#nameless resident

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

I wanted to make a horrifying happy Myrtle one, kinda like the artwork I made of him on the pinned post, but couldn't find a base that really matched the vibe I was looking for, so decided to do a Myrtlewing victim!

This guy is a nameless resident who killed a lot of cats. Because of that, he thought he was one of the 'invincible ones.' He talked with Myrtle a lot, talking about their kills, and he thought that they were friends--not in the 'I care about you' sense, but in the 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours' way.

But there is always a line, and this cocky bastard crossed it.

His blood was the first to fill the baths when he was torn apart over a hollow ditch.

----

Base: [F2U!] Zombie Cat by CargoBants on DeviantArt

[phoenixmetaphor]

Oct 13 &

Oct 14 - Chreon Aquarium Date (prompt from @cerul-skyefrost ‘s ask to @thebrandywine 😛)

[orcaog]

cirrus and cumulus routinely saying things like "my head is in the clouds", "on cloud nine", "every cloud has a silver lining"

[thelostsisters]

something something housekeeper verdugo aka u-3 being referred to as “it” something something the housekeeper giving up her entire identity and willingly joining los illuminados and being turned into the verdugo so she could watch over rámon

[yuujispinkhair]

Bad Boy - Good Toy

Sukuna is used to girls throwing themselves at him, begging him to dominate them. He never met any resistance. He never met any challenge. Until he meets you, and suddenly, the bad boy becomes nothing but a willing fucktoy.

There is now a Part 02

Pairing: Sub!Sukuna x Dom!Reader (female) Genre: smut, College AU Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, degradation, humiliation, edging, exhibitionism, voyeurism, smoking, mentions of drugs, sharing chewing gum, facesitting, squirting, abs-riding, overstimulation, Sukuna cums untouched, piss (Reader pees on Sukuna to humiliate him, and he likes it). Reader calls Sukuna slut, fucktoy and fuckdoll. Unhealthy relationship dynamics. Reader and Sukuna don't talk about limits or safe words. Sukuna is ok with everything Reader does to him, but please be aware that this isn't the way a sub/dom relationship is supposed to be in real life. I just wanted things to be a bit fucked up in this story ;) Divider @/benkeibear

Sukuna is bored. So fucking bored. Bored with college in general, bored of the parties that are always the same, bored of the drugs that don't give him the kick he craves anymore. Even sex is boring nowadays. He sighs as his gaze brushes over the girl kneeling between his spread legs. He didn't bother asking for her name. He thinks she might be in his history course. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

He doesn't even bother to hide from view, letting her suck him off in the back of the dimly lit living room on some ratty couch, while a few meters away, people are dancing and drinking and singing along to songs that Sukuna hates. She is eager, bopping her mouth on his dick enthusiastically, humming around him, and hollowing her cheeks like a champ. But he feels nothing at all. He isn't even sure he can cum tonight. It's like he is numb to everything. The nameless girl moans around his dick, and Sukuna grabs his phone to send his brother a message.

Where are you, brat? I want to leave.

He doesn't get a reply and instead checks his group chats and e-mails while the girl between his legs slurps loudly on his tip. Sukuna huffs in annoyance and lets his bored gaze travel through the room. It lands on a girl in a red t-shirt who is looking in his direction. You are sipping your drink casually while you unashamedly watch him getting his dick sucked.

It makes him grin broadly. Finally, a little bit of entertainment. Maybe he will manage to cum just to give that little voyeur a good show. And afterward, he can take you to one of the bedrooms and fuck you. Or maybe do it right here on that couch, too.

He winks at you. A smile spreads over your face, but it's not the smile Sukuna usually sees on the faces of the girls he plans to fuck. It's the kind of smile he sees in the mirror. A smile that means trouble. His cock twitches, and he groans softly.

He doesn't break eye contact, and neither do you. Sukuna raises an eyebrow challengingly, smirking at you, daring you to come over while he gets his dick sucked. His stomach flips when you really start walking towards him.

Sukuna's pulse accelerates when you stop right next to him. You let your gaze travel from his face down to his cock, watching it bop in and out of that other girl's mouth. You chuckle. It's not a nice sound.

"Aww, do you have problems cumming, Sukuna? Is your dick not working?"

For a stunned second, Sukuna just blinks at you, mouth hanging open. The resident bad boy rendered speechless for the first time in his life. And then he throws his head back and laughs, and simultaneously, he feels his balls tighten.

"If you get on all fours, I will show you just how good my dick works, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms in front of your breasts, looking at him with a bored and unimpressed expression.

"What makes you think I would let you get anywhere near me with that dick of yours. I don't want dirty, good-for-nothing sluts like you."

"What did you just call me?"

But his response lacks the bite. Instead, he sounds breathless, and his hand tightens on the couch as his cock twitches in the other girl's mouth. Fuck, it feels so good all of a sudden.

You smile that dangerous smile again and lean closer, your flowery perfume filling Sukuna's nose, and you repeat your words to him, slowly, overly accentuated as if he is stupid,

"Dirty. Good-for-nothing. Slut."

A raw groan spills from Sukuna's throat, and his hips buck off the couch, making the girl between his legs choke on his cock, as he nuts so hard into her mouth that she's spluttering his cum everywhere.

He stares wide-eyed at your smug face as the gears in his mind shift at lightspeed. What the fuck just happened?

The girl between his legs climbs onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, and tries to kiss him, but Sukuna turns his face to the side, looking at you instead,

"Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?"

"Why? Enjoyed it too much, and now you are scared of how your body betrayed you, little slut?"

You laugh and turn around, walking away while you lift a hand in a mocking little wave, and Sukuna stares after you with his mind whirling and his cock still throbbing.

He wakes up the next morning with a strange feeling in his gut. Something is different.

And after a moment, he realizes what it is when the memories from last night come back, and his eyes widen, and a whispered curse falls from his lips. The encounter with you replays in his mind just like it did countless times before he managed to fall asleep last night. Your cruel smile and the sadistic glint in your eyes. The way his body reacted to it.

He is so used to everyone cowering before him. So used to everyone submitting to him so willingly. All those countless girls throwing themselves at him, begging him to please let them suck his dick, obeying his every command, asking him if they can please call him daddy during fucking.

He never met any resistance. He never met any challenge. One look from him and the girls were practically on their backs with their legs spread like some animal in heat.

No one ever talked to him the way you did. Or looked at him that way. As if he is worthless trash in your eyes. Your words resonate in his brain. "You dirty, good-for-nothing slut."

Fuck! It turns him on. It makes him achingly hard even now. He turns onto his back and shoves a hand into his pants. He jerks off so furiously that his wrist hurts, making a huge mess all over himself when he cums to the thought of you calling him a useless brat.

Sukuna isn't the same man he was 24 hours ago.

He totally doesn't look for you on campus on Monday morning. It is totally a coincidence that he slides up to you when you pull out a package of strawberry bubble gum from the vending machine. It's definitely not like he followed you around like a puppy for a whole hour until he finally got his shit together and decided to approach you.

"Strawberry flavor, huh? Wouldn't have thought that a foul person like you would pick such a sweet flavor."

You eye him lazily, eyes never leaving his as you tear open the packaging and put one of the pastel pink bubble gums into your mouth before you grace him with a reply.

"Oh, shut up. An attitude like that doesn't fit a pretty boy like you. Learn to behave, and then we can talk again."

Sukuna feels his lips lift in his trademark smirk as that weird, exhilarating sensation fills his veins again. He is enjoying himself far too much. He braces himself against the vending machine, his large hands on both sides of your face, caging you in, towering over you, while he smirks down at you.

But you don't seem intimidated at all by his height and muscular figure and the tattoos on his face. Instead, you smile at him and cock your head to the side, eyeing him expectantly as if you are waiting for him to do something.

He leans down, bringing his face closer to yours.

"Can I have a gum too? Please? See, I can behave very well."

His voice has dropped to his usual flirty, seductive tone, which he always uses on girls. The tone that always drives them crazy and makes them drop their panties faster than they can say his name.

You flutter your lashes exaggeratedly at him, smiling a sickeningly fake angelic smile as you open your mouth and pull out your gum.

"Ok, you can have one since you asked so politely. Open up, slut."

He laughs when you push the used gum to his lips, but Sukuna isn't one to back down, so he grabs your small hand, wraps his tattooed hand around your wrist, and opens his mouth. He licks your fingers, lets his tongue-piercing glide over your fingertips, and sucks the used bubble gum into his mouth.

You gaze deeply into his eyes, looking amused.

"You didn't even say thank you, Sukuna. You are still such a useless and rude brat."

You turn on your heel and leave him standing there like some rejected loser, and he chews the gum that tastes like strawberry and your spit and feels his cock twitch against his sweatpants.

Sukuna sees you again on Saturday at another party. Two girls danced with him and asked him if he wanted to fuck them both upstairs in one of the bedrooms, but he turned them down, not even able to grasp why.

Until he walks into the kitchen and sees you. And suddenly, things fall into place.

Why bother with those random girls when the one he really wants is you? You are the only one who poses a challenge. The only one who makes his skin tingle with excitement. The only one who makes him feel like he is still alive and not some fucking ghost.

He leans against the fridge and watches you while he lights a cigarette. He smokes it in silence, just smirking at you and hoping you will come over and call him a slut again. Or any other degrading name you can think of. Sukuna isn't picky.

You walk over to him, a few drags into his cigarette, and stop in front of him, so close that he can smell your sweet perfume again. And you smile that smile that isn't sweet at all as you reach up and take the cigarette from Sukuna's lips. Your eyes never leave his as you bring his half-smoked cigarette to your mouth, wrapping your lips with the red lipstick around the filter right where Sukuna's lips were a moment ago, and the sight is so sexy to him that Sukuna has to bite his lip not to moan.

You take a deep drag, and your eyes close for a moment as the nicotine fills your senses before they open again to gaze up at Sukuna through your long lashes, grinning as you slowly blow the smoke right into Sukuna's face.

He laughs, pushing himself off the fridge, stepping closer to you, so close that his hips brush against you,

"You know what that means, right princess? Blowing smoke in someone's face?"

"Who doesn't know that?"

You roll your eyes and look at him as if he is stupid, and he can't help but place his large hands on your waist and drawl in his best bedroom voice,

"So, you admit you want to fuck me?"

You smirk back at him as you push his hands off your waist, sounding dismissive when you shrug and say,

"You have a pretty face and a good body. And I am horny right now. So why not? And you are probably a good fuck, with all that practice you had."

"What makes you so sure I want to fuck you?"

"Oh, don't be silly. You won't say no. A slut like you never does. Everyone knows you are easy."

Sukuna doesn't bother telling you that he just turned down two hot chicks half an hour ago. He lets you grab his hand and pull him along, and he follows you with a broad smirk on his tattooed face.

His cock is already pressing against his jeans when his crotch brushes over your ass when you pull him up the stairs. His mind is hazy, thoughts clouded over by lust, finally feeling that sweet, exciting buzzing again that he missed so much.

You pull him into one of the bedrooms, yank off his t-shirt, and push him onto the bed. Or you try to. You push against his broad chest, not able to move him an inch, but he plays along and lets himself fall onto the bed, looking up at you with heavy-lidded maroon eyes and his throbbing erection leaking pre-cum into his pants like some pathetic little virgin before his first fuck.

Sukuna licks his lips when he watches you reach under your skirt and take off your panties. That's the only thing you take off before you join him on the bed, straddling his thighs, making him smirk at you like the devil that he is,

"So eager to get my cock inside you that you can't even be bothered to get naked, princess?"

"Shut up, slut. Good boys don't talk unless I allow it."

Your little hands are on his belt, opening it, unbuttoning his jeans, and pulling down the zipper, making Sukuna's hips twitch when your hand rubs over his boxer-clad erection. He knows he is acting pathetic right now, cock so eager, already staining the fabric of his boxer briefs with a ridiculously huge amount of pre-cum. But fuck it, he is finally turned on again, finally excited to fuck again after all those months of feeling bored.

He pushes his hard cock against your hand, but you pull away again, smiling that devilish smile at him as you crawl on top of him.

Sukuna laughs breathlessly when you hover above his face, letting him know what you want from him. His large hands reach out to run slowly up the back of your thighs before they cup your ass cheeks, and he pulls you down onto his face.

He groans when your hot wet pussy settles on his tattooed face. Fuck, he always heard his brother go on and on about how hot he finds it when a girl sits on his face with a skirt and no panties. Sukuna had never found it so fascinating until now. Until it is you, and you tell him in that emotionless voice,

"Get to work, my little slut. If you make me squirt, you will get a reward."

He turns his face and moans against your inner thigh, leaving a kiss there,

"And what will my reward be?"

"I'll allow you to cum."

Allow him to cum?

Fuck. The words alone make Sukuna throb in his boxer briefs, another pearl of pre-cum leaking out of him.

"Then stop acting like a squeamish virgin and sit on my face for real."

"I told you to shut up, brat."

"Then shut me up with your pussy."

Sukuna grabs your ass cheeks tightly and pulls you down further, making you sit on his face for real. He isn't just a good fuck. He is the best fuck, and he will prove it to you!

He sucks your little swollen clit into his mouth and laughs when you gasp loudly. You grab his hair, tugging on it, making him groan as the slightly painful sensation goes directly to his throbbing cock. And he spoils your pussy like the slut that he is. Teases your clit with the stiff tip of his tongue and pushes the metal ball of his tongue piercing under the hood of your clit until you tremble and moan loudly.

He gets really into it, fucks you with his tongue and sucks savagely on your clit, eats you so good that it only takes a few minutes until you let out a high-pitched squeal and buck wildly against his face.

Hot, sticky liquid gushes over his lips, and you rock against him, voice breathless but still so stern,

"Open your eyes. Watch me cum all over your pretty face. Yeah, take it all, you little slut. Drink it all up."

Sukuna's eyes meet yours, and he moans, and his hips buck involuntarily, cock so desperate that he is rutting against thin air while pulsing pre into his boxer briefs.

He drinks you up, pushes his pierced tongue deeply into your twitching pussy, and licks it all up, basking in the way you mewl his name for a split second before you regain control and run a hand through his tousled pink hair, smoothing it down again,

"You are a good little fucktoy, Sukuna. Well done."

Sukuna's cock throbs at your words, and he blinks in surprise. Ok, so it's not just degradation that gets him excited, but also praise? Well, he is so fucked. So thoroughly fucked, and he loves every second of it!

You climb off his face, kneeling on the bed beside him, and let your small hands trail down Sukuna's defined pecs and his taut abs, following his tattoos down to the hem of his boxer briefs.

"You have such a nice body, Sukuna. The perfect little fucktoy. And what about that pretty cock? Is he perfect too, hm?"

A breathy gasp falls from his lips when you run a single finger over the thick bulge in his boxer briefs, slowly running up and down his whole throbbing length. Just a light, teasing touch, but it makes his vision blurry and pulls a desperate-sounding whine from his mouth.

It's so fucking humiliating. He's making such pathetic noises. But he simply can't bring himself to care. Not when he finally feels alive again when he is with you. His low voice is thick with need when he whispers,

"You said you would make me cum."

"Uh uh, I didn't say I would make you cum, sweetheart. I said I will allow you to cum. Let's see how things will go. Let's see how excited my little fucktoy will get. Don't forget what you are here for, Sukuna, baby. You are in this bed to serve me."

"Fuck..."

It takes all of Sukuna's willpower to not shove a hand into his boxer briefs and relieve that fucking pressure.

You straddle him again, sit on his abs this time, rubbing yourself on them, making him gasp when he feels how wet and hot your pussy is and how you spread your cream all over him. It's sexy. Nasty, just as he likes it.

Sukuna can see your face now, and it makes his chest fill with elation when he sees the fucked out expression on your face as you slide over his firm abs, rubbing your little clit against his hard muscles, your eyes closing and lips hanging open dumbly when you moan so sweetly and twitch on his stomach, reaching another orgasm on him.

He could sneak a hand behind you, could jack off behind your back, but he doesn't do it. He wants to be your good little toy.

You don't stop but keep rutting against him, your fingernails digging into the swell of Sukuna's pecs, leaving their crescent-moon-shaped marks there as you abuse your puffy clit further on his abs.

And Sukuna grabs your hips and helps you ride his abs, grinning as he hears your harsh breathing and feels you starting to tense up again. Another loud squeal tumbles out of your mouth, and Sukuna is about to taunt you for being so horny for him that you cum on him three times in a row when he feels something hot and wet on his abs, much more than during your other two orgasms.

You hum and grind against him as more wetness flows out of you and onto Sukuna's stomach, warm and sweet-smelling, and Sukuna's gaze snaps to yours in understanding.

You laugh and rub yourself against him, smiling that devilish smile as you pee on him. And he can't hold back the loud moan falling from his lips, can't stop his cock from twitching, almost cumming in his boxer briefs.

"You like that, you fucking pervert? Yeah, Sukuna? You like getting peed on? Well, I have more for you, my nasty boy."

You slide off him, hands grabbing his boxer briefs and pulling them down, finally freeing his aching cock. Sukuna groans when it springs up, bouncing lightly, rock-hard, pre-cum dripping down from it onto his abs.

You throw one leg over his thighs, kneeling over his stiff cock, and then more piss rains down from your hot cunt and onto Sukuna's cock.

And Sukuna moans and curses loudly as his back arches off the bed, and he cums all over himself, untouched, shooting hot ropes of cum out of his tip, all over his abs, and over your cunt that's hovering above him.

His vision goes black for a moment, and his breath comes out in loud, harsh huffs, his whole body shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. He thinks he never came so hard in his life.

You laugh and finally sit down on Sukuna's twitching cock, letting it glide between your wet folds, making him buck against you. But you don't let him push inside you. You just rub your wet cunt slowly over his spent length, watching with an amused smile as you milk every last spurt of cum out of Sukuna while you let more pee trickle over his cock, mixing his cum with your piss.

Sukuna's heart is beating so fast that he feels lightheaded. And the overstimulation makes him sob, makes his oversensitive cock ache and twitch, but oh, how he craves this sweet pain. He lets his head fall back on the pillow, letting more low moans spill from his lips, eyes closing as he pushes his slowly softening cock between your pussy lips, whimpering softly anytime that delicious pain pulses in his length.

He doesn't know how long it takes before you stop moving on him and slip off his lap. But he sighs when the sticky heat of your cunt leaves his cock.

The bed creaks as you crawl up to him to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, whispering in his ear,

"You are such a mess, Sukuna. Such a cute mess for me. I'm excited to see what else you can give me, my little fuckdoll."

You leave him lying there on top of the blanket, his cock pulsing hotly from the overstimulation, mind hazy with post-coital bliss, chest heaving with heavy breaths, skin sticky from his cum, and your squirt and pee.

It's disgusting, and he should feel embarrassed, but he can't help but moan softly as a small smile creeps over his face. Sukuna feels satisfied like he hasn't felt in months. He hopes you will use him again as your personal fucktoy very soon.

FUCKTOY SUKUNA, I WANT YOU 💗💗 I wrote the first draft of this story a while ago and then thought I wouldn't dare publish it because it's too nasty, but I changed my mind, lol. I hope it was ok and that my fellow sub!Sukuna enjoyers accept this treat ;)

There will be a second part!! The story got too long, and there would have been too many sex scenes, so I decided to split it.

Thank you so much for reading 💗 Reblogs and comments would be very sweet!

HERE IS PART 02

[my-castles-crumbling]

indentation - November 14th - wolfstar angst - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 224 - very slightly NSFW

It had been 472 days.

That was 11328 hours. 679680 minutes. 40780800 seconds since his heart was ripped from his chest.

He wasn't over it. He wasn't even trying to kid himself with the notion that he was healed, or ready to move on. But he still needed company. He was lonely, and was so sick of punishing himself. So he figured this was better than nothing.

So, nursing his whiskey neat, he sat at the bar until he found the right person. Then, staring at him with a small, suggestive smile, he waited for him to approach. It only took him five minutes to leave his friends and walk over.

"Hey, handsome," the younger man murmured, looking him up and down. "You married?"

The question sent a jolt through Remus's body. Involuntarily, he ran a finger over the indentation left by the wedding ring that had resided on his left ring finger up until that morning, when he'd finally gotten the nerve to take it off and throw it into the ocean.

"No," he said gruffly, signaling to the bartender to bring himself and the other man another drink. "Not anymore."

And later, as he brought the nameless man home and into his bed, he was able to stop thinking about Sirius Black rotting away in Azkaban.

At least for a short while.

[verinarin]

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞.

cw // contains 2.2 penacony quest spoilers

Angst | years after he vanished, you found solace in the path of trailblaze. the day you departed from the astral express, however was the day another version of him greets you.

Traversing through the stars as a nameless was never something you see for yourself, but alas after years of escaping the pain of loosing you have found peace.

You boarded the express with a bleeding wound, yet departed with a new sense of self. Blazing the path of traiblaze has given you precious memories.

Memories that have become the solace you yearn for and now you reside on a planet far away from your hometown, Penacony.

Your heart still burns for the spirit of trailblazing, spreading the tales you’ve theard upon these past years was your way of keeping the spirit of trailblazing alive.

There’s hundreds of letters you have sent to the nameless who still traverse the sky full of stars, while you blaze paths for the younger generations to yearn to reach the glimmering stars above.

“Miss, is it true that the astral express has two conductors?,” a young boy that perched up to your lap asked.

“Well now we only have one conductor which is pom-pom and a navigator ! The astral express’ current navigator is Miss Himeko,” you smiled softly as you stroked the boy’s hair.

This is a glimpse of your life now, as the local’s beloved storyteller. You could be easily found reading a book or writing at a cafe near your house.

You heard a motherly voice searching for her son, “Now young man it seems that you mother is searching for you, better to go back to her alright,” you pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright ! Bye bye Miss Nameless,” he waved as he ran back towards his mother who offered you a thank you smile from afar.

Now you reside back at your table, a letter has found its way to you. Perhaps it was friends from the astral express, but there’s the ‘pom-pom’s signature’ stamp to be found after all.

With a smile you pressed the rim of your coffee filled cup to your lips, it’s been a while since you talked to them. As you place down your cup, a tinge of amberwood lingers in the air.

It was a scent that you found alluring years ago, it made you feel a little bit nostalgic. You close your eyes and let the tale of the past play inside your mind like a movie.

“Excuse me, Miss. Is this seat taken ?,” a voice greeted you, his voice has successfully awaken you from your daydream.

“The seat in front of me ?,” he asked as you flutter your eyes open, to reveal a man dressed in a white shirt.

The collar was unbuttoned slightly revealing a chest that harbours scars across the body, it took you seconds to tilt your head up.

You can’t really make out the man’s face, the sun that shines warmly behind him hinders you from doing so, “Yeah, the seat on your table” he chuckled, as he folded his arms.

His arms were proudly displayed against his chest, his sleeves were rolled up to display his strong arms, clean from any scars. In contrast with his chest.

“Well I’m not meeting anyone, so feel free,” you extend your hand towards the seat in front of you, letting him know that it’s alright for him to sit in front of you.

And so he did, now you could clearly study his face. He has kind eyes, rich brown in colour. His features were strong and rugged yet somehow gentle in nature. His face was decorated with salt and pepper stubble, signifying his old age.

His hair was parted in the middle, it was as long as his neck. You could tell that he cared a lot for his hair, it was well groomed, “Are you not going to ask who I am ?” he smiled as he saw you gazing through himself.

“Ah sorry for staring, you just feel familiar,” you stated honestly before brushing your hair back.

“How so ?” his eyes lingers at you, coaxing you to question more and more about him.

“Can’t tell really,” you’re not going to blabber upon the past that haunts you for so long now, would you ?

Not when you’ve grown this far.

“Heh, such a shame then,” the cadence of his voice, irks your mind. Scratches your heart in some way….

“A shame indeed,” you nodded, your fingers circling the rim of your cup as you await his reply.

“I heard you were once a nameless,” that’s a well known fact by now, at least in the area you live in.

“It was years ago but I'm glad my name still holds some fame, so do you need something from the astral express?” he will not be the first person who makes use of your past to contact the express.

“Nah, I’m just here for your audience,” he spoke, the tone was light yet somehow deep in context, shrouded in mystery.

“Who are you?” you asked the question he yearned the most, his face reflects it perfectly.

“Care to take an educated guess, Miss ?” he cocked his eyebrows as you ruminated through the possibilities.

“You still do the thing huh ?” he chuckled, his face now rested against his palm as he watches you picking apart the past and the future.

“What thing ?” you asked, he spoke those words like he knew you for years, which was odd. He’s a stranger after all.

“The thing where you’ll pout your lips slightly when you’re drowned by your thoughts,” he knew you, knew you well enough and long enough to notice these things.

“Let’s cut to the chase, don’t play games with me old man. Who are you ?” your eyes bore deep into his own, trying to pry the truth out of him.

“Funny, you used to call me that too,” he chuckles, his eyes bore no malice, just a sense of long and yearning.

You only called ‘old man' to a handful of people, but one strikes the most in this case, but it can’t be him.

You refuse it to be him.

You merely stared at him, not wanting to entertain his statement, “Fine, I’ll give out a little tip. I tend to amend things, which is why I am here now, sitting idly in front of you,”

“Amend things ? How could you amend things that are not broken ?” you questioned, the man before you was too relaxed and aloof to be talking in riddles.

“Well you’re not broken per say, but well I am,” the man merely chuckled as he looked down towards the concrete floor.

“So you want me to fix you ?” you ask, your endless pond of patience grew dry by the second.

“Close, but no,” you could see the evident smirk as he kept his gaze down.

“You’re speaking in riddles here sir, some might mistake you as a follower of the enigmata if you keep this up,” this time his eyes trained itself back to yours.

“Well aren’t you still sharp,” he mused, clearly happy that he didn’t need to elaborate on more.

“You’re not him, you can’t be him anymore,” this is a fact, even if this being was him, it is not him.

“Can’t be who ? I’ve been living countless lives before. Be specific would ya ?” the man now let his back rest against the chair, ain’t he comfortable now ?

“You know very well the life I’m talking about,” you sighed, he could be him or even a part of masked fools really.

The masked fools that’s notorious for transforming themselves into one’s beloved.

“Well say that name for old time’s sake, humour this ol’ hound,” never mind, it is him. A masked fool won’t replicate this current body that he made, he’s a stranger to you.

A foreign being.

“You’re not Gallagher, never will be him again as a matter of fact,” that type of wording was not your style to use, you felt bad for speaking those truths.

“Ouch that stings, I was him y’know,” he lips pouted, while his arms are folded against his chest. Yet his gaze still placed snugly into you.

“Past tense,” you quipped, well you felt bad about the cold demeanour, but still how would someone act in this situation ?

“Touché,” he laughed, now from his mannerisms. It reminds you of Gallagher, but he’s not him.

This man is well put, smells expensive, and it seems like he does not drink that much. When you think about it, the man before you resembles the qualities that you find attractive in a man.

As wouldn’t you know it, you told this list to Gallagher over a drink years ago.

“Let me ask you this once more, who are you ?” your stern voice was something he never listened to, but he welcomed it warmly.

“Whoever you want me to be,” he smiles, his voice sounds like he was teasing, but you know deep down that it is true.

“Why are you here ?” the question that has been clouding your mind since the reveal.

“To see through another fiction with you as my main muse,” his voice draws deeper than before.

The gravity of his statement was heavy, it made your heart stop for a mere second just to make sense of it all.

His eyes softened as he saw your shock ridden expression, your hands trembled, unsure with what to answer. He finds his way to hold them gently.

It felt nostalgic, even though the hand that held yours was not the same as before, it felt like home.

“To fabricate a new page in history, to make amends for the past, to see through another life. I’m here to live another life with you, to grow old by your side,” he continues, somehow the display of loyalty soothed your trembling hands.

“And even after death, I’ll wait for you to be reborn back into my arms, forever more,” his warmth left your hand as he stood up from his chair.

He walked towards your side, your hands now placed perfectly against your lap as he kneels before you.

“That is my reason,” he leaned down, bringing your fingertips towards his lips.

“Own my heart once more, dearest,” he begged.

The man begged for a chance once more.

[bitter-me]

The Never Ending Rain

Imbibitor Lunae . Dan Heng | M. Reader as Neuvilette [Genshin Impact]

----------

"It's raining... Why is it still raining..?"

----------

The day Imbibitor Lunae decided to do the unthinkable was a tragic one.. So many people have lost faith and trust.

But one thing stood out from the rest...

It's raining... How..? This is the first time the Luofu ever rained... Is it even possible? For the ship to rain like that...

The Vidyadhara was as clueless as them. They don't remember ever doing something that may cause rain to happen. Even the Divination Commission was confused. In the entirety of their lives, never had they thought they'll ever see rain as a thing they now should worry about. It was strange.. A phenomenon of great mystery..

And so, the Seat of Divine Foresight search day and night for any information that might tell them what's happening, was it a prophecy? An old legend?

That's when they found it, in an old scroll, they say...

The legend says that, a dragon of water once resided in Luofu. Though the Luofu doesn't know where the dragon went, every time they weep the skies will cloud up and pour out rain. And they say that if you want to go out while the skies are clouded, yell out toward the sky at the top of your lungs.

"Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don't cry!"

Soon this Hydro Dragon became a normal legend you'll hear everywhere on the Luofu, even visitors had become accustomed with the legend.

Some poets write about it, some storytellers make up some stories about the legend, and so on and so on. Some even made theories as to why the dragon cries on that specific day... The day that Imbibitor Lunae was banished...

Some of them made sense, while the others are just words being put together and hope something sticks.

.

.

Then... The Nameless arrived...

Kafka had informed them about the Stellaron but she never said anything about the rain.. At first they thought that it was the Stellaron's doing until Miss Tingyun told them about the legend.

Never have they thought such a legend exists but here it is, the cloud up skies and the pouring rain.

March was more than excited when she found out about the legend, yelling out those words in the efforts that the dragon heard it and stopped crying. She expresses her sympathy to the dragon, talking to Mr. Yang and Stelle of how sad it is and start to make her own theories as to why the dragon is crying.

.

.

But on Dan Heng's side...

He was immediately met by rain the moment he steps on the Luofu, he knows full well why that is, his chest hurts at the thought of it before mumbling out an apology and heading out to wherever the trio is at.

During the course of his journey, Luocha and Sushang talk regarding the seemingly endless rain. Some say that it hasn't stopped raining since a specific day, sure there are some days where the skies are clear but that's only for a moment as rain pours out once again. As if the pain and suffering the dragon felt won't go away no matter how hard they try to forget about it.

This got Dan Heng thinking...

It hasn't stopped raining since back then..? This only adds up to his guilt.

To think that... That man cried that much... For a man that was banished...

He can't help but feel guilty because of it.

.

.

While the trio's journey continues, they soon meet the Chief Justice, [Name] [L.Name].

The man could be seen as aloof, distant, maybe even cold as his expression never changes from a neutral one. But despite that he's quite kind to people. As March would put it "Nicer Dan Heng."

They were surprised when the Judge leap from his seat and took care of the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus that invaded the courtroom, they never thought the ever so calm Judge could fight.

As time went on, [Name] insisted on going with them with the excuse that they needed all hands on deck with this crisis. Which isn't wrong.. So they let him. Then... They finally arrived at Scalegorge Waterscape... The flash of hurt and recognition on [Name]'s eyes as he saw the very person that had abandoned him...

As if clockwork, the skies began to cloud up once more.

"It's going to rain again." Stelle says as she looks up to the cloud sky. "Yeah you're right, and here I thought the sky's going to be clear a lot longer. Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don't cry!" March yelled out, looking at the sky with hope in her eyes, she actually likes that phrase because it sounded like she was comforting someone.

"Miss March I would appreciate it if you focus on our main objective here, I believe the Stellaron is a much bigger threat than the Hydro dragon." Jing Yuan spoke up, reminding them of their current objective.

"Not to mention it's just a legend, I don't think the skies will clear up just because you say that." Fu Xuan added.

Dan Heng only stays silent before approaching [Name] with a heavy heart. He knew what caused the rain.. Or rather... He knew who the Hydro dragon is...

[Name] is standing far away from the group as if he's collecting his thoughts, this doesn't surprise the group as the man would usually be like that. Like March says, a "Nicer Dan Heng." With hesitation, Dan Heng wrapped his arms on the dragon's waist as he hugged him from behind, burying his face on the taller man's back and mumbled out. "Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don't cry."

This caught the Judge off guard, did he hear that right? Did Dan Feng—No... Dan Heng just said that to him? As if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders and maybe his heart...

The skies cleared up.

"See! Did you guys see that!" March pointed out with excitement, her words have reached the dragon!

The group looked up at the clear sky with wide eyes, the sky had cleared up... So the legend is real..? People from the Cloud Knights usually think that the legend is just that.. A legend... But to see it for themselves as the skies cleared up once March said those words...

...Unknown to them it was Dan Heng who had comforted the dragon.

[Name] placed his glove hand on top of Dan Heng's before mumbling a small "thank you." But what was it for? Thank you for comforting him? Or was it a thank you for coming back?

Only [Name] knows.

He then patted his hand as if silently telling him to let go, Jing Yuan's right they have more important matters to attend to and Phantylia needs to be stop. Dan Heng reluctantly let go as he took a few steps back. He needs to separate the sea to get to Scalegorge Waterscape.

As Dan Heng gets ready, he tries to use his powers. Only for it to falter as if he's missing something.

Dan Heng tries again. "Hearken, as arbor revives and foe nears, we call forth the mighty waters of ancient sea, to flood abodes of heaven and quell roots of evil. We etch this in stone for all to heed."

It didn't work.

He tries to remember what he was missing he had said the incantation perfectly, and his power is completely at its peak... so what is he missing..?

He tries again, with his hand reach out he say the incantation one more time. "Hearken, as-"

Dan Heng stopped himself once he heard [Name] saying the incantation with him, he turn his head to the side and saw the other man standing next to him with his right hand stretched out, [Name] looks at Dan Heng and gave him a small nod before looking straight ahead. Giving a small nod in return, Dan Heng looks back at the ancient sea.

"Hearken, as arbor revives and foe nears, we call forth the mighty waters of ancient sea, to flood abodes of heaven and quell roots of evil. We etch this in stone for all to heed."

And just like that... the ancient sea separates...

The group was taken aback by this sudden revelation. Dan Heng wasn't able to do it on his own... and needed [Name] to do it with him...

But that can't be... a normal man can't just separate an ancient sea...

Unless...

"Your Honor... are you...?" Jing Yuan spoke up as he looks at [Name] in disbelief. The said man only sigh before giving him a firm nod. Jing Yuan smiles at the answer he was given, a confirmation.

[Name] [L. Name], the Chief Justice of the Luofu... a Judge in a courtroom... is the Hydro dragon.

[the-newlymadeweeb]

I Gotcha.

Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo!reader

Description: three times you promised Luke that you got him. The two times he struggled to believe and finally when he did.

A/N: the gif is not mine, credits to the owner.

************************************************************

The days spent at camp immediately after his failed quest were arguably the worst of Luke's entire life.

He had to drag himself back home with a burnt chunk of an apple, a dragon tooth and half his face destroyed.

You had nursed him back to health. Spending three days straight in the infirmary. The solo quest was a bad idea and you had known it. Luke had gone alone in some sort of attempt to prove himself, seeking glory but now this entire thing had backfired and you couldn't help but worry.

When he awoke he had stared in mute horror at the mirror you held up to his face.

"I tried to minimise the scarring as much as I could, Luke. I couldn't remove it entirely but with the correct balm and scar creams it'll fade," you had explained.

Luke knew you were the best the camp infirmary had but he couldn't explain the rage that boiled within him. This fruitless quest, with its dumb replication to Heracles' and his quest all for the sake of earning his father's attention had permanently marred him.

Physical proof of his father's neglect right there for everyone to witness.

And he would have to carry this stupid scar for the rest of his life.

"Luke?"

His gaze snapped to meet yours, softening slightly, as you placed the mirror facedown on his bedside table.

"Yeah?"

He didn't want to see sympathy in your eyes, no doubt too many campers will be looking upon him like he was a pitiful kicked dog, nor did he want to see disappointment; he wasn't quite sure how he'd stomach that.

But your face held neither of those emotions, instead a strong conviction resided in the lines of your face, lines that you were too young to have, that marked the effects of stress no adolescent should feel.

"I'm gonna take care of you Luke, okay?" You reached out and cupped his uninjured cheek, "I gotcha. I always gotcha."

And wasn't that something.

He reached out cupping your face in his hands, this was his whole world.

"Okay baby; yeah, please."

****************************

Luke had miscalculated. He'd failed to retain the master bolt and the helm of darkness.

Now, he was being punished. Severely. And he hated it but he deserved it. He'd let Kronos down, he needed to learn his lesson so he never makes the same mistake.

The nightmares cut too much into reality though sometimes. His entire body lit aflame but it always got so much worse when he was forced to face a scenario where he had to cut you up so that your pieces would replace the Titan.

He never failed this test, but it always took the most out of him. Even if you always understood his anger, he wasn't sure you'd understand his methods; and at the crack of every dawn, he'd escape his cabin and run to the lake where he knew you'd always be. Like clockwork, watching the sun rise.

This time his skin buzzed with the phantom recollection of his nightmares, he had to scrub at his eyes to clear his vision a few times, mistaking the blood on his hands to be real in his fatigued state.

You sat on the deck, eyes fixed on the changing colours of the sky. He could hear your voice humming a soft nameless tune. This was your ritual, your futile attempts at interactions with your father as he burst across the heavenly dome on his sun chariot.

Nonetheless, Luke always enjoyed the sound of your voice. He'd appreciate it if Apollo never would.

You'd sense his presence as you always did in the early hours and you'd beckon him towards you.

Sitting by your side felt right, amidst all the tension he'd been under. The weight of all his plans. Your song was familiar, the heat and strength of your figure a comfort.

"Nightmares again?" You asked, knowing the answer regardless.

He'd nod.

There were a few truths he was allowed to tell you. Sometimes if he said it with enough of himself, he could fool himself to believe that all you knew weren't mainly lies.

"Come here."

And you'd guide his head to you lap, gentle– loving, like the first rays of the sun. You would card your fingers through his curls, and every now and then lightly ghost your fingertips over the scar on his face.

On occasion, Luke would dream that you were healing him, erasing his scars, erasing his pains.

"I gotcha Luke," you'd murmur, "I always gotcha."

Some mornings he'd fall into a dreamless sleep.

************************

"I gotcha baby," oh he's missed that voice, "I always gotcha, Luke." It's been too long. Days, weeks, months. Years.

You were crying.

Percy and Annabeth were crying too but–

You're crying.

Don't cry.

He's really tired, and it's getting difficult to take a breath. He figures this is the feeling of death and he's trying to not be afraid.

You reach for him, and he forces himself to open his eyes and look at you.

It's not so bad. Your face has always been what he'd like to see last. It's just–

There's so much to say. So many things he has to tell you, to apologise for, to confess, to love and there's no time.

You're so beautiful.

Even covered in soot and monster dust and blood.

Your hands cup his face, fingers instinctively brushing his brows and scar. You keep mumbling small comforts, little assurances. But you don't promise life, because that wouldn't be true and while Luke has been a deceitful liar, you have never been one yourself and you won't lie to him even now.

But you promise that you got him. And he believes you.

"I know baby," He huffs and tries to say, "but now...it's time– time to let me go."

It's a struggle. His vision is blurry, he's really tired.

So he focuses on the feel of you instead, letting his eyes close. This is just like falling asleep.

*****************************************************************************

[hanibalistic]

ALIEN OUTREACH PROGRAM | KIM JONGSEOB. HAKU SHOTA.

genre | fluff / found family au, slice of life au 

synopsis | when a planet exploded, the government sent two of its surviving residents to live with you .  

word count | 11.5k+

warning | mention of violence / unwanted sexual advances (brief; side character)

note | wrote most of this early 2024 and stopped. decided to rush finish it.

The government sent you two aliens from the alien outreach program you were referred to join by a close friend. 

The program was recently created when a nameless planet that was initially suspected to be on its way to collide with the Earth ended up exploding instead. The news of the explosion was broadcast worldwide, but the fact that the surviving residents of the planet landed on Earth as a result of the explosion was kept secret to avoid social panic, hence why the outreach program operated on a 'referral only’ basis. 

Each applicant underwent a relatively easy screening process and three rounds of interviews before they were notified through an encrypted text message that they’d been cleared to foster.

You underwent the same process, and in retrospect, you figured the interviews were held for the faculty to access all aspects of your life, beginning from your social circle to the depths of your mental state.

At the end of your onboarding process, you were told that you would be fostering a pair of aliens—a pair of brothers, they suspected. Either way, you were told they were bonded. 

You hadn’t minded the responsibility. If anything, you figured the monthly financial compensation could significantly help your appalling rent situation. The cog in the wheel was that they were initially tested to be high-risk-level aliens.

The only reason you could think was behind that outrageous decision was not their trust in your ability to monitor them but rather their disinterest in your livelihood as a struggling new graduate.

You could always leave it to the government to treat poor people like guinea pigs. But, the more you looked at it, Soul and Jongseob didn't seem as dangerous as their profiles stated. 

Soul and Jongseob—they didn't come with those names, which hadn’t been a problem during the first few weeks of their stay when the three of you spent most of your time getting acquainted with each other. 

You weren’t sure how shaken up they were about their home being destroyed, so besides being cautious of their undisclosed alien abilities, you walked on eggshells around them in consideration for their emotional state. 

The two were docile, for the most part, and quiet. When they weren’t whispering among themselves, they were communicating telepathically. Figuratively or literally, you were uncertain. You only knew they were difficult to read without human features. You never knew what they wanted or how they felt about anything outside of observable behaviors, such as their obsession with the television, their likeness for sweets, and their unwillingness to shower. 

The program coordinator hasn't given them the green light to go out and explore Earth on their own yet, so before you could figure out how to ideally talk them up in the mandatory monthly progress reports, they've got no choice but to stay home and discover entertainment through unconventional means. 

It was the furniture at first. Charred spots on the couch left behind by the apartment’s last tenant, the hinges of the balcony curtain rod torn off, and the worst of it all: shattered pieces of a set of utensils that your deceased mom gave you as a congratulatory gift for moving out, thus taking a big step into adulthood.

That was the first time they’d seen you sob, your body curled up on the floor and your palm stained with blood slit out by the broken glass. They had been unfamiliar with human emotions at that point in their stay. Still, taking a frame out of television shows, they could understand, at the very least, that what you showed was sorrow and heartbreak.

They didn't understand the concept of a mother. After all, they were born through natural phenomena, such as the trickling of water or the imploding of ancient rocks. Your response to their playful mistake was illogical. However, still, it made them fidget and waver wildly to watch tears roll callously into your mouth.

People call it empathy, they thought. Empathy, or love—the inability to see another in pain, the desire to never hurt another. Most humans have it for everyone, but more strongly for those they prioritize. 

A few days later, a plate clumsily glued together by gray-colored blobs that looked suspiciously like alien skin greeted you on your nightstand. You never said anything about it, but you put it in your mother’s shrine in the apartment.

Little did you know that sometimes, in an attempt to model your actions, Jongseob and Soul would put pieces of candy next to the plate for her.

After the furniture, they tuned down their drive for curiosity. They played with less significant things, such as your freshly cleaned laundry.

At last, it came down to electronics—the television, the radio, and sometimes your laptop and gaming console. Jongseob geared more toward the console and television, and Soul liked anything that made funny noises. 

As they got comfortable around the apartment and started clashing with your lifestyle, it gradually became more annoying to address them with words like 'hey!' and ‘you!' when you needed to scold them about something they've done, so you decided individual names were necessary. 

Mercifully abandoning a random name generator online, you told the two aliens to choose how they wanted to be addressed. 

Soul had been very excited about picking a name for himself. His outrageous choices reflected his enthusiasm, ranging from food ingredients to fictional character names to literal home appliances.

You've had to—patiently and gently—explain to him for a month the reason why you wouldn't call him Megamind or the literal stove was because they weren't real names (and you didn't want to). 

Eventually, you two made a compromise. The initial choice was to have everyone call him by the famous RPG he never played—Dark Souls. He settled on being called Soul.

Jongseob was more direct but still indecisive. He mixed a few celebrity names he heard on TV into different pairs. He handed you a written list—surprisingly!—of names for you to choose.

You didn’t want the responsibility of selecting something as important as a name, so you told him you could put out a pointer finger, and whichever name you ended up pointing at after he moved the paper around would be his name. 

After hearing how mundane Jongseob's name sounded, Soul came to you one night and asked that you help him think of a name of a similar caliber. He had requested that you keep this between you both, as he didn't go to Jongseob about it out of embarrassment that his other half would accuse him of being a copycat. 

You attempted to deter Soul from such outrageous thoughts. Jongseob was the last person to make unnecessary accusations, after all. But Soul was determined to keep this a secret between you two, so you agreed.

It was proven difficult for him to make up something normal, as he tossed and turned for several nights only to end up knocking on your bedroom door, asking for a second opinion.

You had stayed up with him for a few nights, often laying half-asleep on the couch while he remained silent on the opposite end with pursed lips and intense eyes.

One particular night, though, you decided to turn on the television to keep yourself awake, and the channel was airing a rerun of an old, beloved cartoon.

“Oh gosh, I haven’t watched this in so long,” you exclaimed under your breath as you leaned back, the controller rolling off your thigh. “This was my childhood afterschool show.”

“Woah,” he scooted closer to you, “that’s cool.”

"It is," you muttered, wholly focused on the screen. When a particular ice-powered character appeared, you let out a soft swoon. "Ah, look at him! He's still as cool as ever."

“Who's that?” he whispered. 

“His name is Shota. He was my favorite character in the show,” you said, heaving a sigh as rather embarrassing memories flooded before your eyes. “I loved him so much.”

Soul turned to you. The lights flickered in your eyes, not telling him much of what was happening in the episode but enough to let him know that you were paying a lot of attention whenever the character was present.

He noticed now that you've leaned your head on his shoulder, and your eyelids were lowering by the second. The previous attention you spent on the TV screen was replaced quickly by sleepiness under the comfort of Soul's presence. 

“You did?”

"Yeah?" you hummed, his sudden question confusing your own emotions for a second. "I mean, yeah. He is really cool and–okay, technically, everyone in animation is good-looking, but he was my type."

"Oh." His voice trailed off into deep thought, but it didn't take him too long to perk up again and say, "I want to be called Shota."

You raised your brows and sat up, leaning back to watch him with amusement. “You like the name, huh?”

“No.” He shook his head. “You like Shota.”

There it was, then. Soul gained a new name that night—Shota. 

Being able to call them by name gave them a sense of identity, and you had a drastic development in your connection with them. You thought you’d always received them without judgment, and you did.

Still, once it registered in your normalcy that they’ve got a name, it was as if their existence became more tangible. However, as important as that, the first milestone of your relationship was when they finally took a human form.

Before realizing they could shapeshift, they’ve been stuck in their alien form, which you thought was similar to how movies and video games have always portrayed outer-space species.

You wouldn’t have minded if they stayed in that form until it was time for them to be recalled to the facility they came from, but it seemed they were the ones who got curious about the human body.

You’ve noticed for a while how they would shift parts of their figure according to what they see, sometimes after people on the TV and other times after you.

What you thought would be a slow process turned out to be done and over between you leaving the apartment in the early morning and returning from work in the late afternoon.

Surprisingly, seeing two poorly shaped human boys loitering around in your apartment instead of the usual irregularly shaped creatures was less bewildering than seeing your old sketchbooks scattered everywhere on the floor.

Those were your fallen dreams, a career not pursued in exchange for securing a stable future, which wasn’t all that stable now that you're going through it. 

You knew they were bored at home. Still, it was a surprise to see that they'd found the boxes of old things dusted away at the back of your closet—what were they doing rummaging through your clothes, anyway? You’ve got to have a strict talk about boundaries after this.

At least their attention was away from the fabrics in your closet as they pulled out your sketchbooks and decided to change themselves according to the most appealing visual. However, since your old character sketches were amateur and poorly drawn, their shifted bodies looked sloppy and humorously eerie. 

Soul wasn't entirely sure what was wrong about it, especially since you couldn’t stop laughing when you saw them, and Jongseob taught him that laughing meant joy.

When you picked up one of the books to flip through them, your smile dimmed, and your eyes focused in a way he had never seen before. Jongseob later told him it may be bitterness, but not the angered kind because your eyes were soft. 

Soul didn’t quite understand the distinction; your eyes were almost always soft.

That night was the first time in a long time you picked up a pen and drew something again so you could help them polish their appearances. Through that experience, you learned two things: your drawing skills have massively deteriorated, and aliens were indistinguishable from humans once they took a hyperspecific form, to a point where they bleed the same color. 

Both settled on having blond hair, one frizzier than the other. Looking from far away would force you to mistake them as twins, but this was leagues better than communicating with two gooey creatures without solid features or forms.

You stared at the pencil sketches on the pages and back up at them, finding it uncanny how accurate their shapeshifting abilities were. Then you turned to them with furrowed brows.

“Both your hair is a little long,” you muttered.

Tapping the pencil at your chin, you thought about making modifications to what you’ve drawn for them, but when you told yourself to flip the pencil around for the eraser, your hand was unwilling to move.

You have sat on the floor for hours, drawing and erasing, making changes and corrections that suit their liking and help them look natural. You weren’t sure if they got tired from using their powers, but you certainly became exhausted from gripping a pen for so long. You’ve been too used to typing on a keyboard.

“Wait here,” you said, putting the papers and pen on the side.

You returned with a few trinkets in your hand, which you dropped on the floor after you knelt down across from them. 

Scooting in front of Jongseob first, you hummed with disregard to his skeptical gaze as you played with the hair clips in your hand by smushing them together. 

When you reached a hand out to push his bangs back, he caught a glimpse of the darkened slit still healing on your palm. He ignored it. You pushed at the tips of his locks ghostly with your nails before pressing a palm to his forehead and swiping his bangs up, exposing his forehead.

The boy closed his eyes at the sudden impact, and when the chilly afternoon air hit his skin, he widened his eyes and pursed his lips into a grimace. 

Before they took a solid shape, your touch would go through their gooey form and feel indistinguishable from any objects that would poke through them.

This was the first time he’d felt the touch of your hand, and he thought it was as gentle as Soul must have thought your eyes were. Unlike Soul, though, he would never admit that he inwardly shivered in contentment when your palm subconsciously dragged over his head into a stroke. 

“This should keep the hair out of your eyes,” you said after clipping his bangs to each side of his face. You leaned back to take a better look at him and nodded in approval despite him looking as if he just snapped out of a trance. “You look great.”

“You drew me well,” he said. “Thank you.”

"You're so formal, Jongseob," you mused, placing your hand against his cheek before pinching it playfully. "But being polite is good. You are most welcome."

Your injured palm touched his skin, the calloused surface dragging a regrettable line over his conscience. He hoped it would heal faster; it was a marker of his mistake, a symbol of your pain.

But, still, you used the same hand to tread over him with kind steps, so most importantly, it was all a sign of your forgiveness. He turned his head away from your pinch, but he didn't let himself swat you away for embarrassing him.

You laughed at his reaction. The sound took root inside him and made a permanent space. 

“Now, Soul!” you exclaimed once you pulled away.

The boy remained still when you stood up and got behind him. After bouncing the hair tie against your wrist, you sat on the couch, and then you laid your hands over his head and carefully brushed his hair with your fingers.

You gathered just enough to fill your curled fist, your nails gingerly dragged over the side of his head to separate parts of his bangs, and then you tied it into a short ponytail. 

Once you were done, you attempted to stand up to move across him for a review of your handiwork, but Soul suddenly leaned back against your legs, the back of his head hitting your knees when he faced up to look at you.

His hair brushed against your skin like a choppy broom, and then you forgot about the sensation as you met his eyes with a raised brow. 

The corner of his lips quivered, and his eyes were round and wide with expectancy. When he realized you let him lay on your knees, his lips pursed into a grin, his knees pulling themselves closer to his chest as his shoulders shrunk with a barely audible laugh.

“What did you do to my hair?” he asked curiously. 

“I tied it into a ponytail,” you replied as you angled your torso to look at his face straight, “so they’re not in your face all the time.” 

He closed his eyes when you fixed his bangs with your fingertips. Once they were perfectly angled to each side of his temple, you ran your palm flatly down the side of his face, soothing his new hairstyle with a taste of approval.

Soul pressed his lips into a grin; his eyes opened but were barely visible, hidden behind crescent shapes. You bit back a smile; you just now noticed how his features turned out so dainty like a flower learning how to bloom in Spring. 

"Hey, look at you," you said in an airy whisper. "How pretty you are.”

He laughed, his voice a weirdly pitched wave released into the air, almost like he was yodeling. Jongseob huffed in disbelief at the unexpected sound; questions, and brotherly mockery trailing out of his mouth, one worse than the last. You turned to bicker with him about saying nicer things, and Soul couldn't sense anything other than your warm hands left sitting by his jaw. 

He watched you from your knees. Your chin moved with every word you said, your nails gently scratched his skin between sentences, your legs frozen on the spot to avoid discomforting him.

It was human nature. Everything.

The way your skin flopped, the way you subconsciously reached to touch, the way you put him first. Those traits were possessed by most human beings, but Soul reckoned he admired them more when they were yours. 

What was that called? Jongseob taught him so many things; he was always smarter. But Soul couldn't properly receive too much information at once, not at the pace Jongseob could retain them. Was this joy? No. His fingers were itching for you, which was not a criterion for joy. 

You looked down at him when you felt his hands grab your shoulders. "What's up, Soul?" 

He made unclear noises as he flipped his body over, his chest pressing against your knees. He got on his feet into a crouch and leaned up, his arms circling around your neck into a hug.

You fell back against the couch and froze to register what he did. Before you could figure out he tackled you in a hug, your arms had already gone around his shoulders to press him against you. 

“Hey,” you whispered. “What’s going on?”

Soul bit the inside of his cheek when he realized you allowed it. He could feel you so much more properly now, and he responded to the revelation by holding you tighter and burying his chin in his overlapped forearms.

His eyes squeezed to relish in—what was this feeling, again? Joy? He wasn't exactly smiling, though. The way his brows were pulled into a swirly furrow, and his lips were downturned would show that he was sad. But he wasn't. He was happy and tackled you because he wanted to hug you. 

"I really like you."

You blinked, your lips gradually pulling into a downward smile. "Where did you learn that from?"

"Hmm." His voice was muffled. He didn't want you to know he learned it from you. 

The two got the authorization to leave the apartment after you wrote in the monthly report that they've changed shapes and, more frequently than before, began to express their feelings.

However, they rarely took advantage of the newfound freedom, and you understood why. 

They have yet to learn how to get around the area using public transportation. If the metro lines were less complicated than what was currently set in place, they may have an easier time navigating it.

Alas, the metro system remained both a local and a tourist's nightmare. However, even if they knew how to take the bus or the train, they've yet to learn where to go because they've never been outside. 

And, last but not least, they didn't have the money to make going out enjoyable.

You have taken them out to different places after determining all the necessary expenses, such as the increased bills and grocery items. You would use whatever was left over from the program funds to take them to weekend hangouts. 

There was the outlet where you bought them new clothes and their designated utensil set because they apparently needed their own.

There was the arcade, where you had sworn they used alien means to get all the prizes they did, but you also wouldn't put it past Jongseob to be weirdly good at gauging the space of a claw machine.

Oh, and a science museum, which you didn't think Jongseob was too interested in, but he hadn't complained because Soul was having the time of his life at the exhibitions. 

You let them try alcohol by the river at night once. Turned out their bodies automatically eliminated all the intoxicating substances, so they were only tasting the bitterness without getting drunk.

That could be a blessing or a curse; without intoxication, you weren't sure what alcohol is good for.

You ended up dousing yourself with all leftover bottles of beer and entirely blanked out that night. You couldn't remember what happened, so the two made sure they told you the following day about how you were sobbing and throwing up. You cried for your mother, and you told them they were the closest people you've got. 

You had woken up with the two on your bed. Jongseob slept with a box of tissue near his hand, always prepared to jolt awake to catch your puke and wipe your mouth of snot. Soul was curled up next to you with puffy and swollen eyes.

Apparently, he wept alongside you because he thought you were in too much pain to even move from the floor, and he didn't know how to help. He had cried so much that he tired himself to sleep, but he kept close to you to make sure your heart was constantly beating.

You haven't drunk much since, knowing how much they hated your drunken state. If you were getting drunk, it was out of obligation, like when you were invited to a business meeting.

You remembered that night well. It was the night you discovered why Jongseob and Soul were considered high-risk. 

It wasn't uncommon for interns or someone of a lower rank in the company to be taken advantage of during business meetings.

When a topic could be adequately discussed and solved by presenting a supervisor with ample knowledge, yet the department chose to bring an extra, much younger employer as a companion, it was almost always a perverted decision.

You were no stranger to the problem. You have seen your colleagues be invited to join business meetings like those before, but this was the first time you were called to be in one. 

The social hierarchy and the risk of unemployment made it impossible for you to turn down shots pushed your way by the department head from the negotiating company, who your supervisor was trying to rope into a grand business deal.

After a few drinks, you have entirely given up on expecting decency from anyone at the table. At least your supervisor was having a great time. Your words slurring through your unstable body jolts made the negotiation easier, and you unknowingly helped your company seal a deal when you clumsily agreed to have the department head drive you home. 

He remarked about your tense knuckles on the drive home, acknowledging your skepticism but not challenging it. You watched the road like a hawk, or as much as you could, with your vision slightly blurred anyway because you wanted to ensure he wouldn't drive you elsewhere. He didn't.

After what felt like years, you arrived at the apartment building and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Thank you for driving me home," you said with a curt bow after you gathered your things from the floor. 

"You're welcome," he mused, watching you clumsily loop your forearm over the straps of your bag. He leaned over the passenger seat then, whiffs of alcohol unmistakable in the air. "Hey, I should walk you upstairs. I wanna make sure you get back safely."

"That's not necessary," you said after a low, thoughtful hum. You didn't look at him when you spoke, partly because you were having difficulty focusing on anything other than the acidic taste at the back of your mouth.

"I… I have someone at home. He's going to–um… he's going meet me by the elevator. He'll walk me up."

"Oh? I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"I don't–" you squeezed your eyes tightly and shook yourself awake–"I mean, yes. I do have a boyfriend. He's coming down to get me.”

The man stared at you silently for an uncomfortable, calculative second. Your head was heavy from his stare, mixed in with the alcohol trying to take over.

You unconsciously licked the corner of your lips when you tried to find something to fill the unease, only to realize that the only way to feel better was to leave his car. You reached for the door handle behind you blindly. Unfortunately, the search for it has given him the time to press the master lock button on his side of the door. 

“I should get going," you said after heaving a defeated sigh.

"You don't actually have a boyfriend, do you?" he muttered.

You didn't know how to answer. You didn't, but it was true that there were people at home waiting for your return, both harboring the potential to be mistaken as your boyfriend if seen by an unassuming person.

You were forbidden from coming clean about Soul and Jongseob's identity, but what other reason could there be for you to have two boys sitting in your apartment? You three were orphans, and they're your brothers! Or were you just letting two friends crash at yours? You weren't thinking fast enough to pull a story out of thin air.

"Look, I don't know what made you so scared. I'm not going to ask to go inside your apartment. Trust me. I'm just going to walk you upstairs and make sure you get inside."

"No." You shook your head. Even in mild drunkenness, you could sense that the man had no good intentions. "I can do that myself. Thank you."

You pressed the lock button and pulled the door handle. You hastily flung the car door open, finding it difficult to push it all the way.

Turning around, fully prepared to dash out the second your feet touched the floor, an impending doom dropped on your head when you heard a haphazard opening of a car door behind you.

You clutched your bag to your chest and slid off the passenger seat, borderline hopping out of the car. Your ankle bent, but you recovered reasonably quickly. The next step in your emergency plan was to run for it; you've got your keycard attached to your worker's badge. All you needed to do was open the door and slam it shut behind you. 

Spinning away from the car door blocking your path, as you hastily pushed it all the way open, you were immediately met with a playful scream and a pair of hands gripping your shoulders. You inhaled sharply and accidentally swallowed the knot of air. 

"You didn't have to make things so difficult,” he said as he shoved you back onto the passenger seat. "Why did you have to go and force me to act so violently? All you had to do was let me walk you home.” 

Gurgle of saliva rushed up your throat to drown out your cries for help. The back of your mouth soured with an acidic taste that smelt of the beer you were forced to drink; if only they could burn human skin, you would have spat them out.

The knot of air you just swallowed squeezed through your chest with difficulty, almost as if it wanted to make a home for itself in the middle of your body. It made you choked up. Breathing with your chest became a stagnant process. 

There was no security at your building, and you figured the other residents would ignore any noise, given this was no high-class estate and the walls were thin.

Screaming would only make the man angrier and possibly more excited. Instead of your voice, you should use your legs instead. There may not be any final blows, but at least there's a chance to delay what felt like the inevitable. 

You kicked your feet blindly, feeling them land on solid ground several times, but not enough to release yourself from his grasp. Eventually, he groaned out loud and dug his nails into your arm, bringing your torso up quickly just to slam you down.

Your back hit the center console, the bottom of your neck scratched past the gear stick, and your head hit a solid surface.

Zaps of painful numbness ran through your body; a consistent ringing traveled to your ears, but you couldn't express it. Tears dripped from your eyes when you started to desperately claw at the hand undoing your belt, but you still couldn't say anything.

You only stared at the lights above you. They were blinding, like the eyes of a God. He was observing your struggle to be free of being violated. 

The sound of a zipper reverberated in your head. You've never noticed how loud they were and wondered if you would always hear it after tonight.

Fingers hooked themselves at the waist of your pants, and the next second they were gone. A pained groan traveled through the air with a gentle swoosh of wind. You needed to find out which one came first.

Jongseob hasn't used his powers for a while and has been diligent about controlling them in emergencies where they were prone to slip through his grasp. It had been challenging to learn to live in a world where his powers were destructive only because of how delicate everything else was, but he have managed well so far.

Still, his body was not used to its sudden usage, evidently shown in the way his fingers twitched uncontrollably after he pulled the man off you. A sneer found its way to his lips; how sickening to think that his undoing could be at the hands of a predator.

Rushing over to the car door, he leaned over your body to carefully pull you up. You instinctively flinched at his touch and then calmed down the next second when you realized he was not aggressive.

He reached a hand behind your head, fingers moving about to look for any apparent injuries. When he concluded that there was none, he turned his attention to you. 

“Hey,” he said. “It’s me. Jongseob."

You forced your stomach to stop shivering in more oxygen and turned your eyes to stare at his familiar face. Jongseob, with his blond hair curly as ever, stared back at you with soft concern.

You calmed down; it was an instinct learned from caring for them (or your apartment) when they first arrived to live with you. 

Reaching up to grasp his wrist, you stopped his hand and hoarsely asked, "Why are you down here?"

"I heard your tears fall," he said, his fingers leaning out to wipe the tears from your cheek despite your soft protest. 

"From all the way up?" 

"The air shifts when that happens. I'm sensitive to you–" he looked away sheepishly and quickly shrugged–"these things. I'm sensitive to these things in general."

Jongseob was vigilant. His home planet blew up, and he has a brother much clumsier than himself. His vigilance and maturity were set in place for both of them, especially as they were thrown into an unfamiliar place.

You understood. You’ve never spoken about it in great detail, only ever making small spaces to praise him for his emotional intelligence. 

There had been an irk in his intuition before he rushed downstairs. The television sounded of static, the uncomfortable stick of your couch, his inability to progress in the game he was playing—everything gradually added to the unknown irritation he felt beneath his skin until, finally, a shatter of glass.

It was a hallucination, but when he turned toward the kitchen, he realized the air was painted the same color as the first time you broke down in front of him. 

Something was wrong. He knew he would figure it out because he was sensitive to you. The sound of your emotions has long taken root and bloomed in Jongseob's consciousness, a garden of his own making, and now he could pinpoint you from a mere drop in the air.

You couldn't find flaws in his response. There never was any; the caliber of aliens remained unknown to you the past months. But he's here, and you felt safer than ever, so you let your guard down and breathed out a whimper when speaking his name.

It rolled off your tongue like a snowboarder outrunning an avalanche���suffocating, afraid, and desperate. Incoherent explanations followed after, an attempt to clear your name, to prove to someone that you didn’t cause this.

Jongseob's heart squirmed in discomfort at the sight.

He looked at his hand, fingers that learned dexterity, connected to his hands and arms that could do many things. He could press buttons on a gaming console, use chopsticks for food, and hold multiple recycle bags for groceries.

He remembered the day they changed into human beings, how the first thing Soul did after growing himself a pair of arms and a body that could feel was to hug you both.

You offered to hug him that night after Soul pulled away. He had refused it, and you joked about how he was too cool for a little hug. Perhaps he thought so subconsciously, but he always knew he wasn't big on physical affection. Its notion gave him goosebumps. The unapologetic, unconcealed display of affection freaked him out. 

He liked to be subtle and unnoticed, like tending to the garden in his mind where the most delicate and beautiful things bloomed in your stead, like keeping you constant in his mind, like remembering that there's love there. 

"Come here," he whispered, extending his arms to your back and bringing you to him. "It's okay. I believe you.”

You thought he smelled like jasmine or whatever petal scent there was. Jongseob shivered ticklishly when you buried your nose in his shoulder to sniff it. He didn't put together that no matter how much he hid it, the garden seeps out because the truth cannot be concealed nor omitted.

He wished he could hug you for the first time under better circumstances, but you and he knew he wouldn't have agreed to it if it wasn't an emergency. It was brief but much needed.

When you voluntarily removed yourself, he glanced down at your pants to find that your belt was undone, your button was gone from its spot, and your underwear peeked from the zipper forced open. His jaw locked, and his eyes hallowed out.

It checked out with your rambles. Everything you said makes sense. 

A sudden feeling penetrated his insides after the conclusion was made. He found it hard to breathe at the terrifying presence of a particular, bloodthirsty desperation. He suppressed an exhausted exhale and ignored the thirst for harm. 

“Let’s go home,” he muttered as he slowly helped you to your feet. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

You listened to him, pushing yourself off the passenger's seat while he reached to the floor for your thrown bag. He wore it on one shoulder, fixing the strap before reaching for your hand.

After slamming the car door shut, he brought you with him over the front of the car. His footsteps were quiet, borderline silent, leaving only your shoes' clumsy scratches on the floor. You only felt faint traces of heat from the car's headlights as he covered most of it by standing on your side. 

You arched your neck up to look at his downturned lips, his hair covering his eyes even though you've repeatedly told him to keep them out. You would scold him again when you had time, knowing he'd wear the same indifference on his face.

It felt like nagging a child sometimes; you've heard adult men generally tend to behave the same way. 

“I was using the hair clips you got me. I took them off to come down here,” Jongseob said, not sparing you a glance. “You could have gotten me normal ones.” 

“The Powerpuff Girls are cute,” you said. “You’re exactly like Blossom.”

“Please don’t speak nonsense.” 

He squeezed your hand, making you chuckle. When you bumped your head to your side, you hit his shoulder. He didn't used to be so tall, and he didn't used to be so big. You suddenly felt small beside him, in a way that rained disaster, in an unexpectedly romantic way, and you were thinking about him as if he were human again.

"Shit, no way. You do have a boyfriend, then?”

Jongseob turned around, stepping forward to keep you behind him on the way. You peeked over his arm, a distasteful sneer twitching on your face.

You both faced the man just now getting on his feet. Jongseob inwardly hummed, acknowledging that his throw had likely done a number on the man's body. He hadn't meant to react so harshly, but he also didn't care that it ended up hurting someone a great deal.

“He looks a bit young, intern.” 

“I’m twenty.”

"Good grief, he can't even drink yet!" The man laughed like he was choking on the air. "Does he know what he's doing?"

Jongseob rolled his eyes.

He knew this type of person: the kind who’s all bark and no bite. At least in front of nonchalance, they have no bite in them. Their only perk was that they knew how to pick their battles.

The man clearly noticed early on that he was not superior in physical strength. Therefore, choosing a fistfight would be a solution out of his league. That left him with one thing: trash talk. A lot of it, from your taste in men to his made-up flaws. 

It was fine, though. Jongseob was a sensible person, and violence is never sensible. 

"Hey, you could have tried me out if he hadn't come here. I would have changed your stubborn mind."

Violence is almost never sensible. 

“Wait here," he muttered monotonously as he turned to you. He brought your hands up to your cheek and pressed his palm over them so you looked at him. “It'll look scary, but I promise nothing will happen to you."

“What?” you breathed out, your eyes trailing after his back. “Jongseob?”

It took a moment, but it was all you could see once you noticed it.

The green from the leaves, the brown from the tree trunks, the orange and white of apartment and street lights, the silver of the man’s car, the gray of concrete walls, the burgundy of the brick floor, the pink and yellow of flowers, the black of tires, the blue of the sky, the light of the stars and moon, the white of the man’s shirt, the milk of his skin—the colors were being drained from everything, making it look like a frame out of a film noir.

Your hands trembled as your eyes pinned themselves at the approaching sky. It couldn’t be the alcohol forcing an illusion before your eyes as you felt yourself remarkably awake and clear-minded from the adrenaline. The sky was approaching! It felt closer. You couldn’t be mistaken. After all, it wasn’t everything you got to see a colorless world, and you’ve barely recovered from panic. 

Lowering your head, you turned to the trees surrounding the apartment buildings and furrowed your brows. The leaves were falling one by one gradually, and scrapes of tree trunks were being peeled off its body. The tires of cars were deflating, the flowers were lowering, and the sound of once-stable structures cracking became more audible. Everything was falling apart; everything was dying. 

Everything but you, your bag, and your clothes. Nothing happened to you, just as Jongseob promised you. 

“Jongseob–“ 

You were abruptly cut off by the sound of a horrible coughing fit that bordered on a choke. Eyes widened, and your feet quickly brought you to stand behind the alien. He stared silently at the man who left nail marks on your shoulders, who was currently doubled over on the floor, heaving for oxygen.

The colors were drained from him entirely, and his skin began to melt from his head. Clumps and clumps of fat liquid dripped down his eyes in a honey-like texture and then down his mouth, filling it up to stop him from gasping for air.

A buzzing noise sounded from his completely enclosed body, like a train screeching to an emergency stop. No air went in or left his body. He was a box sealed shut and thrown in fire to be melted into its original form—a clump of cells. He was going to die.

Jongseob was going to kill him. As much as you felt the action was justified, a bigger picture was already painted that you must carefully analyze before prioritizing your vengeance. 

It would be easier to explain the death of one man rather than the death of a plot of land. The desiccating of your surroundings cannot be explained by anything other than the doing of a supernatural. In this case, it would be Jongseob, and the program coordinator would jump through no hurdles to figure that out. 

Suppose it got out that he killed someone. In that case, separation becomes inevitable, and you’ve gotten so used to having those two around that you couldn’t fathom living in a soundless apartment ever again.

The consequences of killing the man outweigh the disappointment of not. 

“Hey–no. Jongseob, no. Stop it. Stop it now,” you demanded as you rushed to stand before you. You grabbed his hand and pushed it down, squeezing it with all the strength you could muster. “You will not kill anyone tonight.” 

He peered down at you, no light flooding his eyes despite recognizing your face. “He was disrespectful to you.”

“He was, and that’s terrible,” you admitted. “But there are other ways to handle this. If everyone killed each other for being horrible, we’d not have the world we do today.”

He blinked, seemingly thinking through the points you presented. But then he shrugged. “I’m not everyone, am I?” 

“You–“ 

You poked your tongue to the inside of your cheek, not surprised by his defiance but very much annoyed. Between him and Soul, he was always the one who talked back more.

For a time, you chalked it up to him being innocently curious about the human world, but after a while, you realized he was just bratty. If you kept that personality trait in every monthly report, you were sure he would have been called back for a mental evaluation or something along those lines.

But being a tattle-tale was not necessary. You knew how to snap him out of it.

“I said–“ your words flew through gritted teeth, and you shot a hand up to pinch his ear so you could pull him to your face level–“we are not killing anyone tonight!”

He stumbled at the harsh yank, redness flaring up at the spot you were squeezing. His hand let go of the tension building up through using his power, immediately returning the colors back to their original place.

Helpless whines sounded from his mouth as he bent his waist to accommodate your halfhearted corporal punishment. Still, he did not attempt to push you away.

“Okay! Okay! Calm down!” he yelled.

“Calm down?”

“No–I mean, yes! Yes, calm down, but not like that!” he exclaimed. “Stop pulling my ear!” 

You squeezed your eyes in contemplation before letting go. Your short bicker gave the release of Jongseob’s power enough time to gather itself on the fallen man’s face and patch him together. He stood up and tripped on air but caught himself before his face could kiss the ground and bolted for his car.

Jongseob reflectively grabbed your arm and stepped closer to you, staring as the car engine started and the man drove away without another word.

His chest heaved up through a large inhale. He noticed the way his arm had been trembling since you forced him to stop using his power. He wasn’t afraid, only unfamiliar with something he used to hold so dear to himself.

His power has always been offensive, but not to the degree it showed on Earth. It wasn’t used to kill his peers, and it definitely was not used to pull the cosmos to him.  

That discrepancy shook him as much as when he thoughtlessly maxed out his strength after not using it for so long. The muscle strain reminded him of how careless he was and caught him off guard.

He didn't like it. He was supposed to be good at controlling his given ability. He was supposed to be good at controlling his actions. He was supposed to be sensible.

“Are you okay?

He slowly turned to you. Your face came into view under the flicking street light like the moon inched closer to Earth when he pulled it down to protect you. He couldn't tell if his eyes or heart saw you more because they both jolted in your presence.

Curling his fingers around the strap of your bag, he stepped forward to close the unnecessary gap between you both. He tried to peek over his frizzy bangs to no avail, so he ducked and lightly swayed his head to move them out of the way. He tilted his head lower to your level and looked through his lashes, his brows raised.

“Are you?” he asked.

You closed your parted lips and averted your eyes. The invisible outline of the man’s car remained vivid when you glanced at the empty spot. Once you turned back to Jongseob, knowing what he could do to people and how willing he was to do it, the illusion released its tight grasp on you.

You didn’t forget—you couldn’t forget, that even in such an ordinary world, even if all you’d ever do in life was work and play, even when it came to the least threatening harm, Jongseob would never have you anywhere near it.

“You saved me,” you said. “Thank you.”

“But are you okay?” 

You smiled as you reached up to rub his ear softly between your fingers. “I’m sorry for pinching your ear.”

“[Name],” he started, but when you began to frantically squeeze his earlobe, he groaned and pulled your hand away. “Okay! Okay! I won’t ask anymore!” 

He brushed his hands on his shirt when you finally let him go, a permanent scoff hanging on his cutely puckered lips. Rolling his eyes when he saw your smile, he huffed a sigh before adding, "When we go back, and Soul asks you about the marks on your shoulders, tell him something happened at work. I don't want him to freak out." 

Soul and his power were interlinked. They come hand in hand, particularly his own greatly conveniences Soul's. While he absorbs colors, Soul absorbs monochrome.

Once Jongseob finishes sucking up all the colors around him, he leaves behind a grayscale perfect for Soul to use. That's how they're linked with each other, like two halves of a whole. 

The one difference was that Soul had a problem being in control when his power was utilized, while Jongseob knew what he was doing. When Jongseob hurts someone, it is always because he wants to, and he could be easily stopped with persuasion. Soul was different.

Given that nature is that he turns into something that isn't himself, he would also not think and act like himself. Jongseob didn't want anything more to happen tonight.

“Oh,” you nodded, “I was going to lie anyway.”

“Thank you,” he muttered, then a beat later, almost inaudibly, “for everything, actually.”

He wanted to say everything he did was for you, to let you know that he will continue to do everything for you. But, despite all his talent in thought articulation, he was too timid and shy to express sentiment, so he kept his mouth shut.

Crossing his arms, he recalled the moment he noticed you in the passenger seat, with trembling limbs and an unopened mouth. He fixed his jaw and hid his hands from the colorful world, as he felt rather afraid of the truth—the existence of his devotion to you and the responsibility it spawns.

That kind of devotion causes a strain on both parties and cannot be undone. That kind of devotion, in his willingness to drag a carcass to your feet, is a self-inflicted curse. That kind of devotion, a synonym for love, an antonym of honor, is a burden. Jongseob trapped it behind his lips and prayed to God that he relearned how to restrain it in his hands by a mere cross of his arms.

Pray to God—he licked his lower lip as the lines of your face redraw themselves in his replaying memory—look at them and pray. 

You taught them to get groceries when you were away at work. 

They always did well with helping out around the house; you never knew or asked whether any alien abilities were included.

Jongseob was excellent at ensuring every surface was wiped clean. Soul always knew where everything was after he put them somewhere.

Grocery shopping was included among household responsibilities. Besides the constant sneaking of junk food, they ensured they got everything you requested. 

They have frequented the market so much that the elders who ran most stores could recognize their faces and orders. After giving it a few more weeks, Jongseob and Soul were, unfortunately and hilariously, roped into the pile of gossip that never ceases to circulate the shops. 

Apparently, they both live with you! But which one of them is your boyfriend? 

"What's a boyfriend?" Soul asked in response to the question. 

The shopping bag in his hand crinkled when he squeezed the handle. His round eyes followed the fruit stand owner as she moved around to get him what he needed: apples, oranges, bananas, and whatnot.

As she brushed past Soul to get to the box of apples, she spared him a glance and rolled her eyes, mistaking his genuine ignorance as him dodging the question. She picked up a few apples, examining each one with ease before reaching an empty hand out to Soul, beckoning for his shopping bag. 

"You know what a boyfriend is,” she said. “Why are you acting coy? Are you the boyfriend?” 

Soul pursed his lips together into a helpless frown. He didn't know what 'coy' meant either.

The grandma dumped the apples she chose in the bag and briefly looked up as she prepared to march toward the oranges. When she noticed the clueless expression on Soul's face, she paused with squinted eyes, and then an enthusiastic gasp jumped out of her mouth. 

"Oh my! The other blond boy is the boyfriend, then? But you're in love with them?" she assumed, her fingers waving and pointing accusingly at Soul. "Or is it Jongseob you're in love with? I always thought you two were brothers, but I guess I was wrong!"

"We're very close, so we're basically brothers," he clarified. "But we don't have–um. Our mom and dad don't exist."

She looked away from the box of orange, one of them still ripe in her hand. “For how long?” 

“Since we’re born.”

"Oh, poor dear." She walked away from the box of oranges to give Soul a pat on the shoulder. She stopped at the front of the display and began sifting through the boxes and randomly grabbing more than he had asked for. "Dead parents and a failed romance. Living with the couple, no less!"

Soul has not a lick of an idea what she was talking about. He would repeat his question about what a boyfriend was, but the old lady's eager rambles made it impossible for him to fit his voice in the air, so he focused on listening.

Beginning with her stories about her old romance and her detailed recollection of her past loves, he realized she, surprisingly, has a lot of wisdom to offer. 

Here was what Soul gathered from the nosy grandma about a boyfriend: a boyfriend is and does many things.

A boyfriend waits for you to get off school or work, wants to spend a lot of time with you, never keeps secrets from you, thinks about you all the time, hangs out with you when he has free time, takes care of you when you are sick, loves to hug and touch you, never yells at you, and puts you above himself.

Usually, he lets Jongseob do the listening and summarizing, so he was very proud of himself when he independently came to this grand conclusion: "[Name], I am your boyfriend."

"Oh my god–" Jongseob looked away from the TV at Soul, who randomly announced the statement by the kitchen door as you cut up some apples. He slapped a hand to his forehead. "Soul, I already told you we're not their boyfriend!"

After pushing all the apple slices onto a plate, you dropped the knife in the sink. Swiftly opening a drawer to pick out a small plastic tube, you slammed it shut with a swing of your hips and turned around to lean against the cabinet.

You shook the tube, the toothpicks inside making a sandy noise with each shake, and you looked out the kitchen door behind Soul's shoulder at Jongseob, who still had his head in his hands. But the peek of his snaggletooth told you he was failing to suppress a smile. 

"Who told you that, Soul?” you asked. 

"The grandma at the fruit stall told me about her old boyfriends," Soul answered. 

“Really? All of a sudden?” you mused. “What started that conversation?”

Soul followed you out of the kitchen after you stuck three toothpicks on three random apple slices and slammed the tube on the countertop. He blindly turned the lights off and closed the door on the way, hurrying up to sit on the floor by your feet as you placed the plate of apples on the coffee table.

Jongseob scooted closer to the edge of the couch and reached over for a slice, popping it in his mouth and starting to answer before he finished chewing.

"They were asking which of us is your boyfriend at the market today," Jongseob said. 

“Which one? Not even if one of you were?” you snorted. 

“They’re very determined that one of us is dating you.”

“Oh, I know what dating means!” Soul perked up. “I learned it in a drama.”

You looked down in disbelief and nudged him with your feet. “You learned dating but not what boyfriend means?”

Jongseob let out a giggle. He slid off his seat and brought his knees to his chest to fit in the space between the couch and the table. You brought your legs up when he moved closer to the middle to be next to Soul.

Out of habitual playfulness, you reached down to do a series of aggressive actions, from ruffling his hair to squeezing his cheeks. Jongseob protested, leaning away from your attacking hands as his arms flew up to swat you away like a fly.

“You never do this to Soul!” he exclaimed. 

“Well, yeah,” you responded mindlessly as you let him go. “He’s nice. He just lets me.” 

Soul grinned from ear to ear when you touched his face. Your touch was soft, like it always was, shifting from his jaw to his cheeks to his hair. He never got enough of the sensation of human touch, no matter how trivial.

Looping an arm around an old man at a crosswalk, picking up a kindergartener after they tripped from running around, Jongseob’s hands going through his hair to tie a ponytail for him, your fingers dabbing gently on his face with skincare products—it’s warm, fleetingly so, and human, which lasts.

Jongseob feigned a puking noise after watching you mess around with Soul’s facial features for a few seconds. He got up from the floor and headed to the kitchen to find a drink.

You ignored his distaste, drowning Soul with your immediate attention. He grinned at you, his side bang falling to the back of his ears. What a sight of sore eyes, with his eyes so round and wide, his smile so genuine and willing. He looked at you like you were the only person he wanted to see and spoke like it was his first time using his voice. You cooed to yourself, to the void: look how pretty he is!

“Hello,” you whispered with your palms on his face, gently pushing his cheeks together to bring him to you, “Shota.”

“Hello,” he returned in a volume that mirrored yours, “I bought the fruit myself today.”

“Yeah, I know,” you beamed.

“[Name],” he reached up for your face to urge you close so nobody else would hear, “am I really not your boyfriend?”

You laughed from your throat, but the noise huffed out through your nose rather than your pursed lips. Shota squinted his eyes at the warm air and frowned. You kept laughing at the topic, both you and Jongseob, but he was hung up about it.

The old lady at the fruit store mentioned a list of criteria for being a boyfriend, and he believed he checked off everything on the list!

He spends his entire day waiting for you to come home from work, and after you do, he’d spend the rest of the day with you. Jongseob does the same, but Shota has never kept any secrets from you, mainly because he’s got none, but that still counts toward a check off the box!

He cared for you when you got drunk, even though Jongseob did most of the cleaning and handled your personal hygiene. However, Shota lets you hug him, so he has the upper hand that round!

“It’s complicated,” you said. “You’ve watched dramas, right? Have you noticed that although two characters love each other, they’re not considered together?” 

“No,” he shook his head, “they’re together to me.”

“Well–“ you rolled your eyes up–“yeah, okay. I suppose that’s fair.”

Looking back down at him, you rubbed his cheeks with your thumb and shook your head in disagreement. “It’s still more complicated than you think.”

Shota’s bottom lip couldn’t help but jut out when he gradually pulled the corner of his lips into an upsetting frown.

The idea plagued his mind since he was first introduced to it at the market, and too much time and effort was put into giddying himself over this. The disappointment of his fantasy—you agreeing that he is your boyfriend—falling off was immeasurable.

“What are you two whispering about?” Jongseob interrupted once he returned. He looked between you and Soul, and then he frowned. “Are you still on the boyfriend thing?”

“Yeah,” Soul dragged out with a brief wave of his hand. “You won’t let me be your boyfriend because we’re supposed to be like brothers, and now [Name] won’t let me be their boyfriend because it’s too complicated!”

“You told him it’s too complicated?” Jongseob questioned, putting his elbow on the edge of the couch when he turned around to raise a brow at you. 

Your eye twitched at his judgemental tone, and you almost lunged to tackle him to the floor. “It is complicated!”

Jongseob pulled a face.

One of the things that inconvenienced his technical way of processing information was relationship problems, particularly the fact that everyone around him loved to create issues that shouldn’t be there.

He understood that certain situations reveal emotions that could be difficult to ignore, but he didn’t see a reason for ignorance when one could face them straightforwardly.

People tip-toe across the winded roads too much for the sake of empathy despite it not being due, and then responses like ‘it’s too complicated’ spawn when it’s fundamentally incorrect to say so.

“How?” he questioned. “Do you like Soul?”

“I like the both of you,” you said.

“I know.” He nodded. “But do you like him?” 

 You smirked awkwardly. “No.”

“Then it’s not complicated,” Jongseob said with a clap. He turned to Soul, whose eyes had been darting between you two during your brief conversation, and he shrugged. “You can’t be [Name]’s boyfriend because they’re not in love with you. That’s it.”

“Woah! Why did you suddenly switch the wording?” 

“Why not? It doesn’t make a difference,” he said. “Are you in love with Soul?”

“No.”

“I’m in love with you, though.”

You shook your head and patted Soul’s shoulder. “No, you’re not.”

“Ahm, we don’t–haha, we don’t know about that,” Jongseob mused between forced chuckles as he nodded at the floor.

His eyes widened briefly as a calculated thought about Soul’s untainted feelings for you flickered through his mind. When he looked up and saw your deadpan, he pulled his lips into a thin line, stretching it into an ugly smile that made his upcoming words sound flat and borderline incoherent.

“Do you remember what happened a few months ago because of the evaluation?”

It was a month after Jongseob saved you at the bottom of the apartment estate. You had decided to omit that detail from the monthly report; you told yourself it wasn’t necessary because it wasn’t an extraordinary development about Jongseob but rather an incident that happened to you.

However, deep down, you knew you kept it a secret because you were afraid the program coordinator would find issues with what happened and separate you two.

A few weeks after you turned in the monthly evaluation, a detailed post about a freak accident where a boy who choked a man through telekinesis was posted on one of the most popular social media forums.

Nobody believed in the post; most comments redirected the author to a sub-forum where people post fantasy stories they’ve written, but it was how your program coordinator found out what happened. Within five days of that post, you received an email about a temporary separation.

They gave you a week to pack their things and prepare them for leaving your care.

Jongseob hadn’t said anything when you sat them down to tell them that they would be relocated to another home indefinitely. You didn’t think Soul really understood what happened until the time of departure. Either that, or he hadn’t felt the effect of separation until the moment it was happening, as it took multiple staff members to successfully release his grip from your arm. 

But what you hadn’t shown them were the scars on your forearm, all of them scratched into a bloody storm by the unassuming Shota, who, in a state of panic, had unknowingly sucked up the monochromes around him and begun the initial phase of transformation. 

His sharp, blade-like nails dug into your forearm through your sweater, forcefully grounding himself by your side when he was asked to get inside the van. But you didn’t say anything other than words of reassurance. With a hand on the side of his head, all you had told him was that you’d see him again soon.

His nails dragged several lines down your skin when he was pulled off of you. You didn’t react to it, only pressing a palm to the wounds and shoving the pain to the back of your head.

If you let it be known that he hurt you, there’s no way they’d be allowed back in your house. You thought he knew, though. You believed Shota knew what he did because he stopped struggling and went to sit next to Jongseob in the van after making eye contact with you.

You three weren’t kept apart for too long, surprisingly. The worst they did was give you a slap on the wrist and a warning to not hide information from them again. 

“It’s a normal reaction to being taken from his home,” you said. “I think he missed the normalcy more than he missed me.”

“You’re wrong.” Jongseob crawled over to Soul and beckoned for his attention with a finger snap. “Do you remember when we left home for a few weeks? Why did you throw a tantrum when they came to get us?”

“Huh?” Soul faintly puckered his lips in thought. Once recognition hit, he opened his mouth in realization and nodded. “Ah! That time! I–“ he tilted his head with soft inhales–“did I throw a tantrum?”

“You did,” Jongseob reached up to grab your arm and gestured to the scars, “there’s literally proof.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose,” Soul argued. “I was distraught, I didn’t want to leave [Name].”

“Case in point. See?” Jongseob dropped your arm on the couch with a triumphant shrug. “I told you.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” you said. “Families do that with each other, too.”

“Is that what we are?” Jongseob asked, raising his brows. “We’re a family now?”

“Not legally. I would have to adopt you two,” you said. “But then you would be my son, which is weird.” 

“We could be your brothers.”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Soul chimed in. When you chuckled through a tight-lipped frown, he sighed. “Okay, brother is fine.”

“Good,” Jongseob hummed dismissively before returning his attention to you. “Is there a way for us to legally become siblings, though?” 

It wasn’t something you thought about. The significant details of the outreach program were not known to its participants. They let you know before you signed the contract that it was a program to help assimilate aliens to the human world, and you didn’t doubt that to be the case.

However, calculating the money the government was spending on the participants just for them to foster aliens—it didn’t make sense.

The foster system for human children was severely underfunded, yet the one for space creatures wasn’t. If you had to guess, it was because there’s a catch to alien assimilation, especially when they’re bonded with a person from Earth. 

At the end of the day, you’ve no idea if Jongseob and Soul would be allowed to stay with you for a long time. 

“I don’t think we can,” you replied, leaning forward and rolling your eyes. “But who knows? Maybe they’re secretly writing a new constitution for alien residents on Earth, but we definitely won’t legally become a family anytime soon. It’s okay, though. We can do it in theory!”

“What does that even mean?” Jongseob snickered. “In theory?” 

“I’ll show you at some point,” you said sheepishly. “I just have to give someone a heads-up first.”

The mausoleum was quiet. You didn’t think you’d ever seen it crowded before. 

Carefully putting the flower into the compartment, your eyes brushed past your mother’s picture, and you relaxed. 

“Hey, Mom. It’s been a while.”

You didn’t make a habit of visiting frequently, so whenever you did, you’ve got a lot of say. Your busy work life, social life, and almost nonexistent love life. The good and the bad. The embarrassing and the ugly. The fact that there were few people around made it easier to ramble to a picture, and sometimes, you wondered if the ones in her neighbor compartments were listening too. 

You didn’t speak in detail about the alien outreach program you joined, partly because it was still confidential to the general public, but you told her about the ‘twins.’ 

“I’ll bring them over when I get the chance,” you said. “I’ll see you later then.”

Reaching out for the compartment door, you prepared to close it when you suddenly jumped in realization. 

“I almost forgot,” you laughed. “This is for you.”

Letting go of the door handle, you reached for your bag and pulled something out. You waved it about and gently blew on it before stacking it neatly next to the flower you bought. 

It was a polaroid of you three.

[oshikasa]

so like… lqq and his little guy assistant ✨

i love this donghua-exclusive guy so much!! on twitter a fan name that has been circling around in the community is “xiao mengyou” (it’s more of a title but it’s sort of slowly just becoming his name), and i’ve just been doing a lot of thinking between these two..

it’s nice for lqq to have a supporter like him (if you don’t know, this nameless character has appeared by lqq’s side in multiple episodes, both in the past since lqq was 12 AND he’s the junior official that runs after lqq after he forgot his waist badge in the first episode of season 2. he’s been by lqq’s side for 500 years)

my personal thoughts and characterizations about mengyou and lqq below cut

i’m actually writing a fic and having a lot of fun with it, i have two other fic wips that have been in progress for MONTHS but it’s hualian and fengqing so i’m way wayyy harder on the characterization in those fics even tho both of them are alternative universes, so i’m not willing to post those unfinished. for this one tho, mengyou is essentially an OC, so i’m thinking about posting the first chapter soon even if the fic isn’t nearly close to done (why do i insist on writing long ass fics when i don’t rly finish them.. is a mystery)

i characterize xmy as extremely loyal and prideful to be lqq’s longtime assistant and right hand man, but he also has some intense self deprecating issues where he views himself as a servant and ONLY that. even tho lqq expresses (mutual) feelings for xmy, xmy feels he isn’t worthy, and pushes him away. lqq is too young and inexperienced to grasp his feelings fully as well, so he lets xmy push him away bc he too isn’t sure if it’s right.

when lqq’s worldview crashes in the fangxin guoshi arc, he goes MIA in the story until mt. tonglu reopens bc he’s hunting qi rong, and he doesn’t trust anyone. i’d imagine this would hit xmy hard bc he’s been by his side since forever, and lqq, who used to respond to anyone’s messages regardless of rank as soon as possible, has probably ghosted his junior officials and xmy since he disappeared. good room for angst, lqq’s opinion of xmy is probably wavering bc he probably doesn’t trust him either, bc xmy encouraged him to protect the xianle residents after the golden banquet massacre, and also bc lqq is just unstable and tunnel-visioning after he finds out the truth. add that with their confusing feelings for each other and there’s so much room to write about!

[druidrot]

the shadow in the valley

pairing: gale dekarios/reader (f/m)

word count: 3.3k

warnings: angst, slight death and descriptions of the void, gale gets his munch on, he calls reader tav ONCE (once), a fun little twist on gale's confession

rating: explicit - MDNI

Summary:

“Ah, so you return to us once more,” he teases, though his voice is tinged with something unplaceable. “You gave us all quite the scare.” 

“You look tired,” you respond simply, careful of the loaded statement. 

He barks out a disbelieving little chuckle, sighing as he runs a hand over his eyes. “Yes, well, sleep eludes one when they worry over the life of their dearest companion.” 

That same stirring from before, back in that dreaded town, burns in your chest again. You can’t help it, so you find yourself teasing him. 

“Dearest companion, hmm?” Even though your voice is still a bit hoarse, you manage to sound coy. “I seem to remember you telling me you love me.”

You delight in the way the flush blooms from his neck to his face as he clears his throat. “Erm, well, yes, I suppose I did.”

At this point, the only thing you can focus on is the cold; dreadful, painful cold. 

It is as if ice twists itself down to your very core, gnawing at bone, sinew, blood. You think you have never felt so cold, so empty. Your ears ring and the pressure in your head is all-encompassing. It is as though you are in deep water; deep, frigid, unrelenting water. You think you register shouting through the overwhelming fog, but you can’t find the cognizance to concentrate on it. 

You feel the cold intensify, your insides twisting and coiling in discomfort. Then, you no longer feel even your own heartbeat, no longer feel the pain that so tortures you. Even the ringing in your ears fades, the sound becoming distant, discordant. It is like you sink further, deeper, like nothing surrounds you but a deep, endless abyss. 

What’s left of your mind wanders and you are weightless, thoughtless, nameless. Not even the cold bothers you anymore, nor the weight that encumbers your soul. This must be what death is. You can’t rationalize it, can’t name it anymore, but intrinsically some part of your soul recognizes that you float in the palms of Kelemvor.

Death is absence, peace. You are naught but the abyss that swallows you, ready to be harvested for the City of Judgment. There is a warm touch that blooms in the recesses of your soul, yet that sickening weight from before begins to return. The cold slowly begins to seep back into your being. The ringing in your ears, the pressure in your mind, even the fluttering of your frantic heart bursts back into existence, a violent cacophony of sensation that has your soul burning. The water that drags you under begins to recede.

With a sickening pop, you are thrust back into yourself. It is jarring, the sensation of returning to life. Your mind reels with memory, how you got here, where you just came from. You gasp, body lurching as that same dreadful cold from before burns through your waking bones. 

“By the gods,” you hear, distantly. “Shadowheart, she’s awake!” 

When your vision comes back into focus, you find that you are cradled in the arms of your resident wizard. His eyes shine with tears in the torchlight, but still he wears a small, tortured smile as he smooths a stray hair away from your forehead. 

“There you are,” he whispers, soft. “Stay with me now, love.”

You want to say something in response but all that comes out is a wet cough. You feel your chest rattle with the weight of it, cringing through the pain. Gale’s eyes harden as he calls for Shadowheart once more. 

You vaguely remember why you came here. The search for the Thorm mausoleum had taken you to the heart of Reithwin town. True to fashion, a pack of hungry shadows and shadow-cursed undead had waited rather patiently for an ambush.  

One wrong move on your part and a lash from a shadow vine sent you careening through the area, the pixie bell in your pocket falling loose during your unexpected flight. You had been cast to an area where the curse was particularly strong, and as you fought the shadows threatening to steal your soul, a wayward wraith shot you with a necrotic spell that sapped you of any strength. It was like being plunged into ice, the last thing you remember before waking up in Gale’s arms. 

You don’t understand why you haven’t been claimed already, but the cold that still engulfs you bodes ill. You can feel yourself slipping again, can feel that sweet call of the void that welcomed you before, the void that promises nothing, absence. 

“Hey, don’t you do this to me again,” you hear, distantly. “Stay with me, my love. Please stay with me.” 

You hum in response, tired. 

“Please,” Gale’s voice is hoarse with tears. Absently, you think you’ve never seen him look so scared before, not even when Mystra basically ordered him to his death. It gnaws at you, his fear. You don’t want him to be scared. 

“Gale,” you whisper, weakly. “It’ll be…just fine.” 

His answering laugh is humorless. “The woman I love lay dying in my arms and still you show remarkable optimism. Quite on the nose for you, yes.” 

Your fluttering heart jumps in your chest. You offer him a small smile, cracked with blood and fear. “You…love me…huh?” 

“So much more than you could ever imagine,” he responds quietly, resolutely. “Which is why I need you to stay alive. I have so much I’d like to share with you.” 

Once again, you find yourself wanting to respond but too weak to do so. Finally, you watch as Shadowheart and Karlach approach Gale, shining little pixie bell nestled between the fingers of your dear tiefling’s hand. Immediately, the cold seems to recede from your bones and you breathe a shaky sigh of relief. 

“Stay with us,” Shadowheart orders, falling to her knees beside you. Her face is streaked with blood and her eyes are steely, but still you see the fear that hides there. You try to offer her a reassuring smile. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” she whispers as she presses her hands over your heart. “Without that bell, my magic would do little to heal you. This curse is much too potent once you’ve been touched by it. I can do enough to ensure we make it back to Last Light. I don’t have much strength left so Isobel will have to do the rest.” 

You try to nod but the weariness you feel overtakes you. You let out a soft sound before giving into the warmth of the cleric’s magic, Gale’s worried eyes the last thing you see before you slip back into the welcoming darkness. 

-

This time you wake in peace. 

The bed under you is delightfully plush, even though it’s naught but straw and hay. You are pleasantly warm under the blankets, that wretched cold from earlier nowhere to be felt. Your body aches minutely, muscles sore and strained, but still you are so very much alive. You breathe a welcome sigh of relief, opening your eyes to the familiar interior of The Last Light Inn. The small room you occupy is a quaint bedroom, just a bed, a few wardrobes, and a small chair by the bed. It takes a moment for your mind to fully clear but when it does, you register the presence of your favorite wizard, sitting vigil in said little chair at the bedside. He offers you a grateful smile when you meet his tender gaze. 

“Ah, so you return to us once more,” he teases, though his voice is tinged with something unplaceable. “You gave us all quite the scare.” 

“You look tired,” you respond simply, careful of the loaded statement. 

He barks out a disbelieving little chuckle, sighing as he runs a hand over his eyes. “Yes, well, sleep eludes one when they worry over the life of their dearest companion.” 

That same stirring from before, back in that dreaded town, burns in your chest again. You can’t help it, so you find yourself teasing him. 

“Dearest companion, hmm?” Even though your voice is still a bit hoarse, you manage to sound coy. “I seem to remember you telling me you love me.”

You delight in the way the flush blooms from his neck to his face as he clears his throat. “Erm, well, yes, I suppose I did.” 

You mewl softly. “While you thought I was dying in your arms, you told me you loved me.”

“I was there,” he reminds you, embarrassed. “And yes, I did tell you I loved you while you were dying in my arms. I could not allow you to pass on ignorant of what you mean to me.” 

Something warm settles in the pit of your belly and you can’t help the way your heart sings in your chest. You find yourself sitting up, laughing softly as he scrambles to help you. His arms are solid at your sides, warm, and when the impulse hits you to cradle his face in your hands and pull him close, you do. 

“Well, I’m still alive,” you breathe, blissfully aware of the way his pupils dilate. “Care to repeat it?"

Gale offers a tepid smile. He shifts so he sits on the bed with you, mindful of your sore body. It takes him a moment to muster his resolve, and you wait patiently as he mulls over what he would like to say to you. When he seems to have settled on something, he takes your hands in his, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. 

“I had a plan,” he begins, gently. “I wanted to do this the right way, but it seems fate has other plans. If we were home, I would have taken you out to explore the wonders Waterdeep has to offer, wooing you over wine and weave. But this is what we have, here, now. You must know how special you are to me, Tav. I’m…I’m in love with you.”

Something warm breaks open in your chest. You don’t think you could find the words to say to him if you wanted to, so you do the next best thing. Leaning forward, you pull him as close to you as you can get him and you press your lips against his in a wanting, searing kiss. He groans softly, lips opening under yours instantly. His hand tangles in your hair and he presses even closer, still mindful of your sore body. 

Gale is a fervent kisser. He is a bit unpracticed, sure, but he more than makes up for it with the devotion that drives his lips. He presses you back into the plush blankets, careful to keep your body caged beneath him. He breaks the kiss after a few succulent moments, grinning down at you oh-so-charmingly. 

“If circumstances were different, I’d show you pleasures beyond your wildest imaginings,” he whispers, leaning down to smatter delicious kisses along your collarbone. “But time is short and you are still weak, not yet wholly mended. I would still like to express my love for you, if you are of a willing mind. I do believe I have an idea.” 

You coo softly as his teeth nip at your skin. The brush of his beard burning against your sensitive neck leaves you gasping, decadent heat blooming through you, lighting you on fire. He seems to like the response, chuckling darkly as he continues his ministrations. 

“Come now, love,” he rasps, moving back to kiss at your lips. “I cannot oblige you if you don’t give me an answer.” 

His kiss is distracting, consuming, but you muster the will to nod your head. “Yes, Gale. Please, anything. Make me feel alive.”

He groans in response. It is broken, desperate, and you find the urgency behind his next kiss breathtaking. So long have you waited for this moment, for the heat of his body against yours, the warm press of his adoring kiss. You want for nothing in this moment, just the building heat that seems to roar between you both. He allows himself to be greedy, stealing the breath straight from your lungs as his hands begin to caress you: your hips, your thighs, your ribcage. He is everywhere all at once, but you don't mind. You are lost to him, have been lost to him since the moment you pulled him out of that portal way back when. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve yearned for you,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck, brushing aside the fabric at your collarbone so he can continue along his path. “I am a man starved.”

You moan quietly. “Gale…”

You can feel him grin against your skin. “Yes, my star, I hear you. I cannot wait any longer, either.”

He pushes up on his arms, beginning a slow, sensual descent to the open space between your legs. Once he is settled, his warm hands splay across your belly, handsome face heavy with desire. His eyes are molten pools of heat, yearning, desperation.

“Long has it been since I’ve delved into pleasures of the flesh,” he starts, a twinkle in those dark eyes. “But if you would allow me, I would like to indulge the both of us tonight.”

You swallow a heap of air. “Whatever you desire, Gale, please.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he responds with a grin, heavy hands gliding lower. “If it is your wish, I would like to feast on you tonight, my love. A promise of more to come, when time should allow it.”

“Gale,” you whimper, soft. “I think I should like that very much.” 

He practically glows with relief. You both recognize that the time for words has very much passed, so he makes quick work divesting you of your trousers. A wave of embarrassment washes over you - you are filthy, after all, covered in blood and muck and who knows what else - but your fears are quickly washed away when you take stock of him. HIs eyes are trained at the crux of your panties, right where your sopping cunt weeps through the fabric. He takes a heavy breath, hooded eyes peeking up to catch your heated gaze. 

“I will enjoy myself very, very much,” he growls, leaning forward to lick a hot stripe right over the fabric. You can’t help the gasp you let out, body tensing in anticipation. His answering laugh is low, heady with his desire. He is quick to free you of your panties, eyes softening as he’s greeted by the glistening warmth of your cunt. You want to be embarrassed, want to close your legs and offer yourself another night, but the way he stares at you keeps you rooted in place. He licks his lips, groaning softly as you let out a small, inadvertent moan. 

“If it is too much, tell me to stop,” he orders, leaning forwards. “Otherwise, I plan to leave you absolutely shattered.” 

You don’t have time to respond. Gale’s tongue is hot when he presses it against your clit, delicate at first: a test. He grunts, and soon he takes to licking long stripes through your folds, catching the gathered slick on his tongue. It is positively sinful the way he moves, so slow and deliberate. His tongue is wet, warm, heavy. You mewl as he returns to your clit, sucking softly as his fingers tease at your folds. Considering you now know what death feels like, this is the closest you think you’ll ever get to heaven. 

His onslaught is pure, unadulterated delight. His beard scratches at your cunt deliciously, glistening with the shine of your desire. He is enthusiastic in his ministrations, lapping at you like a man starved, which by his own words, he is. His fingers find your clit, and before you can register it, his tongue dips down into the heat of your entrance. You cry out, hips canting up as he groans in approval. His thumb rubs delicious circles around your clit, tongue dipping in and out of your hole so wantonly you might combust. 

“That’s it,” he croons, taking a moment to take a breath, thumb still relentlessly at your clit. “Chase it, my love. Use me for your pleasure.” 

You nearly cry. He moves back to gentle laps at your clit with his tongue, fingers dipping dangerously low before he breaches your entrance with the tip of a finger. You mewl, body arching off the bed when he plunges the whole digit in. Were he anyone else, you think you’d be embarrassed by the squelch of your quivering cunt. Instead, you find it adds to your arousal, the sound a beautiful cadence, evidence of your undoing at his hands. He plunges another finger in, still slurping and sucking at your sweet little bundle of nerves. He curls those two fingers up, searching for a moment until he finds the spot that has you seeing stars. 

“You are maddeningly beautiful like this,” he whispers, pulling away to level you with a lovesick grin, still plundering away with his fingers. “I can’t wait to ravish you properly, my star. The sight of you wrapped around my cock would be most rapturous indeed.” 

You groan, voice sticky with need. He returns his full attention back to your cunt, sighing happily as he wraps his lips around your engorged clit. He picks up the pace of his fingers, adding a third digit when you begin to pant like a madwoman. He sucks harshly at your clit, groaning his own pleasure when a spasm rocks through you. His fingers hit deliciously deep, his mouth on your clit only adding to the rapid fire that begins to burn through your cunt. 

You feel yourself clench around his fingers, a telltale sign you’re close. Gale doesn’t miss a beat. His fingers take to a wicked pace, his tongue moving around your clit in filthy, sinful circles. It doesn’t take much more to send you over the edge you suddenly find yourself careening over. You gasp brokenly, hips trying to cant away from him as he finishes you off. 

“Just like that,” he praises, rather smugly. “Let yourself go, my love, let yourself release.” 

It is like a rubber band snaps, the pressure in your cunt growing until it explodes. You almost quake with the intensity of your cunt bearing down on his fingers, slick pooling around them in thick, delicious rivulets. Sensation leaves you all at once, and when you finally come back to yourself, Gale hovers over you with a knowing smile, beard still glistening, fingers still shining with your arousal. 

He licks them clean, of course, and you mewl as your cunt clenches around nothing. He laughs adoringly, smoothing your hair down with the hand that wasn't inside of you. 

“You are absolutely divine,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss you despite the slick gathered around his face. “Nothing or no one in the planes could ever compare.” 

You feel yourself flush but still you offer him a warm smile. “Thank you, Gale. Truly.” 

“Make no mention of it,” he returns, humbly. “This was a gift for me as well. I only hope that it will not be the last time you and I can be alone together like this.” 

You grin coquettishly. “Gale, I think I’m spoiled for anyone else. I love you, I want you. At this point, it will take Ao himself to tear me from you.” 

“Then I am a man most lucky,” he concedes, kissing you once more. “Now, as much as I’d love to keep you to myself like this, I believe the others are waiting for your recovery. We should clean you up and get you something to eat. You still need to recover your strength if we are to continue our journey.” 

He helps you back into your trousers and with a quick cast of prestidigitation, you find yourselves blessedly free of the cum, blood, and dirt miring both of you. You smile graciously as he helps you to your feet. 

“I meant it when I said I love you,” he murmurs, pulling you into his embrace. “I really thought I was going to lose you.” 

“I’m here now,” you respond, resolutely. “And I won’t let my guard down again, of that I can assure you. We will find a way to keep you here with me, too. I cannot lose you, Gale. Not now.” 

He smiles sadly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Come now, my love. That conversation is best saved for the morning. Let us return to our companions tonight, hmm? They are eager to see you and while you are delightfully decadent, I find myself hungering for some real food.” 

It is easy to concede to him tonight. You know the stakes are ever-raising but you also know that you are more than equipped to handle them. For now, you allow yourself this sweet little respite with the man you love, end of the world be damned. So you smile and offer a sweet kiss, taking his hand as you begin the walk back to your waiting companions.  

۵۵۵۵۵

welp, this was born from pure wish fulfillment so i hope u enjoy. crossposted on my ao3! this was inspired by a prompt from one of the recent lists i reblogged: Prompt #1025: "You told me you loved me." "Yes." "While you thought I was dying in your arms." "Yes." "Well, I’m still alive. Care to repeat that?"

as usual, requests are open! comments, reblogs, and follows are greatly appreciated!

[libraryraccoon]

I really liked your Floyd!reader content, though I think Vox and Alastor would feel uneased when meeting Floyd!reader twin due to how they would probably be able to see that the twin acts pretty similar to them (Vox by noticing Jade!twin acts so polite yet seems to have a hinden agenda and Alastor by seeing how Jade!Ttwin enjoys causing distress and problems to someone)

Gender : GN

Pronouns : None

Characters : Alastor, Vox, Lucifer

Message of Raccoon : I add Lucifer because yes. Now I want to write a Jade!Reader and a Floyd!Twin..

Your twin was dead, Yay !! You were no longer alone !

To celebrate your reunion, you killed all the demons in a district together !

You wanted to do more, but Lucifer stopped you.

And that's how they met your twin, Jade!Twin !

Jade!Twin was your opposite, a helpful gentleman who smiled all the time.

He was a bit like Alastor, but less scary.

They put people at ease and comforted them if needed.

A true gentleman !

...

If only they knew…

Alastor

He didn't trust your twin. Not even for a second.

Because they used to be part of the mafia.

They are the twin of a nameless madman -you-.

They were like him, but more vicious.

Alastor didn't hide his intentions, he wanted entertainment and chaos, and he said it openly.

Your twin ? They wanted entertainment, chaos, they wanted to hurt others, but they didn't say it. They maintained a "good and angelic appearance without bad intentions".

The entire Hotel fell for the ruse.

Not Alastor.

Alastor loved you more than anyone, but he didn't love your twin.

It was a problem when you stayed with your twin a lot.

Alastor told you about it, and you answered him

"It's not like I can do anything about it. No one would believe me if I said they were more dangerous than me. It'll make my twin laugh, but that's all."

And when he asked to spend less time with them and more with him, you said you would try, but that you wanted to spend time with your twin who you missed.

And you did, you stayed with him more than your twin.

Alastor generally didn't feel bad for others, didn't feel pity.

But when he saw your twin manipulate the residents of the Hotel, making them tell them their worst secrets, he couldn't help but feel a little bad and uncomfortable.

Vox

He was happy to meet your twin, really, you talked to him a lot about them.

It's because you talked a lot about them that he didn't trust them.

When he saw that the other two Vee trusted them, he tried to warn them that it was a bad idea.

They didn't believe him.

They called him paranoid.

It was too late.

Vox told you when you were squeezing him.

You said he was like that, that you would try to talk to your twin, try to make them stop.

"I can't promise anything, Jade!Twin is like that." you said, squeezing Vox.

You, somehow, succeeded.

Your twin said they won't use what they know against them unless they hurts you.

It was better than nothing, but even so, Vox feel uncomfortable in your twin's presence.

Lucifer

Lucifer was happy to meet your twin, really happy !

He wanted to make a good impression, because, well, he's your twin, his partner's twin, and it's not every days that you meet your partner's twin.

He found Jade!twin very nice, but Lucifer didn't trusted them instantly, you had warned him about your twin's manipulative tendencies.

But he ended up trusting them.

Seeing that Lucifer trusted your twin, you decided to warn him once again.

Your twin didn't have good intentions, you could tell it.

"I know you like Jade!Twin and all, but remember that they are more dangerous than me." you said in a bad mood, squeezing Lucifer.

Lucifer promised you to be more careful about what he says, and that he would observe how your twin behaves.

By God, what a good choice that was.

He saw how your twin behaved with others, the smile they had when they thought that no one, except maybe their twin -you-, was watching.

It was only then that he and Alastor agreed on something, your twin was dangerous and manipulating the Hotel.

Your twin promised you that they would only use the informations they had if they (Hotel Hazbin crew) hurt you.

Lucifer didn't completely believe them.

So he and Alastor teamed up to get your twin kicked out of the Hotel, or, at least, make the Hotel residents understand how dangerous they are.

[luciferanalyzestar]

Viv in general don’t understand “kill your darlings” (remove characters and plotlines that aren’t necessary to the story so it can flow better), she has habit of constantly adding new characters and plotlines, hazbin hotel itself expects you to care or give a damn about a large cast of characters in only eight episodes!

I yapped too much lmao.

I think once Viv gets attached to a character's design, she does not want to scrap the character. She is (was? I remember seeing that she does not draw that much anymore) a character designer at the end of the day.

The reason I like to talk about the character designs so much is because I like to create original characters. I was a Sonic artist who was posting their characters on DeviantArt back in the day. The act of creating original characters is a fun process.

After graduating high school, I created around 34 - 40 characters. I just made them for fun and they did not really have a story, a universe they live in, or personalities (more like bullet point traits).

Years later, I gave certain characters full written out personalities, backstories, and other lore stuff. If I could not think of a personality or role in the story for a character, I got rid of characters regardless of how attach I was when I created them. They no longer serve a purpose.

Now, I currently have 22 characters because I view characters as tools to move a story forward. I understand Hazbin having a decent number of characters because it is (more like was) about a hotel. Every episode in Hazbin introduces a new character or characters and more are on the way and minor characters we saw in season one will get more screen time. (Saint Peter the toilet brush who needs to stay at those golden gates and never show up again).

The time wasted on introduces new characters could have been saved for the hotel residents (Angel and Sir P) and learning more about them as people and their lives on Earth or give us a reason to care about the nameless sinners that feared of getting killed each year.

If I had to rewrite season one, none of the overlords (minus Al because he 'works' at the hotel) would have been included, maybe just small hints at their existence. Kept Adam and Lute in episode one to establish them as villains but the other Heaven characters would have been saved for season two. Lucifer would not appear either, maybe he leaves Charlie voicemails, but she never answers.

In Helluva, certain characters are just there or just for merch. The shit Andrealphus is pulling should have been Stella pulls all the strings to fucked over Stolas. She does not need a brother. There is not even a hint to Andy's existence, his ugly ass just appears out of cold air.

Then there is Vassago who should have been in season one as Stolas' only friend and someone he trusts. Stolas do not speak to each other in Mastermind (I do not think Stolas looks at his direction) nor does Vassago shown up in Sinmas. He would have been used to help Stolas get in contract with Via to make sure she was okay.

Viv creates characters but forgets to add the purpose to them.

[anonymousewrites]

Pearl of the Sea Prologue

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Prologue: Found at Sea

Summary: Elizabeth Swann finds another strange child at sea, and they turn into an even weirder teenager.

Mouse Note: Welcome to Pearl of the Sea! Special thanks to TheBiLion for suggesting that I write this. I had this idea in my head for a while, but until someone actually said they wanted it, I never tried to write it. But here it is! I hope it lives up to their expectations and that everyone else who reads it enjoys! I know I had a lot of fun. Only announcements, the MC goes by they/them pronouns, but pirates call them "laddie" occasionally while "civilized" people try to make them a "lady." The point is to form contrast, but the MC themself doesn't care about the labels. So know that this was all intentional. Alright, get ready for some fun now! Lots of found family here! Please comment down below, it's motivating and amazing to interact with you all!

Several years ago…

            Elizabeth stood near the beach of Port Royal and gazed out over the waves.  The sun had barely crested the waves and threw sparks of fiery light over the open sea. Elizabeth knew she was not supposed to wander out of her home so early and especially not towards the ocean due to her strange fascination with it, but she couldn’t help it. While Elizabeth enjoyed the sea breeze, she held her medallion, the one she’d taken from Will so long ago, and traced the carvings on it.

            She furrowed her brow. Elizabeth stepped closer to the water and squinted, gazing out at the sea. There was something floating there.

            Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she ran towards the water’s edge. The sand tried to cause her to stumble—heels could be troublesome—but Elizabeth forged forward. She waded into the water, waist deep, and grabbed the floating form—a child.

            Dragging the unconscious kid to shore, Elizabeth’s heart dropped. She wanted the child to be alive. It would be a tragedy for someone so young to lose their life and to remain nameless. Elizabeth didn’t recognize the kid from Port Royal, small enough to know everyone, and she knew they weren’t a resident there.

            Elizabeth lay the kid down on the beach and held her hand over their mouth. She let out a breath of relief upon feeling a soft breath from their own breathing brush across her hand. The child was alive.

            Carefully, Elizabeth shook them. If they were injured, she didn’t want to hurt them further, but she needed them awake.

            The kid groaned, and their eyes opened. They coughed and tried to sit up. Elizabeth guided them up.

            “Are you alright?” she asked. Hopefully, they were a newcomer to Port Royal and had fallen into the bay in the morning. Then, Elizabeth could bring them back to their family.

            “I’m—” The kid’s words were interrupted by another cough, and they shivered. The cool sea breeze mixed with their soaked clothes in a dangerous way; sickness would arrive easily.

            “Here.” Elizabeth, action-oriented as ever, rose and helped the child stand. “I can bring you to a doctor. Are you hurt anywhere?”

            “I don’t-I don’t think so,” said the kid, looking down at themself as if unsure.

            “What happened to you?” said Elizabeth, walking the child with her towards the town of Port Royal.

            “I—” The kid frowned and furrowed their brow, trying to find the information. “I don’t know.”

            “You don’t know?” said Elizabeth, furrowing her brow in concern. Strange. However, if they couldn’t remember, she would not push them or distress them. “Do you know where your parents are?”

            “I-I don’t know,” said the kid again. This time, their eyes flicked around in distress. They clearly truly didn’t know, and that fact was concerning them as much as it was Elizabeth. “I don’t know!”

            “It’s alright, it’s alright.” Elizabeth instantly squeezed their shoulders. “I’ll help you, and we’ll work out what happened.”

            The kid looked at Elizabeth, and they searched her expression for signs of lying or signs of malicious intent. They found none and nodded. “Alright.”

            Elizabeth smiled. “Now, is there anything you do know? Anything can help, but don’t strain yourself.”

            The child frowned as they concentrated. “(Y/N). My name is (Y/N).” They nodded decidedly and looked at Elizabeth.

            She smiled. “(Y/N). Good. I’m Elizabeth Swann.”

            (Y/N) smiled in return.

l

            “Elizabeth!” Governor Swann walked into the doctor’s office. “What is this I hear of you having snuck out of the house once again to go to the sea?” His eyes widened as he saw her wet skirts. Clearly, she had gone into the water.

            Elizabeth (barely) kept herself from rolling her eyes. “Clearly, judging as I am here and not home, it is true. And it is not as if I was in danger. I merely walked out of the house and went to the harbor. Besides, if I hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have found them.” She stepped to the side to reveal the child sitting on the doctor’s examination table behind her.

            “Who—What? Again, Elizabeth?” sighed Swann.

            Elizabeth ignored the comment. “This is (Y/N), Father. They were drifted into the harbor, so I pulled them to shore.”

            “Hello,” said (Y/N).

            Swann sighed because he knew he had to commend Elizabeth for saving someone’s life and that would merely encourage her to be more adventurous. “Hello. I am Governor Swann.” He looked at Elizabeth. “You saved a child. Good job. But now you really must return to the house to change. You’re soaked, and it’s highly improper and dangerous. You could catch a sickness. I will ensure the child returns to their family.”

            “They don’t know who their family is,” said Elizabeth.

            Swann blinked and looked at (Y/N). “Truly?”

            (Y/N) shook their head and cleared their throat. “I can’t remember anything other than my name. I’m sorry.”

            Swann nodded. He couldn’t fault a child for being hurt. “Very well. We will find somewhere for you, then. There are plenty of places for you to do some work and—”

            “Father, we should allow them to stay with us,” said Elizabeth. She wouldn’t send (Y/N) to work as a servant for the rest of their life just because they were “no one” to Port Royal. “It would be the gracious thing to do.” She raised her chin to her father. “Besides, I like them.” She smiled at (Y/N), who straightened and smiled back.

            “Elizabeth—”

            “Father, please? I have always wanted a sibling,” said Elizabeth.

            That did it. Swann really couldn’t say no to Elizabeth. He sighed. “I will send for a tailor to make them some fresh clothes and tell the servants to make up a room.”

            Elizabeth grinned and winked victoriously at (Y/N), who smiled shyly. They couldn’t remember anything about who they were, but they felt more secure with Elizabeth. They didn’t feel as lost.

            Perhaps they’d find a home at Port Royal if they couldn’t ever remember theirs.

l

            As (Y/N) grew at Port Royal, they never did quite find a home there. They could not connect to the society and culture they were forced to adhere to. Yes, they were given a warm bed and clean clothes, but they were pushed into dresses and a role they didn’t like—that of the obedient, well-behaved child. (Y/N) felt constricted by the standards of high society; the people of Port Royal wished to tame them.

            But (Y/N) was untamable. Very quickly, Governor Swann learned he had taken on a ward just as stubborn as free-spirited as his blood daughter. They, like Elizabeth, were told to avoid the sea for fear of losing them once more to it, but (Y/N) refused to listen. Frequently, they would have to be dragged back from the edge of the ocean.

            However, whenever (Y/N) could escape the watchful gaze of Swann or anyone else of high society, they returned to the sea. Despite the apprehension they should feel at approaching the place that had stolen their memories of their family and past, (Y/N) adored it. Truthfully, they felt no fear.

            No one else seemed to understand that. Every time they were caught standing in the water, happily closing their eyes and feeling the waves lap at them, they were admonished. People insisted they should fear the waves and the ocean, as it was an enemy that sought to destroy them and take them as it almost had in the past.

            But it hadn’t taken them. (Y/N) knew that. Whatever had brought them to Port Royal, they hadn’t died. So why would they fault the waves? If anything, the current had saved them. If they had drifted endlessly across the open sea, they would have died. So, while the entirety of Port Royal pushed them into a role they didn’t want and taught them to avoid the waters, (Y/N) privately loved it—respected it.

            And not every part of Port Royal alienated them. No, they might not feel like they had a physical home there, but they felt like they had a home in their heart.

            First, they had Elizabeth. (Y/N) had instantly been able to trust her, and their instincts hadn’t been wrong. Elizabeth shared (Y/N)’s adventurous spirit and taught them all the ways to sneak around Swann and the other soldiers of Port Royal to explore the seaside. Elizabeth was a rebel with a free spirit like (Y/N), and they were free to be themselves together. They had formed a bond as close as blood siblings.

            Additionally, (Y/N) had Will. He, too, had been found by Elizabeth at sea, so the pair had bonded over that. Elizabeth joked that they were her treasures because she had found them, and (Y/N) always smiled at the comparison (Will smiled, too, but he also blushed due to his obvious love for Elizabeth).

            (Y/N) and Will had become friends outside of their shared past, too. (Y/N) had restless energy, coming and going like a tempest making waves swell with power, so they had to find a way to get it out, and that either involved escaping from the house and causing Swann to worry or going to Will. They had found him practicing fencing one day, and (Y/N) had instantly wanted to learn.

            Will had been hesitant at first and shared his concerns at (Y/N) wanting to be around dangerous weaponry with Elizabeth (he told her first because he didn’t want (Y/N) to get in trouble from Swann), but Elizabeth had, of course, encouraged (Y/N) learning to swordfight instead of discouraging it. In fact, she, too, came to some of the training days and learned with Will.

            It didn’t take long for those moments to create an unbreakable bond between Will, Elizabeth, and (Y/N). Elizabeth and Will were clearly falling in love—(Y/N) wasn’t an idiot—and both became older siblings to (Y/N). Will had bonded with (Y/N) over their strength of will, and despite his worry about their too-adventurous spirit, he was fond of their desire for a free life for themself and others.

            So, the years passed with (Y/N) growing stronger in will despite society’s desire to tame them and keep them trapped in a mold they had created. (Y/N) would break it at every turn, though, and even when people believed they had successfully tied (Y/N) down to a role, (Y/N)’s spirit remained as free and untamable as the sea.

Taglist:

@slytherinroyalty16

@aew-kun-age-regression

@grippleback-galaxy

@andsoigotabutterfly

@insomniacneedssleep

@painstakingly-juno

@kitkatlover015

@chronicallybubbly

[crystallizedtwilight]

🎃 LSBC Questions: Part 19! 🎃

Lock, Shock, Barrel, and Calliope questions that call for quick answers will be under the cut in batches of 10-15 🧡

Previous bulk questions batch

It's my headcanon that Halloween Town can only be reached by monsters / demons / magical entities and deceased humans, making it a safe haven for the supernatural.

Meeting Calliope: [1] [2] [3]

Lock has always been my fav ❤️

Their younger selves would be happy to learn that the only time their masks are hung on the walls is by themselves after a long day of fun and adventure.

All candy is good candy (except Necco wafers. Get that chalk out of here)

I got a message last year saying it would be funny if all of Barrel's brothers' names started with B and I agree with that! Other than that, I'll leave them nameless.

Lock: Whatever it is I'm winning Shock: No—

The trio are mainly the ones who do the visiting, whether it's welcome or not! The other hinterland world residents are currently uninterested (scared) to tour it but Sandy still brings them snow every Christmas.

Yes! Once a banshee forms a bond with someone, that person's immediate future becomes clear to the banshee—specifically related to their deaths, about a day or so ahead.

Halloween Town is comprised of monsters/demons (Lock, Barrel, Harlequin Demon, Mayor, Undersea Gal, Cyclops, Stairs Monster, etc.), supernatural/magical entities (Shock, the witches, Sally who was born/made there, Jewel who was born/made there, Calliope, etc.), and undead/reanimated humans (Corpse family, Town Band, Vampires, Pumpkin Patch Ghosts, and Jack himself).

Though, now I wonder...since Cyclops is a monster, and the town's resident "Mummy Boy" only has one eye in the center of his head, perhaps he is not an undead human but a mummy cyclops? haha fun to think about!