulking man's katana resounded again, causing you to turn your attention back to the nearly six-foot man before you. 

“I asked you a question!” “Fuck, it's true, they are demon slayers” you thought, quickly pulling the scarf off your face and raised your hands in surrender. 

“I'm human, I swear!” You exclaimed in fright. 

The man stared at you, not knowing exactly what to do. He analyzed you from head to toe. Your body was too small compared to his, but your face and hair shone on their own in the middle of the dark night. Your pink and full lips, your ruddy cheeks, and your adorable button like nose. Your hair was perfectly cut and vibrantly colored. He had never seen a face as unique as yours. She was like the personification of the very sun that warmed him in summer. The white-haired man felt his heart race at the mere sight of her. His eyes widened at this, as he was not used to a woman upsetting him in such a way, plus he had to be faithful to his 3 wives at home.

[ghvst-ing]

It’s not real.

Paring; Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings; Nightmares. Blood. Mentions of torture. Death. 09’ Ghost’s backstory.

The scene Simon is met with was not one he hadn’t witnessed a milion times before, yet it didn’t stop the way his blood ran cold.

It’s grotesque, chilling, revolting; something that could make even grown men hurl. Something he, personally, had grown desensitized from due to his job, the things he’d seen, the things he’d done.

He’s frozen in place as only a spectator, finding himself within the walls of his childhood home, the place he despised, a place he wished to never return to.

Decorated for the holidays, the Christmas spirit floated throughout the apartment, along with the muted smell of freshly baked, gingerbread cookies. Yet he couldn’t focus on the warmth he should’ve been able to, but what was presented before him.

A corny film played from the tv, tucked in the corner of the living room beside a messily decorated Christmas tree, but it’s drowned out by the ringing in Simon’s ears — his eyes trained on the four corpses spread across the carpeted floor, unable to look away from the sight.

It’s almost an unfortunate coincidence for him to have forcefully kicked out his bastard of a father, the only one deserving of such fate, a few months prior.

His mother. His brother, Tommy. Beth, and little Joseph. Dead, a bullet lodged deep in each of their skulls, staining the light carpet underneath a crimson red. His young nephew, somewhat cradled within his mother’s arms, held in a loose embrace, the poor boy not excluded from the same demise his parents suffered.

Even years after he returned to witness this event, it still haunted him; stayed buried in the back of his mind waiting for the right time to come forth, reminded him of all he endured to that point and how he couldn’t have a moment of peace in his god awful life.

Weirdly enough, for the first time he could remember, the image shifted.

From a lively — yet gory scenery, it changed into one resembling a holding cell. A cell he could vividly recall from ages ago and carried, both mental and physical scars from.

But it wasn’t the same to his luck, yet his guard remained high, head turning to examine the musty room.

It was dark, damp, an old-ish wooden table pushed up against the wall next to the heavy, steel door, shut close in order to prevent the person inside from potentially escaping.

A multum of weapons topped the surface, choices upon choices for a tool of torture, dried blood sullying the shiny metal. It all hit close to home. Uncomfortably familiar, painfully so.

But his heart stopped when his eyes landed on a sight he never hoped to see, fingers unconsciously flexing as a lump formed in his throat and his body itched to rush over.

A chair was placed, dead-center of the room. Rough ropes bound someone to it — you, head hung low, wounds and bruises marrying any skin visible on your person, making his breath hitch in his throat.

He was finally released from the mental bounds that held him in place, feet moving in long strides to get to you. Simon could feel his pulse in his ears, his heart pounding against his ribcage almost painfully.

“Love..” He muttered, voice barely audible as the words slipped from his lips, knees bending to crouch before you. “Fuck,” Trembling fingers curled softly under your chin as his eyes surveyed the damaged done to your face.

A split lip, a bloody nose, and a black eye, along with other, smaller cuts littering your face. But it wasn’t what made him fret. It was the coldness of your skin, cool to the touch.

Your name fell from his mouth in a frantic whisper. “No, no..” Simon’s hand slowly fell from your chin to your jugular, the rough pads of his fingertips hesitantly pressing against your pulse point. Only to find none, confirming his fears.

It’s then that he finally awoke in a cold sweat from the terrors his mind conjured up. He sprung up, breaths uneven and ragged as he took notice of his surroundings, brought back to reality.

His eyes grew used to the darkness within the bedroom, the gentle glow of the moon seeping in through the gaps of the curtains. The comfortingly familiar vicinity eased his raging nerves, clammy hands curling in the sheets.

It reminds him that he is safe, that what he just experienced was nothing but a cruel nightmare as his gaze falls to your sleeping figure beside him.

You look peaceful, he thinks.

Simon watches as your chest rises and falls with each gentle breath, eyelids shut and lips ever so slightly parted. Your hair was ruffled, spread across the pillow. But even so, you never looked prettier to him.

You’re safe.

The image he saw within his dream flashed before him; you, held captive, most likely due to the connections you held with him, tortured for information you couldn’t possibly have. It frightened him. For it wasn’t impossible for the situation he was faced with moments before to happen.

It was just a nightmare, he reminded himself.

His tense shoulders sagged in relief, a long sigh pushing past his tight-lipped frown. Under the sheets, he shifts his body and turns onto his side, the side of his face meeting the plush pillow as a burly arm slowly curls over you, bringing you close to his chest.

A chaste kiss is pressed to your forehead, Simon’s eyes briefly falling closed as he finally relaxed. His brain is swarmed by thoughts, yet one took precedence as his leg lightly nudged yours in search of the warmth your touch provided.

It wasn’t real.

do i like this? not exactly, but let’s roll.

[fritz-federleicht]

You should do Corey, Joey, and Jim with reader who’s a model!

... with reader who's a model (Corey, Joey & Jim)

Words: 968

-----------------------------------------------

Corey:

- you remember many years ago when the first headline came up: Model Y/N and singer Corey Taylor a couple?

- that was the first time you were photographed together, Corey grinning and holding your hand while you laughed at one of his jokes

- he accompanied you to your apartment

- after that there were more and more rumors, positive and negative. Whereby it was more negative against Corey

- there were articles about your relationship. Why is a model like you with a bad boy like Corey Taylor? Or what do you see in him? Your relationship was not official yet

- you were not too famous as a model. You got jobs you liked to do. But there was one person you liked modeling for the most. And you do it over and over again. For Corey... well actually Slipknot. At some point he asked you if you could model for the store. Of course you didn't hesitate and said yes right away. Since then you model for every new collection

- when people suddenly saw you on the website it was clear that you and Corey are a couple. You officially confirmed your relationship

- all the attention didn't hurt you no. On the contrary. You got more jobs for designers that never considered you before

- whenever possible Corey accompanies you to fashion shows, sits in the audience and looks at you in love

- part of all the headlines were true. Corey was a bad boy. That's how you came to know and love him. But he quickly changed, became calmer and more relaxed because he finally had the love of his life with him

- eventually, all the headlines about you guys died down. The next ones were years later when you got married and later had your first child

- despite the fact that you are often far away from each other your relationship has lasted over the years and you are happy together

- Slipknot fans only know you as a couple

Joey:

- It is unusual to have a metal band as a guest at a fashion show, this night was probably the first time ever (maybe just because you begged the promoter to invite Joey)

- Slipknot is standing in front of the building, masks on and giving interviews

- you just wanted to check if they are already there, Joey sees you out of the corner of his eye and grins proudly under his mask

- next to him is Shawn answering a reporter's question

- you can't help it. You scurry to Joey and kiss the cheek of his mask, you can literally feel his smile

- as quickly as you came you are gone, the reporter and Shawn look confused. "Was that Y/N?"

- later the show starts, you look like a decorated Christmas tree

- you are supposed to end the show with your walk

- when it's finally time, you step onto the catwalk

- all nine members are sitting in the front row, Joey is sitting at the head

- it looks a bit funny, the men are sitting there bored in suits and masks

- when they see you they straighten up in their seats and watch your performance

- you pose at the end of the runway and turn around, wink at your boyfriend and disappear behind the wall

- Joey is speechless. How can you move so gracefully and seductively at the same time?

- Chris leans toward Joey, the long nose of his mask touching Joey's shoulder. He whispers. "You're really lucky." He pats your boyfriend's shoulder appreciatively

- after the show, pictures are taken with the models. Slipknot comes up to you immediately. They congratulate you on the successful performance

- Joey puts his arm around you. "You were wonderful honey."

- the photographer comes to your group and asks if he can take pictures, you agree

- Joey pulls you to his chest, the other members stand next to your sides like bodyguards

- days later the pictures appear in different fashion magazines, you find the strong contrast between your colorful outfit and the black suits funny

- in the future Joey accompanies you whenever he can

Jim:

- he really tries to be at every photo shoot or fashion show, to support you

- in the beginning he was not liked by the photographers because... well he is in Slipknot. But once they get to know him they find him quite nice. What should he do? Yell at everyone for no reason and destroy everything?

- when you're elegantly lolling in front of the camera he cheers you on, says things like "You look fantastic babe."

- in the breaks he comes to you immediately, asks if you are well, if you have eaten and drunk enough

- sometimes it happens that you model in your underwear, which Jim likes the most

- when you come out of the dressing room and are perfectly made up, he stands there with his mouth open

- when he first saw you like this, he came to you and said softly in your ear. "I think I'm in heaven. I just saw an angel."

- you slap his arm laughing, you've never heard such a corny line from his mouth before

- today he just stares at you, when you stand in front of a white wall and the light caresses you perfectly, nothing makes him happier than to see you like this

- when he then sees the resulting pictures... according to him they should be 'forbidden', no one else should get to see something like that except him...

- Jim keeps all the articles and pictures about you, he says he wants to show them to your kids later so they know how beautiful you are, but you know he just keeps them so he always has something of you with him on tour

[rocknroll7575]

Warped Metal: Prologue - Treehouse

Running through the woods with nothing but a large stick in hand, Jaune Arc felt a rush of exhilaration. He wore his favorite hoodie, snug and warm, paired with dark blue jeans that had a few scuffs from previous adventures. His well-worn sneakers crunched against the undergrowth, and the cool forest air filled his lungs. At just 11 years old, he was the only boy in the Arc family, a fact that carried a mix of pride and pressure.

As Jaune dashed between the trees, he imagined himself as a courageous Huntsman, like his grandfather. In his mind, the stick transformed into a mighty sword, cutting through the shadows of imagined Grimm lurking in the forest. He envisioned himself slaying these dark creatures and rescuing innocents from peril, a hero in every sense. It was his greatest dream to follow in the footsteps of his family, to be brave and noble like the heroes he'd grown up hearing about.

But reality weighed heavily on his young heart. His father had made it clear that Jaune wouldn't be allowed to train or apply for a Combat School next year. Despite the legacy of valor in his family, his father was adamant about keeping him away from the dangers of a Huntsman's life, at least for now. The refusal felt like an insurmountable obstacle, a barrier between Jaune and his dreams. Yet, even with this limitation, the spark of hope and determination burned brightly within him, and he vowed silently to find a way to prove himself, to show that he could be just as brave and heroic as those who came before him.

As Jaune continued through the somewhat dense forest, the rustling of leaves underfoot and the chirping of birds above filled the air. He paused, breathing in the earthy scent and taking in his surroundings. A bright smile spread across his face as he recognized where he was. To his left, a series of trees lined his path, each marked with two small crescent shapes carved into the bark. These symbols, which he had carefully etched himself, served as his guideposts, leading him to his secret destination and ensuring he could always find his way back home.

With renewed excitement, Jaune followed the marked trees, weaving through the underbrush. After a few more minutes of walking, he arrived at his destination: an old but grand treehouse nestled high in the sturdy branches of an ancient oak tree. The treehouse, crafted from what Jaune assumed was oak wood as well, stood as a testament to time, weathered but strong. A ladder, ingeniously integrated into the trunk, led up to a trapdoor in the floor of the wooden fort.

Climbing up with ease, Jaune pushed open the trapdoor and climbed inside. As he entered, he took a moment to appreciate the spaciousness of the interior. The fort was large enough to comfortably fit at least six people, with ample room for them to sleep. Along the walls, a few small drawers had been built into the structure, providing convenient storage. Jaune had spent countless hours cleaning and decorating the treehouse to his liking. The walls were adorned with posters of his favorite heroes, X-Ray and Vav, alongside the cheerful mascots of Pumpkin Pete's cereal. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could let his imagination run wild.

Pride swelled within him as he looked around at the tidy, cozy space. But then, his gaze caught something unusual—a pair of feet sticking out from behind one of the drawers.

Jaune inched closer, his curiosity piqued. The feet belonged to an older girl, perhaps around 14 or 15 years old if he had to guess. She was asleep, looking disheveled and dirty, yet to Jaune, she seemed undeniably beautiful. Her outfit was simple: a white shirt with gray laces, matching gray pants, and shoes. Her hair was tied into a single bun at the back of her head.

Jaune was stunned to find anyone in his secret treehouse, let alone a stranger. He knew nearly everyone in his village, especially the kids, and this girl was a complete mystery. Why was she here? How had she found this place?

As Jaune moved closer, intending to wake her gently, one of the floorboards creaked loudly under his weight. He froze at the sound, and the girl's eyes snapped open, wide with surprise. She quickly jumped to her feet, her stance defensive and ready for a quick escape.

Jaune took a step back, raising his hands in a placating gesture, trying to calm her before she decided to bolt or worse, attack him. "W-Wait! It's okay! I'm not gonna hurt you!" Jaune blurted out, his voice tinged with panic.

The girl eyed him warily, her expression a mix of caution and defiance. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice edged with suspicion.

"I'm Jaune," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady and reassuring.

He kept his hands up, palms open, hoping to convey that he meant no harm. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away or make her feel threatened.

"How'd you find me?" she demanded, her voice sharp and wary.

"I—I own this treehouse!" Jaune exclaimed, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "I found it, cleaned it, and decorated it."

The girl scrutinized him, her eyes narrowing as she tried to assess whether he was lying. But Jaune's innocent, worried expression seemed genuine, and she could tell he was telling the truth. He stood there, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes, clearly just a boy who had stumbled upon an unexpected guest.

She relaxed slightly, but her posture remained cautious. She wasn't ready to let her guard down completely. With a raised eyebrow, she asked, "You... don't know who I am?"

Jaune shook his head, clearly puzzled. "Should I?" he asked, his tone earnest.

The girl looked at him, still baffled by the situation, but she let out a long, tired sigh and sat back down, shaking her head. "No," she responded, her voice tinged with sadness. "I'm nobody."

Jaune raised an eyebrow, perplexed by her self-deprecation. He was about to ask for her name when a loud grumble interrupted his thoughts. The girl's face twisted in pain as her stomach protested loudly.

Realizing she might not have eaten in a while, Jaune sprang into action. He dashed to one of the drawers, the one he had designated as his snack stash. Rummaging through it, he found a pack of peanut butter cups—his favorite treat—and hoped she would like them too. He quickly grabbed the snack and walked back to her, extending it with a gentle smile.

The girl eyed the peanut butter cups warily at first, but hunger won over suspicion. She reached out slowly, then snatched the package quickly, half-expecting it to be a trick. But Jaune's hand remained outstretched, his smile unwavering.

She tore open the packet with haste, peeling off the wrappers and savoring each bite as if it were a feast. As she ate, she glanced at Jaune, who watched her with a happy smile, clearly pleased to see her eating.

The girl's confusion deepened. Why was this boy, a complete stranger, being so kind to her?

After savoring the sweet little snack given to her by the blonde boy, the girl tilted her head, a curious frown forming on her face. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.

"Huh?" Jaune blinked, clearly taken aback.

"Why did you give me the snack?" she pressed, her eyes narrowing. "Do you... want something from me?"

Jaune shook his head, his expression earnest. "No, I saw you were hungry and I gave you some food, that's it," he replied simply.

"That's it?" Her skepticism deepened. "No blackmail? No debts? Nothing?"

Jaune nodded, maintaining his gentle smile.

"Why?" she repeated, her voice softer this time, as if she couldn't quite believe his motives.

Jaune shrugged, his smile never wavering. "Because it was the right thing to do," he said, his tone filled with sincerity.

The girl seemed to stiffen at his words, a flicker of something unreadable passing over her features. She hesitated for a moment, then pushed past whatever was holding her back and fixed him with a sharp gaze. "Are you going to tell anyone I'm here?" she asked, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Jaune gazed into her eyes, noticing the fear that shimmered within them. It tugged at his heart, making him feel a deep sadness. He couldn't help but wonder about the hardships she had faced to end up in such a state. Initially, he had intended to inform his family about the girl, but seeing how terrified she was, he quickly changed his mind.

"No, I-I won't tell anyone," Jaune stammered, shaking his head earnestly. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

The girl eyed him skeptically, yet there was a flicker of relief in her gaze. "You don't have to worry about me staying here for long. I'll leave soon," she said, her voice laced with resignation.

Jaune's face contorted with worry. "Do you have anywhere to go?" he asked softly.

The girl shrugged, her expression turning bitter. "Does it matter?" she replied, her voice flat and detached.

"Of course it does! It's dangerous out there!" Jaune exclaimed, his concern evident.

She glared at him, her eyes narrowing. "And what do you suggest?" she challenged.

Jaune, despite his age and naivety, made a bold suggestion. "Well... you could stay here," he offered with a bashful smile. "I could bring you whatever you need! Clothes, food, anything you need!"

The girl's brow furrowed in confusion, trying to comprehend why he was so willing to help. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice tinged with bewilderment. "I'm a stranger."

Jaune chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with the simplicity of his belief. "Mom says strangers are just friends you haven't met yet," he said with a grin.

The girl stared at him, a mix of incredulity and skepticism in her gaze. She couldn't decide if he was naive or just plain foolish.

"Anyway! You know my name, but what's yours?" Jaune asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

The girl continued to scrutinize him, her mind racing with doubt. Should she reveal her name? What if he went to the cops? Did she really want to place her trust in this boy? She weighed her options, torn between the fear of being caught and the need for a safe haven.

"You can run, but you're gonna be running for the rest of your life. Or, you could find another way to handle it."

His words echoed in her mind, making her hesitate. Despite her reluctance, she had to admit there was a kernel of truth in them. Running forever wasn't a solution. Maybe, just maybe, she could use his hospitality to her advantage. He had offered her a place to stay and promised to bring her whatever she needed. It was an opportunity she couldn't easily pass up. For now, it seemed like her best and only option.

So, despite the warning bells ringing in her head, she decided to take a leap of faith.

"Cinder... My name is Cinder," she said, her voice steady despite the inner turmoil.

Jaune's smile widened, his eyes filled with warmth. "Nice to meet you, Cinder," Jaune greeted.

Cinder nodded, "Yes, nice to meet you as too, Jaune," She greeted back

As the two sat in the treehouse talking and eating snacks, neither of them could know what the future held for them, and had no idea the choice they would make and where those choices would lead them to.

But it would be nothing but tragedy...

[sims4t2bb]

update: part 2

Continuing the update with the rest of EPs and Game Packs!

— Expansion Packs

Cottage Living

Cottagecore default replacement conversion by @morepopcorn has been added.

Wisteria Specimen - Horizontal A, A++, B, C, and Vertical, and debug Dark-Eyed Daisy, English Oak, Fern, Fern Group, Field Maple, Foxglove, Holly, Lavender Bush, Scots Pine, Wayfairing Tree, Wild Rose Bush, Ivy Walls, and Wisteria Walls conversions by @tvickiesims have been added.

Eighth Wonder Curtains conversion by @platinumaspiration has been added.

High School Years

Chiffon Shades, Crafted Covering, Dazzling Designer Drapery, Even More Ruffles and Wings, Lovely Layered Curtains, Ruffles and Wings, Sheer Beauty, Studious Shades, Tall Lovely Layered Curtains, and Woven Wonder Drapes conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

Growing Together

Debug Eucalyptus Tree, Sidewalk Tree, and Topiary Bird conversions by @tvickiesims have been added.

Cousin Vik's Gifted Curtain and Pompous Poms Curtain (Left, Right) conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

Horse Ranch

Venue Wall Speaker: Ranch default replacement conversion by @morepopcorn has been added.

Debug Dead Mexican Ebony Tree, Dead Oak Tree, and Grapevine conversions by @tvickiesims have been added.

Range Rustic Cabinet, Range Rustic Counter, and Range Rustic Island conversions by @megamassikalove have been added.

For Rent

Debug Jasmine Shrub conversion by @tvickiesims has been added.

Debug Industrial Cluster Mailbox and Rural Cluster Mailbox conversions by @landgraabbed have been added.

The 'How Many Times Do We Need To Tell You It's Not Silk' Taller Wall Curtain, The 'Save Us From The Ruin' Tallest Cinched Wall Curtain, The 'So You Know The Truth' Taller Cinched Wall Curtain, and The 'We Are Going To Jail' Tallest Wall Curtain conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

Lovestruck

Colored Folding Chair, Gothic Ring Leather Seat, Artisanal Harmony Living Chair, Shell-Fish Style Seater, Gothic Leather Sectional Couch, Symphony of Marshmallows Seat, Gothic Tassel Leather Seat, Symphony of Elegance Ottoman, Artisanal Harmony Wooden Table, Gloss Finish Nightstand, and more conversions by Ladysimplayer8 have been added.

Debug Axolotl conversion by @jacky93sims has been added.

Life and Death

The filterable page is now available!

A link to the filterable page in the pinned post has been added.

— Game Packs

Spa Day

See It, See Them - Glass Tiered Shelf conversion by @jacky93sims has been added.

Vampires

Iron Victorian Fence, Triple Wrought Heavy Duty Gate, Dry Rose Bush, Painted Fern, and debug Vampire Shrub conversions by @tvickiesims have been added.

Parenthood

Brohill Single Bed with Storage, Metal Framed Single Bed, Let the Sun Shine Window Sheers and Stain Resistant Window Valance conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

Jungle Adventure

Venue Wall Speaker: Latin and Venue Wall Speaker: Latin Pop default replacement conversions by @morepopcorn have been added.

Brazilwood, Ficus, Ivy Palm, Tree Fern, Bromeliad Plant, Canna Plant, Swiss Cheese Plant, Grass Clump, and Maidenhair Fern conversions by @tvickiesims have been added.

Strangerville

Debug Cactus Group, Desert Bush, Joshua Tree, Long Flowered Cactus, Round Cactus Shrub, Round Flowered Cactus, and Tall Flowered Cactus conversions by @tvickiesims have been added.

Realm of Magic

Otherworldly Curtains, Sprightly Curtains, and Titania's Curtains conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

Dream Home Decorator

Friendly Little Curtains, Slightly Friendlier Little Curtains, and Super Friendly Little Curtains conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

My Wedding Stories

Debug Twisted Tree conversion by @tvickiesims has been added.

Effortless Cinched Curtain, Effortless Straight Curtain, Slightly Longer - Still Effortless Cinched Curtain, and Slightly Longer - Still Effortless Straight Curtain conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

Werewolves

Debug Black Spruce, Devil's Club, and Larch conversions by @tvickiesims have been added.

Left Tarp and Right Tarp conversions by @platinumaspiration have been added.

[yellowcry]

Special just the way you are

Eleven years ago, Mirabel wouldn't believe how far she had come today

@encantober-official prompt - Thread

Just a little more left!

Mirabel sat under the fluffy tree. The burning sun crawled against her skin, light wind ruffled her hair. The cold metal pins clanged against each other. This was her day off, so naturally she would spend it on her hobby rather than making embroidery for the local tailor. Nobody seemed really surprised when Mirabel said she was going to tie her life to embroidery.

Mirabel loved embroidery. This was something she realized back in the beginning of school when she was very young. They were taught some basic sewing skills. In the very least how to patch a clothes or embroider something small. And suddenly she found herself drawn to it. Her various skirts were growing in decorations. Same to her family, except for the fact that theirs was professional. But Mirabel didn't feel like she deserved it (sometimes she really wished to hug her younger-self), so she decorated her clothes herself. Stitch after stitch. Even after collapse, embroidery was always a constant. Like an old friend, ready to embrace her no matter the day. If she was anxious, if the walls felt like they would crush... Mirabel would pick her needle and embroider her feelings away. With the passing years the flow of the thread became easier. And the style became finer, more delicate. And she loved how this life was going. Simple but steady.

The woman closed her eyes, listening to the whispers of the faded leaves. After all these years, Mirabel was proud to say she came this far. Yes, pain of the past didn't let go completely. But compared to what was ten years ago? She was in a far better place. There were good days, there were bad days.

There was a heavy thud as somebody dropped besides her. 'Luisa' – she thought briefly. Simply from the estimated size.

"What cha' doin'?" Luisa looked down, resting her head in her hands.

"Oh just some knitting to relax." Mirabel shrugged. "Have you checked Paloma's dress design? Should I start working on the embroidery?"

This was one of the things that made Mirabel nervous lately. This was another gift ceremony to come. And, unlike Teresa, Luisa's daughter was very stubborn. There was no way to force her if she didn't want to comply. So naturally, Mirabel was worried. She was the one decorating her family's clothes for the last few years. And, obviously it included ceremony dresses. With all their white lace and sunny golden flows.

"Looks great to me. But I haven't asked her yet." And even when they asked, knowing her sobrina Mirabel was sure she would find something to complain about in the end. Making her redo the embroidery. Paloma just had to take Mirabel's attention to details and Isabela's demanding nature. The only really good thing is that she wasn't into insane level of energy like Luisa. "Why does my girl grow so fast? I'm so very not ready!"

And Luisa could agree. It feels like just yesterday Mirabel was knitting a blanked to wrap newborn in. Just yesterday Luisa seemed to be freaking out, unsure if she was ready to be a parent. Now she was so grown up. Even if there wasn't such pressure as it used to be back in the day. Ceremony was probably still the most important day for any Madrigal. And Mirabel couldn't allow anything but her best for such an important event. Call her whatever you want, but it was her sobrina. And it was a big event too, pretty much everyone would be at the ceremony. So, there was a worry of not doing it good enough. Failing her supposed job

The fact Paloma was so big already was unbelievable. Needing her very own ceremonial dress. All embroidered and decorated. Jewellery dancing in the snow. And even stranger for Mirabel was her own role at this all. Back at Antonio's ceremony, she would never think anyone dared to give her such an important role. Embellish costume that was the most important for them all. 

Of course, Mirabel did decorated clothes for her family included. But when ceremony was such an important event in life, Mirabel felt even more honoured by this. And also wanting it to be even better, even despite Luisa assuring Mirabel she shouldn't overwork herself (and interrupting her work sometimes to ensure Mirabel had rest enough). But then again, it wasn't just about Luisa. It was about a birthday girl. And Mirabel wanted to be sure it was the best day of her life. It was hard, of course. Sometimes thinking about upcoming celebration was just too much. A salt into old wound. Even it was over twenty years, Mirabel wasn't sure she would ever forget it. The trauma didn't define who she was, not anymore. But it was a ever-living presence. She wanted to be present at the ceremony. Just for her love to Luisa. But, just as it happened with Teresa, her parental cousins allowed Mirabel to stay over with them.  

But, after doing one more ceremony, after ten years since the last one, when Antonio was getting his own gift, it did calm Mirabel's anxiety a bit. It was all okay, she didn't feel as bad as the last time. And for now, Mirabel wanted to focus on what she had to do in the moment. Bringing the dress to life, painting in write and gold. Just to ensure she made the best dress of all time for her special little girl. And know Paloma would have fun at the party. No matter if it was successful or failed, leaving the girl with empty hands. Let her know her family loved her regardless.

[hanibalistic]

CELESTIAL STRINGS | HAN JISUNG.

genre | fluff, angst, romance, friendship / soulmate au, magic au 

synopsis | having been alone most of your life, the last thing you thought would gain you a few friends and a home was helping a random boy get past the school gate after he was late.

word count | 14.1k+

warning | violence, mentions of blood and injuries / mentions of death and killing ​

note | limiting 1000 blocks per post is the single most stupidest thing tumblr

parts | one, two, three

Jisung gave the school gate a kick for his frustration. It did not release his inner turmoil.

Having woken up late this morning, he spent his entire morning rushing his routine. His uniform was sloppy, his hair was disheveled and his breath probably smelt of the ugly morning air, his toast with Nutella spread across unevenly was only half-eaten before it flew out of his grip as he stumbled across a pit of air. The worst part of it was that he had wasted a full minute watching its poor, fallen figure, his mind mourning the fact that it was the Nutella part that touched the ground instead of the bread.

As if he was going to pick it back up and dust it off for consumption anyway if the Nutella faced skyward.

There were more little tragedies hidden in between the above-mentioned examples, and all of that hard work was reduced to nothing when Jisung found himself standing before a locked gate.

All the effort and sacrifices made to make sure he is not late to school. All the effort and sacrifices (specifically skipping his breakfast because he was rushing to get out of his house) yet he was still not acknowledged by the prefect, who had promptly spun on her heels and marched away at the call of the first school bell, leaving Jisung behind those rusty bars just as the school rules and the discipline teacher told her to do. 

It was great. Not only was he unable to head to class, but he also left a bad impression on the pretty senior prefect.

“Fantastic,” Jisung muttered under his breath when everything was, in fact, not fantastic.

Touching the fence with his fingers, Jisung gave himself a brief moment of evaluation as he gave the metal a quick squeeze and feigned the movement of pulling himself up to test out the weight. A huff of groan left his lips as his feet dropped back down on the ground. His brows were immediately furrowed at the seemingly impossible task.

It felt too heavy to have to pull himself up, not to mention the gate was about the same height as the giant brick wall attached to either side of it. He could not have been able to jump over the fence due to the sharp edges at the top end, which he thought was unnecessary and dramatic to be added as an additional decoration to the already heavily patterned gate.

Jisung released a hopeless sigh when he realized there was no other way to let himself in unless he called up a friend, which was even more unreasonable than the previous ideas he had got under his sleeve. 

Patting his jeans with his palms, he braced himself emotionally to endure the overuse of strength to pull himself up before he kicked for leverage and grabbed onto the fence. He struggled as he reached up one arm for support for the gate board, huffing immensely.

“Hey! Do you need a hand?”

Jisung turned his head to the voice and, with his lack of concentration on his arms, he released himself down on the ground and stumbled back a few steps before gathering his composure again. 

You glanced at his messy uniform with a grimace as you emerged from the shadow of the tall tree behind the school wall. You took a peek first, your intentions tentative and cautious, as if a high school boy could do you any harm. The rays of the sun slowly began to drown atop your face as you emerged from the shade of the tree, leaving spots of faux freckles on your cheeks and brightening the judgemental soul in your eyes. The wind glided across you two, artificially knocking the breath out of Jisung’s lungs. 

For a genuine moment, he thought you were pretty as could be.

“No, I am fine! I can climb this easily! This is nothing!” Jisung waved his hand as he spoke between nervous laughs. 

He did realize that trying to play cool when he was caught red-handed and in desperate need of help was most possibly one of the worst ideas he has ever thought of, but did his intuition stop him from doing it anyway? No. It did not.

You raised your eyebrows at him in mild amusement. You saw him struggling to bring himself up the fence just a few seconds ago, but if he was too embarrassed to admit that to you, you were perfectly fine with letting the matter go and heading on your own way. You had only stopped to help him because you thought it would be a quick ordeal, not because you got free time on your hands.

Shrugging, you nodded and continued to walk ahead. “Alright then. Have a great day at school.”

A comical silence fell upon the two of you. Instead of the raven cawing thrice way too close above his head, the silence was counted in the form of your footsteps. Your boots hit the brick ground, scraping against it with each step to remind him that his only help (potentially, at least) was slowly walking away from him. 

Jisung raised his hand a little to do a small beckoning that went completely unnoticed as he turned his head down to the floor, bewildered that you had left him alone.

What was more important? He asked himself. Was it impressing someone who knew you were lying your heads off, or was it filling out the test paper he had spent three nights studying for? What was more important, Jisung? A fish in the sea or your academic success?

He huffed with a pout and spun around to face your back. “Wait a second! I do need some help!”

You paused and turned to look over your shoulder at him. Your brows were furrowed in faint annoyance, and when you met Jisung’s eyes, it was very likely he had caught onto the negativity you were expressing with your eyes since he immediately shrunk back with his shoulders and clamped his lips together. 

He really should have just asked for help the first time; something about what he did felt a little pathetic, and you were pretty sure he felt the extra embarrassment, too.

Reaching your hand to your backpack, you hastily unzipped its front pocket and reached inside to pull out a small, rectangular-shaped plastic board. It has colored strings wrapped around it several times, all lined up in a row, and some thicker in a pile than the other. The strings gleamed under the sunlight in a way that Jisung had never seen things reflect light before. It was like a turned-off screen or the surface of jelly crystals. He could not deduce. 

You tugged at the end of the red string row and pulled out an ample amount before you snapped it away from the plastic board.

“Turn around,” you told Jisung once you approached him.

Jisung widened his eyes in confusion. “What–“

“I am going to hoist you up, and you are going to climb over the fence, okay?” you said, linking and twisting the red string in your hands, creating a pattern unfamiliar to anything Jisung had ever seen. Before you could chant a spell, your eyes glared up at Jisung, and you paused your movements.

He was staring at the string in your hand. He recognized your action to be a game he played occasionally with his friends in school. It was a game of Ayatori, the game of strings. Except he has never been able to play it far enough to create the pattern you just did with your two hands.

“Hello? Do you want my help or not?” you asked to break the silence, waving your hands in front of his face while keeping it still in its position. “I don’t have all day.” 

Jisung seemed to shake his head slightly. His hair waved along with the slight tremble of his head, then he blinked a few times to fully pull himself back from his thoughts. “Um, yes, yeah. Sorry about that.” He nodded at you and quickly turned around when you gave him a sudden glare, a grimace forming on his face.

You pursed your lips as you watched his back, making sure he wasn’t trying anything sneaky to peek behind you. Those curious eyes were what you knew all too well of, and one thing you knew for sure was that nothing ever goes well for you when you choose to entertain their owners, especially when they realized you weren’t just someone with magic tricks up your sleeves, like bunnies in top hats or pigeons hidden behind coats, but instead someone with magic–magic, like the classic fireballs and the inhumane strength.

None of which were the dominant aspect of magic, mind you. The human perception of magic users—also humans, but a distinction has to be made somehow—was highly skewed, and your people may as well be funny wizards at this point. You used to find amusement in the matter until it inconvenienced your life. But, granted, magic users usually stay within their cities. Your case was just different. 

“Imperium Viribus,” you muttered under your breath and let your fingers—which supported the string's glyphic pattern—straighten themselves. But instead of falling limp around the gaps of your fingers, the red string floated in mid-air and levitated itself just above their tips.

The string shone a pure shade of white, outlining the ruby red color made out of crystalline and what felt like beads. The strings were a product of your family’s mass business; you never did learn why they chose its materials to be so similar to friendship bracelets. The glyphic figure cut itself in half to move towards both of your hands, which were loosely extended with patience. The pattern it once was faded into a circle as it shifted, moving to a stop when the circle gap was big enough to go through your hands.

It moved downwards towards your wrist, the vibration of its pure magic raising goosebumps on your forearms, and it wrapped itself around your wrist perfectly. You looked at the red strings that adorned both of your wrists, and you grimaced. 

They were somewhat like bracelets, technically. 

Jisung winced in surprise when he felt you place your hand on either side of his waist. He tensed up, his arms involuntarily raising to avoid your skin. Your fingers found their place along his slender figure, and your thumb pressed against his back gently. He willed himself not to shiver at your fairy-like touch while the red blush on his cheek ran wild and spread to his ears.

“On three!” You gave his waist a firmer grip once as a signal to prepare before you moved your legs into a better stance. Looking upwards at the gate, thankfully gliding right past his red ears, you calculated the strength needed with your squinted eyes before you exhaled. “One, two, three!”

You moved your arms up while Jisung jumped to aid your action. However, due to your wrongful calculations, you have overpowered the muscles in your arm, and instead of hoisting the poor boy up so he could grab onto the gate's ledge, you made the mistake of literally throwing him over to the other side.

Jisung let out a panicked shriek when he felt himself lung forward without any kind of momentum. Reaching his hand back in hopes of grabbing anything, all he could catch was air before his shoulder hit the dusty ground of the walking track, then his body and legs. His body hit the ground with a thud, and for a split second, Jisung could not think of anything but the big question marks and exclamation marks roaming in his head.

Your mouth was hung open as you watched the terrible flip happen before your eyes, your hands pausing in an awkward position right under your chin. As Jisung groaned and withered slightly in pain on the ground, you took tentative steps toward the gate and wrapped your hands around the fence.

Leaning forward, you gave Jisung a concerning scan before asking, “Are you okay? I am so sorry about this!”

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, and you knew immediately that your boss was texting you about being late. Damn, time sure passed fast. You thought you had a few more minutes to spare for this boy. You supposed you could find a space and cast a teleportation spell, though, so everything should be fine.

“Hey, look! I am sorry again, but I have to go now!” you exclaimed in between the fence at Jisung, who was shaking off the soreness of his body as he stood up. “Take care of yourself, alright! And head to class. You are late!”

“Yeah, I know that!” he exclaimed without looking at you, too busy dusting himself off and checking out the bleeding scrape on his arm.

A small rock must have scratched his skin when he fell. He didn’t even feel it due to the overall impact of the fall. When he glanced back up at you, wanting to thank you for the help instead of hollering at you for throwing him over the gate, you were already gone.

The road you were walking through was familiar to you. 

For one, you take the same path to head to your part-time job every early morning. You could safely say you knew every architecture of this road like the back of your hand—from the small church where the pastor would occasionally hand you a small cupcake when he saw you walking past to the stray calico cat that paces on the same brick wall every morning. You have yet to befriend it.

For two, you threw a boy over the school gate just this morning. It was possibly one of the most memorable things you have done the entire month, aside from meeting the worst customers at your part-time job and trying so damn hard not to manifest spikes and vines from the ground to give them a life lesson.

It was infuriating. Unbelievable, even. The fact that you have all the power, yet somehow you became the minority and gained the need to hide as soon as you stepped into a land where the majority of people lack magic in their veins. Even though it was more of an issue of human decency and choosing not to pick fights with people much smaller than you. 

Glancing at the school, you could see students piling out of the school gate in crowds separated by small friend groups. Looking at the sun, you hummed a little, acknowledging that it was already time for schools to let their students out. 

Stifling an annoyed groan, you straightened your back and grabbed onto the straps of your bag, preparing yourself as if you were about to walk through a battlefield. It was your fault for leaving work later than usual; technically, you could have clocked out the second time struck, but you had wanted to finish what you were tasked to do when you went to work and should have finished before your shift ended. Regardless, you had hoped to get the chance to walk through an empty street.

Something was unsettling about being the only person in the crowd not wearing a school uniform despite being the same age as everyone else. It was for your own peace of mind. Everyone else could assume you were just a young-looking adult, and they probably thought that. Paranoia sets out to make you overthink every glance and every whispered word you can detect. Everything ultimately gets transferred to a piece of self-judgment you could never forget.

Unconsciously, you lowered your head and decided to speedwalk through this herd of teenagers. Halfway through the crowd, you could hear a familiar voice calling out. 

Although unsure whether the voice was reaching out to you, you chose to spare the owner a glance anyway and immediately met eyes with the boy you helped in the morning. Jisung caught your gaze, recognized your face, and raised his arm for a wave. Your legs stopped moving as you waited for him to run towards you, an action that was out of the ordinary for you. 

Jisung abruptly stopped in front of you, and then he bent down to catch his breath. Throughout his rushing over to your side, the natural smile never once left his cheeky face. How he seemed glad to see you made you slightly lower your guard.

“Hello!” he greeted you enthusiastically as soon as he stood up straight, his luscious hair bouncing with the movements of his body.

You gave him a weak nod in return. “Hi. How is your hand?”

Jisung widened his eyes, not knowing you saw the injury when you left early in the morning. He moved to touch the white bandage around his palm and twisted his wrist a little as if to soothe out the pressure of its tightness. Then he looked back up at you, his eyes crinkling into an assuring smile. “It is fine. Were you worried?”

You tilted your head at him, eyebrows raising for a moment before you shrugged. You were not. Despite your meet-cute being the most interesting thing this month, you barely thought about him. However, now that he has presented himself to you, it was basic decency to ask. “I did throw you over the gate. The least I can do is worry a little about what I caused.”

The corner of Jisung’s lips curled downwards in approval as he nodded. On that note, he did have the urge to ask you how you easily hoisted him over the ledge of the gate like that when he could barely manage to pull himself up. He has been obsessing over it during lunch and even got his friends to make hypothetical conclusions. None of which he liked, though. 

His chance to ask you about it vanished when you gave him a curt nod of farewell.

“Well then, goodbye,” you said.

“Wait! I haven’t thanked you yet!” he exclaimed immediately, reaching out halfway to you before you suddenly turned around. He cleared his throat and quickly removed his extended arm, hiding it behind his back where his fingers were extended straight in nervousness that he had almost touched you unannounced.

Sensing that you were allowing him to properly thank you for helping him sneak into the school and essentially breaking the rules, Jisung placed his hands back to his front and lightly bent his waist to a bow. He cleared his throat and spoke in a more serious tone, “Um… thank you for helping me get to school today.”

You grimaced at the formality. You didn’t need the gratitude. It does you no good. But, due to your lack of desire to engage in a further conversation, you nodded in response. “It’s nothing. Just don’t be late next time.”

“I wish I could, but it is hard trying to get up after pulling an all-nighter and only sleeping for two hours,” Jisung complained with a stomp of his foot, an adorable pout forming on his face.

You blinked at how he just initiated a conversation right on the spot. He could have just laughed and said, “Okay,” but no, he commented something that would compel you to say something in return. You weren’t even sure if he had intended for his comment to lead to anything. It was just an opportunity placed right in front of you to chat more with him, an opportunity you really did not wish to take.

“Just don’t go to school then. No one is stopping you,” you said, going against your will and being just about the worst conversation killer ever.

“Uh, my parents are stopping me,” Jisung gasped in faint irritation at the thought and shook his head. “Besides, education is needed for me to live a comfortable life. If comfortable is defined as barely scraping by.” 

You hummed then, your lips curling down in acknowledgment. A painful flash sparked in your eyes at the mention of family, which Jisung could not notice due to the short time it stayed. Your emotion quickly bumped back to your normal state, and you frowned at how he seemed to talk down on occupations. He was right, but you being in the position he implied he would hate to be in felt like an insult to your lifestyle.

A part-time job works wonders! If you have magic that makes you extremely adaptive, that was.

“Okay.” You shrugged with an exaggerated pull of your facial features. 

“What about you?” Jisung asked then, ignoring your obvious unwillingness to talk. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“My parents aren’t stopping me,” you replied. “They’re not here.”

“Oh, so you came from somewhere else?” He assumed, tilting his head with a small clap. “Are you traveling?”

“No, they’re dead,” you revealed. Dropped a bomb, even. “My parents are dead.”

Jisung felt his mind blackout, yet his eyes focused on your features. Your words were easy and understandable, and they were immediately processed in his brain—your parents were dead, which made you an orphan, which would explain why you were not dressed in uniform. But what about your other family members? Surely someone stepped up to be your guardian! What about social workers? Foster care? 

The tragedy he could easily comprehend. Or, at least, the surface level of it he could understand. Anything further than that remained a question. What he could not grasp quickly was how to respond to your statement. His immense amount of empathy was ready to jump out of his throat at any given moment, but he wasn’t sure if encouragement would serve as a mockery to you. How long has it been? What could he say? What is there to say that could change reality? 

Nothing much. Comfort is a scam, and people, with their little emotional hearts, fall for it every time.

Amid his thought process, you took his silence as an opportunity for you to quickly flee the conversation.

You had not thought to expose that aspect of your life, albeit it didn’t matter since he was a total stranger, and there was a ninety-nine percent chance you would never see him again. There was a knot in your chest, unexplainable and weird. What about this boy made you spill a secret that has been tightly sealed behind your lips for years?

His stoic reaction to your past added to your helplessness, which amplified your urge to get out of the crowd and be at a place where you could breathe on your own. You might have to get farther away than needed as students were making their way home, or you could wait in the shadows as usual. 

“Anyway,” you muttered quietly under your breath, not caring if he could hear you or not. “Take care.”

You spun on your heels and quickly left the scene.

The tutorial center was less boring than usual, but Jisung knew it was only because he was preoccupied with what you said back at the school gate.

It was very much within his character to let his head linger on a stranger whose name he still has no idea of. More often than not, people give their condolences, and they forget them after a brief moment of grieving. At the end of the day, the disaster was not upon their life but another. But Jisung had always tended to put the responsibility on himself to feel as others do, and he remembers even after days and weeks.

Needless to say, Jisung felt extremely conflicted. He wasn’t sure why he thought letting you slip away this afternoon would be a bad idea when he knew he had a lot to tell you. A lot of heartfelt, encouraging, friendly words he wanted to say. And a big bear hug to temporarily release your hidden sorrows if you let him.

Breathing a soft sigh to collect himself, Jisung walked along the dark path leading him back to his home. As he made his way past the convenience store between two residential areas, he glanced up at the sign for no apparent reason other than to change the position of his neck and to face a different scenery.

Then he caught sight of you. What a miracle coincidence! It took him a second to make sense of you before his heart leaped happily. You were sitting by the glass pane, where the bar tables and chairs were located, and you were too busy blowing at the instant noodle to care about the approaching figure outside in the street. You looked up only when Jisung made his way to the glass and started knocking gently at the window.

Your eyes rounded at his grinning face, and for one moment, you almost let yourself glare him off. You thought better of it, considering that he probably meant no harm and only wanted to say hello before going about his night. But you did curse under your breath at this sudden encounter—how did you two bump into each other? This is a big district with hundreds of convenience stores! Why did it have to be this one?

Ignoring your vulgar thoughts against destiny and its irregular plans for you, you waved back half-heartedly at the enthusiastic Jisung standing before the glass pane, and then you flicked your wrist to give him a shooing motion.

“Go. Leave. Go home,“ you told him, emphasizing the shapes of your lips.

His hand stopped, and he tilted his head, most likely understanding you but not yet deciding whether he wanted to follow your wish. You watched as those brows of his furrowed a fraction and his eyes flashed rebelliously, then he shook his head and walked over to the convenience store's front door. 

Your grip on your chopsticks loosened in defeat as you deadpanned at yourself, waiting for Jisung’s arrival.

“Good evening!” Jisung said once he was standing beside you, somewhere next to the stool at your side.

“Good evening,” you greeted back, glancing at him briefly.

Jisung ignored the lack of enthusiasm in your voice, which he kind of knew was not from exhaustion caused by a day’s worth of work but that you simply did not want to talk to him. It was abnormal of him to pester someone longer than welcomed, but the gravitational pull at his chest made him continue in his pursuit. He held the straps of his backpack just to take it off and dump it on the countertop. Jumping onto the tall stool, he adjusted his position before turning his head over to look at you.

He observed you momentarily, watching as you slurp at your noodle and disregard his presence. You stopped making that soft, angered expression, the one with constantly furrowed brows and pursing your lips. Jisung took it as a cue to start talking to you again.

He carefully leaned a little towards your side to ask in a small voice. “How was your day?”

You did not look at him when you replied, “Everything is normal. Just eating some dinner, which you should too.”

Jisung nodded, a look of realization dawning on his face at the mention of dinner. You felt relieved when you saw him drop off the chair and look around the store, thinking he would finally leave you to your own devices. You were wrong. 

After glancing around the store, Jisung returned his attention to you and asked, “Can you save me the seat?”

You looked at him with questioning eyes. “Why?”

“So I can get dinner,” Jisung said, pointing toward the cashier. He then giggled, a light snort coming out of his nose. “Well, I know there isn’t anyone here, but just in case, you know!”

“No, I mean as in–“ you paused, then sighed in faint distress. “Go home, have dinner with your family.”

He continued to smile at you for the next quiet minute. Not going to lie, it was hurtful when you kept trying to push him away like this. It made him wonder if he had done anything wrong. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to catch on unless you specifically tell him because the way he has treated you since the moment you two met each other is friendly, and friendly is never wrong in his eyes.

It was so easy for him to just leave you alone, though. There were absolutely no important reasons why he should stay and put in effort just to befriend you. He simply wanted to. Jisung wanted to get to know you, which he supposed was a reason important enough for him to pursue his goal. He assumed you were lonely. And weirdly, every time he glances at you, there seems to be this magnetic pull yanking him towards you.

Jisung thought it was a small crush he developed, a feeling that sparked from you helping him during the morning. It could disappear soon, but he had chosen to act upon it. Despite knowing it was very impolite of him to continue his curious advances, Jisung decided that as long as you hadn’t explicitly told him to leave you alone, he wouldn’t.

“No.” He smiled.

That was an upfront refusal. It was even comical. You were unprepared for such a reaction, so you offered him silence as you frequently did. Jisung patted his bag and sent you a nod, then he turned to go around the store so he could find something to eat. Meanwhile, you continued to devour the cup noodles in your hands and tried to ignore the warning signs in your head.

Dealing with people on a long-term basis has never been your thing. You have been alone ever since a young age, in a place where people were completely different from you and where people had not been the nicest to your kind (the magic-wielding kind). You doubted their indecency stemmed from hatred, though. It felt more like general uncertainty, something of caution, which, to be fair, you held the same over them. If anything, you were more aware of your advantage over these regular people.

Due to that, you were left unwilling to befriend anybody, and you would much rather be left alone most of the time.

It was the first step for you, a giant step as it seemed, to have a meal with someone else. You were so used to staying quiet as you ate that the foreign concept of chit-chatting and eating was almost exciting. Gulping a dry patch down your throat, you glared at the soup and clenched your jaw in dismay.

Not only did the act go against your life compass, but you were also left feeling confused about your feelings because while your head told you it would cause trouble if you let the boy into your life, your heart was giddy and nervous upon the encounter.

“You are being really tense.”

Jisung’s sudden input made you relax, not because he calmed you but because you wanted to go against his observations and silently prove him wrong. Your muscles loosened up immediately, and you let out a breath you had been holding when you were too busy thinking up all the ways you could fuck up this little dinner time with—what was his name?

“What is your name? My name is [Name],” you blurted out. The tension that you let go of traveled back and became visible at once. Your fingers tightened around the wooden chopsticks, giving their structure a small crack as you did.

Jisung blinked at you in shock. He was putting down his previously microwaved box dinner, carefully minding how his fingertips touched the edge of the plastic container because it was so hot there was smoke coming from the graphic surface. But every thought that littered his mind was blown away now that you had, for the first time, initiated a conversation and asked for his name.

“Nevermind. I never asked.” You turned away to hide your face when he didn’t give you a response, thinking perhaps your approach was too abrupt, which it was, but Jisung didn’t mind that aspect one bit.

“No, no, no! My–my name is Jisung! Han Jisung, or just Jisung,” he quickly replied when he saw your mood change. He got onto the stool clumsily, having all his attention focused on your turned head. His eyes seemed almost desperate if you had given yourself the chance to look at him.

He grabbed the counter's edge and said, “Sometimes people call me Han too, but you can call me whatever you like.”

The fact that he sounded just as nervous as you made you feel slightly better about yourself. Your mind relaxed into a more natural state where, for once, it was not overthinking everything, and you slowly turned your head to face Jisung, whose eyes brightened as soon as you reacted. He could almost see your soul open up to him, the way you let your guard down when you finally offered him your first smile.

“Hello, Jisung,” you said softly.

“Hi, [Name]!” Jisung grinned.

Your heart was giddy again. It thumped closely to your ribs in hopes of getting closer to the vessel of warmth sitting next to you. How long has it been since you’ve made a friend in an unprofessional setting? You only knew it had been years. All your friends are colleagues much older than you, those stressing about universities, or those with multiple mouths to feed back home. It has been a while since you last made a friend the same age as you. The accomplished feeling dwelling in your chest was overpowering the alarms blaring in your head.

You two went about to do your own thing after the brief but needed introduction. You continued to enjoy your cup noodles even though you were almost finished with the entire bowl. Jisung went ahead to devour the box dinner he had just got, inhaling the food so quickly that he was almost caught up with you when he finished his dinner.

You two were surrounded by sounds of chewing and plastic bottles being gripped. It was anything but words, and it was getting distastefully awkward that you were starting to shrink back into your personal shell.

Jisung had been too busy deciding whether he wanted to bring up the sensitive topic of your deceased parents. You had finally opened up a little part of yourself to him by giving him your name. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away by reminding you of a traumatic past. 

Heaving a sigh, he casually shifted his head to your side to stretch his neck out a little, and then something lining up your forearm caught his sight.

The identical red string he saw you play around in the morning lingered tightly on your forearm. Sitting perfectly next to it were two more strings of two different colors: green and black. 

Chewing as he stuffed another spoonful of rice into his mouth, adding more roundness to his already full cheek, Jisung blinked in thought at the strings around your arm.

You clicked your tongue to remove the green onion stuck to your teeth. Jisung was not trying to hide that he was staring, or perhaps you were too alert to your surroundings. 

Either way, with a clear assumption of what he would be asking, you turned to him and said, “If you have something to ask, just ask, Jisung.”

He blushed faintly at the sudden confrontation but immediately jumped at the chance to talk about what had been concerning his mind almost the entire day. Pointing at your arm, he asked, “What are these strings for? They don’t look like bracelets.”

You glanced down at your hand and cursed under your breath. You hadn’t taken them off since you did not expect Jisung to appear for the rest of the night, and you had been too careless a while ago that you forgot to take them off when he was away, either.

Those colored strings were a family heirloom of some sort. You never considered a family business's product an heirloom, though. Only your family has the steps and ingredients to create this kind of string utilized by magicians specializing in string magic. However, since the tragic wipeout of your family name, the manufacturing has stopped, and you were left with roughly a box of these strings for spell-casting purposes. 

It didn’t matter much anymore. Everything happened years ago, and there was none of your past that you intended to reveal to Jisung.

“They are bracelets.” You shrugged, but your voice was so unusually gentle that Jisung could not help but overthink the context of those three simple words.

His gaze moved up to look at you, and he let himself freely scan your expression when he found that you weren’t paying attention to him. He pursed his lips in sympathy when he saw the lack of emotions in your eyes. There was only a speck of light, but it gradually dimmed as you stared at the strings around your arm.

“They are bracelets, it doesn’t matter.” You straightened up. The vulnerable moment you enjoyed was over within the blink of an eye, and it was time for you to toughen up and get over it as you have always been told to. Clearing your throat, you looked down at your empty bowl, and clumsily, you reached out for it before dropping off the stool. “I am finished, so I am going to leave first.”

Jisung’s jaw dropped a little at your sudden change in attitude. He must have said something wrong. His heart beat in a panicked rhythm as he watched you grab all the trash on the table and wear your bag again. He wanted to apologize, he wanted you to stay, he wanted to chat more with you. Yet he could not say anything because of fear of making things worse for you and him.

“Goodbye, Jisung,” you said quickly, brushing past him to head to the front door.

“Wa–wait! [Name]!” He called out loudly, causing you to pause and look at him with widened eyes that showed a familiar gleam of anxiety. He flicked back for a second before turning his voice's volume down and asked, “Do you have a place to stay? Somewhere to go back to?”

You inhaled a large breath and licked your bottom lip. Your home was far away, and it wasn’t a place you wanted to go back to. You have been working jobs to pay for food and hygiene products, which you deemed more important than having a roof over your head. Because of the safety provided by your magic, you were able to rest anywhere you wanted: trees, parks, and streets. 

The district itself was your home. But you supposed he was asking about a physical place. 

Reaching out to touch the knob of the glass door, you tightened your grip and opened the door first. Then you turned to look at Jisung, who was still staring at you with utmost concern etched in his eyes.

“No,” you replied, and you left the store.

"Hey, [Name]! Can you set the stage for us? We are trying to take care of the lights and the sound!”

You looked at the stage crew member and nodded in response. Moving over to the side of the stage, you fished out one of the many boxes labeled ‘stage props’ and, with the help of an enhanced strength spell, picked it up with ease. It was all you had been doing this whole day—picking up heavy boxes and putting them down on another spot. 

A mother who worked with you at the convenience store had begged you to take over her shift at a theater studio because her son suddenly got sick. She had refused all the alternative solutions you offered, such as taking a sick leave or letting you see him so you could discreetly bring the child back to health. You only reluctantly accepted the job after hearing that you would be compensated; a few extra bucks could never go wrong, and it wasn’t like you had anything else to do after work anyway!

The waves rushed your way for the most part until you realized where the studio planned to hold its next public announcement play. That was when your reluctance to help turned into legitimate disdain as you found yourself, with a cardboard box in hand, standing in front of the gate to Jisung’s school. 

It had been too late for you to back down from the job. Unfortunately, you were also never one to convincingly fake an emergency. Not that these people would listen to you, anyway! These theatre people seemed to take everything as a dramatic fake-out! The only options you had were to teleport away from the spot or work along in hopes that neither you nor Jisung would notice each other's presence. 

You weren’t sure the play was for students his grade, anyway! There was no need to feel agitated!

After your co-workers realized you have the strength of a literal God, they deemed you the person to do anything that needs even the tiniest bit of power, like picking up boxes that weren’t very heavy… disregarding the obvious bias you had when you weren’t feeling the full weight of those stage equipment. You chose not to complain because they might have saved you some issues by making you work backstage most of the time. 

That meant you wouldn’t need to stand in the school assembly hall when the group began performing. After actively avoiding Jisung for several days (not knowing if he was even looking for you), accidentally bumping into him was the last thing you wanted to happen. Not to mention, you knew he would strike up a conversation, and you had no desire to make a quick escape from any. 

You have to admit, though, it was a miracle that you once again ended up at his doorstep. All these coincidences that called for the encounters of you and him had been butchering your plan to a lifetime of loneliness. But you could not say you hate it all that much. Jisung was rather good company whether you like it or not. And amongst all your internal issues, you must admit you enjoyed his brief presence.

You did not hate being around him too much. Not to a point where you could defy destiny, anyway. 

After putting up the folded, extremely wrinkled, heavily decorated cardboard made to serve as a backdrop, you stumbled back a few steps and clapped your hands together to congratulate yourself for finishing the handiwork. The setup looked fine to your standard, as did the concept picture your colleagues showed you. If anything was to be changed, they would just have to call for your help or do it themselves. 

Now, all you needed to do is hide behind those red curtains and never see the light of day until the show ends.

“[Name], can you also set up the microphone for the narrator?”

Yeah, alright. It takes five seconds to adjust the height and plug in the cord. You shall be fine, and it shall be fun.

Moving over to the podium, you grabbed one microphone from the row of spare ones and turned it on. A click could be heard through the speakers. You hummed, hitting the top of it with your hand to make sure the volume was enough. The speaker reflected the noise a few times as you did, and you nodded in approval.

Leaving to pick up the microphone stand, you held it up and walked to the visible edge of the stage. After putting the mic into the holder, you busied yourself with moving the cord around in case any people would trip over it. There will always be one person who trips over it, no matter how visible those giant black electric tubes were.

The calm was interrupted when the doors to the assembly hall opened. Not calmly, though. They were flung open like someone was late to an important meeting. But that was not where your main focus remained. Your eyes grazed past the doors to the familiar loud voice rapidly spilling words out to his classmates, accompanied by an exhausted teacher trying to shut the voice up.

Despite knowing who it was, you perked up and kept your eyes on the doors anyway. There Jisung stood, hands waving erratically at his less energetic friend as he rambled on and on about an occasion he had during lunch. 

You felt a gentle heat rush to your cheeks. Surely it was from knowing that you had been ghosting him (without him knowing, which wasn’t really ghosting then) for days. If you two met eyes, it would be the most embarrassing and confronting for you.

Thankfully, his attention was completely diverted. It gave you the time to quickly fix the microphone stand and move away to hide. Whipping your head around to fixate your gaze on the back of the red and velvet stage curtain, you quickly and carelessly moved your legs, hoping to get away from the stage as soon as possible. However, the second you stepped forward, you felt your leg being pulled down onto the ground, and your body lurched forward.

Along with the rest of his class, Jisung snapped his head over to the loud thud coming from the stage. His eyes widened a fraction when he watched as the fallen body slowly scrambled up from the ground. Glancing over to his friend amid the snickers and gasps, he gave a sympathetic grimace before turning back to see if the fallen person had finally gotten up.

“Oh, [Name]! You gotta be careful! You know someone always trips over the cords!”

His eyes were now wider than ever. His animated hands had fallen from mid-air and hit his sides while he kept his eyes focused on your figure. You had perked up at your co-worker’s words, your eyes filled with deep-seated frustration at the fact that he called out your name so loudly. You were sure the whole class that just walked in knew who you were now. 

You scoffed at the irony as you helped yourself up with a low mutter. “Yeah, I know.”

Dusting your body with your violent hands, your face contained a constant grimace that you wished your co-worker had the sense to realize was meant only for him. As you habitually turned to scan your surroundings, Jisung felt a sense of softness once he was able to see your face clearly. Oh, yes. He could recognize that unsatisfied gaze and that downturned lips anywhere. You were the [Name] he knew of.

You caught eyes with him for a brief moment. He held your gaze with a small smile as he raised a hand timidly for a friendly wave, and you willed your face not to heat up. It was just Han Jisung. Nothing very special about it. If you don’t make a big deal out of this, you assumed neither would he. Even though you just fell face-first on the ground in front of everyone. 

You sniffed in a breath, the pursing of your lips lightening up at his warm gesture. If he was feeling any kind of repulsiveness towards you, then he was not showing it, or maybe he just genuinely did not feel an ounce of embarrassment for you. Your mind just liked to tell you weird things, and you liked to listen to it. 

A second passed for you to raise your hand to wave back at him, but you were abruptly interrupted when your co-worker reached out to speak to you.

“I think we are all set here. Good job,” he said after taking a scan of the stage. “We have people attending backstage, so you should sit at the back of the hall and watch the performance!”

You stared at him in disbelief. With a laugh, you shook your head to turn down the offer. “That is fine. I think I can stay in the back and wait–“

“No need! You have helped to carry things around the whole day. You can go sit at the back,” he insisted cheerfully, causing your heart to drop because it seemed he didn’t have the attitude to listen to anything you had to say.

You remained silent when he placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you around so you could head to the stairs leading you off the stage. You continued to walk when he let go of you, your hands busy scrubbing at your wrists to release the red strings that adorned them. The tightness of the strings hadn’t left a mark yet. Plenty of magic remained in them, so you shoved them in your pocket when they loosened around your skin.

Looking up ahead, your legs did an automatic pause when you saw Jisung sitting on the first chair of the first row. You had not been paying attention enough to realize that his class had walked to the front of the audience area, and due to being one of the shortest in his class, Jisung was placed at the front of the line, hence seated on the first chair.

You gave him a look, hardening your gaze so pointedly at him that Jisung shrunk back down to the seat and was forced to pout up only at you. Softening at his reaction, you felt a rush of gentle remorse up your ears. He was as warm and welcoming as ever. You supposed you, too, felt glad to have been him again. Part of you wanted to chat with him after that night at the convenience store. About nothing specific, just anything, like the weather.

Removing your hands from your pocket and rubbing them together for the sake of fidgeting, you looked out for the teachers and the other classes filing into the hall before you took tentative steps closer to Jisung’s seat. He was staring up at you now, his eyes round and wide in anticipation.

When you were within reach, he kicked your ankle lightly a few times before he greeted you endearingly, his hand giving you a small wave. “Hello, [Name].”

You couldn’t stop the amused smirk as you returned his greeting with only a faint nod. Stretching your gaze further, you caught sight of his classmates’ curious glances and bit your lower lip in caution. You had better not stay for long; you couldn’t anyway, you weren’t a student at the school. 

“Goodbye,” you greeted with a curt nod. 

He scrunched his brows, surprised at your sudden farewell. You avoided his reach by backing up, but not too much that it would attract attention from others. Immediately upon your reaction, the boy retreated. He wasn’t expecting himself to act like that anyway; his reaching out was an involuntary act. 

Giving him an unsure smirk, you gestured for him to pay attention to the stage before saying, “We can talk after this ends.”

Pulling away from him, you gave the teacher a polite bow and quickly left before you could be ushered out for disturbing the students. As you made little steps toward the back of the hall, you could faintly hear Jisung’s friends talking. It sounded like something of a teasing exclaim.

The first thing Jisung did when the teacher dismissed the class was to jump up from his seat and collect everything on his table so he could carelessly shove them back into his bag. He ignored the confused looks and cooing questions of his friends about his sudden rush of movements while he busied himself by pulling all the junk out of his desk drawer.

What he knew was that the teacher had dismissed the class two minutes ago, and he could not be too sure if you would choose to wait by the school gate for him. He has to be quick, and he was. 

After he flung his schoolbag over his shoulders, he bid his friends a hasty goodbye and ran out of the classroom. Speeding down the stairs, the way his backpack continued to hit against his back went completely unnoticed until he stumbled out of the front doors of his school. He could feel a stinging sensation at the back of his hips. He promptly ignored it. 

The front path greeted him with fallen leaves and gusts of wind. Students swarmed around him to leave the school, and his eyes skipped past all of them with only one goal in mind: you. His chest heaved with the flow of his gaze, mouth breathing rapidly as his eyes brushed off one after another person as soon as he realized that they were not you.

The dread that you might have left already consumed him with a sense of panic. Jisung gulped hardly at the thought of another round of late-night sensitive thinking about why you had not appeared for days and whether he had chased you away because he asked one stupid question about those strings on your arm.

“You are being really tense.”

He whipped around as his eyes widened. When he saw you standing before him, he exhaled in relief and touched his sweaty forehead with his possibly even sweatier palm. A chuckle left his lips when he saw you tilting your head to the side questioningly, and as usual, the first thing he said was a good old ‘hello.’

You carefully observed his body, your intense eyes making him straighten his back. After a short moment, you looked up into Jisung's eyes, and you spoke, “You are still being tense. Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, sure. Why would I not be?” Jisung laughed with a dismissive wave of his hand, causing his posture to be even more rigid than ever. He finally toned himself down when he saw your unamused expression, and he cleared his throat just in case his voice would crack as he spoke. “Nothing happened. I just… um…”

He was planning to tell you that he had a physical battle with his textbooks, ran all the way from the sixth floor, and leaped through several flights of stairs just to make sure he gets the chance to talk to you again. But it seemed he thought better of it. It was quite dramatic, even Jisung had to stop himself from spilling all his effort into the wind.

“I just ran a little.” He nodded at you, comically waving his hand to dramatize his words so his slow-fading panting would not come to attention. “Nobody likes school, so we try to get out of here as quickly as possible, which sometimes results in me running down the stairs.”

You stared at him skeptically but soon nodded with a shrug since you had no idea how to judge whether he was lying to you or not. Besides, should it matter if he was tense or why he ran? It was nothing of your business.

“I know how that feels. I didn’t like school either,” you said casually. “At least when I was still attending one.”

Jisung was still huffing out breaths to calm himself down, but you could faintly hear a mini gasp amongst all of them. His blinking was rapid as he gave you a questioning noise, and you snorted a laugh at him. 

“Well, of course, I went to school once. How did you think I learned how to read? Albeit not as advanced as what you know, possibly.”

You had decided to start walking as you spoke. Standing in the middle of the road and forcing everyone else to swerve out of their way to walk past you two was not sitting well with you, especially when everyone seemed to be giving you both stingy eyes. Jisung had automatically followed you, matching his pace with yours as well as keeping his eyes on you to hopefully prompt a further explanation.

You understood what his expression meant, and you pursed your lips with a gentle hum. Many things happened when you were in school, but none of which you could reveal to Jisung due to how most of your learning material was related to magic. You were still unsure whether he could handle the truth well. You have only just known him, after all.

You have watched him from the sideline for a while, though. Most people would call it stalking, but in your case, it was not only to satisfy your curiosity but also to gather information. You felt the safest when you knew more about someone than they knew about you, and you could disregard their possible feelings of dismay because it was a known fact to yourself that you would never harm them.

Jisung appeared to be a cheerful person who was also very caring and energetic. He did not feel like being the judgemental one with harsh opinions, but the thought alone was not enough to eliminate all the past mistakes of revealing your identity as a magic user to others you thought would help you.

“Nothing very special happened when I was in school. I just knew I didn’t like it.” You shrugged.

“Well, I can agree with you on that.” Jisung nodded. “High school is pretty fun if you have good friends with you.”

“Do you have good friends? It sounds like it isn’t fun for you,” you asked as you turned to him. You kept a straight face as you asked the question, even though you knew the answer already.

Jisung has a lot of friends, but there are three he hangs out with the most. You did not know of their names, but their faces you could easily recognize: a calm-looking one, a good-looking one, and a cute-looking one. After having made that observation, you could safely conclude that Jisung was the loud-looking one in his friend group. And you didn’t even know loud had a face until you saw him.

“I have good friends–of course, I have good friends!” Jisung spoke proudly. His hand reached up to his chest and he started to count off. 

“Seungmin can be a little blunt but he is really smart and he lets me copy his homework all the time. Hyunjin is a little too good-looking and I feel awkward standing with him sometimes, but he also lets me copy his homework. And I might not be able to understand Felix half the time but he teaches me English and he plays games with me.”

You laughed, the genuine sound descending lower and lower until Jisung could hear a hint of sadness seeping through. He piped down from his little ramble and blinked at you with concern, unsure if he had said something wrong again. Upon the sudden silence, you let your eyes peer over to his side and you raised your brows at the worried gaze he was giving you.

“What?” you asked innocently. 

Jisung pouted before he looked away. He stared ahead at the road, speaking nonchalantly, “It’s just… you looked sad, so I thought maybe I said something wrong again.”

“Again?”

He nodded. “Yeah. First, it was about the strings. Come to think of it, you reacted a little too strongly for them to just be bracelets,” he pointed out carefully. “But I thought I did something wrong because you haven’t been around here for days now. It is like you are trying to avoid me or something. It bothered me a lot.”

You were rendered speechless. You had not realized you left such an impact in his thoughts, seeing that he was happy hanging out with his existing friends. He has never seen you around the school before either, so it wasn’t like he knew this was a common route for you to take. Yet, somehow, he knew when you were gone. It was supernatural knowledge; Jisung could just feel it. 

Now that the truth revealed itself to you, you did not know what to say. Kicking your feet harder against the ground, you rubbed your hands together nervously. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to avoid you.”

“Oh, so you were avoiding me?”

His eyes were empathetic. It made you feel as if telling him the truth wouldn’t hurt you as much as it would hurt him. It would be too much for him to take, though, and there was no way for you to let go of the cautiousness you have worn on yourself for years. The best you could do was to lay it down slowly for him to realize none of it was his fault.

“I was, but it is from a personal problem. I just…” Your eyes rolled up to the sky in thought, and then you stopped when you found out you two had arrived at the school's main gate. “I haven’t met a friend in a long time, so I am a little rough around the edges regarding social interactions.”

“Oh…” Jisung softened at your honesty. It was more affectionate than anything he could ask for, to have you pour your heart out in front of him just to clear a misunderstanding. 

It must have been hard for you to do so, he assumed. And it brought him a real joy to know that you chose to spill the beans despite the embarrassment surrounding the act.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he said with a faint smile, soft as feather and light as the night.

The weight of rocks was lifted off your shoulders upon his smile. You exhaled gently, returning his smile. The wind blew, but it never seemed to hit the both of you fully; it brushed past the tip of your hair as if to wave goodbye. 

Under this almost sentimental atmosphere, Jisung recalled the first day he met you and thought you were pretty. He almost forgot about that. He had been too focused on the emotional aspect of you to fully appreciate your features. And honestly, right now didn’t seem to be the best time to do it, but he was staring until you broke the silence.

You jabbed your thumb behind your back. “I am going to take my leave now. You should go back home too, Jisung.”

“Ah–hey, wait! Wait!” Jisung reached out for you, his hand not retreating to his side this time as he let himself get a full grasp of your wrist. When you turned around to look at him, your eyes peering down at the tight grip of his hand and back up at him, he gulped down the knot in his throat and tightened his grip for courage. “I… I have something to say.”

You turned around to face him, gently removing your hand from his. Jisung scratched the back of his head shyly, letting out a long string of noise as he crinkled his nose. 

“I… um,” he started, “I just wanted to say you can stay at my house. Please do! I already asked my parents, and they are fine with it.”

You scrunched your face immediately upon the incredulous news he spilled. You licked your lower lip after registering the fact, now surprised but also very appreciative of his kind gesture. “It’s fine, Jisung.” You shook your head and waved your hands in front of your chest politely. “I don’t want to bother you and your family.“

“They said it is fine, though! I am okay with it, too! It concerns me even more to think that you don’t have a place to go home to!” Jisung exclaimed animatedly, clapping his hands together and squeezing them tightly in a praying manner. “You should be able to sleep at a house, you know? Not just a motel or something! Just come over! I already told my mom about it, and I think she already made an extra portion for dinner, so you have to tag along.”

“She did?” you mumbled to yourself.

“Yeah! You bet she did!” Jisung nodded with a hearty smile. “She is tired of seeing my old friends over all the time, anyway! She is probably delighted to see me bringing someone else.”

“I mean…” You gave him a doubtful expression, but his energy did not falter. When you asked again, your voice was as timid as ever, “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Don’t even worry about it,” he urged with a grin. His hand went up to give your arm a playful shove forward before guiding you out the school gate with him. “Come on, let’s go!”

Pulling out his phone from his pocket, Jisung discreetly texted his mother to inform her of the unscheduled plan. You could break his lie when you arrived at his home, but he supposed anything was worth giving you, such as a warm bed to sleep on and a nice homemade meal.

Pressing against the bones of your fingers, you awkwardly scanned the living room of Jisung’s home after sitting down on the couch. It was nothing special, you thought. It was a standard apartment home. It was smaller than the house you used to live in, but you had no plans to complain that thought out loud. Your family was abnormally wealthy, after all.

Jisung’s parents were as kind as you imagined people ought to be but were often ill-equipped to do so. Without asking any questions, they welcomed you into their home with a homemade meal and accepted the request of letting you stay the night. You were reluctant to omit the part where Jisung planned to have you stay over until you could find an actual place to live, but he had waved you off when you tried to bring it up during dinner.

On a certain level, you did think that their behavior was incautious and stupid, but it would only make sense that they didn’t think to suspect someone who is their child's friend. Besides, their not being suspicious worked in your favor! That was disregarding your moral consciousness.

“[Name]!”

You looked up at Jisung and blinked hazily. “What?”

“You are zoning out again. Are you tired?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as a worried pout formed on his lips, causing his cheeks to inflate.

You were. Completely drained, too. Having dinner with Jisung and his parents was like a train wreck for you. Their energy was too much to handle; you could barely get a five-second silence before someone started another conversation again. And, of course, that would be another thing you’ve got concealed inside within the depths of your mind, and it will never be released to the world.

“No, not really.” You shook your head, offering him an assuring smile as you touched your hands together. You looked around the living room again, your eyes pausing one second too long at the kitchen where his parents were located. You gulped. “I just… I feel a little weird since it is my first time here.”

Jisung let out a soft scoff of agreement. “Yeah, my parents have that weird effect on people.” He flicked his wrist and did a shooing gesture with his hand, his actions dismissive. When he quieted himself down, he cleared his throat and suggested, “We can head to my room if you feel weird. You would probably feel a bit better in there.”

“Thanks, Jisung, but I think I will pass,” you mumbled, grabbing a cushion from the couch. “I really don’t know if I should stay the night.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“No, but–“

“Then you are staying,” he cut you off nonchalantly.

You sighed in defeat. There was no talking him out of that. “Okay. But I am going to sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Who said that?” Jisung asked, genuinely confused at your statement. He glanced over at his parents as if that would give him an answer, and then he turned his head to the hallway where his room was located as if he could see through the walls and calculate the size of his room. He hummed thoughtfully before saying, “We don’t have an extra room, but who cares? You can sleep in my room.”

“You have two beds in your room?” you asked, brow furrowed.

He shook his head. “No, but I can get several blankets and sleep on the floor.”

What a selfless gesture. It warmed your heart up more than anything else to know that he has already considered lending you his bed. However, it was nothing you wanted to accept after knowing he would have to lie on the cold, hard ground for the rest of the night. You smiled disapprovingly at him as you shook your head, and the way Jisung let out a whining noise made you chuckle.

“Which one is better, Jisung? Both of us sleeping on a soft surface, or one sleeping on a bed while the other is on the floor?” You raised a dilemma, which was hardly one, technically speaking.

Jisung shrugged. “You sleeping on a soft surface.”

“But I want you to sleep on a bed,” you pointed out. “It is your bed, not mine.”

“Yeah, so I make the decision, and I say you sleep on it tonight,” Jisung said matter-of-factly, his thumb jabbing toward the direction of his room as he did so for maximum persuasion effect. 

It was not working at all, but you thought it was funny seeing him so worked up over this. “Look, it is either that or we are sharing the bed,” you said. 

You gave him a few seconds to process what came out of your mouth. And when he did, recognition flew before his eyes, and he pursed his lips together to prevent himself from screaming bloody murder. To mask his embarrassment, he cleared his throat and immediately put up a brave face.

Throwing his arms up, he exclaimed, “What? There is nothing bad about sleeping on a bed together! We are both sleeping, our brain functions are down, we can’t feel anything!”

“You watch too many dramas,” you said, your tone hiding an element of tease in it that Jisung would much rather not ask about just in case you retorted him with something flustering again.

Giving up on a verbal argument (because, as everybody could see, he was not winning it), Jisung acted upon a different approach. He leaned down to tug at your hand, pulling at your wrist with a delicate touch. His fingers barely grazed past your skin the first time he tried to pull you up. Then they finally gained the courage to hold onto you so he could at least hold your arm up.

“Come on, [Name],” Jisung coaxed with a deeper, softer voice as he would use to a sleepy child he tucked into bed. He shook your arm lightly. “I promise my room and my bed are clean. Come on. I am not letting you sleep on the couch tonight.”

You glared up at him again, but your gaze had less harmful effect than intended. Jisung knew you didn’t mean half the frowns you flashed him or at anybody. It was just a default expression of yours, he concluded, and there was no need for him to feel too worked up about the times you would give him a look of utter disappointment or, more frequently, annoyance.

Still tugging at your hand, Jisung said, “It’s fine. I sleep on the ground all the time. Besides, like I said, my brain functions are down, so I won’t be able to feel uncomfortable at all.”

If he cared enough to say all of that stupid shit, it did seem a little overboard if you rejected his offer. You rolled your eyes at his words, finally standing up to comply with his request. Jisung was taken back when you stood up—and abruptly so—as he hadn’t really been the farthest away from the couch and, well, you. 

The second you did so, he turned his face away to avoid having to feel your breath on his face, which he knew would have made him a blushing, daydreaming mess as soon as you were out of sight and he was left to his own devices.

“Your logic needs some help,” you muttered lowly after you stood up, and having completely disregarded Jisung’s expression, you had spoken right at the skin of his jaw anyway.

Clenching his jaw tightly, he quickly stepped away from you and cleared his throat. “Um… uh… yeah! Great! Yay! You are–yeah, okay.”

“Are you celebrating the fact that your logic needs help?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him suspiciously. “You are acting weird, Jisung.”

Oh, he was so glad you noticed. Pretty sure he noticed his irregular heartbeat and the sensitivity of his neck, too, but tell him straightaway anyway. Having a double reminder would help.

“I am getting a little tired, that is all.” Jisung laughed. “Um… my room is just down the hall on the left, the first door. You can’t miss it. The second door leads to the bathroom; you can shower first if you want.”

You sucked in a breath. It was finally your turn to feel awkward. It would be pretty questionable if Jisung saw you walking out of the shower wearing the same thing as you did today and a couple of days before. You have only gotten yourself a few needed pieces of clothing to switch between days, and none of them looked remotely like a standard set of pajamas, unfortunately.

“Do you think you can lend me something to wear?” you asked, your voice gradually decreasing. “Just a shirt, a shirt is fine.”

“Do you not have anything to wear? You have never changed out of these before?” Jisung widened his eyes, having gotten over the previous embarrassment rather quickly.

You did. You use time magic to reverse the dirt and damage until your clothes return to being brand-new. It would be an easy concept to explain if you were talking to a fellow magic user, but Jisung wasn’t one. And even if he does accept your kind, which you were still clueless about, he would be the type to ask an array of weird questions you wouldn’t know if you’d hate or like.

“There is this lady who owns a small clothing store, and she lends me clothes sometimes,” you lied. “As long as I clean it and return it to her, she is okay with it. But, um, I didn’t get to ask for a new change of clothes today.”

Jisung stared at you. You felt your heart speed up at the process of him analyzing your features despite knowing he probably does not know how to detect a liar simply by their facial expressions, not to mention you weren’t so bad a liar yourself. Thankfully, he quickly released a sheepish smile, adding with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Aww, she is so nice! I am glad you found someone who could help!” He beamed. “But yes, I can lend you something to wear. How about you pick something? I have a lot of shirts!”

“Is that necessary?”

“No, but I think that would be fun.” He shrugged with a silly smile, then he frowned. “And also because I am indecisive. I want to pick something nice, but I have a lot of nice clothes.”

It wasn’t that serious, and Jisung knew. He was not sure what had gotten over him all of a sudden—just the pure idea of you wearing something of his gave him a rather interesting feeling. He would not hate to see it happen. That was all.

“Oh, just grab me something,” you groaned, stepping aside to shove past him. “I need to take a shower.”

“Oh, okay!” Jisung said, grinning. “Don’t use up the hot water.”

Watching as you held up your arm in acknowledgment, Jisung finally let his shoulder relax. He found himself staring at the ground as the clock ticked away, his mind returning to the conversation you two shared. 

It was all fine and normal until the fantasy dropped, and he was thinking about your breath on his skin again.

Oh, there it was, as expected! The pink blush and the nonsensical daydream have finally appeared.

You were fast asleep on the blankets when Jisung finished taking his shower. A slight confusion blurred his senses when he opened the door to his room to find you nowhere to be found. It wasn't until he cast his gaze downwards that he found that you had betrayed his decision and took the opportunity to lay yourself on the floor anyway.

He sighed. Why couldn’t you just sleep on the bed? Why was that so hard for you? He reached over to the light switch by the door to turn the bright lights off. The room went dark temporarily before it was illuminated again when Jisung approached his desk to turn on the table lamp. 

His eyes glanced past the opened textbook on the wooden surface, and dread filled him instantly. The idea of spending several more hours trying to pry his eyes open just to study consumed him. Throwing the object a grimace, he pulled off his towel from around his neck and draped it over the back of his chair before turning around. 

He sighed at the sight of you. He supposed he could always just move you back on his bed. It should not be that hard. Finally making up his mind, he carefully made his way over to the floor and knelt next to your figure.

His eyes trailed past your features, and his thoughtful gaze lingered on your face for longer than intended, curiously studying your features. Your face was pulled into a neutral expression, and Jisung found it relieving that you seemed less angry than when you were awake. At least you are peaceful in dreams; some people can’t be, which is tragic.

Shaking his head to pull himself out of his trance, Jisung breathed a puff of soft air to calm his unnerving heart and to feel less shy about the fact that he just spent a good minute staring at your sleeping face. It was an all too familiar feeling, the pumping heart, and the pink cheeks. It has happened to him time after time throughout his life. 

But he didn’t quite want to fully devote himself to a small crush yet. He still believed the irregular feeling would fade away soon.

“Oh, shut up,” he told himself under his breath and trembled in annoyance. 

Then, as he was about to move his hands carefully underneath you so he could hoist you up, his eyes were again caught by the sight of the strings on your arm. Unlike today, they were green instead of red. The compelling emerald green shone despite the lack of light in the room, and Jisung unconsciously reached his hand out to touch it.

You jolted away at the force that suddenly blasted from your wrist. Knowing that it was the explosion spell you recently chanted going off, you quickly scanned your surroundings to look for any potential harm. Jisung’s room came into view, much to your confusion, and nothing was wrong aside from the fact that the books from his shelf had fallen off, and he was lying on the ground with a pained expression.

That was when it clicked—you weren’t sleeping outside.

“Oh, shit–Jisung!” You scrambled up, touching the green on your arm instinctively. The material was slightly slashed, indicating that it had just been used. 

Eyebrows furrowing, you immediately deactivated the magic with a wave of your hands and pulled the strings off. When they fell to the floor, you turned your attention back to Jisung, who most likely had just endured a wind blast to his body. On second thought, you snatched the green strings from the ground and laced them through your fingers again. 

“[Name]! You really–“ Jisung groaned as he sat up, coughs erupting from his throat at the impact he suffered from his lungs. His arm reached behind him to knock at his back a few times to overpower the pain before he glanced up at you through his bangs. 

A knock came through his door, and his mother sounded concerned. Jisung pursed his lips. One of his eyes squinted so he could concentrate on separate senses: the sound coming from the door, the pain in his body, and the sight of strings floating in the air. What was happening, exactly? 

“I’m okay, mom! My books just fell from the shelf, sorry!” He yelled out without facing the door. 

He was staring at you, and he looked less than angry. It was more betrayed than frustrated. You breathed heavily, feeling intimidated by how he stared at you. His eyes were questioning with demand written over its determined fiery. You knew he would pester you for answers until you gave it to him this time. He has changed his mind about playing around and letting you brush matters off, and his change of heart was rightfully placed. 

“I’m sorry,” you said as you dropped to his side urgently and placed your hands on his shoulders. “I have to do this just in case—“ you closed your eyes and quickly chanted a healing spell, “Imperium Pertrix.”

Jisung almost jolted away from you when he saw the green glow of your strings. It was the same glow he saw just before he got thrown across his room, so it was natural he had grown cautious of it. But instead of a wind blast, he felt a cold sensation soothing over his aching bones. The pain from the previous impact faded quickly and was replaced with stillness. It felt as if he was sitting in cold, still water. 

“I’m so sorry about that,” you repeated again when the spell was done.

“Yeah, sure. This is not the first time you have thrown me to the ground,” Jisung muttered, finally deciding to stand up. His posture remained rigid despite feeling normal. He appear just a tad bit larger than he was. And when he ran a hand through his hair, he clenched his jaw in irritation and arched an eyebrow at you. “You, though, got some explaining to do.”

He paused for a second. You knew what he planned to say.

“Are you sure they are just bracelets, [Name]?”

[lithium-beam]

No One, No Return: All Was Naught but to Serve the Void

No. No! It's too soon!

Her arms loosen around them. Her strength wanes as she fights to hold on a little longer, but the upward pull only grows stronger. Their forms slip through her arms. She reaches out to them, crying. She can't let go—not in life, not outside life. They become blurry, their small shapes drifting away. Pain begins to constrict her body, but she doesn't notice; the anguish of losing them again is greater.

The void around her fades to white, their little pocket of darkness reduced to a dot. The pull starts to flake her body apart. She panics. She knows her debt is due, but she doesn't want to go back. Not alone! Flakes of memories appear, consuming her: Blood. Corpses. Gold. Blood. Pearls. Blood. Blood. So much blood! She twists and turns, her body tearing apart.

Anything! Any MEANS! Just GET ME OUT OF HERE!

In the swirl of colors, a single spot lingers. She focuses on it and swims against the pull. She gives it everything; her force, her will, her desperation, her pain! She reaches the spot, her legs faded away. She touches it with translucent paws. Bright red with yellow bands. Between the yellow bands, a crack. She pries it open with the last effort she has left, desperate to GET AWAY!

...

..

.

She hits her head on the hard ground.

She wakes and checks herself. Whole and healthy, the only proof she ascended at all are small droplets of void fluid rapidly vanishing into smoke. She finds herself standing at the bottom of a long drop, in a room of red and gray metal, the only thing beside her being a yellow box. She decides to walk down the corridor in front of her. Suddenly, the wall splits open!

She walks beyond. Darkness. Then slowly, bright walls appear, resembling open space with clear skies. They illuminate small trees and stone ruins. Strange animal sounds echo around. It is a big room simulating an idyllic outdoor scene. What? The stones aren't natural; they're made of ceramic. The grass isn't real; it's synthetic. Why was this built? The scenery it's depicting is strange and alien. The whole room feels odd, fake, and unfamiliar. But all that is overshadowed by something very familiar; the room is coated in old blood.

She walks toward an open entrance atop some stairs. The hallway beyond is dark. Inside, she hears nothing but her own footsteps. The floors are still sticky. On the other side, the room was truly meant to be pretty. All those colorful plants and bushes, the round structures, and that clean blue sky depict one of the calmest places she has seen, even if it's fake. But the feeling is blocked by the layer of dark blood covering the scene. Near the end of the room, there is a pedestal spared from the blood. Atop it is a... blue thing. She picks up the object. She jumps as the exit grinds to a close. She puts it back, and it reopens. Noted.

The next room is dim, lit only by colorful glass. It reminds her of the artworks of the Ancients. She's getting tired of the constant smell of blood. The other room is similar, but with added fake bushes on the now red floors and walls. A red gate with yellow bands stands at the end of the room and opens as she approaches. It now has a big hole that she can't see the bottom of. She stops and looks back. For all the blood she has seen in these rooms, she's surprised not to have seen a single fly or corpse. But the blood is old; creatures would have had enough time to carry them away. She still thinks about what could have caused this carnage. Better to be prepared. She slides down the drop.

She hits the ground hard.

Apparently, at some point, she let go of the wall during the descent. She has no memory of doing that. And somehow, she survived the fall. She cautiously makes her way to the red gate. It opens rapidly.

The room is burning.

All the idyllic decor is up in flames. Smoke clouds the ceiling. Some walls flash with failure. Behind the flames and smoke, in the distance, she sees some blue light. The flames roaring closer shake her out of her stupor.

This is the only way out.

She runs through the burning remains of the ground and structures. Soot and ashes fall from above. Fumes hurt her damaged lungs. She steps in a puddle. Flames block the exit. She jumps through them.

She pants to a stop in the middle of the other room. Pain grips her feet. She looks down. Fire scorches her legs and tail, flames trailing behind her. She drops and hits herself. It spreads! It ONLY SPREADS! Struggling against the flames, she falls into a water puddle. Squirming and turning, the clinging fire slowly loses its fight against the water.

Laying face up in the puddle, she breathes. The itching eye. The heat in the air. The cold of the water. The stink of burnt fur. The deep burns on her. Her child drowning beneath her, she watches, stunned. It's all too much.

Why couldn't she be beside them now? She should be beside them, happy. In bliss. Is she an echo? She doesn't look like one. Where is she? She stands back up. Her legs hurt badly. But she has to move. At least get away from the fires.

She limps through the next room, eye on the red gate opening. She drops down the dark pit, her legs giving out beneath her.

_____

| 1 | >

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58465570/chapters/148932493

[up-designs-metal-art]

Yin Yang Tree Metal Wall Art

https://shopatup.com/products/yin-yang-tree

Add a touch of balance and harmony to your decor with our stunning Yin Yang Tree metal wall art. This striking piece masterfully combines a timeless symbol with the enduring image of a tree, representing the dualities of nature—growth and decay, strength and fragility, life and dormancy. Crafted from 14 gauge steel, this artwork presents a boldness that makes for a compelling focal point in any setting.

Available in various sizes and finishes, the Yin Yang Tree adapts seamlessly to any room’s décor, whether it's a tranquil meditation space, a thought-provoking office, or a living room that celebrates natural and spiritual elements. It invites viewers to reflect on the interconnectedness of all things and serves as a sophisticated statement piece that bridges the gap between art and philosophy.

https://shopatup.com

https://updesignsmetalart.etsy.com

[distortionsprite]

I entered a House, peeling wood floorboards on the ground. A bedridden man spoke to me, he said "Churches have ladders to their roofs." I don't know what he meant by this but he said "It keeps them honest."

A lit cigarette falling to the ground, his burned old hands reach for it and he makes some awful croaking sound.

My body lurches for the cigarette but I miss the catch. It hits the ground still burning and the floorboards catch.

There's fire in the room now. The doors are locked. Smoke fills my Lungs and I choke.

But before I can resign myself to fate I fly away, to some other place, one not known to me.

It seems familiar somehow. Decorated walls peeling to reveal exposed brick, decorated further with Cracks in jagged patterns revealing faults that were always there, just hidden.

It's funny how when we think of our childhood home we only ever see it one way. We never see the iterations, the changes, the Cracks in the load bearing walls. Just one moment. One spectacular moment. A snapshot in our mind of when life was good and simple and meaningless.

Its different now, you see. Now those walls are our own, not our parents', or their parents'. No one to blame but ourselves. And as each Crack gets thicker and wider and more menacing there is nothing we can do but watch.

As the Fire engulfs yet another memory I lose my temper. It's so hot in this room I feel like turning into a soft vapour, to be breathed in, absorbed and exhaled.

But I'm only human. I'm not a creature, not a machine, not some formless entity or a conceptual being. I'm Flesh and Blood.

And like Flesh and Blood I secrete sickly sweet fluid from my orifices. My tear ducts spout ichor and misery in all directions.

And in all directions I see an ocean. A vast underwater labyrinth the likes of which could scarcely be told in stories. At least not ones told by people.

And like other people I am a person. A creature with thoughts, a will, a reason to be, a reason to do, a reason not to, and several reasons to keep going.

It gets harder as you age to see the people around you grow and shift like fungus on a wall, meanwhile you're a scared deer in a big city, beset on all sides by screeching wind, gnashing Metal wolves and Concrete trees the size of Saturn. The sun burns into your withered Skin and you cry not because you want help, not because you want to be heard, but because there is nothing else you can do anymore.

So you sit alone. Hoping someone else will make that connection for you because you don't have the Guts, the Lungs, the Heart, the Mind or the Soul to do it first. Because you are weak. Because you gave up. Because you are only Flesh and Blood.

If I told you that you were more I would be lying. You are nothing but a sad sack of bleeding Meat that seeps ichor and misery. You are lost alone in that underwater labyrinth. You are a person with thoughts and free will but you are not a person with a reason to keep going. You are not the fungus growing on the walls, you are the scared deer hoping that one day it will return to its forest. You are the bedridden man with the burned hands who, it turns out, died in that House Fire because no-one was there to save him.

And that is what it all comes down to. One spectacular moment in your mind that comes crashing down as quick as it takes to light a cigarette. Our lives are fleeting, our memories are burning, our lungs are being ripped from us and fed to hungry sharks. But that is not the most of our problems. The most of our problems pertain to the House itself, the cracks in the walls, the fact that with each second it is collapsing around us and there is nothing we can do but watch.

But isn't that why we're here? This is how we know we're people. After all whats the point in being alive if you have no guts to spill.

No Blood to bleed.

No grief to cope.

No corpses to pile.

No hatred to channel.

No Love to give.

No Pain to feel.

No feelings to write.

No songs to sing.

No porn to watch.

No left or right.

No right or wrong.

No Wrongs to right.

No Dreams to fail.

No towers to topple.

No wrath to bring.

No sin to nest.

No virtue to have.

No work to do.

No thing that's left.

[currentlyfckingurmom]

Beneath the Wreckage (part 3)

Chapter Three: Nightmares of Our Past

“Again.” Her feet are bloody in the pointe shoes. “Again.” Her face is blank. “Again.” Her muscles are screaming. “Again.” A wince flashes on her face. “Sloppy. You must show no weakness, Arina. Again.” She slips back into a perfect mask of neutrality with practiced ease. “Again.”

Again.

Again. 

Show no weakness.

Do better.

Be better.

You are a weapon. You feel nothing. She is nothing to you.

Again.

Blood. Gunshots. Nothing.

The scene changes. Madame B is still there. There is a girl kneeling on the ground with a cloth bag over her head, concealing her identity. “You’re losing your edge, Arina. Do better.”

Madame B removes the bag. Unmistakable red hair. Enchanting green eyes. A silver pendant hanging from her neck. “Kill her.” Arina’s mind is screaming at her to put down the gun, but the metal weapon raises through the air anyway. Her finger tenses and a gunshot fills the room. Natalia collapses, blood pouring from the center of her forehead and all life drained from her eyes. “Good, Arina. Remember who you are.”

Arina shot up in bed, gasping for air. Her hand pressed on her chest, trying to force the oxygen into her lungs. Sweat was dripping down her forehead, her heart racing a mile a minute.

She finally got a breath in, and immediately choked on a sob. Her hands were shaking and her mind was foggy.

Again. Never.

She climbed out of bed and stumbled to the floor, tucking her head between her knees. She drew in sharp, jagged breaths as she tried to calm her breathing. 

Show no weakness. Shut up.

If she didn’t get her breathing under control, she feared that she would pass out. Arina established a steady pattern of shaky breathing, only for it to falter as more memories haunted her mind.

Remember who you are. Fuck you.

She stood up on shaky legs and stumbled into the hall toward the nearest bathroom. She fumbled with the light switch as she closed the door. Arina had always hated the dark.

She turned on the faucet and splashed her face with cold water. The hot tears were replaced with new ones as soon as they were washed away. She turned off the sink and sat on the floor. She leaned her head back on the wall and closed her eyes.

Twenty minutes later, Arina stood back up and trudged to her bedroom. She always slept with a lamp on, so there was no need to turn on a light. She glanced at the clock; it was about four in the morning. She got roughly two hours of sleep— typical. She knew she wouldn’t fall back asleep, so she got dressed.

She silently made her way through the bunker toward an old mission room. She was especially careful as she passed the room Natasha was staying in, which was directly next to the mission room. Natasha had gotten the other single bedroom and Yelena was stuck with the bunkroom, mostly because she was the youngest and they said so.

Arina closed the door behind her and stood in front of the bulletin board. Blurry photos, maps, threads, and articles in many different languages decorated the board. It had been years and Arina still hadn’t tracked down Madame B, but if anyone could find her, it would be Arina. What’s that saying about the apple and the tree?

Boxes of files lined the wall and loose papers covered the table in the center of the room. To anyone else, the room would look like a pigsty, but to Arina, it made perfect sense. She spent most of her time in that room. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t breathe. She just needed Madame B gone for good.

Natasha woke several hours later. She didn’t move from the bed; her abdomen was throbbing and her head was pounding. She made a mental note to never get shot in the stomach again.

A faint noise caught her attention. Anyone else might’ve disregarded it or failed to notice it in the first place, but Natasha was a trained spy. And trained spies don’t ignore mysterious sounds.

She climbed out of bed and opened the bedroom door, looking both ways down the hall. She didn’t see anything, so she closed the door behind her and waited. She heard the shuffling of papers from the next door down, so that’s where she went.

Natasha entered the mission room and her eyebrows immediately raised in shock. Arina bent over a stack of papers, highlighter in mouth, and brows furrowed in concentration was not what Natasha had expected to find.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“Nothing, just working on some old files,” Arina lied smoothly.

“Are you sure? Because this seems like a little more than ‘some old files’. Some might even use the word obsessive,” Natasha said, gesturing to the files and papers covering several bulletin boards and part of the wall. 

“It’s not obsessive. You try living in a bunker for four years, it gets kinda boring.”

“It’s seven in the morning, why are you doing this right now?”

“Like I said, bored.”

Natasha stepped closer to the nearest bulletin board and when she realized what Arina was working on, her heart dropped to her stomach. With wide eyes, she asked, “Arina, why the hell are you trying to find Madame B?”

Arina hesitated before answering. The truth didn’t matter. “She’s been working for him this whole time. She’s been moving around. You’re the one who took down the Red Room, and I don’t want to risk any loose ends.”

“How can you even be sure? There was no mention of her in Dreykov’s database and nobody’s heard from her since we were teenagers! You’re hunting ghosts, Arina.”

“Because I just know, Natasha! I know her and I know that she’s still working for the Red Room—until you blew it up, at least. Do you really want to risk her putting it back together, or starting some new program? You have no idea, Natasha! I can’t just let her walk around.”

“Stop acting like I don’t get it, Arina! I was there with you, remember? The only thing I don’t understand is why you’re so obsessed with Madame B. She was just a trainer, and not the only one, either. What makes her so important? So dangerous?” “Just stop, Natasha! You don’t know what you’re talking about! This is none of your business. It doesn’t matter.”

“Look...you’re free, Aria. The Red Room is gone. You don’t have to worry about this anymore. I just don’t want you to drown in the past, that’s all.”

“It’s not the past, though, Talia. I can’t escape it. I live with all of it, every single day of my life. If I’m going to keep going, then something needs to change.” Arina’s voice broke as she spoke, and tears filled her eyes. “Killing Madame B won’t fix everything, but maybe I’ll sleep a little better knowing that she’s dead. I know you get it, Natasha, so please, just let me do what I have to do.” She hastily wiped the tears dripping down her face and spun around to look at the board, avoiding eye contact. 

“Okay,” Natasha said quietly. “Just don’t get yourself killed. Not when I just got you back.”

She is nothing to you.

“You didn’t get me back.” The words spilled from Arina’s mouth before she knew what she was saying, and they tasted bitter on her tongue. “I just mean that-”

“No, I get what you mean. I’m gonna go wake up Yelena,” Natasha said before turning around and leaving the room, clearly upset. Natasha had never been able to hide her emotions from Arina.

Arina collapsed into a chair and ran her hands down her face, muttering ‘fuck’.

You feel nothing. The cold grip of the familiar words echoed in her mind as a blank expression overtook her face. She rose with a sigh and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast.

Natasha walked down the cold, concrete hall of the bunker with a slight limp. She knocked on the metal door before opening it and walking inside. There were bunk beds lining two of the walls and Yelena was in the bed in the furthest corner.

“I’m up, I’m awake,” the blonde mumbled as she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning,” Natasha said as she sat down on a bunk across from Yelena. Her tone seemed to give nothing away, but Yelena knew Natasha better than everyone. Well, almost everyone.

“What’s the matter with you? Trouble with your little girlfriend?”

“Shut up, she’s not my girlfriend. And nothing’s wrong, it’s just bringing up a lot from the past. Between the Red Room, freeing the Widows, and seeing her again…” Natasha trailed off as she shook her head and clenched her jaw.

“Yeah, I get what you mean. It’s a lot for me, too,” Yelena said with a small, comforting smile. “But we’re okay. We’re together and we’re just fine.”

“We’re just fine,” Natasha repeated with an unconvincing smirk.

As Natasha and Yelena neared the kitchen, the sound of “You Give Love A Bad Name” filled their ears. They shared a look with furrowed eyebrows and kept walking.

They got to the kitchen and saw Arina standing over a pan of pancakes, nodding her head to the beat and silently mouthing the words.

Sensing their presence, Arina said, “Morning, guys. Pancakes are almost done. If you want something else, that sucks for you because I wanted pancakes.” She never even looked up from the pan.

Natasha shook her head with a smirk. A lot had changed, but Arina’s mood swings certainly hadn’t. It probably had something to do with the deep psychological conditioning and torture she had endured, but ignorance is bliss, so Natasha refused to think about that.

Arina plated the pancakes and set them in front of the other two women. After putting Natasha’s plate in front of her, she hesitated before saying, “I’m sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have yelled.” She turned around and went to the other side of the kitchen before Natasha had the chance to respond. Yelena looked between the two older women with raised eyebrows, but ultimately decided that her pancakes were more important.

Nobody spoke until breakfast was over.

“So, Arina. Natasha says you can replicate the Red Dust,” Yelena said.

“Replicate the what?”

“Red Dust— it’s what she calls the counteragent for the Red Room’s chemical subjugation. I said you might be able to replicate it because you worked with chemicals for a while,” Natasha clarified.

“Oh, yeah, I can try. No promises, though,” Arina said with a shrug.

“Why were you working with chemicals? Weren’t you a Widow?” Yelena asked.

“I was assigned to guard a scientist for the Red Room. I don’t know what exactly she was working on, but it must’ve been important. I protected her and helped her with stuff around her lab. Although, she was a Widow, so she didn’t really need me to protect her. I spent almost two years there, so I learned a few things along the way.”

“Did we know her?” Natasha asked.

“I have no idea. I’d seen her going to Dreykov’s office a few times, but that’s it. I wasn’t allowed to know her name. Should we head down to the lab?”

“There’s a lab in this place?!”

“Of course there’s a lab, Lena. Where else am I gonna cook my meth?”

Series Masterlist

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello hello! Could I request Ink Bendy x elf reader? Maybe she heard of everything awful that had went down at the studio and wanted to help him heal from all the trauma? Maybe she brought him home to let him hug her and hold onto her as long as he needed?

'Huh..I wasn't expecting to find any Christmas spirit down here..but I guess some folks are still holding onto it,' you mused as you ventured through the inky realm of Joey Drew Studios.

Everywhere you looked, there were Christmas trees, decorations, and presents all around.

Unfortunately nothing here was colorful, being only in sepia tones. It seemed like you stepped straight into a 1930s cartoon, but clearly this place was anything but happy like one.

There were sad inky people all around, wearing santa hats as if it could help them feel at least some holiday cheer. Yet their attitudes remained the same: hopeless, lost..and even angry. Any one you tried talking to would only snap at you, or mutter about an evil ink demon stalking them.

It proved to be useless no matter how much optimism you showed.

You barely escaped the clutches of one inky person who was half-melted and barely looked human anymore. Its hollow eyes and horrid groans scared you into hiding inside a small locker that so-happened to be along your escape path.

Being an elf, small spaces weren’t any problem for you. But you knew you couldn't hide forever, as you were on an important mission.

Yep. You didn’t stumble into this world by accident.

You came here willingly to seek out a lonely impish creature: Bendy himself, a lovable toon who was brought to life, but had a lot of misery in his heart because of how he’s been treated. And he was very unhappy down here.

You vowed to help him escape from this awful place. As much as you wanted to help every single lost soul trapped here, sadly that was impossible. There could be hundreds..or even thousands of them around.

It has to be Bendy, the one who felt the most pain.

So once it was safe to continue, you explored the studio some more, eventually coming across a city. And further within it resided a factory.

Hearing a loud roar, you jumped and hid behind a wall, looking towards the entrance to see a large and lanky ink demon that resembled the fellow you were trying to find. Some bizarre humanoid creatures with spotlights for faces and pipe tentacles for legs were dragging him towards the doors with snares and chains--as if they were trying to wrangle a wild animal.

You noted the strange electrical towers in the area as well, wondering what their purpose was.

But the demon broke free and punched a hole in one of their faces, immediately killing them as they dropped dead on the spot. The other robotic creature seemed afraid, backing away and putting their hands out, yet they weren’t spared either as they were killed in a similar fashion.

You were impressed by his strength, though you quickly became startled as the towers suddenly sprung to life, surging with an unusual energy that seemed to be harming Bendy.

He collapsed to the ground, seemingly melting as he made a feeble attempt to crawl away. For a moment, you were worried that the machines were killing him, yet you had no clue how to intervene or stop them.

Until you saw the excessive ink melting away to reveal none other than...

A certain small toon imp--with pants, a vest, and a bowtie to boot.

Bendy. It truly was him all along!

Your eyes widened in awe, but you frowned slightly upon seeing the poor guy was sad, his eyes teary. He seemed to have hurt his hands from punching the robotic creatures, as he rubbed his knuckles, wincing in pain and checking his gloves for any damage.

Whatever magic or energy radiated from those towers didn’t seem to affect you, so you entered the area quietly and saw him frantically trying to break off the metal clasp around his neck.

As the chain kept clinking around, he began to struggle more and more--

Until suddenly it turned into ribbons and fell onto the floor, freeing him.

Wait..

Ribbons? 

Bendy was perplexed as to how they suddenly turned into that. But only then did he hear footsteps and realize you were the one who helped him. And he turned to you, looking at your festive costume..and your pointy ears. Were you a demon, too?

“Bendy? Hi..I’m [y/n]. An elf from the North Pole.” You kneeled down in front of him, smiling sweetly in greeting. “You know about..Christmas and Santa and all that?”

For a moment he didn’t react, before nodding shyly in response. He apparently couldn’t speak, but that was fine by you.

“Well, I see folks down here are struggling to spread Christmas cheer, but..seems like it’s all for show. I can’t do much for them, but I can help you experience a real Christmas. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Although confused, he nodded again, before blinking in surprise as you extended your hand.

“Well, Bendy..I can get us out of here with my powers. You can leave all of this behind. No strings attached. Whatdya say?” While this might be a lot for him to process in such a short amount of time, all you wanted was to get him out of here as soon as possible.

Every second spent down here was dangerous for you both.

He was completely stunned by your offer. You barely knew him, and yet...

You came all the way here to help him?

‘Is there actually a way I can leave this place..forever?’ He pondered, part of him fearing this was some kind of trick--or that it wouldn’t be possible.

The towers were still active, and he gestured to them with a frown. But you just waved them off. “Oh don’t mind those.” You chuckled. “They have no effect on me, since I’m not really from this world. I know this is..a lot to take in right now, but I promise I can help you. Obviously I won’t force you to come if you-”

Suddenly, Bendy’s gloved hands flew to grasp yours tightly, nodding his head repeatedly in a desperate plea to leave this awful place. 

The Keepers almost captured him again..as they have for several Cycles. And with every Cycle, they found a new way to torture him, to contain him, to control him.

He couldn’t suffer through that again.

At this point, he’ll take any chance of freedom that may come his way.

You could see he was ready to go, so you told him to hang on, closing your eyes and focusing on escaping this place.

Before either of you knew it-

You were warped out of that hellish cartoon studio, landing in a rather colorful world--more specifically, your home at the North Pole.

“Ah, we made it! Thank the stars.” You sighed in relief. 

‘I’m gonna have nightmares about that place for sure..’

Letting your hands go, Bendy looked all around him, seeing that you were both inside a cozy cabin decorated with everything Christmas-themed. From a beautiful tree in the corner to the tinsel and stars hanging around and above every doorway visible to him. Several stockings also hung safely over a warm fire.

You noticed his bowtie was red and his clothes were actually dark blue, with some ink stains and patches all over them.

“Whew..it’s so good to be home.” You sat down on the comfortable sofa and picking up your mug of hot coca. Fortunately it had cooled down a little bit. Bendy joined you, gazing at the drink curiously.

For a moment, you paused, before looking at him and deciding he deserved it more. “Here. You can have this..assuming you can drink, of course.” You gave him the mug. “It might be hot still. Just be careful.”

Nodding, he took a sip, savoring the chocolatey taste. You were astonished that he never opened his mouth to drink it. Apparently he could just..absorb food and drinks. But either way, he seemed to be enjoying it and finished it within seconds.

‘So this was the “Ink Demon” everyone down there feared?’ You mused. ‘I think they misjudged him. He’s not evil. He’s just..a lonely guy who needed some Christmas cheer.’

Once he was finished with the hot coca, Bendy set down the mug, turning away from you to look out the window and admire the light snowfall.

You smiled fondly. “It’s beautiful out, isn’t it? That’s the real world, my frien-”

-Plop, plop, plop-

Suddenly, you heard some small splattering noises coming from him, seeing them drip onto the sofa’s arm chair. And you were concerned when you noticed his shoulders shaking, before he covered his face with his hands.

“Bendy? Are you alright?” Reaching over worriedly, you put your hand on his shoulder. And he finally looked back at you.

He was crying, eyes shiny as black goopy tears leaked from them. But he was smiling this time.

Only now he realized that he was truly free. He didn’t have to worry about Joey or Wilson or Keepers...or anything associated with that horrific studio anymore.

You saved him from that eternal hell.

“Awh, it’s okay, buddy.” You opened your arms up. “C’mere. You’re safe now.”

The imp practically flung himself into them, squeezing you tightly so you knew how much he appreciated your help. He managed to sit in your lap, hugging you as he left inky tears on your shoulder, staying that way for a long time (but of course, you had no intentions of letting him go first).

You were such a kind and sweet elf--a literal angel that he didn’t deserve. He didn’t know how you discovered him or knew anything about the studio. 

You saw what he was, what kind of monster he is...yet you risked everything to help him.

All just to give him the Christmas he always dreamed of.

[dragonlover158429]

A Step Into the Forest/ Chapter 2- The End of the Before

It started with the crows (or raven, whatever). They were already there when we arrived. I guess it makes the house more theirs than ours; which might be why I felt so uncomfortable around them- or why they acted so cocky all the time. I “met” them on the same fateful day we entered the house for the same time- just the day before I had my vision.  

My dad’s car had just turned right, leaving the forest, and the house came into view. I must admit, I picked up my jaw from the floor when I saw it. It was pretty big, although it obviously wasn’t a mansion. It was two floors high plus an attic under the roof. There was a wooden door with a porch and 8 windows; two on either side of the porch, the big glass window on the right side of the building, three more on the second floor (one giving access to a big balcony I already saw as mine before my parents took the big bedroom that had it...), and the last one being the little attic window with crappy curtains that let sunlight though in the early morning- the one I sleep next to if you followed. Before being told so, I knew it was old. The woodwork on the house is not one anybody nowadays has the patience to do. But I could see it had been repainted a short time ago. The outside walls were painted a shade of brown (sepia if I remember correctly) with a Copper colour highlighting the Details on the woodwork and the roof painted hunter green. It was a really Beautiful house (take that as the opinion of somone who knows Nothing of architectural styles, house values, or houses in General of course) and I didn't understand how my Father could have afforded to rent it for almost the whole summer with his, to be honest, pretty meager salary. A sentiment my mother shared, judging by her bemused expression… But she didn't ask my dad; although I knew they would talk about it later on- when they were alone.

The car pulled up on the gravel path and stopped before a menacing, stingy gate. Waiting boredly for us, slouched bedside the gate, was the employee from the house renting company. From what I had understood, the owners couldn't meet and give us the keys in person so they gave it to the Company who then sent one of their guy to deliver it to us. He would give us a quick tour of the house, give us the keys, and leave us be.

My parents climbed out of the car with me following behind and, obviously, they started exchanging meaningless small-talk. No one was paying me any attention, so I zoned out and instead of listening to their conversation I began to take in the house in more details. The fence I was standing next to and a red brick wall enclosed the whole property. I thought it clearly was more for decoration than actual defense; the brick wall only stood up to my shoulder blades and a most people would easily climb over it. On the other side of the gate, I could glimpse an unruly, thorny garden in which half a dozen trees joined hands to form a circle around the house.

The guy (I don't remember his Name. I knew it at the time, he had a Name tag on his blue polo Shirt. But I can't for the life of me remember what it was… Should I have?) finally stopped talking and took out a small key that seemed made of the same metal as the fence and opened the gate.

You would would think it was right there, as the gate swang open, that it happenned- that I sensed it. But no. Everything was normal until he stepped Inside.

It was at the moment he crossed the gate- when he stepped on the other side-that it happened.

I felt a shock. A strange, furious Energy coursing through my body in one brief moment. A thunderbolt had reached my body and my soul and had unearthed my roots from the ground. I froze. My breath caught in my throat. And, just as suddenly, it was over. I breathed out and there was Nothing left- no proof of what had just happened. Not even pain. I'm not even sure I felt it physically… But it had happened.

I know it might sound ilogical; but in my mind, and in this place, the things you see and hear are as true and untrue as what you feel and believe.

My parents had seemingly not noticed anything as they walked ahead with the employee- leaving me behind. Not that I noticed at the time. It was hard to notice anything. Do you know that light-headed, dark and fuzzy feeling when you stand up too fast and everything starts spinning? It was like that. Except it was more… intense. It just my head playing tricks; it was my whole body, my mind, and the world around me. It was as if my mind had been separated from the real world, which was spinning away at an incredible speed. Far, far, far, too fast for my desperate hold.

And the ground underneath me was gone- I was falling. And my vision was black and blurry- with bright flashes of colours. And there was a ringing in my ears. And, and- Was I ever going to see again? Was I going deaf?

"CAAAW!"

Welp, apparently not.